I can't think of anything more repulsive than the thought of eating onion flavored, deep fried snack chips. But that is exactly what Funyuns are. Why in the world would anyone want to eat onions, raw and by themselves (by the handfull) as a mid-day snack? I went to the Funyuns website and they have this paragraph included to describe this zany product:
"Funyuns Onion Flavored Rings are a deliciously different snack that is fun to eat. These playful rings have a crisp texture and are packed full of zesty onion flavor. Next time you're in the mood for a snack that's out of the ordinary, try Funyuns Onion Flavored Rings."
Oh, I see. Please forgive me, Funyun people. I didn't realize that Funyuns were "fun to eat" and "playful." I wasn't thinking about them as entertainment. I was only thinking about how gross it is to eat crispy, zesty deep fried onions at 3 in the afternoon.
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Off brand, generic, non-name brand cereals always entertain me. They usually don't come in boxes, but bags. They have a different cartoon mascot. They usually taste a hint different. But other than that - the exact same. Well, of course for the names. And that is the best part. You want Apple Jacks but can't afford them - just go with Apple Zings. You want Corn Pops but don't want to shell out $5 a box - go with a bag of Corn Bursts. Can't keep up with Golden Grahams? Go with Honey Graham Squares. Now, I have not made up any of these fake names. I promise. Go to malt-o-meal's website and see for yourself. Other wonderful off-brand names of comedy include: Scooters (Cheap Cheerios), Cocoa Roos (Cheap Cocoa Puffs), Cinnamon Toasters (Cheap Cinnamon Toast Crunch). Malt-o-Meal started it all by my observation and other companies have hopped on the bandwagon - exploiting well-known cereals by making them the exact same, giving them an extremely similiar name, but putting them in a bag. Kathryn came home from the grocery store the other day with Food Lion's generic brand of Crispix, and get this, the name was Crispy Hexagons. I am not lying. I am looking at the box right now. Crispy Hexagons. What in the world kind of name is that? Is there any ounce of creativity involved? At least with "Apple Zings" you get a small dose of imagination and creativity. But Crispy Hexagons? That is just telling us at the most basic metaphysical level what it is. How will that sell on the same shelf with intriguing and ominous Count Chocula? Or adventurous and exciting Fruit Loops?
Crispy Hexagons? Good grief. I wonder what their name is for their fake Cheerios? Crunchy Round Things with a Hole In It? What about their version of Fruit Loops? Fruity, Crunchy Round Things with a Hole In It? What about their fake version of Frosted Flakes? White-Sugar Dusted Wheat Leaves? Give me a break. Crispy Hexagons? A second grader could come up with that name. Actually, now that I think about it...do second graders even know what Hexagons are? Just who is this cereal appealing to? The geometrical elite? The educated upper-class? But then you have to think, if they are going after the Wall Street Fat Cats, they have to know that these big wigs aren't shopping at Food Lion nor are they interested in generic-brand cereals. Quite a delimma these Crispy Hexagon people have.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Deck the Stalls
I can't believe I was tricked for so many years. With every passing Christmas, I honestly thought that an obese, bearded caucasian broke into my house not to steal stuff but to leave stuff. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not seen through all the clues? Looking back, I at least thought I was capable of making sense of things, of deducing truth from the information I was given. But I guess not. Aside from the obvious indications that this whole Santa thing isn't true (you know, the claim that one man could single-handedly visit EVERY Christmas-celebrating house in the world in one lone night...not to mention that an obese individual would chose to enter into a house through the chimney), I have since had time to see more clearly.
Let's start with the whole cookies and milk thing. You know the scoop, before the kids go to their bedrooms, they leave out some cookies and milk for Santa and when they wake up in the morning they discover only some crumbs and a milk-film-lined empty class. If Santa has broken into your house to leave some goodies for you, he isn't going to waste his time with a couple of stale cookies and a luke-warm glass of milk. No, he would go INTO THE KITCHEN and find the good stuff. Ice cream, cake, maker's mark, wheat thins, I don't know, whatever Santa enjoys. Why fill up stomach space with meager cookies when you have access to the entire pantry?
Then you got the chimney entrance thing. Aside from the obvious (chimney - thin, Santa - fat), most people will have their chimneys going in wintery December, you know, flaming hot. Santa should know this. It is cold in December (except in Baton Rouge). Fires will be going. He should instead enter through the air conditioning unit. No one will be using that. But the burning, flaming fire place? Come now.
