This evening Handsome and I watched a movie before he went to bed. As I was putting the DVD into the machine, I made the mistake of asking him "So, you want popcorn with the movie?"
I couldn't help it. It was reflex. Movies and popcorn, I mean they go together like franks and beans, Calvin and Hobbes, movies and popcorn... wait, I've just done that one...
Anyway, like I said, it was reflex. I asked without thinking. I know this, because what I would have been thinking, had I been thinking, was okay you dufus, you are about to ask Handsome to eat popcorn in your bed!
"Yes, sure," was his answer.
So I, still unthinking and working entirely on autopilot, went downstairs and popped up two bags of microwave popcorn. That way we can each have our own, I reasoned, and avoid fighting over the bag during the movie.
You see, I was thinking, on some level. But not all of them. I was thinking on the mental level of a guy watching a movie, not on the mental level where I'm the father of a boy who occasionally makes the Peanuts character of Pig-Pen look like the 'after' portion of a soap commercial. I was all the way back upstairs and handing him the steaming bag of discharged kernels when I began to realize my mistake.
"Okay, I am asking you to try, to try mind you, not to make a mess in my bed with the popcorn, alright?"
In one's lifetime there are a finite number of breaths one draws. When these run out, your number's up, so, in essence, each breath we take is a digit in the countdown that is our life, and each one is thus more precious than we can say.
So why, oh why, did I waste one asking that question?
For the record, I'd like to say that he did try. When the movie was over it only took 5-6 minutes of picking with my fingertips to get up all the parts and specks of popcorn that I could see. Of course, that was only the specks that I could see. I'm sure I'll be finding little edible white chunks in my bed for a long time to come.
Since I shower at night before bed, I just hope that I don't get to work in the morning and have someone find a little popcorn that managed to stick itself to the back of my head in the night.
That might be embarrassing.
Talk to you later!
Showing posts with label Food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Food. Show all posts
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Everything's Better With Bacon!
Today the local chapter of the Loyal Order of Moose (of which my father is one of the Mucky-Mucks) ran a pancake breakfast, as they do every 3rd Sunday of the month. Dad reminded me a couple of days ago, as well as mentioning it to Handsome yesterday.
This morning, hungry, I asked Handsome if he wanted to go go the Moose Lodge for breakfast or if he'd rather I just made pancakes. he was watching television at the time, but he threw a thumb sideways at me and said "Your pancakes."
"There's going to be lots of bacon at the Moose..." I hinted.
"Yes!" he said.
"Yes, what?" I said.
"Yes bacon!" he said.
"So, it's breakfast at the Moose?" I said.
"Yes!"
It's like I've said before. Everything is better with bacon.
So off to the Moose we went. We were greeted on the way in as my father's son and grandson, I payed my charge at the door (Handsome is still young enough to eat for free - Booya!), and we claimed a table near the door. After working our way through the breakfast line, we sat down to eat.
True to his word, Handsome's plate contained nothing but bacon.
Now, I was seated with my back to the door, but Handsome was sitting across from me facing the door and the line of people waiting to pay and eat. After a minute I noticed that rather than eating Handsome was staring past me toward the door.
People watching, I assumed, and turned mt attention back to my food.
A minute or two, Handsome was still not eating. I realized he was not merely staring past me, but past me and upward, at something behind and above me. I turned to look, following his line of sight to the space above the entry door. The space that was filled with the huge stuffed moose head mounted on the wall.
"What are you looking at?" I said.
"The moose," he said. "It's big!"
"Yep," I said. "Moose are pretty big animals. Huge, up close."
I kept eating, but Handsome kept staring.
"You going to eat that?" I said, pointing at the bacon still lying on his plate.
"It's looking at me," he replied.
"What?"
Handsome was rocking in his chair, leaning from side-to-side, staring up at the moose on the wall.
"It's looking at me," he repeated. "The eyes keep following me."
"Yup," I said. "They'll do that."
Now, I could have told him to ignore the moose and finish his breakfast, but there were more and more children showing up as he sat there, and some of them were starting to run about and play. Plus there was that plate of bacon. The allure, I knew, would prove too great; it was only a matter of time.
A minute later Handsome was turned sideways in his chair, eyeballing the running children. Almost of its own volition his hand stole out to the bacon plate to retrieve a crisp, tasty slice.
Then another.
And another.
A minute later he was out there running and playing with the other children, his plate lying on the table where he'd left it covered with nothing but a little bacon grease.
See? I was right.
Everything is better with bacon!
Talk to you later!
This morning, hungry, I asked Handsome if he wanted to go go the Moose Lodge for breakfast or if he'd rather I just made pancakes. he was watching television at the time, but he threw a thumb sideways at me and said "Your pancakes."
"There's going to be lots of bacon at the Moose..." I hinted.
"Yes!" he said.
"Yes, what?" I said.
"Yes bacon!" he said.
"So, it's breakfast at the Moose?" I said.
"Yes!"
It's like I've said before. Everything is better with bacon.
