Lord knows I was probably as shocked as the next guy when this happened...
Out making the rounds, taking care of business, like I do, when I got the notion to try one of Sonic's Chicago dogs they have been touting. Unfortunately, the Sonic in New Albany had bitten the dust, and I was roughly fifty miles away at any rate. Then it hit me. There was a Sonic in Mt. Washington, KY, a nice place if you don't mind the fact that A) no one that lives there knows how to drive and B) that's a real pain in the ass when the two main streets are two lanes. So I swung in, debit card at the ready, hoping for the best, but not necessarily expecting it.
When what's her face eventually made it to my car, apologizing for the delay, as they were training a new cook, I took it in stride. One of the very few ways the good Lord has blessed me is I have never worked a fast food joint, and breaking in at any new job is a bitch. Taking the foil wrapped cardboard boat from the sack, I slid the prize from the wrapper and...
Holy shit, I thought to myself. I may have been struck speechless, but I was sure as hell thinking it. Grabbing my phone, I snapped a quick picture for posterity.
There, on the center console of my car, laid a fast food item that actually looked the same as it did in the commercial. I almost wanted to check for cameramen, just in case I has been cast in a guerrilla marketing campaign without realizing it. Hell, I almost didn't want to eat it, it looked that good, but I'm glad I did. As far as fast food went, it was pretty good, and as far as hot dogs went, it was pretty damn good, and I have frequented many street dog vendors and lived to tell the tale, so I know of good...
I'm not big on unsolicited endorsements, but if you ever find the crave for something different and find yourself near a Sonic, give the Chicago dog a whirl. It may not be the healthiest way to spend two bucks, but you won't give a fuck by the third bite...
So, I see that Rebecca Black has pulled her dubious "Friday" video from YouTube. Not that this breaks my heart or anything, but how will future generations learn what happens when you take a voice autotune couldn't save with an unhealthy money-to-denial ratio? The funniest part of this to me was the news that for a brief period of time the video was available as a YouTube rental, at $2.99 a whack. Holy damn, and here I was thinking that people who bought Paris Hilton's sex tape had less of a grasp with what to do with money. I mean, even with all the studio tricks, this kid sounds like two dogs in an alley fucking, and neither dog is particularly into it...
Meanwhile, in England, supporters of Wikileaks' Julian Assange were howling in protest, claiming he was being treated like "a caged animal." For the record, he is under house arrest on a 600 acre estate. This word caged doesn't mean what they think it means, I am guessing. Maybe we could dispatch Sen. John McCain over there to give these idiots a little context...
What a black day for the sport of anvil shooting. No, it wasn't a performance-enhancement scandal, nor was the sport's biggest star taken down after dogfighting, dropping his gat in a club, or texting his junk to some chick. At the Farmington Country Days celebration in Farmington, Missouri, an early explosion at the anvil shooting championship injured the shooter and four people from a production company, the shooter seriously enough to be airlifted. I mean, for crap's sake, the Farmington Chamber of Commerce issued a statement. A statement! Not since that streaker helped touch off the riot at the Knights of Columbus dance has there been this much pandemonium in that town.
I know what you're thinking. Hell, I can practically hear your brain screaming it across the astral plain: what the holy damn is anvil shooting? I mean, do you shoot at fucking anvils, or...?
Nope. Apparently cause the meth missed some folk in Missouri, they thought it'd be a hoot to light gunpowder under a hundred pound anvil and send it flying, with the hope it comes straight back down. I lived a spit and a whistle from Missouri my entire childhood, and never once heard about anvil shooting. I sure as hell have never seen this in any of the Missouri tourism commercials I see on occasion.
Not only did these idiots find the 1,002nd Way to Die, they turned it into a fucking championship competition! Upon further research, I even found a National and World Championship contest. Do they have a weigh-in for the anvils? Probably best not to ask...
