Archive for April, 2008
100 Percent Whole-Grain Popcorn
Posted on April 17, 2008
Correct me if I’m wrong, friends, but I’m pretty sure popcorn wouldn’t work if it weren’t whole-grain.
Also, they felt it necessary to footnote the fact that the 0% Trans-Fat is only on a per-serving basis. Meaning that, perhaps, enough servings of 0% may equal some other percentage than zero, a mathematical limb I’m not willing to climb on. It won’t hold my weight on account of all the hot buttered popcorn I’ve ingested.
The people designing this box, do you think they intended the packaging to be anything less than ironic?
Perhaps they honestly thought a selling point of microwavable popcorn is the fact that the popcorn is still structurally sound.
And trans-fat free as well! But considering the bucket of butter-flavored grease the popcorn is packed in I think the trans-fat free brag is as meaningful as a bottle of vodka proudly proclaiming itself free of antifreeze.
Cleverly Disguised as a Douche-bag and his Trampy Wife
Posted on April 7, 2008
This past Saturday evening my wife an I participated in a charity event known as a “Road Rally”.
in actuality it was like a scavenger hunt with Riddler style clues and puzzles. Each team was given a bag of clues, riddles and questions which required you to drive all around northern Macomb and Oakland counties visiting various business establishments and communicating with humans. It was quite fun, and our team of four came in fifth. (I must admit that for some of the more difficult 1980’s trivia riddles I enlisted the aid of DaveCat, ZipGun, and goshou through the technology of cellular telephone talkery)
Good, clean fun, right? The catch was that throughout the ordeal we would be expected to wear the fashions of the 1980s, hideous as they may now seem to we modern humans.
I turned 18 in 1990 and therefore possessed an adult-sized body for about three years of that decade, during which time I accumulated but a meager collection of clothing that matched the styles of the time.
Alas, my Z Cavaricci knock-offs are long gone, I never owned any Reebok Pumps and no one ever gave me a friendship bracelet. I was generally un-hip in any case; no reproducable photos reveal mullets, skinny ties or Jordache jeans on my person at any time.
Nevertheless, I searched my closet and produced the pictured assortment of mixed eighties stuff. Note the reversible belt with my initial prominant on the tiny chrome-and-gold belt buckle. Also observe the “Ducky-style,” paisley, silk shirt (bought for me by my biological father in 1989 and worn for the first time in public in THIS PHOTOGRAPH). Lastly, check out the cloth windbreaker, which was an Aeropostale knock-off (complete with biplane on the back) purchased for me by my mom when I was 13… from K-Mart, for chrissake!
The pants and shoes were purchased recently. I happen to like wearing Converse All-Stars, especially when playing DDR, though I only discovered them for the first time about a year ago. The pants were TIGHTER than any pants my fat, 36-year-old ass has any business wearing. One beneficial side effect is that it made me look really well endowed and demonstrated to the world the quality of my thighs. The overriding negative side-effect, however, is that my big ‘ol butt was… well… big and old. Since it wasn’t Jordache I had Heather write “Jordache” across my right ass-cheek. Not certain this fooled anyone, though…
The result was bizarre, out-of-style, but perhaps not immediately period evoking. Well, I tried. Heather, however, did it right.
First, let me tell you that Heather is a very self-conscious woman. She’s totally hot, in my opinion, but is constantly being camera shy and attempting to cover herself up. For instance, if she wears a mid-thigh miniskirt she is constantly tugging it down in a vain attempt to obscure her pretty legs and she’ll usually wear a t-shirt or tank-top under any shirt that might show cleavage just to frustrate inquiring eyes.
So I was quite happy with her little shorts, see-through leggings and off-the-shoulder flash dancer look. Less thrilling to me was the hair-spray and eye shadow, but I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled with my man-of-the-day moustache.
As I mentioned at the beginning, my team ended in fifth place. As for the other participants’ costumes? The gamut was run from Nike track suits with mullet-wigs to a tall blonde who actually had her long hair crimped for the occasion. Gnarly.
Are You There?
Posted on April 1, 2008
(07:24:26 PM) SafeTinspector: You there?
(07:24:38 PM) SafeTinspector: I am, unfortunately, working.
(07:24:44 PM) SafeTinspector: This weekend is a complete bust.
(07:25:19 PM) SafeTinspector: This is my lot in life, to type on a screen in the vain hope that another may read what I say and sympathize.
(07:25:51 PM) SafeTinspector: But what good is sympathy? It can’t set me free from my voluntary shackles of commerce and career.
(07:26:57 PM) SafeTinspector: Be thankful you have the privacy to pleasure yourself, or could obtain the privacy with short notice and but a whim.
(07:27:36 PM) SafeTinspector: I’ll have you know I could no more let my hand sink below the lip of this table than I could shop for tomatoes in the Sea of Tranquility.
(07:28:20 PM) SafeTinspector: If I did, the shocked stares! Oh, surely they could see my point. If they joined me with abandon then we’d all get some enjoyment from it–albeit one with a shakey, enbarassed silence afterwards.
(07:28:53 PM) SafeTinspector: I plan on coughing uncomfortably into the sudden quiet, into my left hand so as to avoid gooing up my chin.
(07:31:55 PM) SafeTinspector: UNfortunately I have unlimited access to regular cola. I’ve squandered it, though. I’ve wasted it by intentionally pouring it into the top of the microwave. Hopefully I won’t be found out.