So off to the Moose we went. We were greeted on the way in as my father's son and grandson, I payed my charge at the door (Handsome is still young enough to eat for free - Booya!), and we claimed a table near the door. After working our way through the breakfast line, we sat down to eat.
True to his word, Handsome's plate contained nothing but bacon.
Now, I was seated with my back to the door, but Handsome was sitting across from me facing the door and the line of people waiting to pay and eat. After a minute I noticed that rather than eating Handsome was staring past me toward the door.
People watching, I assumed, and turned mt attention back to my food.
A minute or two, Handsome was still not eating. I realized he was not merely staring past me, but past me and upward, at something behind and above me. I turned to look, following his line of sight to the space above the entry door. The space that was filled with the huge stuffed moose head mounted on the wall.
"What are you looking at?" I said.
"The moose," he said. "It's big!"
"Yep," I said. "Moose are pretty big animals. Huge, up close."
I kept eating, but Handsome kept staring.
"You going to eat that?" I said, pointing at the bacon still lying on his plate.
"It's looking at me," he replied.
"What?"
Handsome was rocking in his chair, leaning from side-to-side, staring up at the moose on the wall.
"It's looking at me," he repeated. "The eyes keep following me."
"Yup," I said. "They'll do that."
Now, I could have told him to ignore the moose and finish his breakfast, but there were more and more children showing up as he sat there, and some of them were starting to run about and play. Plus there was that plate of bacon. The allure, I knew, would prove too great; it was only a matter of time.
A minute later Handsome was turned sideways in his chair, eyeballing the running children. Almost of its own volition his hand stole out to the bacon plate to retrieve a crisp, tasty slice.
Then another.
And another.
A minute later he was out there running and playing with the other children, his plate lying on the table where he'd left it covered with nothing but a little bacon grease.
See? I was right.
Everything is better with bacon!
Talk to you later!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Small Fry
So this afternoon I was running a bit late trying to get Handsome somewhere. Handsome said he was hungry, and I realized I had neglected to make the boys lunch. The worst part is that one of the 'boys' in that equation was me! I subsequently pulled a sharp left turn out of traffic and into the McDonald's drive-through.
Now, what I got for myself is pretty much immaterial to this story. This is about what Handsome got when we drove up to the second window, the one where they hand out the hot, mostly edible objects hereafter referred to as 'the food'. When I paused at the ordering speaker, the one where they scream out something unintelligible at you as a signal that you are to then give them your order, and then you bellow your order back at them while silently praying that their microphone system is better than their speaker. You have to keep an eye on the 'Your Order' screen they type on, because McDonald's has become much like the Chinese food restaurant downtown; you say what you want, and they repeat it back to you, and what they say doesn't sound anything like what you just ordered. I just shout out my order and roll up the window, reading the screen through the glass. Listening to them only seems to confuse me anyway.
But on to the 'food'. I ordered Handsome the same thing he always gets - a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal, with a side of chicken nuggets and an extra small fries. By that I mean an additional small fries. At least, I thought I did.
We got the food. We drove away. Handsome opened his Happy Meal, complained about the toy (without actually knowing what the heck it was) and pulled out his fries. And stared.
He brought them to my attention. I also stared.
Inside the Happy Meal there is usually a small order of french fries. Apparently, that will no longer be the case. In Handsome's hand was a tiny order of french fries. Rather than the usual small order in a paper bag, there was a cardboard box that looked like a large order of fries, but it was tiny. Minute. Infinitesimal.
The little tiny box held approximately ten, yes, ten french fries. I saved the box. It looks like this:
And there you have it. The extra small fries. It's about half the size of an actual small order.
But twice as cute.
My favorite part of all this was Handsome's reaction to it. When I saw the tiny box I opened my mouth to ask a question, the only thing that popped into my mind. I head my question but it was in Handsome's voice, as he'd beaten me to the punch with my own word.
"Seriously?"
He looked from the fries to me.
"Seriously?"
Then back to the fries.
"Seriously..."
Yup. Seriously.
So, if you're looking to simply get the smell and taste of french fries, without the actual fries, head out to McDonald's.
They've got what you're looking for.
Talk to you later!
Now, what I got for myself is pretty much immaterial to this story. This is about what Handsome got when we drove up to the second window, the one where they hand out the hot, mostly edible objects hereafter referred to as 'the food'. When I paused at the ordering speaker, the one where they scream out something unintelligible at you as a signal that you are to then give them your order, and then you bellow your order back at them while silently praying that their microphone system is better than their speaker. You have to keep an eye on the 'Your Order' screen they type on, because McDonald's has become much like the Chinese food restaurant downtown; you say what you want, and they repeat it back to you, and what they say doesn't sound anything like what you just ordered. I just shout out my order and roll up the window, reading the screen through the glass. Listening to them only seems to confuse me anyway.
But on to the 'food'. I ordered Handsome the same thing he always gets - a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal, with a side of chicken nuggets and an extra small fries. By that I mean an additional small fries. At least, I thought I did.
We got the food. We drove away. Handsome opened his Happy Meal, complained about the toy (without actually knowing what the heck it was) and pulled out his fries. And stared.
