Sunday, January 30, 2005

Food Engineering

I broke a Williams rule: NEVER go to the grocery store hungry. All I needed was some ground sirloin (yes, that's red meat for all you veggie freaks) and sliced American cheese. Not Chinese cheese, not Italian cheese, not E. St. Louis cheese... just good 'ol U.S. of A. yellow cheese.

As I was corraled through the store to the fruit section, my eyes caught something called "grapples." The label said, "Looks like an apple, tastes like grapes... grApples." Okay, I'm a sucker... they smelled like grape soda so I bought some. (That smell brings back memories of being a kid, dipping pretzel sticks into my grape Vess soda can.)

I don't think there is any science involved in grapples. I think they dipped apples in grape soda because my hands are now fake-grape scented. The whole kitchen smells like fake-grape. And the taste? Pretty much like an apple dipped in grape soda.

Disappointment factor? VERY HIGH. In fact, click here for some other shopper's comments.

Now the red bartlett pears I bought are a different story...

Saturday, January 29, 2005


Don't Eat the Sacred Cow

Friday, January 28, 2005

Ronald would NOT be happy.

La dot duht-dahht dahhh. Shooby doo-wah shoo-bumm tahbum dit dit buhdit towahhh.

Enough what-once-was-jazz sound /now gone rappah shit! It's McStory time in Mikeland. Who remembers when McDonalds was a respectable place that simply sold so-many millions, then billions, of burgers? That's right, we ALL remember. Ronald McD was the ONLY clown we trusted because he was always outside the restaurant helping kids have fun. We didn't question whether or not Ron was a "striped, white-tight wearing flamer"... we didn't even question why he always wore a raincoat-- he was just plain cool. Then there where the others: Mayor McCheese, The Hamburglar, Mayor McCrook... there were crazy fry guys, the professor (now I'm showing my age) and of course-- Grimace. Big Mac was a character, not two-all-beef-patties-special-sauce yada yada. And if you could say it in 10 seconds, you'd get a FREE toy.

Today I realized all the McFun at Ron's place is gone. No more "Happy Meals," no more "Have it your way," no more white people working the restaurant, and definately no more "Service with a Smile." Paula and I stopped in Chesterfield for her McBladder: Out of courtesy, I grabbed a Combo #2. You know, 2 cheeseburgs with fries and a coke. Real Coke, not Pepsi or some other Real Thing Wanna-be. The first thing I noticed was that every single person behind the counter was cross-eyed! Actually, the first thing I noticed was that the workers were all Indian. (Now we'll take a break to define my version of Indian: Anyone that looks like, speaks like, and smells like they might be from India.) And they WERE all cross-eyed. (Really! If you don't believe me, go to the Micky D's in that plaza on Clayton and Town & Country Rd... You'll laugh your ass off!) I made the mistake of ordering my bergs without onion. "Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, hold the onions, you'll upset us... no wait! That's another burger king..."

The place was oddly warm. The only person to say anything was the lady that handed me my bag. She said, "muhulalla ind doo geezburdegers mint fler-ize daht mit Cocad?" WhenI looked up at her, I couldn't tell if she was looking at me or the only other schmuck at the counter! I said, "Excuse me?" then she repeated, "muhulalla ind doo geezburdegers mint fler-ize daht mit Cocad ver dou?" as her one eye sort of drifted vertically...

I don't think this is the way Ron planned it!


"Have it whose way?!"

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Simple things


Paula and I in my hometown- Alamogordo, NM

My big decision this morning wasn't what colors to wear, but whether I should stop at Bread Co or QT. Fortunately, my office partner's wife made the decision for me by phoning a request for a whole-wheat bagel on my way out the door. What a waste of tastebuds on the whole-wheat thing...

3 bearclaws, a WW bagel (w/cream cheese), two hot chocs, and two joes later I get stuck in the slow lane with the new lesbo on shift. How do I know this? Her name is Kelli, she had a flat-top haircut, and she told me she hates cock. Or maybe she hates to cook, I dunno... Regardless, 20 minutes later I wished I'd stopped today at QT.

The picture above is one of my favorites of my wife, Paula, and I. Sometimes I get busy ragging at the world, solving earth's mysteries, inventing the uninventable, and forget the simple things like walking around with my gorgeous wife. She's simple-- almost too simple. In fact, her simplicity balances my complexity. For example, I'm happy with big GUY toys like Hummers, Ferarri's, electronic gadgets, and stuff. She gets excited about Gerber daisy's, new clothes, a card.

My goal this week: To keep in mind and appreciate the simple things in life like the picture above.


Halloween 2004 - The neighbors love us!
Posted by Hello

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

tits 'n tat

For everyone that follows my somewhat admirable writings, remember one thing! You are just a smidge more pathetic than I!

I started building, err, borrowing website designs. Playing with Frontpage 2003 has been quite frustrating / amazing / more frustrating because I found the button to "import" a site. I type "amazing" in the respect that there are idiots out there having spent many hours slaving to acheive "a great site" left completely unprotected from downloading. It is frustrating, however, because I only get about 92% of the files necessary to actually use the information.

Macromedia (tm) will also drive you nutto with their "trial" downloads! Too much to play with, too little time. I personally have had a ball converting documents with my 30-day trial of Flashpaper 2 . BTW, in about 29 days I'll be looking for a crack that can be sent to my em... err, never mind.

Speaking of time, notice that it is 3:49 a.m. Not even the cats are awake right now. Too early for coffee, too late for tea. (How about a nice piece of me!)