And of course you have the ongoing "e" debate. You are familiar with this - Is Clause spelled with an "e" at the end or not. There is no consensus on this. Some spell it Claus. Others Clause. And this is excluding the wonderful movie trilogy starring Tim Allen. What are children to do with this?
Down south (in Mexico) the folks there don't use a Bible. They use Santa's Bible. They honestly think Santa was the author. Ever seen one of their Bibles? It is titled "Santa Biblia." I guess that means Santa's Bible. This is just one more proof that the whole Santa thing has evolved to out of control proportions.
All in all, it is obvious to see that this whole Santa thing is a farce. And everyone has been tricked. We simply bought into it all wholesale. Speaking for myself, I must have been caught up in Santa's jolliness. It is obvious to see why Santa would be so jolly. He does nothing for an entire year. He sits bak and digests, I suppose, and lets his army of elven slaves build his products. Then he works one night out of the year. One 12 hour shift and the rest of the year is vacation. Not to mention that one 12 hour shift is littered with "milk and cookies" (translation: cake, bourbon, wheat thins, etc.) And let's not forget about that sweet red and white suit of his. Anyone would be jolly (or merry) to be rocking that. You know Santa is riding dirty. But even his jollity or merriness will convince me anew. I am forever scarred. And scared.
Let's start with the whole cookies and milk thing. You know the scoop, before the kids go to their bedrooms, they leave out some cookies and milk for Santa and when they wake up in the morning they discover only some crumbs and a milk-film-lined empty class. If Santa has broken into your house to leave some goodies for you, he isn't going to waste his time with a couple of stale cookies and a luke-warm glass of milk. No, he would go INTO THE KITCHEN and find the good stuff. Ice cream, cake, maker's mark, wheat thins, I don't know, whatever Santa enjoys. Why fill up stomach space with meager cookies when you have access to the entire pantry?
Then you got the chimney entrance thing. Aside from the obvious (chimney - thin, Santa - fat), most people will have their chimneys going in wintery December, you know, flaming hot. Santa should know this. It is cold in December (except in Baton Rouge). Fires will be going. He should instead enter through the air conditioning unit. No one will be using that. But the burning, flaming fire place? Come now.
And of course you have the ongoing "e" debate. You are familiar with this - Is Clause spelled with an "e" at the end or not. There is no consensus on this. Some spell it Claus. Others Clause. And this is excluding the wonderful movie trilogy starring Tim Allen. What are children to do with this?
Down south (in Mexico) the folks there don't use a Bible. They use Santa's Bible. They honestly think Santa was the author. Ever seen one of their Bibles? It is titled "Santa Biblia." I guess that means Santa's Bible. This is just one more proof that the whole Santa thing has evolved to out of control proportions.
All in all, it is obvious to see that this whole Santa thing is a farce. And everyone has been tricked. We simply bought into it all wholesale. Speaking for myself, I must have been caught up in Santa's jolliness. It is obvious to see why Santa would be so jolly. He does nothing for an entire year. He sits bak and digests, I suppose, and lets his army of elven slaves build his products. Then he works one night out of the year. One 12 hour shift and the rest of the year is vacation. Not to mention that one 12 hour shift is littered with "milk and cookies" (translation: cake, bourbon, wheat thins, etc.) And let's not forget about that sweet red and white suit of his. Anyone would be jolly (or merry) to be rocking that. You know Santa is riding dirty. But even his jollity or merriness will convince me anew. I am forever scarred. And scared.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Milk Malaise Explained
In case you read the previous post "Milk Mania", but failed to read the comments, this blog post is for you. If you failed to read the previous post "Milk Mania," this blog post will make absolutely no sense to you. Either way, do enjoy. Here is a note from my unnamed friend (Dave Kulp) who was responsible for putting us in the milk malaise.
Matt,
Okay...here is the deal...Have you ever seen a movie where someone is on government food stamps? I always wondered what kind of stamps they were do you send away for free cheese or what? Or maybe you listen to the rap stylings of the roots who speak of "toast in the oven with government cheese bubblin." Now I like cheese as much as if not more than the next guy...and what is not to like about free cheese. So...A question I have had for most of my life is how does one gain cheese through the current government system...Where can i get said stamps...The Post office never seems to understand my request for a roll of the stamps that get me the free cheddar.
