Say it with me slooooowly..... MEMMMMMMO.

so i am a proud owner of the crackberry curve
which i purchased at an at&t store last august.

but it wasn't until recently
(and against my will)
that the "messenger" service
(which is different from txting... just a little, which i guess, is enough nowadays)
was pushed upon me by friends who are HUGE fans.



anyhow
after messenger-ing a few times,

the smiley face in the top right hand corner that notifies a new message

wouldn't.

go.

AWAY.

and i had read all my messages.

nonetheless i doubted myself
and started getting annoyed by this wee smiley face
mocking me
MOOOOOOCKING ME

so logically,

and amidst some major, perhaps not entirely necessary frustration

i deleted messenger.

i cursed at my phone for controlling me.

and turned it on and off to no avail.

(smiiiiiiiling... moooooocking.... yellow faaaaaace! damn you!)

i also deleted
every.
single.
message/email/text
in my phone

convinced this was somehow MY fault
and that there was a new message SOMEWHERE
that i didn't know about....
(because OF COURSE. the smiley face is smarter than the bobby).

finally today,
i went to an at&t store and handed my phone to a "specialist"
and explained the problem.

he groaned
and was like

ooooh i see this all the time
and have no idea how to fix it
NO ONE does.

(Ooooooo how mysterious)

so i accepted it for what it was

which was that i would have a goddamn smiley face on my blackberry for the rest of its life
(which is most likely pretty short bc i drop it/step on it/spill water on it on a regular basis. and might just do on purpose because GODDAMN IT:
i own my phone
and it doesn't
own
me!!!!

(*insert pitiful squeak of resistance here.*)

but for some reason,
i was still not satisfied
and did really, what i should have done from the beginning...

i googled it.

*insert shout-out to google for becoming a VERB according to Webster*
(pretty freakin awesome when you're so big you transform the English language.)

*ALSO insert shout-out to shiami for google loving her*

and well,

i found an answer from petersn1 and sunkast
at www.crackberry.com.

(bless their little hearts)

solution?

take the battery OUT,
put it back IN
and...

tah daaaah!!!!
smiley face is GONE.

so i'm grateful that my fellow users figured it out
but realize
wow.
this must be a pretty big problem
if the "specialist" had seen this mysterious occurance MULTIPLE times
and if people are freakin' blogging about it.

*insert tiny shout-out to bobby here*

then i'm thinking...

SOMEONE AT AT&T KNOWS HOW TO FIX THIS PROBLEM.

actually...




probably A LOT of people at AT&T know how to solve this problem.

HOWEVER.

the store "specialist" today gave me no hope.

i mean, it could have been an isolated incident
of specialist-type ignorance

(because not everyone prioritizes knowledge and change over not having to do anything but ignore customers' problems boooooo)

but... still.

WTF.

INFORM YOUR PEEPS WHO WILL BE INFORMING YOUR CUSTOMERS

(the rule that we live by here is that for every ONE person that actually says something, 100s just passively accept and ignore.)


I MEAN, SERIOUSLY.

HELLO MCFLY?

MEMO?

EMAIL?

SOMETHING?

RUNNING A BUSINESS #1:
if there's a problem, make sure everyone knows how to fix it because your customers are going to WANT TO KNOW.

and i don't just know that because i'm the bobby.

it's common sense people.

get your shit together.

run your company like it should be run.

BELIEVE ME FELLOW SHOPPERS
this is NOT too much to ask of your providers/manufacturers.

hmmm. maybe i'll write a letter.

love you.
(and of course, *sigh* my crackberry)

-b

Blessed Retailer of the Day: Prada.

The Bobby is very busy
even with things outside of making the consumer's world a better place to shop

and sometimes gets a bit stressed.

So,
I took a little walk today and contemplated drugs, alcohol etc.
and how, perhaps, these options could artificially release me from the torment of a gifted mind.

But instead,
I took the wiser, healthier route:

retail therapy.

And the misconception about effective retail therapy
(that is, if you don't want to have to eventually go to real therapy
or a bankruptcy counselor)

is that you HAVE to buy.