He brought them to my attention. I also stared.
Inside the Happy Meal there is usually a small order of french fries. Apparently, that will no longer be the case. In Handsome's hand was a tiny order of french fries. Rather than the usual small order in a paper bag, there was a cardboard box that looked like a large order of fries, but it was tiny. Minute. Infinitesimal.
The little tiny box held approximately ten, yes, ten french fries. I saved the box. It looks like this:
And just in case you are thinking I simply have huge hands, here's a regular old pair of sunglasses for scale.
 |
| Not much bigger than the lens, is it? |
And there you have it. The extra small fries. It's about half the size of an actual small order.
But twice as cute.
My favorite part of all this was Handsome's reaction to it. When I saw the tiny box I opened my mouth to ask a question, the only thing that popped into my mind. I head my question but it was in Handsome's voice, as he'd beaten me to the punch with my own word.
"Seriously?"
He looked from the fries to me.
"Seriously?"
Then back to the fries.
"Seriously..."
Yup. Seriously.
So, if you're looking to simply get the smell and taste of french fries, without the actual fries, head out to McDonald's.
They've got what you're looking for.
Talk to you later!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
PowerBar!
I'm sitting here looking at the contents of my lunch bag. It holds the same contents every day; A couple of peanut butter sandwiches, some granola bards, and two PowerBar 'Protien Plus' mean replacement bars. I heard some of the guys in the office talking about going to lunch together. They go all the time. I don't go with them. My route is across town from them, and I eat in my truck, usually while I work on this very blog. Besides, I have these sandwiches and 'meal replacement' bars.
'Meal replacement'. See, that sounds pretty good, that name. Hearing it always puts me in mind of that gum featured in the movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, the gum that's snatched up and subsequently eaten (against the advice of Mr. Wonka, I'd like to remind you!) by Violet Beauregarde. She tastes tomato soup, roast beef and a baked potato, and it's as real to her as if she were eating the meal in a fine restaraunt. Of course it all goes awry when the desert comes, and the blueberry pie fills her with blueberry juice. She swells and swells until she's eventually rolled away by the ever-present Oohmpa Loohmpas.
Not a bad feat, for a little piece of gum. A whole meal, all going along perfectly until that little glitch at the end there, and even the glitch was delicious, according to Violet.
Now, let us take a look at my 'meal replacement bar'. Unlike Willy's gum, these bars actually claim to replace full meals. I have to admit, they are pretty filling for their size, but what about the taste? I mean, mud would be filling, but it would taste like, well, mud. Let's look at the ingredients listed on my PowerBar, and see how delicious it sounds!
Forget this noise! I want a meal replacement that has ingredients I can recognize! Like, oh, I don't know... wait! Yes I do!
Ham! Beef! Maybe some mustard, or mayonnaise! Even chicken! I mean come on! They can't even make these dang bars taste like chicken. Everything tastes like chicken!
Oh for the Love of God!
That's it -I'm going to make a sandwich!
Talk to you later!
'Meal replacement'. See, that sounds pretty good, that name. Hearing it always puts me in mind of that gum featured in the movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, the gum that's snatched up and subsequently eaten (against the advice of Mr. Wonka, I'd like to remind you!) by Violet Beauregarde. She tastes tomato soup, roast beef and a baked potato, and it's as real to her as if she were eating the meal in a fine restaraunt. Of course it all goes awry when the desert comes, and the blueberry pie fills her with blueberry juice. She swells and swells until she's eventually rolled away by the ever-present Oohmpa Loohmpas.
Not a bad feat, for a little piece of gum. A whole meal, all going along perfectly until that little glitch at the end there, and even the glitch was delicious, according to Violet.
Now, let us take a look at my 'meal replacement bar'. Unlike Willy's gum, these bars actually claim to replace full meals. I have to admit, they are pretty filling for their size, but what about the taste? I mean, mud would be filling, but it would taste like, well, mud. Let's look at the ingredients listed on my PowerBar, and see how delicious it sounds!
- Soy Protein Isolate
- Um... okay...
- Whey Protein Isolate
- Well, alright. One question. What does 'isolate' taste like? Is it fruity or nutty?
- Calcium Casinate
- Hey, at least it's not an 'isolate', right? Silver lining, right there...
- Maltitol Syrup
- Okay, it's syrup, but I'm pretty sure I'd smack you in the back of the head if you poured it over my pancakes.
- Natural Flavor
- Right. Natural Flavor. Right. Uh... flavored like what?
- Soy Lecithin
- You lost me at 'Soy'.
- Ferrous Fumarate
- Copper Gluconate
- Chromium Aspartate
- Um... what?
Forget this noise! I want a meal replacement that has ingredients I can recognize! Like, oh, I don't know... wait! Yes I do!
Ham! Beef! Maybe some mustard, or mayonnaise! Even chicken! I mean come on! They can't even make these dang bars taste like chicken. Everything tastes like chicken!
Oh for the Love of God!
That's it -I'm going to make a sandwich!