Recently we found out the deal. Becasue of the lack of money i am making by being a student we are now on WIC through which we recieve food stamps. We have come to find out that they are not stamps at all! They are more like coupons, and each coupon lists exactly what you can get free...Basically they take care of Baby formula, eggs, juice, peanut butter, MILK, and yes CHEESE!!!! Jackpot! Last month we were away from home for 10 days, then upon returning we had just bought milk (duh!) so our milk coupons were stacked up and had to be used before expiration. Thus the visit from the Milk Fairy. We got the free milk and passed along that which had been purchased through poor planning on my part!
Just so you know at all times we have 2 gallons in our fridge. 1=Whole milk for Benno, and then a 2% for Celia. Things get really nuts when Mary buys Skim for herself. When that happens basically the whole top shelf in the fridge is lactose...What a wild world...Thank God for Government cheese.
Sincerely,
Dave
Matt,
Okay...here is the deal...Have you ever seen a movie where someone is on government food stamps? I always wondered what kind of stamps they were do you send away for free cheese or what? Or maybe you listen to the rap stylings of the roots who speak of "toast in the oven with government cheese bubblin." Now I like cheese as much as if not more than the next guy...and what is not to like about free cheese. So...A question I have had for most of my life is how does one gain cheese through the current government system...Where can i get said stamps...The Post office never seems to understand my request for a roll of the stamps that get me the free cheddar.
Recently we found out the deal. Becasue of the lack of money i am making by being a student we are now on WIC through which we recieve food stamps. We have come to find out that they are not stamps at all! They are more like coupons, and each coupon lists exactly what you can get free...Basically they take care of Baby formula, eggs, juice, peanut butter, MILK, and yes CHEESE!!!! Jackpot! Last month we were away from home for 10 days, then upon returning we had just bought milk (duh!) so our milk coupons were stacked up and had to be used before expiration. Thus the visit from the Milk Fairy. We got the free milk and passed along that which had been purchased through poor planning on my part!
Just so you know at all times we have 2 gallons in our fridge. 1=Whole milk for Benno, and then a 2% for Celia. Things get really nuts when Mary buys Skim for herself. When that happens basically the whole top shelf in the fridge is lactose...What a wild world...Thank God for Government cheese.
Sincerely,
Dave
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Milk Mania
It was last Tuesday, I believe, though the exact day is rather inconsequential. We had just returned from the grocery store (Food Lion - which is a somewhat scary image if you think about it) and we were loading up the various items in their respected places in the kitchen. One of those various items was a gallon of 1% milk. We were in need of milk, obviously, so we stocked up. A whole, fresh gallon of pure, snow-white, liquid lactose awaited us.
Later that afternoon, a friend of ours stopped by the apartment. This is a friend that I will not name (Dave Kulp). He (being Dave Kulp) had too many milk gallons himself for some reason, and basically dropped a fresh, unopened gallon (skim milk) on our doorstep. Refusing to deny anything free, I brought it inside and placed it in its new home - right next to the other unopened gallon of milk.
So now Kathryn and I have a big problem on our hands. All of this milk must be taken out before the expiration date. The countdown had begun. Sweat beaded on our foreheads. Everything suddenly got tense. It was like a domestic version of 24.
We first made instant pudding, knowing that pudding used a good bit of milk in it. It required two cups - barely denting one of the gallons. We started eating cereal for breakfast (I normally eat a bagel). I would come home for lunch and have a glass of milk with lunch, something I don't think I have ever done in my life - but have certainly seen this done on television for macaroni and cheese commercials (and I think, Home Alone as well). Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience. Chalky, thick milk and mustardy turkey sandwiches with jalepenos on them is not a good mixture. Moving on...Every night after dinner we would enjoy some cookies or cake or whatever baked goods were around the house with a tall glass of milk. We had two sets of friends over - and we both offered our guests as much cereal as they wanted in the morning as well as the offer to top off their pint of milk throughout the afternoon. We have done everything possible to get rid of this milk. And as I type this, in the fridge still sits two towering gallons of milk, each half-empty.