.not.true.

The little trick I learned is the following:

go to a store where your credit card limit is so inferior that the salespeople (and perhaps the clothing) will melt in disgust if even catching a whiff of it.


My destination of choice?

PRADA.

And not just any Prada my dears - the Soho Flagship.

Write it down and visit immediately:

575 Broadway, New York City.

HELLS YES.

It is a feast for the senses.

I couldn't afford a damn thing,
but I touched everything

it was like ... being in a museum of beauty.

[and to quote Herbert Muschamp from a 2001 NYT review:

"Think of this as a museum show on indefinite display." ]

*sigh*

so true. so true.

And well,
I could start a rampage of detail here,

but I'd much rather you have the experience personally
untainted from bobbyisms of course.

[and the shoes! oh, THE SHOES! just. you. wait.]


and now to the quick finale of my story...


after an hour or so,

everything felt right with the world again:

I could finally return to my duties as consumer superhero,
reenergized by the power of magical prada fairies.

Get a taste at the website: www.prada.com

(I personally recommend checking out the Spring/Summer campaign images and the animation.)

Welcome to heaven.

[you're welcome.]

-B

Oh and P.S. -
should you be in a village coffee shop and see some handsome devil hunched over an apple laptop, staring at his newest desktop image of choice:

you'll know that's me.

[imobsesssssed]

Don’t look at me like that. You’re a freakin’ sweatshirt.

I had been milling around in a heather gray XL men’s GAP hoodie
(only on my off-days of course)

And decided on one of those lazy days
(well, really, after catching a horrific glimpse of myself in a store window)

When going casual,
my sweatshirt should at least be somewhat fabulous
and perhaps that way
my soul would somehow be somewhat better off.
(even sans make-up/sleep/shower)

[*insert shout-out to juicy couture here, who made an empire out of comfy via sexy fitted velour tracksuits. genius i tell you.*]

So I visited Urban Outfitters
(only because it's on every corner)

in search of a trendy hoodie that I could pass off as stylish
and yet uber-comfy.

And tah-dah!

I found Paul Frank’s Mercer hoodie.

Cute, no?

And the next day,
my off-day turned in an “off-week”
and well,
I wore that thing every single day
for 4 days -
only retiring it to the wash once it was deemed smelly.

I expected to pull it out of the dryer
and my new purchase would be even more comfy than before…
(as this is what happens with the comfy cotton hoodie)

But after just ONE WASH

it had pilled.

A 80% cotton/20% polyester hoodie PILLED.

WHAT.

Excuse me,
but I was irrational enough to spend $72 and taxes on a sweatshirt
and it was a goddamned PILLER.

And of course,
I was so thrilled with the sweatshirt pre-wash,
(and so unsuspecting because seriously - how can you mess up a sweatshirt)
I hadn’t bothered to save my receipt.

(Because, kids, just an FYI, if you have your receipt, Urban will take back practically anything for at least store credit.)

*insert shout-out to UO’s customer friendly return policy here*

So basically,
the Piller is mine for life.

And everytime I wash it,
I feel a wee bit anxious
and have to resort to high-maintenance behaviors
(brushing and shaving brushing and shaving)
in order to be satisfied with its "low-maintenance" look.

Sons-of-bitches.

Waste of my life.

(But I still brush/shave my life away and wear the damn thing at least once a week.)

So, unfortunately, this is a case where the Bobby has uncovered the inferiority of the designer product for which we naively have such high expectations.

(Here is where I would normally ask, “Did I wash this incorrectly?” But let's be honest here: it’s a hoodie for god's sake.)

Lesson #1? Be wary of the “designer” sweatshirt.

Lesson #2? ALWAYS save your receipt until your purchase has proved its worthiness.

See more Paul Frank here: www.paulfrank.com

And please, let me know if his other products are made of alien/poser cotton/polyesters blends that adopt the pilly cashmere/wool attitude.

(Your Bobby is forever the optimist – perhaps my individual sweatshirt is just a misbehaving freak of nature?)

Good luck out there my dears.
-Bobby