Home Fitness

Bowflex. Nordic Track. Total Gym. And anything with Chuck Norris's face and/or signature on it. All losers.

Don't get me wrong, they're all great successes and marketing ploys with most likely good intentions, but all monumental tragedies and bear traps to the consumer'’s finances, good credit, and New Year's resolutions.

Personally I love exercise. Makes me feel good, rejuvenated, accomplished. And that's why I go to the gym. Not home, the gym. I go. Go out. Go out of my house and go to the gym. Leave my place of cushiony relaxation and a smorgasbord of fatty culinary delights and surround myself with sweaty people in an atmosphere conducive to physical fitness. Because when I get home from work, that's all, folks. I'm on vacation until the next day of business. No strenuous tasks for me, like turning on the TV without the remote -- never mind blasting my pecs or running in place for a "Cosby Show" episode's span of time.

You see, the problem with purchasing home fitness machines and attempting to turn that guest room into a Gold's Gym is that, although it initially sounds like a good idea, you're trying to run a 10K and do a thousand crunches within a 15-foot radius of your food pantry where the doughnuts and Oreos are. Let's be honest, it's really only a matter of days before that monstrous, metallic mold of muscle machinery is reduced to a drying rack for your XL T-shirts.

Workout videos aren't much better. Just Wal-Mart impulse buys: Look at the cover of that video case with the blonde bombshell and her bodacious buns of steel in that tri-colored leotard. Put the Pepperidge Farm cake back, honey, because your wife's gonna look like this in six weeks!

Now, how many times are you actually going to watch that same aerobic VHS tape with the same instructor yelling out the same buzzwords of motivation and performing the same exercises? My guess is four. And that fourth time will be from your couch while you're dunking those aforementioned Oreos with your feet propped up on the coffee table.

Truthfully, I'm not 100% positive the human body is really even capable of circumflexing itself into any of those pretzel twists portrayed by the video aerobic and yoga instructors. As they bend and contort their bodies, I can't help but think that, yes, if my childhood memory serves me correctly, this appears to be the point at which my Batman figure's leg would snap off.

Customer Service

Pardon my I-remember-when-gas-was-a-quarter moment, but remember when customer service was actually a service to the customer? Employees would wait on you hand and foot to ensure everything's fine. There was a phone line connected specifically for your concerns and disagreements -- a phone line that went directly to a representative. There was a money-back-guarantee policy sans the red tape.

It's all one gigantic customer disservice now. If you want them, come find them. If their phone number's in the phone book, it's a guessing game which one of 32 given numbers will lead you to the correct department for your specific need. Or you can grab your sleuth hat and magnifying glass and try locating that diminishing "Contact us" link on their website that's so small, it's obvious they don't want to be reached. And forget the operator if you do stumble upon a phone number -- it's a digital scavenger hunt trying to push the right series of touch-tone keys to finally reach your destination. And then... wait. Wait for five minutes. Wait for 20 minutes. Wait for the next available representative your call will be taken in the order in which it was placed thank you for holding please have your account and invoice number ready this call may be recorded or monitored we apologize for your inconvenience.

Let's just quit apologizing for the inconvenience, CSR's. Quit reading the "I’m sorry" statement teleprompted on your computer screen. No one's taking you seriously or forgivingly. Just save that energy and put it towards a means of rectifying my issue.

I miss the days of old. The representative who spoke in my native tongue. The store clerk who willingly assisted me regardless of whether or not that was her department. The realization that people don’t stick their receipts on their fridge by a Psalm 23 magnet but can and do misplace them.

I'll always remember customer service. She was a good friend. The way she spoke, the way she smiled, the way she bagged my groceries for me. It's too bad -- such a sudden yet quiet death. We can bury her next to her cousin, the defunct "The customer is always right" unwritten policy.

Bluetooth Devices

As Moses stood up to Pharaoh and demanded liberation for his people, and as Martin Luther King Jr. stood up to racist tyrants and hatemongers to denounce segregation and welcome equality, so will I stand up to Bluetooth hands-free headset owners and declare these words of truth, justice, and... more truth: If you own and wear one of those small ear-stationed devices with a blinking blue light for your cell phone, you're a douche.

I could save us all some reading time and just end the roasting here because their appearance alone, loyally and undyingly fixated to a person's ear, is so ridiculous that my declaration really needs no justification, but I know you want more. You want to know every reason why I would ever have the audacity to slam such a popular advancement in technology, a fad so widespread that you can't even go to Dollar Tree to pick up an expired 5-lb. carton of rejected rainbow-colored Goldfish crackers without seeing it in use. Yet we all harmoniously abhor Crocs, don't we...

Nevertheless, I'll elaborate. Because, so help me God, the first time I came across one of these things, I laughed. Laughed hard. In a someone-punch-that-guy-please-because-he-looks-so-preposterous way. But, you see, that feeling hasn't subsided yet. And that was some years ago. And what's with that blue light, as if you needed to look even more outlandish with an oversized hearing aide strapped around your ear? Glad it's blinking so that more attention can be brought to your shrewd purchase of a clip-on tie for your ear. "Look at me, everyone, notice my sleek, techie ear accessory on which I spent some of my excess of unwanted cash!"

Adding to its silliness is the appearance that you're talking to yourself while using it. It's not until you turn around that anyone can tell you're actually on the phone (or rather the phone is on you). Talking to these Bluetooth-bearers is beyond frustrating since they can suddenly and seamlessly break into a phone call without forewarning mid-discussion. How many phone calls is a person getting anyway? Does everyone who wears these things like jewelry have to stay on-call around the clock? "Excuse me, folks, I have to stay on-call all day. A call could break out. Gotta be ready. Better safe than sorry. The President could call at any mo--hello? Oh, hi, Mom. Yeah, I've got the gallon of milk in my hands right now."

And I love it when people try to rationalize their Bluetooth headset by explaining that holding a cell phone while driving is distracting and dangerous. They want to be more alert, pay more attention. Besides, that free hand needs to be able to select a song from their iPod or operate their GPS navigation tool or hold a cheeseburger.