A place to submit Funny Amazon Reviews.
I sent these to my ex "by mistake". Does that make me a bad person?
I caught Regulatory Cost Recovery Fee in bed with my teenaged daughter after prom last year. What a jerk. If your looking for a guy to charge you for cost recovery and do it according to regulations, I'd look for a better vendor.
Trust me, I don't like regulations any more than the next guy, but when my AT&T phone bundle included this fee, I figured "What the heck".
I'm glad I said yes!
Not only this this fee cover the cost of the regulations imposed by our benevolent uncle Samuel, it exceeded it! I could sleep easy knowing that my uncle's fees were fully covered, for the life of the phone! Or for a month, it's hard to tell. But whichever way it is, I know that my fees have been covered and AT&T doesn't have to pony those fees up themselves.
It's comforting to know that whenever my uncle needs cash, he just passes that need on to us, and our benevolent corporate overlords are more than happy to oblige!
I was going to buy a new PlayStation 3 and a few games when I stumbled across this offer for Regulatory Fee! I really couldn't resist and in fact next to being torn with the temptation of ordering a Rolex, ordering the PS3 or pulling the trigger on this one, I found an uncontrollable urge and my mouse going crazy to do a left click.
So now I have a new Blackberry Bold that I love and a Regulatory Fee that I hope I don't see again until this phone dies in about 2 years.
Think of the Regulatory Cost Recovery Fee (RCRF) as a tax on phone users to cover the cost of government oversight and regulation. It does cost something. (Whether it costs as much as the RCRF funds collected or not, and regardless of whether you personally think the regulation of the telecom industry is properly managed). So, if the telecoms didn't pay for the FCC and other government regulation then such money would come out of the taxes /everyone/ pays. This would mean that folks without telephone lines, or without as many as the next person or business, would be subsidizing the folks who did have a lot of phone lines. That wouldn't be fair, would it?
Now, the question of whether the telecoms should call out this fact by placing a separate line item on the bill and being able to advertize their rate plans as being a little bit lower than they actually are -- that's a different issue. But, the basic question is who should pay for the regulation of the telcoms, and the RCRF seems to stick it to the appropriate people: the users of the telecoms services.
If we did the same thing with public roads and many government services, the true cost of infrastructure and services would be passed on to the users of such; the marketplace would be fairer.
For these reasons I give the RCRF 4 stars!
WTF! OMG!! ROTFLMAO!!! GTFO!!!! I'm so excited to pay this fee that I was crying in passion! Please charge me more!! Im a prime members and am so going to pay these fees no matter how much they are!!!
It has been 2 years, 7 months & 3 days since I was hit by a drunk driver on State Route 17. It was a horrible accident framed by pale moonlight. My car was totaled, as was my body. The drunk driver was flung from his car as was never found.
Months blurred together in a morphine laced molasses nightmare. The doctors told me I'd likely never again be able to use my arms or legs. I went through waves of anger and depression, which I affectionately call "Mad-Sad Oreos".
Then it happened. A fire ignited deep with in my limp body. I woke up one day and realized I could either keep dunking the Oreos in my pity milk or I could fight with all my earthly being to get my life back... and the use of my arms and legs.
So I turned to my two great loves: reading and oral hygiene.
I had my grandmother set up a series of ropes and pulleys and triggers around my bed that I could control with my nose and mouth. I was able to floss, brushes, rinse, & polish my teeth. In doing so, I was also strengthen what little muscle control I had.
I quickly read through my grandmothers entire library. Some books I read multiple times. I used a modified cookbook stand placed on my chest & turned the pages with my precious teeth, which left bite marks on the pages... especially the covers of the books.
My grandmother also set up a laptop, which I controlled with the rope & pulleys connected to a series of drop-pins over the keyboard. I surfed the internet and ordered boxes and boxes of books to satiate my literary appetite.
When they arrived, my grandmother unpacked them. The first one she laid at the foot of my chin was this book, "Smile Lines". One look at the goddess on the cover & it was as if I was paralyzed all over again.
After a few moments, my grandmother asked: "Well, aren't you going to read it?"
"No, Grammy..." I replied. "I can't bring myself to leave a single bite mark on her angelic, glossy, soft cover face.
