Let's talk about tricky sloganizing, shall we? Dunkin Donuts newest: "America Runs on Dunkin'!" with little pictures for those who don't understand the message: Picture of ' Merica. Picture of a runner, ala' the Olympics. Picture of a donut.
Wow. Donuts+Running='s did someone in their advertising department say "HEY! These donut's are getting a BAD RAP! Saying they promote obesity and have little to NO nutritional value? What about JELLY filled donuts, friends?!?! THAT is a fruit if I ever SAW one. No, no, no...the time has come to help the noble pastry RISE from it's painful yoke of unhealthiness while we usher in a NEW DAY OF THE DONUT...! AND THAT MEANS RUNNING!!!"
Why not just run a smear campaign on foods that are a good source of iron and vitamins? Or are a prime source of roughage?
"SPINACH! It will MAKE you play WII FAT!!!"
"F#CK BROCCOLI! Do you WANT to have DOUBLE CHINS?!?!"
"Baked potato? HOW ABOUT COUCH POTATO!"
"KALE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"
"America is screwed with tomatoes" (This is where you have the picture of 'Merica. A screw...or a silhouette of someone, you know, getting screwed. And the noble lycopene laced tomato.)
Equating donuts and health. I donut know.
(Flashback) A really happy memory from when I was a kid was when my dad would take me either to Dunkin' or to Jack's Bakery over by NHCC for a donut and milk after my hockey games. He'd get a coffee and usually an apple fritter. I'd get a 1% milk and either a long john (They weight 16lbs at Jack's) or one of those powdered jobbies filled with chocolate cream and the "chocolate frosting nipple looking thing" on top. The smell is what will take you back at DD.
In high school, we would/could order a dozen to demolish amongst 2-3 of us or order a variety of 24-36 donut holes. Oof.
As an A-Dult, I learned to appreciate their coffee. DD does have some pretty strong and tasty coffee.
And as an aging frasser in a world where DD is coming back, and now apparently using a picture of a runner to pimp their D's as opposed to a middle aged man muttering "It's time to make the donuts..." I can't remember the last time I had one.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Great. Just...Great.
So on a happy note, Moda got back in town from KS last night. She told me she caught a slight bug while down there which was a touch flu-like. I was able to visit and we shared some Chinese food before heading back home for the night.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Double, triple ow.
Well ferrets and firecrackers...I know I've promised an unemployment blaug, but I guess outside of the general mundane routine that is hermiting myself/working out/finding new work I figured it just didn't make for very good theater. (It's okay, folks. Temp staff got me a new gig in a week or so. And I found another one on MONSTER that seemed right up my alley...with the caveat being I'd need to obtain my series 6, 26, AND 63. Time to stock up on Gingko Biloba. )
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
Monday, July 13, 2009
Annual B'Day greetings to RSVP!
Happy Birthday, big brotherness RSVP! Your ninja self looks great, per normal!
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Friday, July 10, 2009
What...The...Frass...
(Please note the way the arrow on the package points to...the package)
I know this is far from being a triumphant return to the blog-o-sphere (esp. for my 2-3 adoring fans. And esp.esp. b/c I'm unemployed...AGAIN!) But this was FAR too precious to pass up a thought or three.
O'er breakfast today, I was flipping through the B,B&B circular and whilst adding color commentary to the newest gadgets that our upwardly mobile public may covet (Oh, and B, B, and B? $55,000 contest for college kids? That's greeeeeat. Poppa will take a check, thanks) such as a "Over the door 16 baseball cap holding cap rack"- I mean that was enough to make me chortle, right? (Mostly because I own maybe 3 baseball hats. The oldest dating back to 1995 when I did the most pull-ups of the day at the Marine recruiting station. That's right. Marines.)
I didn't even chuckle when they advertised the "Snuggie" (i.e. the "WTF Blanket". Mental note- Moda's birthday is coming up) No, no...the "Man-Groomer" caught my rapt attention.
Man-Groomer. Say it out loud. Go on. Say it yet? It sounds, people, like a bad SNL sketch from the 70's along with the Bass-O-Matic. I mean, really? Really? The ad showed someone shaving their shoulders and then another picture with a bare (baaaare) chest with captions saying "SHOULDERS AND ARMS!" and "CHEST AND BACK"...captions that would easily be found on an ad for Bowflex or a Weider Home Gym. Except, and really, really- LOOK AT THE BOX.
It should be called "B#ll-Shaver" and be done with it. Really. Ain't they got no mama?
More to come.
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