Now as I think about this, said friend above (Dave Kulp) could have been doing the exact same thing we are. He, for whatever reason, had acquired too much milk. Perhaps one of his friends dropped off a free gallon and my friend (Dave Kulp) was smart enough to know he couldn't possibly pound down two gallons in a week and a half, so he just kept passing along this orphan gallon of milk. And perhaps the guy who passed on the gallon to my friend (Dave Kulp), had the milk passed along to him as well. This gallon of milk could have theoretically been passed all over the larger Charlotte metroplex, concluding its journey with its arrival at my doorstep - and I was the only one stupid enough to take it in and break its blue, plastic seal. My friend (Dave Kulp) could have been suffering under the same plight that we are. He could be up to his ears in milk, dreaming about it, having a glass three times a day, peeing white, feeding it to stray cats, boiling milk "just to see what it does," and using it as moisturizer. But no, he opted to casually and comfortably enjoy his one gallon and pass along the insanity to me. Blast. Foiled again.
Here's the moral: Never accept free, unopened milk from anyone. And if you do, instantly give it to someone stupider than you.
Later that afternoon, a friend of ours stopped by the apartment. This is a friend that I will not name (Dave Kulp). He (being Dave Kulp) had too many milk gallons himself for some reason, and basically dropped a fresh, unopened gallon (skim milk) on our doorstep. Refusing to deny anything free, I brought it inside and placed it in its new home - right next to the other unopened gallon of milk.
So now Kathryn and I have a big problem on our hands. All of this milk must be taken out before the expiration date. The countdown had begun. Sweat beaded on our foreheads. Everything suddenly got tense. It was like a domestic version of 24.
We first made instant pudding, knowing that pudding used a good bit of milk in it. It required two cups - barely denting one of the gallons. We started eating cereal for breakfast (I normally eat a bagel). I would come home for lunch and have a glass of milk with lunch, something I don't think I have ever done in my life - but have certainly seen this done on television for macaroni and cheese commercials (and I think, Home Alone as well). Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience. Chalky, thick milk and mustardy turkey sandwiches with jalepenos on them is not a good mixture. Moving on...Every night after dinner we would enjoy some cookies or cake or whatever baked goods were around the house with a tall glass of milk. We had two sets of friends over - and we both offered our guests as much cereal as they wanted in the morning as well as the offer to top off their pint of milk throughout the afternoon. We have done everything possible to get rid of this milk. And as I type this, in the fridge still sits two towering gallons of milk, each half-empty.
Now as I think about this, said friend above (Dave Kulp) could have been doing the exact same thing we are. He, for whatever reason, had acquired too much milk. Perhaps one of his friends dropped off a free gallon and my friend (Dave Kulp) was smart enough to know he couldn't possibly pound down two gallons in a week and a half, so he just kept passing along this orphan gallon of milk. And perhaps the guy who passed on the gallon to my friend (Dave Kulp), had the milk passed along to him as well. This gallon of milk could have theoretically been passed all over the larger Charlotte metroplex, concluding its journey with its arrival at my doorstep - and I was the only one stupid enough to take it in and break its blue, plastic seal. My friend (Dave Kulp) could have been suffering under the same plight that we are. He could be up to his ears in milk, dreaming about it, having a glass three times a day, peeing white, feeding it to stray cats, boiling milk "just to see what it does," and using it as moisturizer. But no, he opted to casually and comfortably enjoy his one gallon and pass along the insanity to me. Blast. Foiled again.
Here's the moral: Never accept free, unopened milk from anyone. And if you do, instantly give it to someone stupider than you.
Christmas Card Bloopers
Here are some outtakes from taking a Christmas Card picture. I wanted at least one of these to be our Christmas Card. Let's just say I was voted down. So here they are for all to see - Our Christmas eCard (or if you are rockin the Mac, our Christmas iCard.)
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Exam Salad Sandwich
Upon preparation for my history of Christianity 1 class, I noticed that those church folk didn't make things too easy on us. Everything in the same period starts with the same letter. Why does it have to be this way? In the first few centuries of the church, it dealt with such heresies as Marcionism, Montanism, Monarchianism, Manicheanism, Modalism, Mythraism, Monophysitism, and Monothelitism. Now, why in the WORLD do they all start with M? Couldn't they have made it a little easier on us? Then you get to the 11 and 1200s and everybody is named Peter - Peter Abelard, Peter Lombard, Peter Waldo (my favorite). Again, throw us a bone people.
And don't even get me going with all the Gregories. Gregory the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, etc. Good grief. Somebody break out of the mold. Give me a Tim in there somewhere. How about Gregory the 9th, also known as Sammy? Help me out here people.
