Since a couple of you joined Facebook, I went ahead and did it too.

Then I went and cut off my hairs.

So then I had to upload a new profile pic to Facebook.

Yeah, it’s one wild ride after another around here.

(photo by Dale)

Dale was feeling a little loopy tonight.

Me: I think I’m going to go have some cheese.
Dale: Why don’t you have something better for you? Like Corn Pops.
…
Dale: Did I just say that?

I decided to buy a drill press. The smallest and cheapest we could find was a Craftsman model at Sears. We went to Sears, got the last one on the floor, then hauled it to a cashier. During checkout, the salesman asked for our phone number. Dale said he didn’t want to give it out. Turns out the system wouldn’t progress with the sale until a phone number was entered. Salesguy called a manager, who was no help. Salesguy tried entering random numbers and that didn’t work for some reason. Salesguy paged another manager, who basically said that unless we give them our number, the drill press won’t be protected by the manufacturer’s warranty.

Wtf?

So, we left and went to another Sears. At checkout, the saleslady asked for my phone number. I said I didn’t want to give that out. She said it was for the warranty, in case we don’t have the receipt. I said, “I’ll just keep the receipt.” She said, “ok,” and the transaction was concluded.

I’ve been asked before at stores for my number (Linens’n'Things comes to mind), which I politely decline to give. Usually, there’s a pause, then the salesperson moves on and finishes ringing up the sale. This is the first time my phone number has been demanded for a purchase, and it’s fucking ridiculous.