Guys... don't buy this book if you ever want to live a life that isn't constantly filled with pain. Since the first moment I saw the face of the woman on the cover I can't get my mind off of it.
From day to day I'll put the book in my european carry-all. I bring her around and take pictures with her doing fun things. I hold up the book, hug it adoringly, and snap away. Sometimes I'll take it to lunch. I don't read it, but instead I just set it across the table from myself and have conversations with it... I mean... her. *sigh* I'm such a wreck. All I want to know is where I can find this gorgeous woman. Does she always wear those glasses? Is her nose that perfect in real life? Does she make love to me the way her picture on the book does?
I just feel so hopeless. In the meantime I have called her Helen. Only the most beautiful name would do for the world's most beautiful woman. I just want to meet her. I want her to talk to me while holding the book. I want her to read select passages to me while giggling flirtatiously.
I want to be with you forever Helen. I know that I can give you things of which you never dreamed. Our life together would be fantastic.
A member of my church recommended the book to me. Apparently Mr. Walter A. Newport III had been a founding member of an international center. I like those credentials!
Unfortunately the cover of the book tempted my teen son to commit sinful acts. He removed the cover and stitched it onto a body pillow. Pray you never walk in on your son doing the "double backwards hovercraft paint mixer". It is burned into my retinas.
I saw this book out of the corner of my eye in the book store and I had to go back to look more closely. It was like a spell was cast over me as I carried the book over to the cashier and became impatient just waiting for her to scan the book and return it back to my hands. I eagerly drove home from the book store, turned off the phone and TV and lit some candles preparing to read it but something was off. As I began reading it instead of feeling happy I felt a sense of nostalgia with each page I turned.
At first I was unable to pinpoint the cause of my woes but then it hit me. Every page in the book I turned left me 1 page farther away from the warming smile of the beautiful woman on the cover. I purchased a second book so that I could see the cover while I read the book and the experience of having both was amazing. If you are going read this book I highly recommend buying 2 copies as I did.
I have since framed one book in the bedroom and one in the living room so her inspiring smile is the first thing to greet me when I wake up in the morning and come home from work.
After I read smile line, I didn't think I could possibly find another piece that inspired me as much as it did. I thought I'd never look at a smile line the same way again. Then I bought the sequel, "Smile Lines", and boy did it change me. The picture on the cover perfectly covers the essence of this magnificent title. Smile. Lines. Lines that lead to a smile. In life there are certain pathways that lead to a smile, and by following those lines on your face, you can see exactly what it is that makes you smile. I practice by tracing them in red lipstick. I haven't felt so virile in 20 years! I've also gone and bought a pair of glasses just like the cover model is wearing. They look on slightly feminine on a 220 pound male such as myself, and people often react with hesitant curiosity when I also have the lipstick lines on my face, but that in itself makes me smile!! Everything makes me smile now! Kill a baby seal! I smile! Tell me Sarah Palin is brilliant! I smile! Everything is happy now. Buy this book!
This cover has way too many teeth for my taste. Teeth should be kept in a jar, not on the cover of a book.
It was a nice and sunny day when I was strolling along in my favorite park. I was feeling a little hungry, so I decided to eat. I had my backpack with me, so from it I brought out a bag of Haribo gummy bears, which I had purchased the other day from Amazon.com. I should have remembered the wise words of my father, who would tell me, "If you're hungry you should eat real food. Don't waste your appetite on candy." Oh, how I wish I had listened to his teachings. But of course, at the time, I simply disregarded his instructions, so I decided to grab more than a generous handful of these deceitful, horrendous little organisms.
I rapidly gobbled each gummy, one piece of crap at a time. After I had my fill, I stored the bag of trickery back in my backpack and continued to walk. It wasn't until about 15 minutes later when my torment began. I ignored the first sign, which was a small tingling in my stomach and/or intestines. But, after sign numero dos, which I took note of was a pushing and shoving down into my rectal area, I began to have a small concern. "Did I eat a rat?" I asked myself. "Is it trying to get out?." But then I recalled what I had consumed a little while ago. At this point, I started growing a tail, like a hot, wet, tail.
