Given the current state of Patricia Arquette, word in Hollywood is the name of the show Medium is being changed to "Large."
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Worst...sandwich...ever
Last night I was running a little late and decided to pick up dinner on the run. The McDonalds I passed didn't have anyone at the drive-through window so I pulled up there. But since I am trying to eat at least a little healthier, I decided to explore the menu a little further rather than order my usual #2 value meal (Quarter Pounder with Cheese for the uninitiated).
As I scanned the menu I spotted something that sounded like it fit the bill -- a grilled chicken club sandwich. Boneless, skinless grilled chicken breast with lettuce and tomato on a bun. "Order me up one of those," I declared.
I paid, picked up the bag with my sandwich, opened it up, pulled it out and took my first bite, which I expected to be an excursion to flavor country. Instead, what I found is that the McDonalds grilled chicken club sandwich tastes roughly like feet after three days on a campout. (Don't ask how I know.) In other words, it was awful.
I was hungry so I managed to choke it down, but every bite was painful. Look, I like to eat. It's one of my favorite passtimes. So eating something like this was torture.
I think the main culprit was the fake "smoke" sauce. You know the type -- it's supposed to make food taste like it's been grilling in a smoker all day. But what it actually does is make it taste like someone put crappy fake smoke sauce on it. Added to the bland chicken breast itself it left nothing to enjoy. And I'm sure the dollop of mayo they threw on there pretty much killed any health benefits I might've thought I was getting.
If living longer means eating food like that, bring me a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and I'll just check out early. Don't waste your money.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The smell of Christmas
I was at the store a couple of weeks ago when I saw something that struck my impulse to buy. It was one of those little wooden house thingies you use to burn incense. The signage talked about how you could have the scent of fresh balsam pine wafting gently through the house, bringing back warm memories of Christmas past. It promised to bring the scent of a real Christmas tree to the world of fake ones, the scent that you remember from your childhood.
Now, understand that growing up we never had a real tree. I shouldn't say never. I think we may have had one for a couple of years after I was born, because I've seen it in those old black and white pictures that are now stored in some unknown location in my house. But my Dad, who didn't like the hassle of picking out a tree or disposing us, bought a fake tree just as soon as they were mass-produced enough to come down to a dirt cheap price. It wasn't aluminum, thank God, but it was pretty much some metal sticks with some flat plastic strands sticking out of them.
So in truth, the scent of Christmas I really remember is more a combination of non-descript plastic and attic. But I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for the smell of pine in the home, so a couple of days later I bought the little house (which comes with 10 sticks of balsam pine incense) and brought it home, anxious to get my old-fashioned Christmas started.
I quickly opened the package, read the directions and started to fire up the first "log." That's an adventure in and of itself. They tell you to hold the little log sideways, light it so there is a sustained flame, then turn it so you can put it in the little holder inside the house in a vertical direction. Well, that may works for the ladies with skinny fingers who designed it. But with my fat fingers I nearly A) dropped it, which would set the little house on fire (do you then have to call for a little fire department? and B) suffered second degree burns as it tried to squeeze my fat fingers into the house to install the incense. All that was missing was me reciting the entire Greek alphabet backwards and I could've been a member of Sigma Phi Epsilon.
But I finally did get it in place and put the little roof back on the little house. I watched as the smoke came out of the little chimney, then waited to be overtaken by the sweet scent of the Christmas I Never Had.
A few minutes later, my wife came down the stairs, asking "Is something burning?" Yes, I explained, it's the sweet scent of Christmas past. She said, "It doesn't smell like Christmas. It smells like something is on fire." Then she went back upstairs to continue doing whatever it was she was doing.
Next was my eldest daughter. "Is something burning?" she queried. Yes, I explained again, now more annoyed. It's the sweet scent of Christmas. "It smells awful" she replied. "It's really sickening."