Talk to you later!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
"For My Mailman"
The following is a quick list of things that my loving customers have left out for me during the past week and a half that never even made it back to the office at the end of my route, never mind coming all the way home with me at the end of the day. These are also items that I hold responsible for my current expansion, which may be requiring me to purchase some larger work pants by the end of the month.
- Home Made Christmas Cookies
- Candy Canes
- Lindt Truffles
- Reeses Peanut Butter Cups
- Chocolate Bells
- Royal Dansk Luxury Wafers (Vanilla)
- Milk Chocolate Moose Popcorn Snack
- Chocolate Covered Oreos
- Holiday Mints
- Mixed Mini Chocolate Bars
- Tootise Rolls - 'Midgees'
- Tootsie Pops
- Jelly Beans
The following is a quick list of things that my customers have left out for me during the past week and a half that made it home, no problem, and have absolutely nothing to do with my expanding waistline.
- 1- Fruitcake
Side note: If my own mailman happens to be reading this, I hope you enjoy the fruitcake!
Happy Holidays!
Talk to you later!
Friday, December 9, 2011
Pizza Coma
Today I worked for 11 hours.
Happy Holidays!
I stopped at Walmart on my way home ( I was going straight home for a change - Handsome had a sleep-over, so I wasn't going to visit him) to do just a little Christmas shopping. I was walking through the store, and my stomach started poking me. It wanted to now what the hell I thought I was doing shopping at nearly 8:00 at night when it was trying to live on a peanut butter sandwich eaten at around 2:30 in the afternoon.
Well, shopping was the obvious answer, so I gave that one a shot.
Shopping for dinner, it wanted to know?
No, not really, but I was headed to the registers, and looking past them I saw a pair of big freezers. One of them held frozen pizzas. DiGiorno frozen pizzas.
DiGiorno, I asked my stomach?
I got no answer, but was propelled past the registers and straight to the freezer units. I opened the door and saw that, not only did they have the large pizzas, intended to feed a family, but they also had smaller pizzas. Pizzas for one. I reached toward a pizza for one ...right past it and grabbed a family-sized, gripping the frosty cardboard with greedy fingers.
I bought my pizza.
I drove it home. It rode in the back, but up on the seat where I could see it easily. I reached back at a red light and stroked the box lovingly.
You and me, Baby, I thought. We're going places.
I preheated the oven to 400 degrees, and placed on the middle rack.
I had 20 minutes, so I took a shower.
I took it out of the oven. I was fresh and clean; the pizza was golden brown.
I sighed with happiness.
My stomach gurgled with anticipation. Or maybe it was telling me to hurry the hell up.
I'm not sure... it's all a golden-brown, cheesy delicious, rising crust blur.
I'd checked the fridge to make sure there was space for any leftovers, thinking of tomorrow's breakfast.
There was no need.
There were no leftovers.
I barely managed to clean the kitchen.
I dragged my swollen stomach up the stairs to my bedroom.
I took a nap. My alarm went off, and I dragged my swollen stomach to the desk, wedging it into the seat with me.
It's midnight now. Kind of early for me, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Every keystroke is a struggle.
I'm not sure what I was intending to write for today. I know I had something, but it's gone for now.
It's taking all my will to stay up long enough to tell you what is on my mind, weighing heavily, pressing out from my stomach, pressing down on my eyelids, urging me toward the bed at my back as I fight to see the keyboard, to type out just one word at a time.
Lots of pizza.
Too much pizza.
Pizza Coma.
Sigh.
Talk to you later.
Happy Holidays!
I stopped at Walmart on my way home ( I was going straight home for a change - Handsome had a sleep-over, so I wasn't going to visit him) to do just a little Christmas shopping. I was walking through the store, and my stomach started poking me. It wanted to now what the hell I thought I was doing shopping at nearly 8:00 at night when it was trying to live on a peanut butter sandwich eaten at around 2:30 in the afternoon.
Well, shopping was the obvious answer, so I gave that one a shot.
Shopping for dinner, it wanted to know?
No, not really, but I was headed to the registers, and looking past them I saw a pair of big freezers. One of them held frozen pizzas. DiGiorno frozen pizzas.
DiGiorno, I asked my stomach?
I got no answer, but was propelled past the registers and straight to the freezer units. I opened the door and saw that, not only did they have the large pizzas, intended to feed a family, but they also had smaller pizzas. Pizzas for one. I reached toward a pizza for one ...right past it and grabbed a family-sized, gripping the frosty cardboard with greedy fingers.
I bought my pizza.
I drove it home. It rode in the back, but up on the seat where I could see it easily. I reached back at a red light and stroked the box lovingly.
You and me, Baby, I thought. We're going places.
I preheated the oven to 400 degrees, and placed on the middle rack.
I had 20 minutes, so I took a shower.
I took it out of the oven. I was fresh and clean; the pizza was golden brown.
I sighed with happiness.
My stomach gurgled with anticipation. Or maybe it was telling me to hurry the hell up.
I'm not sure... it's all a golden-brown, cheesy delicious, rising crust blur.
I'd checked the fridge to make sure there was space for any leftovers, thinking of tomorrow's breakfast.
There was no need.