The thing that fascinates me about heresy in the early church was that the bulk of the heresies had to do with denying Jesus his humanity. They assumed that Jesus was so uber-God that he could not have also been truly or fully human at the same time. Its interesting to note that we deal with a much different heresy today. Critical scholars assume Jesus was truly and fully human, but nothing more. It is funny how the tide changes.
Pray for me. I am in the height of exams. 3 down. 2 to go.
And don't even get me going with all the Gregories. Gregory the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, etc. Good grief. Somebody break out of the mold. Give me a Tim in there somewhere. How about Gregory the 9th, also known as Sammy? Help me out here people.
The thing that fascinates me about heresy in the early church was that the bulk of the heresies had to do with denying Jesus his humanity. They assumed that Jesus was so uber-God that he could not have also been truly or fully human at the same time. Its interesting to note that we deal with a much different heresy today. Critical scholars assume Jesus was truly and fully human, but nothing more. It is funny how the tide changes.
Pray for me. I am in the height of exams. 3 down. 2 to go.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
A Manifesto of Sorts
We went up to Washington and Lee this weekend in Lexington, VA to visit Kathryn's old school. There is an actual intersection of streets there: Washington and Lee. You simply walk up Washington Rd. until you hit Lee Way (or something like that) and you are standing at Washington and Lee. I made a LOT of jokes about that. Everytime we were at that intersection I'd say, "Hey Kathryn, guess where we are? We are at Washington and Lee." She wasn't too amused. And after the 10th time I did it, I was more amused with her non-amusement of it.
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They should call it Thanksgorging. Because that is what I will be doing in a few days - Thanksgorging.
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I was looking at a recipe yesterday and the recipe called for a "sprig" of parsley. Is that a made-up word? Sprig. Sounds like something I would make up. I think it is a combo of stem and twig. It isn't big enough to be a stem, but too big to be a twig - hence sprig. Maybe people who only eat sprigs can call this week Thankssprigging, instead of Thanksgorging. Happy Thankssprigging.
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We drove through a snow storm yesterday. I can't remember the last time I saw snow. It has certainly been a while.
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Why are raisins so disgusting? I like grapes and wine, but am not a fan of the raisin. And don't get me wrong - I love dried fruit. Just not the raisin. I would rather Thanksgorge on sprigs than raisins.
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They should call it Thanksgorging. Because that is what I will be doing in a few days - Thanksgorging.
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I was looking at a recipe yesterday and the recipe called for a "sprig" of parsley. Is that a made-up word? Sprig. Sounds like something I would make up. I think it is a combo of stem and twig. It isn't big enough to be a stem, but too big to be a twig - hence sprig. Maybe people who only eat sprigs can call this week Thankssprigging, instead of Thanksgorging. Happy Thankssprigging.
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We drove through a snow storm yesterday. I can't remember the last time I saw snow. It has certainly been a while.
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Why are raisins so disgusting? I like grapes and wine, but am not a fan of the raisin. And don't get me wrong - I love dried fruit. Just not the raisin. I would rather Thanksgorge on sprigs than raisins.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Whole Lotta Shakin' (and Noddin') Goin' On
While reading an article this morning, I came across a sentence that left me a bit confused. It read, "Now, if you are a parent, you are probably shaking your head." I've heard the expression 'shaking your head' before, but I always get tripped up as to whether it means moving it back and forth to respond negatively or moving it up and down to respond affirmatively. I asked Kathryn what it meant when I read it. She said that when you shake your head, you are actually moving it back and forth (side to side). It means you disagree. She said there was a distinction between nodding and shaking. Nodding = yes. Shaking = no.
But herein lies the confusion. When I "shake" someone's hand, I grip it and then gently shake it up and down. Not side to side. When I "shake" a bottle of orange juice to stir up the pulp, I shake it up and down. Not side to side. When I shake a rock out of my shoe - up and down.
Ahh but when I shake a package to see if I can tell what its contents may be without opening it...I shake it side to side. Not up and down. And when I make homemade milk shakes, I stir up the milk and ice cream with a spoon by going from side to side. NOT up and down. When I shake someone from their sleep - I try to rouse them by moving them from side to side. Not up and down.
And then there are certain shakes that don't go up and down OR side to side. They go sort of back to front. Like when I shake my fist at someone. And there are certain shakes that I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Like when someone tells me that something will happen in "two shakes of a lamb's tail." Now that is just simply odd.
With all this shaking going on, how am I to interpret a line in an article that reads, "If you are a parent, you are probably shaking your head"? Is that back and forth shaking? Side to side shaking? Back to front shaking? Lamb-tail-shaking?