I rushed myself to the nearest water closet, which happened to be my mom's house, and plopped myself down on the latrine. First, a long strand of feces streamed out of the floodgates, but when I believed it to have completely out, I realized that that was only wave one out of what seemed to be three-hundred. Orange venom spewed out of and damaged slightly the exit tunnel, causing the toilet water to slosh violently and create a miniature hurricane. I may or may not have heard a lout crack from my throne, but all I know is that my mom hates replacing great pieces of furniture. Back to my ordeal. Following the orange liquid was what seemed to be vomit. I believe everything I ate from today and the day before
This book is completely misleading. The entire plot revolves around finding Baby's belly button; the title makes this much clear from the beginning. However, there is no mystery. There is no twist. Baby's belly button is right where it's suppose to be, on Baby's stomach. Right where it clearly SHOWS you it is on the COVER OF THE BOOK.
This plot is a complete mess as a result of it's reliance on the mystery of where the belly button is; everything falls apart the second you realize that the belly button was in plain sight all along. There is no conflict, there is no character development, and there is scarcely any plot. Whoever wrote this book must have a serious error in judgement, because you would have to be an infant to not immediately understand where Baby's belly button is. This is one of the worst pieces of literature I have ever read.
I told myself I wouldn't do this...
I told myself I wouldn't relive the heartache, but...
I feel as though I can stop this from spreading like a Japanese chain letter through G-Mail.
My name is Garrison and this is my story. It all started a few years back. I was young and discontented with the disheartening candies of today. Sweetarts had lost their tart. M&Ms had turned my "mmm's" into "ehh's." Kit Kats had brought a cantankerous dissatisfaction that is synonymous to owning an actual cat. My quest of higher blood sugar had proved frugal as I embarked on a pilgrimage to the supermarkets of the 21st century. Every store seemed the same. Carrying the same, uninspired congregation of unpalatable confectioneries that I had shed off throughout my adolescence. These trips were nothing but pure vanity! I returned home, arms empty and sweet tooth untamed. My pursuit of culinary enlightenment had led me to the one place I knew my goal could be achieved; The Internet.
I started by googling various candy manufacturers such as "Mars" and "Nestle," but grew to less specific searches such as "popular candy brands." After watching a Top 10 Countdown from WatchMojo, I stumbled upon a list of popular candy manufacterers. After several moments of scrolling I stumbled upon a seemingly familiar brand name... Haribo. "Where have I heard that name? It's so familiar!" I thought. I did a little more of searching until I discovered what seemed so famiilar. "Of Course! The Gummy Bear!" cried Garrison. "I haven't had a gummy bear in ages!" The thought of a Haribo gummy bear had subtly pleasured my major senses. My mouth began to water in exaltation to the red gummy bear... My God the red one was my favorite...
After several moments of reminiscing, my journey came to a close when I stumbled upon the "Haribo Gummi Candy Gold-Bears, 5-Pound Bag."
Oh man...words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!
First of all, for taste I would rate these a 5. So good. Soft, true-to-taste fruit flavors like the sugar variety...I was a happy camper.
BUT (or should I say BUTT), not long after eating about 20 of these all hell broke loose. I had a gastrointestinal experience like nothing I've ever imagined. Cramps, sweating, bloating beyond my worst nightmare. I've had food poisoning from some bad shellfish and that was almost like a skip in the park compared to what was going on inside me.
Then came the, uh, flatulence. Heavens to Murgatroyd, the sounds, like trumpets calling the demons back to Hell...the stench, like 1,000 rotten corpses vomited. I couldn't stand to stay in one room for fear of succumbing to my own odors.
But wait; there's more. What came out of me felt like someone tried to funnel Niagara Falls through a coffee straw. I swear my sphincters were screaming. It felt like my delicate starfish was a gaping maw projectile vomiting a torrential flood of toxic waste. 100% liquid. Flammable liquid. NAPALM. It was actually a bit humorous (for a nanosecond)as it was just beyond anything I could imagine possible.
AND IT WENT ON FOR HOURS.
I felt violated when it was over, which I think might have been sometime in the early morning of the next day. There was stuff coming out of me that I ate at my wedding in 2005.