There were no leftovers.
I barely managed to clean the kitchen.
I dragged my swollen stomach up the stairs to my bedroom.
I took a nap. My alarm went off, and I dragged my swollen stomach to the desk, wedging it into the seat with me.
It's midnight now. Kind of early for me, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Every keystroke is a struggle.
I'm not sure what I was intending to write for today. I know I had something, but it's gone for now.
It's taking all my will to stay up long enough to tell you what is on my mind, weighing heavily, pressing out from my stomach, pressing down on my eyelids, urging me toward the bed at my back as I fight to see the keyboard, to type out just one word at a time.
Lots of pizza.
Too much pizza.
Pizza Coma.
Sigh.
Talk to you later.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Human Honey
I looked at the Devil Dog in his hand, and thought:
"That's not a Twinkie. That's a Devil Dog. A Devil Dog, you see, is two flat
chocolate cakes with a layer of cream in between them. Sometimes, most times, the cake is dry. You have to have a drink handy if you want to scarf down a Devil Dog or you might choke to death! You have to have chocolate and cream, you want to try a Big Wheel, or a Swiss Roll! There you have the chocolate cake, but
you have the cream fully enclosed by the cake, and the cake is protected, practically hermetically sealed by a coating of chocolate! That chocolate coating keeps the cake fresh and moist, and that in turn keeps the cream soft and fluffy, so the whole thing, either the Swiss Roll or the Big Wheel, is nothing but a fistful of chocolaty-creamy goodness! You can eat two, maybe three of either of them before you need to swill down some milk to clear your palate. The improvement over the Devil Dog is almost indescribable! 
The Twinkie, on the other hand, has nothing to do with chocolate! No chocolate cake, no chocolate coating, no chocolate nothing! What you have instead is a loaf of golden yellow cake, the underside of which has three little holes, like the Twinkie has three little butts, but instead of something nasty coming out they use those holes to shoot the Twinkie so full of soft, sweet moist cream filling you can't understand how the damn Twinkie doesn't just explode. The delicious golden cake is so moist, and stays so moist, you can eat a whole box of them and never get thirsty. I have no idea what their secret is, whether they use alien technology or oompa loompas or if they just make them with unheard of amounts of love, but Twinkies don't go bad, or dry out, or ever become inedible through natural means. 
You can unwrap a Twinkie the day your child is born, put that delectable creme-filled treat out on a plate in the middle of the kitchen table, leave it there, untouched and unprotected until your child's 18th bitrthday and then allow them to eat that plate full of yellow sugary goodness and it will be just as edible, just as moist and just as delicious as it was the day you unwrapped it 18 long years ago. Twinkies are like man-made honey, and should be buried with our dead in case they wake up from their sleep of Death, once they've shuffled off this mortal coil, and are feeling a mite peckish when they do. Twinkies are our Perfect Food."
But what I said was, "Uh... that's a devil Dog."
Talk to you later!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Caffeinated!
I've been up late all this week, even for me. Usually after 2 am, and I'm still getting up at 6 am to write - I'm trying to get the next Sci-Fi story out for handsome before NaNoWriMo starts, in just 6 days.
Yeah, the blogs are going to get sparse then. I'll just lack the time...
So anyway, I'm running on slightly shortened sleep, which for me is an iffy thing since I tend to run a bit lean in that vein anyway. So this morning as I drove in to work, rather than wash my breakfast down with a regular old flavored water, I had a Hydrive. Plenty of orangy flavor with only 30 calories.
Oh, and 145mg of caffeine.
Huzzah!
So a little while after I got to work, things just seemed to ...slow...down...
So I tried to perk things up! I was sorting my mail like a demon, and I started singing along with the radio. Loud. Then a song came on the radio that I didn't know the words to, so i just started singing the one that was running through my head. Loud. I think at that point it was the theme to Gilligan's Island, but I'm not sure. As I'm writing this I realize that my memory of this morning is a little blurry. In spots. BIG spots.
So anyway, I was singing, and dancing a little. At least I think I was dancing. Either that or my legs had fallen asleep and I was walking way funny. I sang a little Country, a little Rock, and more Gilligan's Island, sometimes with what was on the radio, but most times not. I'm pretty sure the Gilligan's Island is a not.
All of it loud.
Usually, I sing like a bird.
Wait - a crow is a bird, right? Good.
Yes, usually I sing like a bird, but at the moment I have a bit of a cold so it sounded a bit rough. But I still had volume!
The next thing I know, there's a tap on my shoulder. I looked over and there was B.M., one of my co-workers standing next to me.
"Rob," he said, right into my face, "are you alright?"
"I'm running on like 9 hours of sleep for the past three nights combined," I said. He looked concerned.
"And I had a bunch of caffeine this morning!"
He stared at me for a second, then leaned in even closer, enunciating each word carefully so I'd be sure to understand.
"Don't."
"Do."
"That."
"Again."
He turned and walked back toward his bench, but only got half-way there before he spun to face me again.
"Ever!"
He returned to his bench.
Killjoy.
Talk to you later.
