Karin and I were watching the excellent popcorn flick Independence Day, arguing the pros and cons of basing the defensive systems of a UFO mothership around a UNIX core, when this flashed on the screen:
If Woody Harrelson and Ted Danson ever got busy and made a love child together, I have every confidence that this would be the disastrous result.
File this under “news to me”, but while running around this past weekend I slammed smack dab into a vending machine that catered to the “desperate parents” set:
Now, I know that Japan has been kicking our collective asses when it comes to funky vending machines, but I’m glad to see that America is finally stepping up and providing such critical services so far away from any tourist locales and airport lounges. Of course I won’t be happy until I can simply press a button to purchase a live Maine lobster named “Zoe”, a 1750ml bottle of Jack Daniels, and a three-pack of previously worn tighty whities. I have very…errr, specific tastes…
Oh, and in case you hadn’t heard, Patrick Swayze has died. Goodnight, toughman. The roadhouse won’t be the same without ya, my friend… 
A sure sign that Halloween is on its way is the annual opening of the Spirit Halloween stores. These seasonal stores, open only during the months of September and October, seem to pop up overnight, providing a wider selection of Halloween frights and delights than your typical big chain store.
Not being one able to resist a good freak show, Karin and I stopped by a local Spirit store that had just opened in the recent days. Hedging our bets that, because Halloween was over six weeks away, and that the average American typically waits until the last minute to purchase their Halloween gear, the store should be relatively quiet. Thankfully that turned out to be the case. Everything displayed in the store was freshly out of the boxes, intact, and functional. But give them a few weeks and I’m sure the kids will have destroyed the cool displays.
It’s amazing to think that the Spirit chain opens in over 700 locations countrywide each year.
The few kids that were in the store this past Sunday afternoon were running around, having a great time. Several of them approached us, claiming that the masks, creepy decorations, and displays were, and I quote here, “more annoying than scary.” I guess jaded kids are a sign of the times…
This was, by far, my favorite display. The man inside would occasionally shake and plea to be set free “before they come back and eat me!” Heh….
I’m a sucker for Halloween. It’s probably my most favorite time of the year. I think we’ll be decorating the front of the house in the next couple of weeks, stock up on candy, and hook up the porch speakers for some eerie mood music.
Oh, come on now…that has got to be a put on. Somebody is pulling my leg, yankin’ my chain, and putting one over on me. This must to be a joke:
Now, I know that CNN.com isn’t the bastion of deep think that they wish they were, but did someone over there actually think that this was a solid enough of a story to give it pictorial front page coverage? Jeezy Creezy…of course exercise makes you hungry. You’re converting stored energy into movement, thus requiring your body to replenish its spent supplies, but exercise does not make you chow down on pork rinds, Big Macs, or sugary soda drinks.
To quote from this ridiculous “article”:
But like many other people, I get hungry after I exercise, so I often eat more on the days I work out than on the days I don’t. Could exercise actually be keeping me from losing weight?
Listen to me Mr. John Cloud (if that is indeed your real name), I’ll repeat: Exercise does not make you fat. Your eating habits do.
Put down the Cheetos, step away from the Slim Jims, and push yourself back from the deep dish pizza.
Exercise is good for you. If you don’t believe that to be an absolute truth, Mr. Cloud, then you’re more obtuse than I give you credit for. Seriously, I believe the “WTF” tag was created for stories just like these. Man…they’ll let anybody write for CNN / Time nowadays, won’t they?
Hey, I have a nifty idea. Give me the opportunity to contribute an article to CNN. I have several solid leads that would make for banner headlines; drinking water leads to hydration, puppies and kittens are cute ‘n cuddly, and skydivers jump out of perfectly good aeroplanes (yes, John Cloud, that’s spelled correctly). Don’t ask where I get these Earth-shattering stories from. I refuse to give up my sources, and will protect them to the death. I swear, on the holy FSM, that I’ll make more sense than this John Cloud character.
So…whatdoyasay CNN…do I gots the job?
In the midst our road trip last week Karin and I pulled off the freeway and into a Kentucky Fried Chicken for a late lunch before undertaking the final leg of our journey home. Now, I haven’t been in a KFC in well over a year, but I found myself oddly jonzing for a cup of slaw and a leg of fried chicken. Mmmm….
When the friendly lady behind the counter with the South Bronx accent yelled “Number 40!”, I eagerly claimed my tray of dead animal flesh and beat feet back to our table. Doling out the spoils of travel, I tucked into my food like a man on a mission, and soon was left with nothing but a plate of bones and a biscuit.
It was then that I noticed something a bit odd about my “honey” and “butter” condiments.
The first thing I noted was that the honey wasn’t called honey, but rather “honey sauce”. The small print which read “11% real honey” gave me further cause to pause. Then the obvious “buttery spread” hit me between the eyes, putting another stutter in my step. Umm, okay.
So, what exactly is in this stuff?
It appears that the “honey” is mostly sugar, and with a complete lack of an ingredients listing this artificially flavored “butter” was a complete mystery. But hey, this is KFC. It must taste good, no? Well, the “honey” tasted vaguely like honey, if said honey was dipped in sugar, spun around in a cotton candy machine, rehydrated with the tears of a diabetic Oompah Loompah, then repackaged and distributed by a conglomerate of carnies and a loose knit, slow-rolling band of ice cream truck drivers out trolling for a “good time”.
The butter was, well, disgusting. Tasting suspiciously like an entire aerosol can of Pam was let loose on my tongue, the oily concoction oozing between tooth and gum, overwhelming my taste buds with the vapory flavorings of sunscreen and axle grease. And don’t ask me how I know what axle grease tastes like. That’s a whole other story.
I could only muster but one bite of my “honey” and “butter” biscuit before running for the soda machine to wash the vile taste out of my mouth with a fresh cup of “black gold” (my new favorite soda concoction).
