My Eyes Must Deceive Me

So, I'm watching the end of the Cowboys-Cardinals game. And a commercial comes on television. For Natural Light.

Yeah. That's right. Natty Light. The Beer.

And ... it's not a parody. It's a real commercial. With a real attempt to create brand loyalty for Natty Light, with buzz words and hype and slogan and jingo and the such.

Are they seriously trying to convince me that anyone out there exists, let alone enough people to warrant the price of an advertisement, who can buy Natty light out of brand loyalty and advertising? Or, really, for any reason other than "it was the cheapest beer at the corner store"?

Back in the '30's

So, I normally don't post about or pass along an online quiz, but this one tickled my fancy and was unique enough to pass along ...

103 As a 1930s husband, I am Very Superior Take the test!

Two Things to Say ...

I've been busy, but here are my two thoughts for the day:

1) Free Southern Chicken Biscuit at McDonald's with any drink purchase + $1.00 for any size soda at McDonald's = win.

2) They really need to do a new version of Match Game with modern B- and C-list celebrities. I'd watch it.

Not Him, Too!

Doesn't it seem like our heroes are always being destroyed? There's always a news story about Roger Clemens, or Barry Bonds, or an actor committing adultery, or someone cheating on their taxes, or something else.

It seems like no one is safe.

Not even Moses.

Is this self-torture?

So, I just learned that Stephen A. Smith has a podcast.

That means you would actually choose to have nothing but Stephen A. Smith's voice coming through your sound system talking to you.

Does anyone choose to do this? Or is this the kind of thing you download onto a friend's MP3 player and then change the title of to trick them into listening to it?

Help?

Anyone wanna pitch in some money and help me win this eBay auction?

Anyone?

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Isn't it?


(or, better yet, anyone wanna help me come up with a similar scam idea to make some quick cash on eBay?)

A Cautionary Tale

Sometimes, you shouldn't be mean to your waiter/waitress, no matter how rude they are, how much they ignored you, or how incompetent they are.

Need proof? Find it here.

Is there no more common sense?

I realize that's a rhetorical question

and I realize I probably don't want to know the depths of how true a "no" answer really is.

But, seriously, who writes stuff like assassination predictions for a presidential candidate

Seriously? Who doest that? And why?

Good Humor is Hard to Find

It's not easy being funny and witty, and relevant. That's why when I find something that is all three, I feel the need to share it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you The Onion and their economic stimulation plan




(BTW, is it bad that I like this plan better than the one actually being debated in Congress?)

I'm not sure how this happened

I've come to a realization recently ...

somehow ...

I've become a mini-parrot head.

I've discovered the joy that is Jimmy Buffet's music.

I sing and dream of being in Margaritaville.

I long for my cheeseburger in Paradise.

I always know that it's Five O'Clock somewhere.

and I'm not really sure how this happened

Truth in Advertising

So, I'm watching VH1's 100 top songs of the '90's. And they run a commercial for "Rock of Love 2". This prompts the following.

"You know, one of these years, I'd like to see VH1 just tell the truth about what they will be airing. Just call the shows "A Bunch of Skanks Sleep With an Old Celebrity, and He Picks a Winner".

And I think I'd watch that show, at least once, if only because of the name.

Fun with Wikipedia

I love Wikipedia. It's a good fun site for quick lookups and starts on in-depth research. But, even more than Wikipedia itself, I love Wikipedia games.

For example, join me as I play Wiki-Band.

This is how it works. Go to Wikipedia. Use the "random article" function. The first article is the name of your band. The second article is the name of your album. The next 12-15 are the names of the tracks on your album.

For example, here's mine:

Band Name: Cultural Safety
Album Name: Oswald Watt Gold Medal

1. Aeschines
2. Grey Bunting
3. Teúl de González Ortega
4. Dhivehi League
5. Spike: Old Times
6. Tirunesh Dibaba
7. Ran (film)
8. Laserpitium latifolium
9. Patrick Kisnorbo
10. Bell 400
11. Lilies of the Field
12. Sankofa
13. Ridin' High (Moxy album)
14. Franky Vandendriessche
15. Weddersleben


My band is awesome. I imagine we're some sort of hybrid between Releint K and Showbread. Awesome.

For Jenette ...

I'm not sure I've ever dedicated a blog entry to anyone before, but there's a first time for everything, right?