"Juuuuust sit right there and you'll hear a tale, the tale of a fateful trip! That started from this tropic port, aboard this ti-ny ship! The Mate was a mighty sailing man..."
Yeah, the blogs are going to get sparse then. I'll just lack the time...
So anyway, I'm running on slightly shortened sleep, which for me is an iffy thing since I tend to run a bit lean in that vein anyway. So this morning as I drove in to work, rather than wash my breakfast down with a regular old flavored water, I had a Hydrive. Plenty of orangy flavor with only 30 calories.Oh, and 145mg of caffeine.
Huzzah!
So a little while after I got to work, things just seemed to ...slow...down...
So I tried to perk things up! I was sorting my mail like a demon, and I started singing along with the radio. Loud. Then a song came on the radio that I didn't know the words to, so i just started singing the one that was running through my head. Loud. I think at that point it was the theme to Gilligan's Island, but I'm not sure. As I'm writing this I realize that my memory of this morning is a little blurry. In spots. BIG spots.So anyway, I was singing, and dancing a little. At least I think I was dancing. Either that or my legs had fallen asleep and I was walking way funny. I sang a little Country, a little Rock, and more Gilligan's Island, sometimes with what was on the radio, but most times not. I'm pretty sure the Gilligan's Island is a not.All of it loud.Usually, I sing like a bird.
Wait - a crow is a bird, right? Good.
Yes, usually I sing like a bird, but at the moment I have a bit of a cold so it sounded a bit rough. But I still had volume!
The next thing I know, there's a tap on my shoulder. I looked over and there was B.M., one of my co-workers standing next to me.
"Rob," he said, right into my face, "are you alright?"
"I'm running on like 9 hours of sleep for the past three nights combined," I said. He looked concerned.
"And I had a bunch of caffeine this morning!"
He stared at me for a second, then leaned in even closer, enunciating each word carefully so I'd be sure to understand.
"Don't.""Do."
"That."
"Again."
He turned and walked back toward his bench, but only got half-way there before he spun to face me again.
"Ever!"
He returned to his bench.
Killjoy.
Talk to you later.
"Juuuuust sit right there and you'll hear a tale, the tale of a fateful trip! That started from this tropic port, aboard this ti-ny ship! The Mate was a mighty sailing man..."
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
I've Heard Of Cat Burglars, But...
This morning I got to work and everything was as usual. I left my cooler bag in the jeep with my lunch and drinks in it, intending to come out and get them when I left the office to deliver my route. I locked the doors, but left the windows open about 2 inches all the way 'round, to vent the jeep and help the cooler bag keep my drinks cold. It's not a hard cooler or anything, just one of those soft cooler bags that zips shut. There's a separate compartment in the top to keep the sandwiches in, and it does a pretty good job. I'm happy with it so far.
I went in the building and set up my route, pulled it all down and loaded it in the mail truck. I drove the mail truck over to my jeep to get my lunch (as well as this computer right here) out of the jeep so I could take my route to the street. I opened the rear door and looked in at the back seat of the jeep. The sun was quite bright this morning, and the interior of the jeep was dim (I have tinted rear windows), and for a few seconds it was hard to see anything in there. I saw my cooler bag lying on its back, and there was something white on the seat above it. I squinted.
Oops, I thought, looks like I didn't so such a good job zipping that baby closed. Looks like my sandwich fell out, good thing I noticed before I left!
As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I saw that there was peanut butter visible in a rough circle around the middle of the sandwich.
Aw crap! Looks like something smushed it! I hope the bag didn't pop open, it'll be all stale!
I leaned in and grabbed the cooler bag by the handle, scooping up the mashed sandwich with the other hand. As I straightened up and brought the sandwich out into the light, I got a good look at it for the first time.
"Son of a bitch!"
I leaned back into the jeep and threw a quick look around, on the alert for movement, but saw nothing. I stood up and looked at the sandwich again. The bag was not popped open, nor was the sandwich actually smushed. The side of the sandwich bag was torn open, and had been spread wide. The middle of the sandwich was not smushed, it was missing! I looked at just how much the jeep windows were open, then glared out at the woods on the other side of the fence.
"Damn you, squirrel!"
No response. I couldn't help picturing something along the lines of the gopher in "Caddyshack", but there was still no response.
I whipped out my phone and took a quick picture of the slain sandwich. The heart was gone; the terrible tree-rat had the audacity to leave me the crusts! I tore the remains out of the bag and flung them over the fence into the woods.
"Here," I shouted, "you may as well finish the damn thing!"
I started to turn away, but spun back toward the trees as a fresh thought struck me.
"And if I find any squirrel crap in my jeep, I'm getting a BB gun and coming back here to go Postal on your fuzzy little ass!"
I can't believe I was pirated by a squirrel!
I have to go get some pizza or something.
Talk to you later!
I went in the building and set up my route, pulled it all down and loaded it in the mail truck. I drove the mail truck over to my jeep to get my lunch (as well as this computer right here) out of the jeep so I could take my route to the street. I opened the rear door and looked in at the back seat of the jeep. The sun was quite bright this morning, and the interior of the jeep was dim (I have tinted rear windows), and for a few seconds it was hard to see anything in there. I saw my cooler bag lying on its back, and there was something white on the seat above it. I squinted.