Undaunted, I stepped back and filled my nostrils with the sweet scent of Christmas. It was then that I realized my wife and eldest child were correct. It didn't smell like Christmas. It smelled more like someone had been cutting pine boards and let the saw run too long. Or like someone had dropped the little incense log into the recycling bin, igniting the newspapers in there and thus setting the entire house ablaze. Only with a faintly sweet tinge to it. And that gawdawful smell was now permeating our whole house.
We still have the little house sitting on the counter. I've tried it twice more with the same results -- family members come running into the kitchen looking for the fire extinguisher in the belief that all those Christmas lights we put up around the house have finally fulfilled their potential as a fire hazard. All I can say is thank goodness I didn't let the saleslady at the store talk me into purchasing another 50-pack of incense logs.
I wonder what the little house would smell like when it's burning?
Now, understand that growing up we never had a real tree. I shouldn't say never. I think we may have had one for a couple of years after I was born, because I've seen it in those old black and white pictures that are now stored in some unknown location in my house. But my Dad, who didn't like the hassle of picking out a tree or disposing us, bought a fake tree just as soon as they were mass-produced enough to come down to a dirt cheap price. It wasn't aluminum, thank God, but it was pretty much some metal sticks with some flat plastic strands sticking out of them.
So in truth, the scent of Christmas I really remember is more a combination of non-descript plastic and attic. But I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for the smell of pine in the home, so a couple of days later I bought the little house (which comes with 10 sticks of balsam pine incense) and brought it home, anxious to get my old-fashioned Christmas started.
I quickly opened the package, read the directions and started to fire up the first "log." That's an adventure in and of itself. They tell you to hold the little log sideways, light it so there is a sustained flame, then turn it so you can put it in the little holder inside the house in a vertical direction. Well, that may works for the ladies with skinny fingers who designed it. But with my fat fingers I nearly A) dropped it, which would set the little house on fire (do you then have to call for a little fire department? and B) suffered second degree burns as it tried to squeeze my fat fingers into the house to install the incense. All that was missing was me reciting the entire Greek alphabet backwards and I could've been a member of Sigma Phi Epsilon.
But I finally did get it in place and put the little roof back on the little house. I watched as the smoke came out of the little chimney, then waited to be overtaken by the sweet scent of the Christmas I Never Had.
A few minutes later, my wife came down the stairs, asking "Is something burning?" Yes, I explained, it's the sweet scent of Christmas past. She said, "It doesn't smell like Christmas. It smells like something is on fire." Then she went back upstairs to continue doing whatever it was she was doing.
Next was my eldest daughter. "Is something burning?" she queried. Yes, I explained again, now more annoyed. It's the sweet scent of Christmas. "It smells awful" she replied. "It's really sickening."
Undaunted, I stepped back and filled my nostrils with the sweet scent of Christmas. It was then that I realized my wife and eldest child were correct. It didn't smell like Christmas. It smelled more like someone had been cutting pine boards and let the saw run too long. Or like someone had dropped the little incense log into the recycling bin, igniting the newspapers in there and thus setting the entire house ablaze. Only with a faintly sweet tinge to it. And that gawdawful smell was now permeating our whole house.
We still have the little house sitting on the counter. I've tried it twice more with the same results -- family members come running into the kitchen looking for the fire extinguisher in the belief that all those Christmas lights we put up around the house have finally fulfilled their potential as a fire hazard. All I can say is thank goodness I didn't let the saleslady at the store talk me into purchasing another 50-pack of incense logs.
I wonder what the little house would smell like when it's burning?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
A new (and better) way to run primaries
After watching what's been going on with the primaries for the next election, I think we have it all wrong. In both primaries and elections, it seems like people feel compelled to vote for the candidate they dislike the least rather than the one they like the most (because they don't like any of them).
Years ago the movie Brewster's Millions put out a theory that there should a slot added to the ballot for "None of the above." If that category won, you throw out all the candidates and start over.
While that's great in theory, it would be prohibitively expensive. And it could potentially keep a total disaster in office if neither party put up a viable candidate. So here's my thought.