I ordered a BMW logo for my hood today. Some schmuck stole the damn thing from my car. For $12.95 + shipping on ebay, I'd have saved him/her some trouble and just paid the bastard to go away. Now I can be identified as "that guy with the BMW logo that missing on Norwood Hills." I guess it beats the other things the neighbors probably say. Our all time "neighbor pisser-offer" had to be Halloween 2004. I'll try to upload a picture, but no promises-- not unless I can use my pirated version of Frontpage anyway. Oh, and you copy-right pussies out there that just had a coronary... get a fucking life!


Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Socks

Today my socks were smaller than usual. Dress socks. Black with a simple brown houndstooth pattern. I wonder why after a year of ownership they decided to shrink today? It all seems very odd. I even tried stretching them out, but they still feel tight.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

I Don't Give a Fuck.

I feel that I am pretty strong mentally. During an emergencies, I'm systematically calm; during times of stress, I'm usually contained and not overly emotional; and I'm usually referred to as a problem solver.

This morning, as an individual spilled their guts and sobbed to me about how things recently have not been going well for them that honestly, I realized that I honestly don't give a fuck! I guess it started a whole day of insensitivity, because as the day grew longer I gave less of a fuck than when I didn't give a damn fuck this morning.

I stopped at Bread Co. for coffee (not boycotting QT, but just didn't really give a fuck where I went) and got three mult-grain bagels. The dyke at the counter asked me if I'd like them "bread-sliced," "half-sliced," "with or without cream cheese," "individually plastic or paper wrapped," or "all tossed together in one bag?" Without taking a breath she gagged, "Would you like a medium or large coffee and is this for here or to go?" To myself I thought, "Miss -- Give me a couple bagles and a cup, because I honestly don't give a Goddamn fuck."

Someone today had severe back pain. Someone was in a rush today. Someone wanted an office visit during my lunch break. Someone wanted me to advertise with their company. Someone wanted me to send proof of timely insurance filing. Someone driving a DHL truck wanted my signature. Someone on "line two" wanted to hold until I was available to talk. Someone delivering pizza asked me if I was paying with cash or credit. Someone told me I missed my conference call...

I'm dedicating my blog to all those someones today that caused me to think, "Sorry, but I really don't give a fuck."

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Expert Advise

Again, today I found myself getting a cup of joe at QuickTrip. After my recent QT boycott , I decided the unfamiliarity of their java counter movement was far less painful than standing in line at the Bread Co. looking at the dikes.

As I get to the counter, one of O'Fallon's finest (officers) spots me and hollars, "Dr. Mike, I've got this back problem." I thought too loudly, "I've got a ticket problem..." (and then realized everyone heard me.) Next, I find myself shooting preverbial shit with a cop about his back problems when some old fuck jumps into the conversation that somehow became a God-damn laboror expert on back pain. The cop would ask me a question and the plumber would give him my answer. Before the officer could schedule his blue-collar surgery with the obviously highly educated expert on the subject, I decided my joe was getting cold.

"Give me a call and we'll draw up some blueprints to fix that back pain. Bring your expert friend here, in case we run into a radiological spondylolisthesis or find latantcies on the lower extremity somatosensory evoked potentials. And hey-- kick the mud off your boots outside and don't forget your nail belt, partner!"

Geez.

Friday, January 14, 2005

Superman

Chicks are funny beings. I mean, think about it... every God-damn day I perform feats that my wife think are death-defying. One thing that comes to mind is my heroic attempt to drive without wearing my "safety belt." I'm sure statistics have proven (as my wife has reminded me many times) that the dangers of driving are lessoned by strapping secure with a piece of safety cloth. I am willing to take the risk. "Oh my gosh!", you are probably thinking, "This guy has a passion for insanity!" Well, I do, dammit. If I want to live on the edge a little, pump up my adrenaline, and drive down my street WITHOUT a seatbelt, I feel that I should have my God-given right to do so without all the finger-pointing and chastise. Hell, I'm going to drive today (all the way home) without my seatbelt, dammit, and I'm proud of it.

I must be Superman.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005


I had this odd dream last night...
Posted by Hello

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Things I Don't Like

1) Utilities' Lack of Speed at Connecting Things.
I had a great idea the other day: Cancel the home phone since we use our cellular for everything. A month later, DSL gone. PPV gone. I called today to reconnect and the quickest they can re-establish service is in 7 days.
Pain in the ass level: 8

2) Insurance Companies.
Ever had to deal with them? I do it EVERY day.
Pain in the ass level: 10

3) Unnecessary Paperwork
Again, EVERY day. Pain in the ass (PIA) level: 9

4) Stupid people
I was paying by credit card today to a dyslexic customer service rep.
PIA level: 4

5) Vehicle Drivers that Leave Their Fuel Cap Open
This makes me shake. How can someone forget to close the lid? That's like driving around with your trunk open.
PIA level: 2 (3 if you're sitting behind them at a stop light).

6) People That Change Their Email Addresses Often
bigdogs@myexcel.com? drmike@infiniplex.net? drmike@excel.com?
This is a good way to never hear from me again.
Pain in the ass level: 6

7) Indecisiveness
I'd like to have pizza.. no, how about Ethyl's.. actually, that doesn't sound as good as Chevy's... but we just had that... where would you like to go?
Pick a damn answer and go with it.
PIA level: 4

8) Poor Grammar
This is the U.S. -- Learn the language and live with it. Or leave.
PIA level: 10

... check back ...

Friday, January 07, 2005

Santa, Schmanta!


This is my Christmas goat.