Nothing funny about feldspar

I got an email requesting me to participate in a survey for the Apple iTunes Music Store. There were very few demographic questions (age group and occupation are all I can recall), and questions with lots of checkboxes and radio buttons adjoining very long lists of things.

Then there’s the question that asks “approximately how many digital music files (or songs) are in your library on your computer.”

So I fired up my main iTunes library and looked. 11702 is what I typed in the box, and hit enter.

The page comes back to me, with a big red message: Please enter a number between 0 and 10000

Now, I don’t know much about survey design, but I figure that my library isn’t abnormally huge. Some people who use the iTMS must have similar amounts of music. Why didn’t they account for that? I mean, it’s not like 99999 takes up more space in a database than 10000.

So I dutifully entered what they told me to, so I could get to the next screen. And now what kind of survey results are they going to get? Well, in my case, incomplete ones. I clicked boxes and radio buttons until I got tired, and still saw no sign of the survey ending. Oh well.

[update, next day] Well, I did go back and finish it. But I was disappointed to find there was no payoff. Chintzy bastards.

Do you ever find yourself wanting to walk up to a perfect stranger and tell them to stop dying their hair? I saw a woman today who’s dyed hair probably started out as a brassy, kicky, light red (more strawberry than blonde), but has since faded into Snapple Peach color. It made me thirsty seeing it.

And why do people want hair the color of fruit, anyway? It’s not usually fun to have: it makes it hard to pick out clothes (we look terrible in orange and bright green — the two most popular colors right now, if you haven’t noticed), we always look like we’ve got no eyelashes or eyebrows, and if one’s hair is bright enough to stand out, well, it’s easy to get into trouble because folks remember that red-haired girl. Even if I wasn’t doing anything, honest.

Dear Timex,

I get what you’re trying to do, and I don’t like it one little bit. First, you use a weird size battery, so I can’t get it at my local grocery. Then you make it virtually impossible to open the back. That little tab on my watch is now rounded over with me trying to use successively smaller screwdrivers to pry the thing off. I finally, after about an hour of effort (this after having tried every day for a week), got it off, and replaced the battery.

But now I cannot get the damned back on again. I think it’s the O-ring, or maybe the back got bent slightly out of true when I popped it off. But one side goes in, but I can’t snap the other in. Not even with careful application of multiple pliers.

So this is your intention: for me to go buy a new watch. Well, I will. But not a Timex.

Sincerely,
Orthoclase

A warm orangy-brown color scheme. But I didn’t change the favicon, ’cause I’m lazy.

What I should have said:

“No, Timid Todd at Midwest Financial, I don’t believe that you can offer me a loan at 1% interest. By the way, I don’t know why you are calling me, as I don’t have any money, and of course, I’m on the National Do Not Call list. I don’t think I’ve ever had any dealings with your company, and I’m sure that’s one of the rules for the NDNC list. As I’m a nice person, I won’t require you to pay me $500, but next time, I will.”

What I did say, after running up from the basement to answer the phone (when will I learn to carry the damn thing with me when I’m doing the laundry??):

“Argh! Do Not Call List!” <click>