In the primaries, after each candidate's name, run the name again with the word "not" before it, e.g. Not Hillary Clinton or Not Rudolph Giuliani. At least that way we could find out who are just not viable candidates at all and get them out of there. If the "Not" version wins in at least three primaries, that candidate is out, no matter what else happens.
The same principle could probably be applied to national elections. In this case, the "Not" option would be there so people could voice their strongest objections without having to take a chance on accidentally electing the Libertarian candidate. You wouldn't get to vote against both, but at least you could cast a vote against the candidate who just makes your stomach turn and your bowels inflame at the thought of them taking on the position of the most powerful person on earth (next to Oprah, of course).
If both of the major candidates have more nots than for votes, you'd take the one with the lowest differential. After all, we don't want the Libertarians, Greens, or American Nazi party suddenly getting in; we just allow them to run for show. Again, though, at least having the "not" option gives everyone a chance to kick the respective parties in the teeth and tell them to start finding more qualified candidates.
Go America!
Years ago the movie Brewster's Millions put out a theory that there should a slot added to the ballot for "None of the above." If that category won, you throw out all the candidates and start over.
While that's great in theory, it would be prohibitively expensive. And it could potentially keep a total disaster in office if neither party put up a viable candidate. So here's my thought.
In the primaries, after each candidate's name, run the name again with the word "not" before it, e.g. Not Hillary Clinton or Not Rudolph Giuliani. At least that way we could find out who are just not viable candidates at all and get them out of there. If the "Not" version wins in at least three primaries, that candidate is out, no matter what else happens.
The same principle could probably be applied to national elections. In this case, the "Not" option would be there so people could voice their strongest objections without having to take a chance on accidentally electing the Libertarian candidate. You wouldn't get to vote against both, but at least you could cast a vote against the candidate who just makes your stomach turn and your bowels inflame at the thought of them taking on the position of the most powerful person on earth (next to Oprah, of course).
If both of the major candidates have more nots than for votes, you'd take the one with the lowest differential. After all, we don't want the Libertarians, Greens, or American Nazi party suddenly getting in; we just allow them to run for show. Again, though, at least having the "not" option gives everyone a chance to kick the respective parties in the teeth and tell them to start finding more qualified candidates.
Go America!
Monday, January 07, 2008
A sure way to stop teenage smoking
This thought occurred to me over the weekend, as I was contemplating the issue of teen smoking. Despite all the legislation and health warnings, teen and young adult smoking continues to be an epidemic and a plague. So here's what we need to do.
We need to get a reputable research house to put out a report that tells boys that if they smoke their dicks will get smaller, and girls that their asses will get bigger. THAT ought to put an end to it once and for all.
We need to get a reputable research house to put out a report that tells boys that if they smoke their dicks will get smaller, and girls that their asses will get bigger. THAT ought to put an end to it once and for all.
Friday, January 04, 2008
New endorsement deal for Britney
Based on the latest news of Britney being hauled out of her house, strapped to a gurney, and put on a 72-hour "mental lockdown" (how do you lock down what isn't there?), I have a new endorsement idea for her.
I think she could be a very credible spokesperson for the General Mills corporation. Specifically, I think everyone would buy it when she says "I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."
Just trying to help.
I think she could be a very credible spokesperson for the General Mills corporation. Specifically, I think everyone would buy it when she says "I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."
Just trying to help.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Lynne Spears - Mother of the Year
Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it does. Now it's been announced that 16 year old Jamie Lynn Spears, younger sister of perpetual train wreck Britney, is preggers. Suddenly Britney isn't the biggest sleazebag in the Spears family. At least she waited until she was in her 20s and married to start popping out little trailer puppies.
Kudos to her mom, Lynne, for the fine job she's done bringing up her girls. Could they be any more of a white trash cliche? She gets my nomination for Mother of the Year -- in the Bizzaro World.
Kudos to her mom, Lynne, for the fine job she's done bringing up her girls. Could they be any more of a white trash cliche? She gets my nomination for Mother of the Year -- in the Bizzaro World.
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