So this entry goes out to Jenette. Mainly because when I read the clip I'm going to post below, I immediatly thought of her, mainly because I have no problem at all picturing the described interaction happening in her household. Mainly the nicknames, and the last line celebration, but none of it is all that much of a stretch.

Of course, having said that, it's also not much of a stretch to imagine it happening in my household, either, assuming Rachel and I ever have children. Nor is it difficult to imagine it happening between Ryan and Andrea. Or, well, a whole host of my married friends. It seems we're all pretty odd.

Without further ado, I present a copy-paste job of this week's much anticipated, many times postponed, and highly hillarious Sports Gal's Rant, via the Bill Simmons Mail Bag from December 14th:

Since giving birth six weeks ago, I haven't picked up an Us Weekly, read pagesix.com or watched a movie from start to finish. My whole life revolves around nursing my son, or as I like to call it, "giving the boob." (We'll call it the GTB from now on.) With all the diets out there, I'm blown away there isn't a Hollywood Lactation diet. I mean, you lose 500 calories a day -- that's at least one sprinkles cupcake or a large Pinkberry with fruity pebbles on top! How come there isn't a breast pump for non-moms called the "Fat-Sucker" on QVC? If Britney had only known, maybe she would have given up the Vodka Red Bulls post-partem and hit the breast pump.

Unlike some new moms who wake up every two hours, I'm not losing much sleep because I sleep facing my baby. If he gets hungry during the night, I just pop open a button and he's ready to eat. Sometimes, I'll even fall back asleep for the rest of the night this way -- Bill calls it the "24-Hour Drive-Thru." Bill loves making breast-feeding jokes. If the baby is hungry in the morning, Bill shouts, "Give him the boobs benedict!" If he's crying in the afternoon, Bill says, "Give him the boobs marsala!" or the "boobs and chips!"

We have a good sense of humor about GTB in the Simmons family. Even when our daughter lifted up her shirt and tried to GTB her brother once, we thought it was funny and never considered having her see a psychiatrist. Another good thing about breast-feeding: When you leave your house, just bring a nursing frock and you're good to go. I know I'm upsetting the La Leche League here, but I'm in the Barbara Walters school -- you shouldn't GTB outside your immediate family unless you're being discreet. One of my male friends recently watched his friend's wife GTB right in front of him, without a frock, and couldn't even carry a conversation because he was so rattled. I felt bad for him, and not just because Bill would pass out in the same situation. Anyone who GTB's without a frock needs to get over themselves.

Lastly, you can multi-task when you're GTB-ing. In fact, I wrote this whole rant during a GTB session and probably burned 150 calories. Woo-hoo!!!

Bumper Stickers

Normally, I don't like bumper stickers. I really detest having to try to see how many words I can read in as small a font as possible from the back of a car in front of me. I really find things like "In case of Rapture, this car will be unmanned" to be unfunny and not very witty. I'm not big on political bumper stickers, either for causes or candidates. I really don't get the point of the "Calvin peeing on something" decals, either. I can kind of see sports teams and former schools you attended being on there, but that's still not for me.

However, I may have found a bumper sticker that might make me rethink it:

The Great Pumpkin

Had to share this for Halloween ...

On The Path To Where, Exactly?

So, this morning, I was driving to Marion, OH. I was heading down 15 out of beautiful Findlay Ohio on a morning that finally felt like Autumn. Traffic was fairly light, as is usual for the path on a non-holiday travel day. Straight ahead in the sky was a giant white cloud surrounded by the only patch of sky I could truly call blue. The rest of the sky was gray. Very gray.

My attention became fixed on the giant white cloud in the one patch of blue. I traveled down a straight path of 15 for what seemed like a very, very long time. No turns, no hills. Just a straight path. A path that almost defines Northwest Ohio. And my attention remained fixed on the big white cloud with the patch of blue around it.

And that big white cloud with the patch of blue around it seemed to not get any closer. Even though I was traveling at a rate faster than one mile per minute, that patch of blue with the big white cloud in it simply would not come closer. I was stuck, it seemed, to be surrounded by the gray sky, and the less bright clouds. The less inviting and less promising part of the cool Autumn sky.

And I started to wonder if this was a metaphor for my life. That I could see a bright spot. I could see a path to that white spot. But no matter how hard I tried, and how fast I traveled, and how straight my path was, I couldn't gain ground towards it. I was stuck in the less promising part.