As I mentioned in the title, they banned lawn darts for ONE kid getting killed, but this is wholesome adult fun and games right here? How can dynamite fishing be illegal if this is a sport at any level? Don't know about you, but I would sure as hell start watching pro fishing on TV if there was a dynamite fishing tournament. Hell, I'd get that shit on PPV. Or maybe the secret would be shooting the anvil where it lands in the water...
Okay, the latest proof that no matter how they try to argue it, the Republicans will block anything the Obama White House is attempting, regardless of whether or not it makes any sense- the death of the nomination of Peter Diamond to a governor's spot on the Federal Reserve.
The Republicans effectively killed Diamond's nomination, as he withdrew after 14 months of bullshit despite three committee votes confirming him. Yeah, I was just as shocked as you that committee votes apparently don't mean jack, seeing as how most committees don't do jack. The best reason the GOP was willing to cough up was Sen. Richard Shelby of Alabama (pictured above), who said Diamond lacked "specific monetary policy experience."
For the record, Diamond is an MIT professor whose expertise is in pensions and behavioral economics. Since runaway pension plans are wrecking individual states, think that knowledge might be helpful somewhere other than a classroom? Oh yeah, and he won a fucking Nobel Prize, too. Not one of those cockamamie deals President Obama, an earned Nobel. Senator Richard Shelby is some dickhead lawyer from Alabama. Does the mere fact he has sat on his ass in ten thousand dog-and-pony committee meetings mean he knows anymore about the economy than the nominee? Why doesn't Shelby take the job instead, it's not like he wouldn't be doing the same nothing he's currently shoveling double time.
Damn, I guess I'm getting too old for this shit, was the first thought on my mind...my contract manager had a cook-out at her house yesterday. Her family loves cook-outs, I love grilled foods and bring beer- things just align like that sometimes in the universe.
So me and Significant Other pack up the stuff, head across the bridge to Portland and the swelter. It was time for the annual Portland Festival, a street fair thrown by the neighborhood. Whatever. More fun and fewer drunks right on the fringes, even if the air conditioning in their garage decided to chuck its freon. There may have been triple-digit heat indexes forecast, but it didn't feel that bad to me. May have been the beer talking, but I felt comfortable in allowing it to be my spokesperson for the time being.
So after a few beers (who's counting at a cook-out, especially if you have a designated driver?), that concoction where you soak fruit in booze for a couple of days before dumping it into a giant vat of punch, and some food (including a killer grilled brat), I was ready for pretty much whatever, as long as there was a packed bowl somewhere on there on down the line.
That's when the slip n' slide came into play. Not very many small children there, but the water toy was not being ignored. After my contract manager made a couple of half-hearted passes through, I decided to take a couple full speed headfirst home plate slides. Naturally, as I had not dressed for any aquatics, Significant Other held my cell phone and my wallet.
Oh yeah, and I did get to hear a snippet of the worst cover of Runaway by Bon Jovi of all the times on the way home, so there was that, too. A fairly decent Saturday afternoon, all things considered.
Then I got home, changed into dry clothes, took advantage of the aforementioned bowl, and that's when it struck me. More like the afternoon wore off and I had apparently taken a body shot in a heavyweight fight at some point in the proceedings. Hadn't felt like this since the morning after a match, or at least without really having done anything...except hurtle my 6'3" 200 lbs ass full throttle down a child's toy like I was stealing home in the World Series.
Significant Other said the second thing that was on my mind (funny how that happens): third time was the charm. Funny, somehow I think the charm has lost its charm. Or bruised a couple of ribs...I'm open to suggestions at this point.
Fuck. Well, if I'm gonna feel beat up, I might as well have been the one to beat myself up. Gonna make for a real enjoyable Monday morning, I tell you that much. Time to keep myself in dryer pursuits. Once you have been injured at the hands of an inflatable, it's only a matter of time before you do it and wind up a viral sensation.
Winner, The Blogitzer
(Best Overall Writing), 2011 Blogger's Choice Awards