Oops, I thought, looks like I didn't so such a good job zipping that baby closed. Looks like my sandwich fell out, good thing I noticed before I left!
As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I saw that there was peanut butter visible in a rough circle around the middle of the sandwich.
Aw crap! Looks like something smushed it! I hope the bag didn't pop open, it'll be all stale!
I leaned in and grabbed the cooler bag by the handle, scooping up the mashed sandwich with the other hand. As I straightened up and brought the sandwich out into the light, I got a good look at it for the first time.
"Son of a bitch!"
I leaned back into the jeep and threw a quick look around, on the alert for movement, but saw nothing. I stood up and looked at the sandwich again. The bag was not popped open, nor was the sandwich actually smushed. The side of the sandwich bag was torn open, and had been spread wide. The middle of the sandwich was not smushed, it was missing! I looked at just how much the jeep windows were open, then glared out at the woods on the other side of the fence.
"Damn you, squirrel!"
No response. I couldn't help picturing something along the lines of the gopher in "Caddyshack", but there was still no response.
I whipped out my phone and took a quick picture of the slain sandwich. The heart was gone; the terrible tree-rat had the audacity to leave me the crusts! I tore the remains out of the bag and flung them over the fence into the woods.
"Here," I shouted, "you may as well finish the damn thing!"
I started to turn away, but spun back toward the trees as a fresh thought struck me.
"And if I find any squirrel crap in my jeep, I'm getting a BB gun and coming back here to go Postal on your fuzzy little ass!"
I can't believe I was pirated by a squirrel!
I have to go get some pizza or something.
Talk to you later!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Is Jim REALLY Slim?
So there I sat, eating a Slim Jim.
I wasn't sure exactly why I was eating a Slim Jim, but I was.
Could it have been the texture that appealed to me?
I thought about that. A gristle-like tube of an exterior with an odd, almost pre-digested gunk on the inside. Kind of like a strangely organic tube of toothpaste.
Nope... it wasn't the texture.
Well, then could it be the taste?
Bite through that leathery protective coating and take in a hearty mouthful of the finely milled pate' inside, and you'll see that the ingredients are correct: the Slim Jim contains ground meat products.
According go the taste, though, they are held together completely by salt.
Nope... it wasn't the taste.
Could it be the smell?
No. No thought required. It was not the smell.
Okay, I was running out of options. How about the name? Slim Jim.
Hmmm...
Do I even know this “Jim” person? Who the hell is he to tell me what to eat?
I decided to look it up. This is taken directly from Congrafoods.com, the makers of the Slim Jim:
“Adolph Levis sold pickles, relishes, sausages, and other popular snacks and condiments from his basement in Philadelphia during the Great Depression. But these foods just weren't the easy, spicy treat that bar patrons craved. Levis experimented with different ways to serve sausages, culminating one day in 1928 with the development of a cured beef sausage that would curb consumers' cravings. Printed on the jars that the beef sticks were sold in was a picture of a tall, elegant man complete with top hat and cane. Levis named him "Slim Jim," and the now-famous spicy snack was born. Early advertisements for Slim Jim touted "the ready-to-eat spiced sausage treat" that was packed in cellophane and sold for a dime. “
Nope. It sure wasn't that. I didn't even know any of that when I bought the damn meatstick.
I sat down and really thought about it. And finally it came to me.
"Macho Man" Randy Savage.
Those old commercials with Macho Man screaming “Snap into a Slim Jim!”, his hair plugs practically quivering with volume, the veins in his taut, muscular arms writhing like snakes beneath his skin, spittle flying through the air just like in those old-time between events interviews with wrestlers in the WWF. That's what it was. When we're talking about processed, salted meat products, there's no one more convincing than an ancient muscleman in spandex and a big hat who coined the catchphrase “Oh-yeah!”, even all these years later.
Thank you, Macho Man!
 |
| (Photo courtesy of "The Washington Voices" newspaper) |
Talk to you later!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Hotdogs and Hailstones
No fishing today in Colorado, at least not for me. Today we went into Denver to Billy's Gourmet Hot Dogs, near Coors field. There was a coupon involved. A bus to a train, then walking for more than a dozen blocks. There was a weather warning for pm showers, but I had my rain jacket just in case. Good thing too, since just as we started walking it started to rain.
And rain.
My jacket, which is only water 'resistant' at this point, rather than water 'proof', was soaked through in the shoulders and upper back quite quickly. Upon my feet were sneakers, rather than boots, and they were soaked through pretty quickly as well. When we were about halfway there, the rain let up for a minute, then began again even harder. It was bouncing off my hood with quite a lot of noise, and since I neglected to put on a hat before we went, I could really feel the individual impacts on my head through the hood.
Hail. It was hailing out hard enough to hurt the skin.
Terrific.
It stopped hailing, but continued raining harder and softer in turns until we reached Billy's. Just as we walked in the door, the woman behind the counter was pointing to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall and saying "Wow! Will you look at that!"
