It"s About Time

I am a late bloomer when it comes to technology. I got a pager after I graduated from high school. I almost made it to 25 years old without a cell phone. I probably won't have a blackberry before 2010. However, I've decided that I won't live another day without a blog. Now you're probably asking yourself, why should I read anything Adam writes? What makes him so special? The only answer I have for you is: experience. Not the type of experience that you'd find on a Yale graduates' resume, nay, the kind of experience that makes others glad they don't have it. For example, I once gave my cell phone number to a homeless guy. This is precisely the cross section of the human experience that I bring to the table. I promise you'll be entertained.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

I hate Reunion.com!!!

I apologize if you got a stupid email from me saying I wanted you to join reunion.com. That is not the case. I hate reunion.com and hope that everyone involved with the website gets what is coming to them.

Here's what happened. I got the same email from my uncle that you got from me. I hadn't talked with him in months. I'd also moved recently. I thought that he was trying to contact me to get my new info. He's a busy guy, so I thought signing up quickly for the website would help him. Unfortunately, I now realize he got duped in the same way I did.

The website asks for your email information to match you with your friends/family already registered on reunion.com. What I didn't see in small print was that it also sends an email inviting the rest of your contacts to join. F@ck You, reunion.com!!! Do you really think I wanted to invite my boss to your stupid website? Or the dozens of business contacts in my address book? I'm sure Jim Rome was real happy getting that email.

The worst part is that now I have to explain this over and over again. So I'm wishing for a plague of sorts to befall the offices of reunion.com. I hope you're all reunited in the ICU. Again, sorry to everyone for the email. Please delete it. Thanks.

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