And furthermore....what is nodding all about? I can nod in approval. I can also nod off to sleep. But can I nod an orange juice bottle? Can I nod a rock out of my shoe? Can I drink a milk nod? Can I nod a lamb's tail?
But herein lies the confusion. When I "shake" someone's hand, I grip it and then gently shake it up and down. Not side to side. When I "shake" a bottle of orange juice to stir up the pulp, I shake it up and down. Not side to side. When I shake a rock out of my shoe - up and down.
Ahh but when I shake a package to see if I can tell what its contents may be without opening it...I shake it side to side. Not up and down. And when I make homemade milk shakes, I stir up the milk and ice cream with a spoon by going from side to side. NOT up and down. When I shake someone from their sleep - I try to rouse them by moving them from side to side. Not up and down.
And then there are certain shakes that don't go up and down OR side to side. They go sort of back to front. Like when I shake my fist at someone. And there are certain shakes that I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Like when someone tells me that something will happen in "two shakes of a lamb's tail." Now that is just simply odd.
With all this shaking going on, how am I to interpret a line in an article that reads, "If you are a parent, you are probably shaking your head"? Is that back and forth shaking? Side to side shaking? Back to front shaking? Lamb-tail-shaking?
And furthermore....what is nodding all about? I can nod in approval. I can also nod off to sleep. But can I nod an orange juice bottle? Can I nod a rock out of my shoe? Can I drink a milk nod? Can I nod a lamb's tail?
Monday, November 06, 2006
It's the Freakin' Weekend, Baby I'm About to Have Me Some Fun
Our weekend was action packed. You could say it was "action-stuffed," even. Or maybe even "action-loaded," like extra cheese pumped into the crust or something.
Friday: I went to a men's retreat with my church in Black Mountain, NC. It was a great time to be had. Made me think, made me feel, made me vulnerable. The interesting part about it was actually getting there. The retreat center was two hours away from Charlotte, around Asheville. When we ended up in Tennessee, we knew we had missed a turn somewhere. When we stopped to ask where I-40 was (the next turn that we were looking for), the grizzled old man at the diner told me it is about 100 miles away. Needless to say, our 2 hour trip turned into a 6 hour tour through the mountains of Tennessee. We arrived to the retreat center at 8, missed dinner, and were thoroughly frustrated. But the retreat turned out to be wonderful.
Meanwhile, Kathryn and a friend of hers were house-sitting (The concept of house-sitting warrants a blog all to itself. Is house-sitting really necessary? Come on, people). The parents went away for the weekend and left their 17 year old son behind to take the SATs on Saturday. No big deal. Easy cheesy. Kathryn and her friend got ripped out of sleep at 3 in the morning by the college kid (the older brother) who decided to drive home that night from school and didn't happen to have a key. I'm not sure whether or not he knew his parents were out of town that weekend. Everything worked out fine that night, it just freaked out the girls to hear yelling and pounding on the door in a big weird house they don't know at 3 in the morning.
Saturday: I arrive from the Men's retreat that afternoon and meet up with Kathryn. We bring some food over to the house where we are "sitting" and sit down to a nice, quiet dinner while the 17 year old is in the back house watching football with his two buddies. The older, college brother had told Kathryn that morning that he would be heading back to school that afternoon. So we had the place to ourselves. Or...so we thought. As we sit down to eat, we hear a thud upstairs. Not knowing the particular sounds of the house, we ignored it, only to hear it again. Someone was certainly in the house. We cautiously went upstairs to locate the noise, only to find the college kid in his room...with a girl. And yep, he answered the door in only a towel. Not good. We gave him a stern talking to, only to discover that the poor girl's father had just had a heart attack. So we couldn't be overly upset. We sent them on their way. Then Kathryn went out to the back house to check on the 17 year old. His two friends had somehow mutated into 15, girls included, with a mini-fridge stuffed with Miller Lite. We cleared out the beer, threatened to shut down the party, and received a lot of not-so-friendly looks from the high schoolers. The party ended at 12:00. The next day, both boys apologized...I think when they realized that we would be updating their parents about all of the events.
Good grief. We were supposed to be HOUSE sitting. Not TEENAGER sitting. I think we have learned the hard way that when we accept house sitting gigs from here on out that we must demand that the only thing that will be sat upon will be the house. No naked teenagers. No parties. No beer. Just houses.
