Friday, September 19, 2014

Thoughts, musings, and the like...

I have just now decided as I sit here on my sofa watching the Giants lose on a Friday night that a better name for funnel cake would be "the stringy donut". Furthermore, in order to be licensed to make stringy donuts, one would have to show to a govt. certified pastry licensing board a complete and utter inability to competently make "an actual donut". Only after "successfully failing" in making "an actual donut" will you be officially licensed to make the dunce of the donut world: the stringy donut. Ideally, children will be spotted at an early age for their incompetence with yeast based pastries, and steered into this vocation at a young age to ensure that carnivals and fairs will have a steady and trained labor force for continual and uninterrupted stringy donut production. A crippling meth addiction is preferred, but not required, for those that assist in operating the deep fryer machinery.

                                         A stringy donut:
                                         An actual donut:

Assistant deep fryer operator:

Also, you know how Prince changed his name to a symbol? I wonder if you could change your name to a an explosion or something? Then if somebody asked your name, you would make a specific explosion sound (imagine mimicking an obnoxious explosion sound). If they demanded you write down your name for some legal purpose, you just drew the waveform for the your signature would look like this (see below). It's really too bad I don't have any newborns to try this social experiment out on, as I think I could be on to the next big thing here...

My fictional newborn's name and eventual signature:

As you can see here, my Friday nights are jampacked with social interaction and high intrigue. 

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Caffeine Dealers

So I remember reading this a while back:
"Did you know that Starbucks coffee can have twice as much caffeine as other brands of "to go" coffee?"

Now picture the look on a dogs face when they hear a high pitched sound.  Something like this:

THAT was the look on my face when I read that...because I was perplexed as to what the point was to that question/declaration (btw, my autocorrect originally had the words "point was" as "pony waste" and I almost left it like that, because it struck me as funny). To me, that statement is akin to informing somebody that heroin has an intoxicating effect. Um...yeah. Exactly. It's kind of the reason I go there (for the coffee/caffeine, that is...not heroin. Although, based on their continual menu expansion, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before that's offered as well.  "I'll have a venti China white, please."
"Of course, sir! That will be $1,500 and your dignity. Would you like that with whipped cream? Or caramel? Or just the usual heated over a dirty spoon?")

Anyways, Starbucks knows what people like me need in the morning, and that is a hot cup of oooomph, preferably a venti, and not some black, benign liquid masquerading as the real deal.  If something is going to give me less than minty breath, and the need to urinate every three minutes, it had better put a bounce in my step, 'ya know?  So snap to it alternative coffee peddlers!  If you want to compete with The 'Bux, you'd better tweak (get it??????  A PUN!!!) that formula to a proper teeth grinder of a brew and then maybe, just maybe, some of those early morning, bleary eyed, disposable income zombies (like me) who have no desire to be up at that ungodly hour except to please The Man and Get Paid, might stumble into your roasted bean joint for a hot cup of giddy-up to get their day started.   

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Golden Years

Person: So, when you eventually retire, what are you going to do?
Me: Nothing.
Person: You don't mean that...who could do nothing for years on end?
Me: You don't know me very well, do you?

My Retirement Plan

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Celery Conspiracy

My problem with celery is thus: the way its portioned out at the grocery store. A recipe will call for a 1/4, or 1/2 cup, of diced celery. This is the equivalent of one stalk (or less). Ever try and buy just one stalk of celery? You CAN'T. Me at the grocery store:

John-"I'd like to buy a stalk of celery please."
Grocer-"I'm sorry sir, but we only sell it by the metric ton."

I am now going to furiously look for a recipe that calls for one metric ton of celery (hopefully the one missing stalk I already used doesn't detract from the flavor...otherwise I'll be forced to go buy another metric ton of celery. Anybody need a herd of rabbits fed? I can help you out....). When are we going to stop the evil cabal of international celery growers from dictating our lives? Wake up people! The revolution is nigh!

(The above image has nothing to do with this post other than its loose association with celery.  Having said're welcome)*

*It's almost hypnotic, isn't it?