So we did.
On the television the news was broadcasting a tornado warning for Denver and the surrounding areas. Right then. As we were walking for a dozen blocks.
12 blocks. Torrential rains. Stinging hail. A Tornado warning.
My first thought? This had better be one goddamn good hotdog!
The hotdog was okay.
But the sweet potato fries were fantastic!
And rain.
My jacket, which is only water 'resistant' at this point, rather than water 'proof', was soaked through in the shoulders and upper back quite quickly. Upon my feet were sneakers, rather than boots, and they were soaked through pretty quickly as well. When we were about halfway there, the rain let up for a minute, then began again even harder. It was bouncing off my hood with quite a lot of noise, and since I neglected to put on a hat before we went, I could really feel the individual impacts on my head through the hood.
Hail. It was hailing out hard enough to hurt the skin.
Terrific.
It stopped hailing, but continued raining harder and softer in turns until we reached Billy's. Just as we walked in the door, the woman behind the counter was pointing to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall and saying "Wow! Will you look at that!"
So we did.
On the television the news was broadcasting a tornado warning for Denver and the surrounding areas. Right then. As we were walking for a dozen blocks.
12 blocks. Torrential rains. Stinging hail. A Tornado warning.
My first thought? This had better be one goddamn good hotdog!
The hotdog was okay.
But the sweet potato fries were fantastic!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Helping the Needy... Sort Of....
The NALC food drive was today. It went well, but there's something that I notice every year. Some people don't seem to get it.
Every year we send out reminders asking people to put out "non-perishable food items". Pretty straight forward, right? And that the food is being collected for those who could be termed 'needy', yes?
Then why, every year, do I collect things people leave out that don't seem to fit that simple criteria?
Examples from this year include:
Use your heads, people.
Oh, and thank you for donating!
Talk to you later...
Every year we send out reminders asking people to put out "non-perishable food items". Pretty straight forward, right? And that the food is being collected for those who could be termed 'needy', yes?
Then why, every year, do I collect things people leave out that don't seem to fit that simple criteria?
Examples from this year include:
- 1 Box Facial Tissue (In case the needy have hay-fever)
- Mixed Diet Snack Bars (Various makes and flavors. Dunno, I'm thinking that if they need a diet bar then maybe a shortage of food is not the problem)
- 1 Canister of Rainbow Sprinkles Cake Frosting (Nutrition, nutrition, nutrition...)
- 1, Count 'Em, ONE Snickers Bar. (In case that particular person in need is 'not going anywhere for a while')
- 1 Package of Celery, open and a couple of pieces missing, . (The Winner of Rob's "Fairly Useless for the Needy" Prize! Already looking a little brown and wilty, this donation should just have time to degenerate into a puddle of celery-colored mush by the time it gets into the hands of someone who needs it. Huzzah!!! The reminder says "Non-Perishable" for a reason, my friends!)
Use your heads, people.
Oh, and thank you for donating!
Talk to you later...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Good Food and Lemonade
Sorry, there were technical difficulties with Blogspot yesterday, and I was unable to post anything. What I have here is something I wrote yesterday and saved in a document while I was waiting for the site to come back online fully. I may have a little something to throw in later as well...
So... a serious message to start off with today...
So... a serious message to start off with today...
Tomorrow is Saturday, May 14th, 2011, is the National Association of Letter Carriers' “Stamp Out Hunger” Food Drive. I know the economy is terrible right now. I am aware that everyone is paying big money for their rent, or mortgages. I am keenly aware that gasoline in my part of the country is about $4.00 a gallon. For the cheap stuff. However, this also makes me aware that my car is used as a vehicle rather than a place to sleep, keep out of the rain, or store everything in the world that I own.
No matter how poorly you think things are going for you, no matter how bad you felt when you got up this morning, there is someone out there who wants, who wishes, who aspires, to be like you.
Think about that.
Please, tomorrow, you can help. Bag or box any non-perishable food items that you have around, and leave them out by your mailbox. You don't have to take them anywhere, we'll do the work for you, picking up your donations and bringing them to local food banks.
This Saturday, please, fill a bag. Feed families.
Okay... now that the PSA is out of the way... it's lemonade stand season again.
My son has had a drinks stand out by the street twice so far this year. I say “drinks” stand because he's not gonna mix lemonade or anything when he can just grab all the Propel (a flavored water drink) in the house and throw them in a cooler. See that? He's working smart, not hard. Good thinking, my boy.
That's not even my favorite part of his thought process. Grabbing all the Propel came later. My favorite part of his drinks stand building process was what he chose to do first. The very first thing he did.
Did he put the table out by the street?
No.
Did he make a sign, proclaiming his business to the world?
No.
Did he get the drinks all set in a cooler, ready to hand out to thirsty passers-by?
As I said above, no.
I'll tell you what he did, before doing all that other stuff.
He found himself a nice-sized, multi-colored flower pot, and a note card. He taped the card to the pot, got a black magic marker and wrote one word on it, large and legible.
“TIPS”
That's my boy.
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