In Defense of Voicemail

Dear Diary …

Why have we become so anti-voicemail? So many people now are, “I don’t check my voicemail, so don’t bother leaving one.” And here’s what I say to you … dude … you’re doin’ it wrong.

Voicemail is great. Why? Because you get to know the person’s mood and intentions … and that way you are totally prepared for whatever happens next.

I mean, even if the person says, “Hey it’s Steve. Call me back.” That could be …

* [HAPPY] Hey … it’s Steve! Call me back!


* [SAD] Hey it’s Steve. Call me back.


* [ANGRY] HEY! It’s Steve! CALL ME BACK!!!”

See? One simple sentence, and yet three different situations. You’re not getting that if Steve merely texts you “call me back,” so why in the world would you want to walk into the lion’s den without some kind of heads up?

“Well I see the missed call. That’s good enough for me.”

Again … you’re nuts!

Personally, I don’t call anyone back who doesn’t leave a voicemail. Missed call? Not good enough for me. You need to state your business so I can be prepared for the conversation. If your boss calls and doesn’t leave a message … you now have no idea if he’s mad at you, happy with you, gonna make you work Saturday, or whatever the heck else.

Don’t you want to know these things? And if not, what kind of sick, sadistic person are you? You like punishing yourself or something?

OK … moving on Diary … since we’re on the topic of phones and phone etiquette … can we please put a stop to unnecessary and excessive speaker phone usage when other people are around?

We don’t care that you’re on the phone with the DMV or your grandma or whatever. And furthermore, that person likely has no idea that you are subjecting them to an audience of random people … so how is that fair to them? What if your grandma wants to tell you a racist joke? I mean geez!!

But seriously … they don’t want to be a part of it … and we don’t want to hear it.

Here’s another one we don’t want to hear … lazy coworkers using voice to text at their desk. “Sheila … don’t forget that tonight we have dinner with the O’Briens. And I will grab milk on my way home.”

Are you kidding me with this? We don’t want to be dragged along to every boring detail of your life. We’re already dealing with every boring detail of our own lives! Type that stuff out with your stumpy little thumbs … it’s probably the closest thing you’re getting to exercise to day anyway there Lazy!!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Too Much or Not Enough

Dear Diary …

The world is filled with “too much or not enough” … It’s either way more than you need, or not nearly enough.  And yes, we could get into a bigger picture argument about things like wealth distribution and how the super rich don’t need all the money they have while other people are totally broke, but we’re not gonna do that.

You know me Diary … I prefer to complain small.  TINY little annoying things that I like to make a BIG deal about.  And you know what?  I think it’s OK to do that, because these tiny little things could easily be fixed, so I think it’s worth throwing a big ol’ hissy fit about them in hopes that something will actually get done.

I’m never gonna fix the uneven wealth distribution of the world, but windshield wipers?  That one might be possible to pull off.

Here’s what I’m talking about …

Over the weekend it started to rain while I was driving, so I had to use my windshield wipers.  I put them on the first continuous setting, but that one was JUST not quite enough to keep up with the rain.  So I have to click it up to the next setting … the only other setting available on my car.  And that one is … WAY TOO WILD AND CRAZY AND WHIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!

Now I look like a fool … barrelling down the highway in a relatively normal rain storm, but I LOOK LIKE I’M DRIVING THRU A HURRICANE TRYING TO ESCAPE TO HIGHER GROUND.

Why is there no middle setting?  Why is it too much or not enough?

In your house … if you have a ceiling fan … that fan has three settings:

Setting #1: BARELY moving at all.  To the point that you’re not even sure if you remembered to turn it on

Seting #2:  Spinning around a little bit, but JUST not quite as much air flow as you would like

And …


Why is it always “too much or not enough?”  This should be an easy fix!  Medium, people.  MEDIUM!!!!

Moving on Diary … I think we can all agree … life is too short to be wasting your time on silly things, right?  So when I see them at the store, I think to myself, “Who on this planet actually wants to buy and eat a thin cut steak?”

When you have the option of enjoying a nice, thick, juicy ribeye … seared to perfection on the outside, and perfectly cooked on the inside … why in the world would you instead choose some sad little thin slice of the same steak that you can practically read thru?

If you try to cook that thing correctly on the outside, it’s gonna be shoe leather on the inside.  And if you try to have it be correct on the inside, it’s gonna be an ugly, gray little slab on the outside.  There’s simply no time that’s the right time for this.

And furthermore … this cow died for us.  The least we can do is respect his sacrifice and cut him into wonderful cuts of thick steak instead of flappy little gray wings of sadness.  C’mon!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Zack’s Anger Diary: The Two Worst Phrases In the World

Dear Diary …

When it comes to raising my kids, there are two phrases I hate more than anything else … and they are “No I won’t” and “I didn’t mean to.”  And the main reason is because each time these phrases are used by my kids, it’s at a time when they have no clue what they are talking about in the first place.