I had FIVE POUNDS of these innocent-looking delicious-tasting HELLBEARS so I told a friend about what happened to me, thinking it HAD to be some type of sensitivity I had to the sugar substitute, and in spite of my warnings and graphic descriptions, she decided to take her chances and take them off my hands.
Silly woman. All of the same for her, and a phone call from her while on the toilet (because you kinda end up living
When i first come to America, my english did cause me problems. In Soviet Russia i was strong teacher, my english i know is the best in all of Petropavlovsk. My brother, Mikhail, he say to me, "Nikolai you go to America, they make you rich like czar, take many woman as lover, kill many bear". My brother, he is very wise, is greatest toymaker in all of Russia. So next day i wake up, sell my house, say goodbye to wife and children, and go to America to become millionaire. Then in America, I go to job interview and they say to me "Nikolai, you are not for the job here, you are not the skills we need, your english is poor like child". I take that man and smash his table, i say "someday i will be greatest man in all of country, your children will wish me their father!". That day my anger is best of me. It is then i know i must learn better english, so i buy book "English Grammer it is for Dummies" by Mr.Woods. Now i am perfect english grammer! I write letter to Mikhail, he write back "Nikolai, your english is like a god, you will be millionaire soon! all of Petropavlovsk is proud for you! good luck brother! please send letter when you are president or maybe even czar! Hahaha! also, your wife is killed by bear". So i say thanks to Mr.Woods for his book! When i am czar your family will be spared! Hahahaha! (is joke).
My wife, pregnant with our 7th child, had been nagging at me to enquire about a vasectomy. I didn't fancy the idea of having my scrotum sliced open and testes brutalised in order to render me sterile, so I researched alternatives to achieve my goal of sterility. Radiation treatments were costly and designed for serious illness, so I sought out a more affordable and controllable means of irradiating my testicles. This is when I stumbled upon this potential tinned saviour on Amazon.
I received my Uranium Ore within a few days and I immediately set about applying the contents generously to my scrotum. I continued the treatment for 2 weeks, massaging the ore into my wrinkled sack at night, avoiding the lesions and boils that have appeared over the last few days. The day after my last treatment I decided to test the effects. Obviously I wasn't going to just jump on the wife and hope it had worked. That would have been negligent of me, so I decided I would masturbate in to a plastic cup and view the foul smelling goo my penis expelled through my Elenco Microscope (Available on Amazon for $16) for any signs of life.
To my horror the sperm, now magnified 6 fold, were more mobile than ever, scurrying on 4 limbs resembling an adolescent tadpole prior to its transformation in to a frog!
5 days after carrying out this test the sample I collected in the plastic cup still lives, the movements at the bottom of the cup more visible to the naked eye as the seminal goo slowly evaporates. Once I finish this review I will microwave the cup and it's contents and post my findings.
I wanted to give this product 5 stars for the packaging alone, but it has not helped me avoid a vasectomy and made my scrotum bleed and weep puss. 1 star.
Ok, the reviews for this are all pretty fun to read but lets be realistic for at least one minute:
This is a real sample of uranium containing ore and NOT for children or ingestion. As depicted in the picture, samples will be around 200 cpm (counts per minute). Definitely not a "hot" piece of ore by any stretch of the imagination.
However, ALL uranium bearing ores emit alpha and beta particle radiation and gamma rays. The uranium itself is not really a radiation hazard as it emits only alpha particles that won't penetrate your skin and is more a heavy metal toxin than anything. That said, you certainly don't want to ingest any alpha emitter as then it becomes a radiological hazard.
The uranium in this ore is not the concern. The other elements in the uranium decay chain are. Those are the beta particle and gamma ray emitters. That can it comes in will not generally have any great effect on the gamma rays and they will go right through it.
This sample like ALL uranium ores will release radon gas as part of the decay chain. The radon only lives around 4 days then decays in to the four deadly daughters over a period of about 1 hr. The final daughter is radioactive lead 210 which will not decay for another 22 years.
So this is not a toy. Don't feed it to the cat as it won't make him run any faster, don't put it in your highball as it won't instill any viagra effects, don't carry it in your front pocket thinking it will save you money on condoms, and certainly don't inhale near the can when you first open it.