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Sept. 29, 2009 - Scrum
   • And here I thought I'd never be at Fenway Park at 2 a.m. ever again.

Jim Davis/Boston Globe
(Jim Davis/Boston Globe photo)

   Given I never get doused with anything at these things, the whole production was more annoying than anything else. Rarely has my chosen profession looked more pathetic than it does right here.

   Several times in the better part of the hour we spent waiting for this, it crossed my mind that doing something else would have been more appropriate. But there was nothing on the field, and no one outside. And given my deadline was more than two hours passed ...

   Yeah, I'm done with the whole print newspaper idea. Freeing thought, really.

Sept. 27, 2009 - Ride
   • I don't know, because I'm really only a passive NASCAR fan.

Joey Logano at Dover, Del. (AP)

NASCAR driver Joey Logano's car flies through the air after he wrecked during the AAA 400 NASCAR Sprint Cup race on Sunday at Dover, Del. (AP)

   I would have thought if a friggin' car was flipping by you a couple dozen feet away, you might be watching it.
Sept. 10, 2009 - Bank on It
   Watermelon Dr Peppers For Everyone!: Instinct tells me I can preface this story by saying, "Now, I love Sonic as much as the next guy." But clearly, I do not love Sonic as much as the next guy.

Previously, the Sonic closest to Boston was in Kingston, N.Y., about 150 miles away, said Dave Vernon, vice president of franchise sales at Sonic Corp. "We are making a push to become a more nationally known brand," he said.

Johnny Lundstrom, 32, recently traveled about 40 miles from Epping, N.H., and waited nearly two hours to eat an extra-long chili cheese coney at Sonic - two nights in a row. He didnít get to eat the first time, because the restaurant could not accommodate all customers before the 2 a.m. closing.

   Good to see the real reporter beat me to the reference point of Krispy Kreme in New England -- hint: we weren't always yellow states.


   • A few weeks back, I received an e-mail from my bank -- you may be familiar with my Bank if, say, you live in America. They were offering me a new credit card to replace my current one, which was still in fine working order. The proposal seemed simple enough: click the link in this e-mail, answer a few questions, and your new card will come in the mail.

   I read said e-mail, mulled for a bit, did a little research. Decided not to accept the offer because, well, let's be honest. My current card is fine, and changing the account number on all the bills I pay online with the current card is far too much work for a man of my motivational potential.

   Fast forward two weeks, and what do I find in the mail today? My new credit card, all shiny and black and new account numbery. Seems what I mistook as an "offer" was actually a "we're doing this, because we never should have given a guy who doesn't spend money enough credit to buy a Mini Cooper." Viva the illusion of choice, I suppose.

   So I pull off the cards and read the informational document, on which the following two lines are among those printed:

"This card has no pre-set spending limit."

"Credit Line: [Some finite amount of money was typed here]."

   I never would have thought that a multi-national corporation could be considered "cute," but they are just precious, aren't they?

   This, of course, is couple with the automated call to activate the card during which I was asked once to join the bank's super-duper-no-steal-your-identity service, asked twice to join the bank's super-duper-no-steal-your-identity service, then told (after refusing both of the previous sales pitches) that I "could not be enrolled" in said super-duper-no-steal-your-identity service at this time. Because I'm sure that's never confused someone's grandmother.

   I can't wait until one of their loan officers has my wife and I in the palm of his hands. They're probably dumb enough to believe we could actually afford to buy a house.

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