Aggravating Trifles Part I

I'm sure this entry could potentially get very long, but since this is Part I, I'm only going to pick two things. I'm fairly certain that my rants on these have already been heard, but there's something satisfying about moving beyond oral tradition into something more lasting. Anyway, the two things on this list are little quirks in the way we function in the world that make me question how much we can rely on the big things when we can't even get the little things right. So, without further ado, I shall begin what will undoubtedly be a multifaceted, multi-entry look at those aggravating little things that really don't mean anything in the big picture.

Fortune Cookie Fortunes. Fortune cookie fortunes are not fortunes. I was so surprised to get one recently that I carry it around in my wallet, despite the fact that I accidentally ripped it in half. Think about it...when was the last time you cracked open a fortune cookie and pulled out that tiny piece of paper with a random word on it in Chinese on one side and an actual fortune on the other? It seems wrong to be surprised that one was fortunate enough to receive a fortune - that is like being surprised to find an oyster upon opening an oyster. It's a simple case of nomenclature. Now, I'm not saying that what accompanies our mini-lesson in how to say "mangoes" or "tomorrow" isn't good advice -- indeed, it makes sense that if you "speak well of others you need never whisper" and that you should "be assertive when decisive action is needed." But that's just it -- it is advice, not a fortune. The last thing I want after eating too many garlic noodles is a lecture on a tiny piece of slightly stained paper stuffed inside a free check-paperweight. This is especially true in a restaurant where, for whatever reason, they always present one more cookie than there are people at the table (which is a whole different entry about PF Chang's inability to count). However, I can't unilaterally complain; because, to be fair, there is the occasional fortune in the Advice Cookie. Sage advice from the annals of cookie wisdom aside, you can sometimes find an actual fortune, as vague and cheerily optimistic as it might be. The fortune I carry in my wallet, for instance, tells me that "a lifetime of happiness lies ahead" -- which is a pretty nice fortune, actually. Perhaps I should play those lucky numbers in the lottery. (Convenient that the annals of cookie wisdom proffer a quantity of digits which coincides neatly with many versions of the lottery). Before I do, however, let me just open this leftover fortune cookie to see what it says. Ahh... "a fool and his money are soon parted." So much for the lottery, but at least I can say "receipt" in Chinese.

Sleep Number Beds: First, there's a logical fallacy inherent in the Sleep Number Bed philosophy that drives me nuts. It's a little complex...but it makes sense to me and it annoys me, so here it is. The commercials suggest to me that I may be suffering from back pain because my bed is not right for me. This is told in an informative sort of way -- much the way that you might be told that there could be a build-up of radon in your basement and you would never know until you became too sick to buy the product being sold. The commercial then invites me to experience a sleep number bed and get the best night's sleep I've ever had, free of said pain. Here's where I think way too much about the sales pitch and wonder about a fundamental question. Namely this: If I didn't know that it was my bed that was giving me my back pain, how can I possibly be trusted to choose a number that will alleviate it? "You didn't even know you had this problem....now, fix it." Sure, they have a nifty calculator of weight, height, and sleeping habits on their website, but one of the questions asks what kind of mattress I like. Clearly, if the commercial is to be believed, the bed I like is wrong. Maybe, on the scale of Random Numbers, they suggest one that represents the opposite of whatever I answer. The second thing about Sleep Number Beds is the fact that they are, for all intents and purposes, air mattresses. A glorified air mattress that will lighten your finances by at least $1,000 (and that's if you are lucky enough to purchase the base model on one of the 361 days of the year that mattresses are on sale) -- and that's the bottom of the barrel. If you want really fancy, you're looking at $3500 on sale. On sale! Now, don't get me wrong...I wouldn't critique something I hadn't tried (well, yes I would, but I might not blog about it). I've slept on one in a hotel (granted, hotel furniture quality might be a bit suspect, but it was a nice hotel). Settling myself against large and comfortable pillows, I held down the button and was lulled to sleep by the whir of an air pump as I set the bed to 75 on the Random Number Scale. When I woke up in the morning, it was at 20. I felt like I was camping with uncommonly nice sheets.

Maybe I can use the lucky numbers in my fortune cookie to set up the mattress next time I'm in that hotel...

Until I write just another blog...
-T

PS - Rats love fortune cookies.