Here’s a recent example of both …

The other day my daughter was roller skating in the house.  Yes Diary … that is correct … roller skating in the house.  So as you can already see … a terrible idea thought up by a child  who has no idea what they are talking about.  But really … what are you gonna do?  I try to police them as much as I can, but that gets EXHAUSTING by the end of the day, so fine … you win … roller skate in the house.  Just listen to me on this one thing … please do not roller skate in the kitchen.  You will fall.  You will hit your head on the hard tile floor. And you will hurt yourself.

“No I won’t!”

Well I know you won’t do it on purpose, but just trust me on this, you could fall and hurt yourself.

“No I won’t!”

Diary … I’ll give you one guess what happens next.


I told you.

And yet somehow … they never learn that I might actually know what I’m talking about.

Fast forward to phrase two … My son decides he would like to eat a bowl of marshmallows and chocolate syrup on the coach.

(Again … I told you … I’m TIRED by the end of the day … and I’ve given up.)

So all I ask … Diary … is that he please eat them with a spoon so he won’t spill.  But does he listen to me?  Of course not … I’m a moron!

So he takes a fork, and the promptly drops a bunch of sticky, gooey, chocolately marshmallows into the crevices of my couch.

“But I didn’t mean to!”

Yes … I know it was not your plan to screw up, but maybe if you were a little more careful in the first place, WE WOULDN’T BE GOING THROUGH THIS RIGHT NOW!!!

And as you can see … these two phrases often go hand in hand.  I give helpful advice … they say “no I won’t” … they screw up … and then they say “I didn’t mean to!”

Kids … I’m gonna tell you something you’re probably not going to listen to, but I’m going to tell you anyway … Your parents … GASP … occasionally know what they’re talking about.

You’re nine years old (Or six or 14 or whatever) … you don’t know anything.  Heck … I’m 40 and I barely feel like I know anything.  But the point is … we’ve actually lived through some things and have already bashed our heads on the kitchen floor enough times that we’re just trying to prevent you from giving yourself a concussion from doing something stupid.

This is gonna hurt, but you  … might need to listen to us from time to time.

Or just go bash your head on the kitchen floor …but quit crying about it … your tears are annoying!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The Doo Doo Fly Reserves

Dear Diary …

Sometimes you have no scientific proof to back something up … but you know what? Isn’t that how new discoveries are made? We challenge the world as we know it, we do the research, and then boom … new proof!

So consider today the day that I embark on my journey to prove to the world the existence of … The Doo Doo Fly Reserves.

First … a little biology lesson. What’s a “doo doo fly,” you ask? Well my friends, it’s those big, stupid flies that always manage to find their way into your house … Buzzin’ around and bein’ all gross … and for the most part contributing absolutely nothing positive to the universe. You call them whatever you want … house fly, black fly, whatever … I call ‘em “doo doo flies” because that’s what they love to eat, and then they love to land all over your food and rub their yucky little fly legs together, “Mmm … gonna run some doo doo all over this potato salad.”

OK … back to my groundbreaking scientific research on The Doo Doo Fly Reserves, because I, Zack Jackson, believe that these flies strategically attack you one by one. Think about it … every time you have one of these flies in your house, you have exactly that. One. Shoots into the tiniest crevice in your door with sniper-like precision, and then proceeds to slowly and stupidly buzz around your house like it has absolutely no idea how to get back out.

Bzzz … bzzzz … bzzzz … BONK … bzzz … bzzz …. BONK

So if you’re like me, you hunt this doo doo fly down with a murderous bloodlust and … WHAM … thwack him with a dish towel and end his gross little life. Cool … problem solved!

And then …

Bzzz … bzzzz … bzzzz … BONK … bzzz … bzzz …. Bzzz

All of a sudden there’s another one. Materialized out of nowhere.

Ahhh … but not nowhere my friends. From The Doo Doo Fly Reserves.

I think they all hide there in a pile somewhere and just wait. And when you kill one of ‘em … “OK Bill … you’re up.”

Bzzzz … bzzz … THWACK!

“OK … Joe … you’re turn.”

One right after the other. Sometimes I’ll kill six or seven doo doo flies in a row. But never are there six or seven flying around my house at the same time. Just one. The rest are hiding in the reserves!

OK … now … If you don’t think my theory makes any sense (beause it probably doesn’t) … I give to you an alternative … Microscopic Doo Doo Fly Mutation.

I also believe it is entirely possible, that these flies mutate so quickly, that when you kill one of them in your house, tiny microscopic bits of doo doo fly shoot off into the air and immediately grow into another brand new doo doo fly.

Ridiculous? Probably. But if we’re willing to give flat Earth people a voice in this world, I’m definitely smarter than they are, so Microscopic Doo Doo Fly Mutation isn’t entirely out of the question.

Here’s one thing I do know for a fact … If doo doo flies write little history books to use when they teach their little baby doo doo flies about the world, I’m pretty sure I’m considered their Al-Qaeda, cuz I’m really good at killin’ em. If nothing else, I’m definitely not fondly portrayed as a hero and a Founding Father to the doo doo fly community.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.