And I then began to wonder if it were a metaphor for something else. Not just me. Perhaps my career? Perhaps my life goals? Perhaps the universal Church? Perhaps my church? Perhaps my fraternity? Perhaps America? Perhaps the world? Perhaps "society as a whole"?

I trust in the ideology that I get more true insight from questions than from answers. That the path is more fulfilling than the destination. I hope that holds this time. Because I have a lot of questions. And a long path. And I'm not certain the end goal is actually attainable.

Out To Get Me

Have you seen the movie Final Destination?

If so, I'm sorry. I, too, wish I could have those couple of hours back to spend a different way. For the rest of you, I envy you, for not having wasted those hours. There are also two sequels, which I've never bothered to take in, but again, if you have I'm so sorry for your lost time.

To sum up the movie, you basically get on a collision course with Death and you're stuck on that collision course. If you avoid it somehow (like missing a plane that crashes), Death will track you down. I'm fairly certain the sequels are the exact same things, just with Death trying to get you in new and different ways. And, yes, you can feel free to insert a Gilmore Girls' joke here.

Anyways, I'm starting to think there's some truth to the premise of this movie. And that death has relatives who do the same thing.

Take for example, Death's distant cousin Burn. I think Burn is out to get me, and send me to the ER.

Consider the following: Last weekend, we were in Columbus. I was trying to reach the microwave at my mother-in-law's house to reheat some dinner (mmm ... Bob Evan's slow roasted pork dinner). As I do so, I bump my finger against a hot iron. A small scar exists to this day. But, my quick reflexes kept it from being as bad as it could have. Or should have, I suppose, because Burn stayed after me.

Sunday night, I was cooking dinner. I made chicken w/vegetables with brown sauce and steamed rice. As I'm plating dinner, one of the bowls I'm putting things into starts to fall, and I instinctively reach out to catch it, causing hot, freshly steamed rice to fall onto the the corner of the palm of my hand. The same hand that has the burn mark from the iron, a week earlier. Fortunately, I got the rice off quickly, and put some aloe on my palm, and have only a very small mark from this encounter with Burn.

But he wasn't done yet.

Today, I was working down in Marion. I got hungry as I was set to leave town, so I went to Starbucks. I got a tall coffee (just plain coffee. Not a mocha latte caramel sissy drink. Straight black coffee ... coffee the way Jesus drank it) and an old-fashioned donut. As I'm traveling up 23 and throughly enjoying my snack, I'm moving the coffee from my mouth back to the cup holder, when I hit a small bump in the road. A very, very small bump. But, the laws of gravity were defied for a few moments, as a large splash of coffee jumped from my cup, through the spout, and landed on my leg.

No mark today, but still ... I got the reminder that Burn was still after me ... watching, waiting for his next move. I hope he gets bored and moves on soon.

Rainy Days

I've never been a fan of rainy days.

As a child, rainy days weren't really a good thing. Sure, sometimes you got puddles to jump in, but in general it didn't make things safe. It canceled the picnic. It temporarily closed the roller coaster. It postpones the baseball game. It makes it more dangerous to drive.

At least snow has the ability to cancel school when we got enough of it. Rain only caused my school to close once: my freshman year of high school, when the roof leaked so bad the entire top two floors flooded. So, they released us, but not until we got there. But even then, I had to walk home (just under 4 miles, as the crow flies) ... dodging pop-up downpours as I went. Yeah, what fun that was. And when I got home, there wasn't even snow to build with: only wet pants to take off and smell.

I'm just not a big fan of rainy days.

Today was a rainy day in Findlay. Downpour on and off in the morning. And apparently, Findlay can't handle that kind of rain, because we lost power this morning. Which delayed the start of my work week. And then coming home from the grocery store, the rain and wetness must have decreased visibility, because the guy across the street almost backed into me as I was driving down the street.

Rain, rain, go away ...

Coincidence? I think not

So, the other day, Rachel, her mom, and I were shopping at Kohls. Now (and this might be hard to believe, for all you guys out there) I wasn't really in the mood to look through women's clothing and/or shoes. So I wandered off on my own.

After a good bit of time (which would have probably felt eternally longer had I been with them in the women's section), I get a text asking where I am. I reply with a text stating that I am in mens.

However, upon entering it, I learn that the default for the keys 6367 (which gives you "mens") is actually "odor" on my phone.

So, you want mens, but get odor.

So mens=odor

Coincidence? i think not