I used to joke that I was born anal-retentive—that after popping into the world I promptly asked when someone was going to clean up the mess. But in truth, my defining characteristic isn't that I'm a neatnik; it's that I'm critical. I can't help it: I can usually see how something might be done better, and I'm constantly disappointed when other people don't care as much as I do. That's probably why I ended up being an editor—we fix things. Maybe my next job will be as a consultant, getting paid to improve the consumer's experience. But right now, in the spirit of being constructive (and at risk of sounding like Andy Rooney), I'm offering the following advice free of charge.
• I was so pleased to discover Method's hand soap—it isn't overscented, and it comes in elegant, label-free dispensers. But long before we reached the end of the first one, the area underneath the plunger (right word?) turned all gunky. It's impossible to clean and because the plastic is transparent, the grime is highly visible. I bought the soap again anyway, and the same thing happened. Hey, Method: How about an opaque plunger and/or making the underneath part cleanable? If I were the kind of person who wasn't bothered by dirt I wouldn't be buying hand soap in the first place.
• I love OpenTable. If I never have to talk to a restaurant reservationist again, that'd be just fine. And generally the interface is great. But when I click on "sign in," why doesn't the cursor go directly to the email field? This is a tiny thing but it's driving me kuh-ray-zee because every other website on earth has figured this out. I'm halfway through typing my email address before I realize that no letters are appearing onscreen.
• Speaking of websites: If you control one that goes fullscreen upon being opened—I'm talking to you, Jazz Standard—change it right now. No one likes it. (I'm prepared to award an exemption to any websites that stream pug videos.)
• When Adam's uncle decided that Adam's grandmother really needed to see a copy of Edible Manhattan, a magazine about local food, I was annoyed because the only place in my neighborhood I've seen it is Whole Foods. The store charges $7 for a magazine that is free everywhere else! I told Adam I couldn't bear to pay for it—the magazine is fine for a giveaway but lame for $7—and he insisted. So I bought it. Wouldn't you know, the next day I went to a store that wasn't charging for it. You're making it hard to love you, Whole Foods.
• The three-ounce rule for bringing liquids in carry-on baggage has been in effect for a while now, but to the best of my knowledge, the makers of contact lens solution refuse to sell standalone containers under four ounces. Instead, you can buy an overpriced "travel pack" (probably "travel pak," which is even worse) that has a two-ounce container—two, not three!—and yet another contact lens case. I DO NOT NEED ANY MORE CONTACT LENS CASES. Adam tries to hoard them but I toss them anyway. Plus, in a related complaint, have you noticed that contact lens cases are getting larger and larger—no doubt so that you'll burn through even more contact lens solution?
• I used to eat a chocolate chip cookie every day, but I've been weaning myself off of it. Today, however, I needed a pick-me-up, so I decided to go to Le Pain Quotidien. I wouldn't normally, because the cookies aren't that great and they're huge. But it's close-ish and I had to be back in time for a call. Anyway, I promised myself I wouldn't eat a whole one, because not only are they huge, they're 670 calories. That's 130 calories more than a Big Mac! I crossed my heart and swore I'd eat only half. And then I didn't even pause at the halfway mark. Come on, LPQ, bring out a smaller cookie. I'd visit more often, really I would. You have my word!
• At the Living Desert in Palm Desert, Calif.—it's a sort of zoo—I walked into the gift shop hoping it'd be selling T-shirts that said "I Can Bite" just like some of the signs on the animal enclosures. (Scroll down or click here.) Nope, just zerba-print golf balls and lots of stuffed animals. The Living Desert should copyright that phrase ASAP and slap it on everything—not just T-shirts but coffee mugs, onesies, dog clothing.... Thousands of dollars are just waiting to be made. You're welcome.
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