Friday: I went to a men's retreat with my church in Black Mountain, NC. It was a great time to be had. Made me think, made me feel, made me vulnerable. The interesting part about it was actually getting there. The retreat center was two hours away from Charlotte, around Asheville. When we ended up in Tennessee, we knew we had missed a turn somewhere. When we stopped to ask where I-40 was (the next turn that we were looking for), the grizzled old man at the diner told me it is about 100 miles away. Needless to say, our 2 hour trip turned into a 6 hour tour through the mountains of Tennessee. We arrived to the retreat center at 8, missed dinner, and were thoroughly frustrated. But the retreat turned out to be wonderful.
Meanwhile, Kathryn and a friend of hers were house-sitting (The concept of house-sitting warrants a blog all to itself. Is house-sitting really necessary? Come on, people). The parents went away for the weekend and left their 17 year old son behind to take the SATs on Saturday. No big deal. Easy cheesy. Kathryn and her friend got ripped out of sleep at 3 in the morning by the college kid (the older brother) who decided to drive home that night from school and didn't happen to have a key. I'm not sure whether or not he knew his parents were out of town that weekend. Everything worked out fine that night, it just freaked out the girls to hear yelling and pounding on the door in a big weird house they don't know at 3 in the morning.
Saturday: I arrive from the Men's retreat that afternoon and meet up with Kathryn. We bring some food over to the house where we are "sitting" and sit down to a nice, quiet dinner while the 17 year old is in the back house watching football with his two buddies. The older, college brother had told Kathryn that morning that he would be heading back to school that afternoon. So we had the place to ourselves. Or...so we thought. As we sit down to eat, we hear a thud upstairs. Not knowing the particular sounds of the house, we ignored it, only to hear it again. Someone was certainly in the house. We cautiously went upstairs to locate the noise, only to find the college kid in his room...with a girl. And yep, he answered the door in only a towel. Not good. We gave him a stern talking to, only to discover that the poor girl's father had just had a heart attack. So we couldn't be overly upset. We sent them on their way. Then Kathryn went out to the back house to check on the 17 year old. His two friends had somehow mutated into 15, girls included, with a mini-fridge stuffed with Miller Lite. We cleared out the beer, threatened to shut down the party, and received a lot of not-so-friendly looks from the high schoolers. The party ended at 12:00. The next day, both boys apologized...I think when they realized that we would be updating their parents about all of the events.
Good grief. We were supposed to be HOUSE sitting. Not TEENAGER sitting. I think we have learned the hard way that when we accept house sitting gigs from here on out that we must demand that the only thing that will be sat upon will be the house. No naked teenagers. No parties. No beer. Just houses.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Forwards and Backwards
Everyone gets ridiculous forwards from people. Be it your aunt, your not-so-close friend, or your friends' parents. For me, it is my mother likes to forward me things. We are close enough to where I can calmly tell her to stop on many occasions. To her credit, she has cut back - especially on the cheesy Christian forwards that beseech me to forward it all of my friends less I lose my eternal security. But she did happen to send one that was not only humorous but blog worthy. Here tis:
Why do we press harder on a remote control when we
know the batteries are getting weak?
Why do banks charge a fee on "insufficient funds" when
they know there is not enough?
Why does someone believe you when you say there are
four billion stars, but check when you say the paint
is wet?
Why doesn't glue stick to the bottle?
Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal
injection?
Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?
Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but
ducks when you throw a revolver at him?
Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?
If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?
Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you
use the bubbles are always white?
Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?
Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator
with hopes that something new to eat will have
materialized?
Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times
with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it
up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum
one more chance?
Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end
on your first try?
How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light
fixtures?
When we are in the supermarket and someone rams your
ankle with a shopping cart then apologizes for doing
so, why do we say, "It's all right?" Well, it isn't
all right, so why don't we say, "That hurt, you stupid
idiot?"
Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something
that's falling off the table you always manage to
knock something else over?
In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as
it was in summer when we complained about the heat?
How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every
four persons are suffering from some sort of mental
illness. Think of your three best friends -- if
they're okay, then it's you.
Why do we press harder on a remote control when we
know the batteries are getting weak?
Why do banks charge a fee on "insufficient funds" when
they know there is not enough?
Why does someone believe you when you say there are
four billion stars, but check when you say the paint
is wet?
Why doesn't glue stick to the bottle?
Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal
injection?
Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?
Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but
ducks when you throw a revolver at him?
Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?
If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?
Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you
use the bubbles are always white?
Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?
Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator
with hopes that something new to eat will have
materialized?
Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times
with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it
up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum
one more chance?
Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end
on your first try?
How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light
fixtures?
When we are in the supermarket and someone rams your
ankle with a shopping cart then apologizes for doing
so, why do we say, "It's all right?" Well, it isn't
all right, so why don't we say, "That hurt, you stupid
idiot?"
Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something
that's falling off the table you always manage to
knock something else over?
In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as
it was in summer when we complained about the heat?
How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every
four persons are suffering from some sort of mental
illness. Think of your three best friends -- if
they're okay, then it's you.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Randomology #643-648
New design for a new "me." I'm calling this my Fiona Apple stage. It's the new me. I'm Fiona Apple.
---
I just finished a bottle of shampoo. I have no idea how long this bottle has lasted me, but I want to guess that it was in the measurement of years. And don't get me wrong, I do bathe (contrary to popular belief). I must have gotten thousands of uses out of this lone bottle. I started another bottle last night. I told Kathryn that I am going to keep a running tally to see how long this one will last. So far: 1 use.
---
How come people put mustard on sandwiches AND hamburgers, but they only put ketchup on burgers? Why doesn't ketchup carry over into the sandwich category like mustard does?
---
iPod. iTunes. iLife. iRaq?
---
This morning Kathryn had to use the scrapey thing on her car to remove ice from her wind shield. Good grief, it is getting cold here. This certainly isn't Louisiana.
---
I just finished a bottle of shampoo. I have no idea how long this bottle has lasted me, but I want to guess that it was in the measurement of years. And don't get me wrong, I do bathe (contrary to popular belief). I must have gotten thousands of uses out of this lone bottle. I started another bottle last night. I told Kathryn that I am going to keep a running tally to see how long this one will last. So far: 1 use.
---
How come people put mustard on sandwiches AND hamburgers, but they only put ketchup on burgers? Why doesn't ketchup carry over into the sandwich category like mustard does?
---
iPod. iTunes. iLife. iRaq?
---
This morning Kathryn had to use the scrapey thing on her car to remove ice from her wind shield. Good grief, it is getting cold here. This certainly isn't Louisiana.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Christian Snobbery (and Hob Nobbery)
It has come to my attention that there are certain “snobberies” within the Christian community. Well, I suppose these snobberies would exist in any group of people, but the group I am most familiar with would be the Christian community. Snobberies…Little obsessive hobbies that we pride ourselves on and enjoy displaying our knowledge of. Whatever niche it may be, we hone in on it and feel good about putting other people down who are not quite as advanced in that subject as we are. A few examples:
Christian Beer Snob – These may be the most pervasive and the loudest of Christian snobs. For some reason they prefer the darker brews to the lighter. They hate anything domestic and even have nice little names of mockery for them (“Butt wiper” comes to mind for Budweiser). They hate macro-breweries. In fact, the only thing they really like is some weird, never-heard-of-it-before, Belgian and German dark brews that were produced in the basement of some monastery and come in larger, differently shaped bottles. These beers taste absolutely disgusting to the average beer consumer, but to their advanced and sophisticated tastes – it is the only real beer available. Everything else out there is a sell-out. Christian Wine Snobs and Christian Liquor Snobs could fit under this category as well, I suppose.
Christian Coffee Snob – These are less frequent than the beer snobs, but like them, they prefer their drink dark. Folgers, Maxwell House, and any homegrown, domestic, macro-produced, grocery-store-selling grounds are no good. They call that “brown colored water.” The real coffee has to be imported from some small, South American village where they privately grow their beans (organic, dark, bold, coffee beans). Depending on the degree of Coffee snobs – Starbucks is at worst Satan and at best tolerable. But most coffee snobs secretly like the coffee (they say that it is simply “ok”), they just hate the Starbucks culture. They would never order a frappuccino. The darker, the bolder, the better.
Christian Literature Snob – Don’t be confused, these people don’t prize themselves on “Christian literature,” no, no, they are Christians who happen to prize themselves on anything but Christian literature. They quote things from authors and books the average reader has never heard of and claim that these pieces of lit are the greatest things ever. And you have to read them. Ever tried reading one of these books that the Lit Snobs recommend? Try getting through the first 50 pages. They’re about as entertaining as watching dust collect. But they will assure you that it is the greatest piece of literature ever composed, touching the depths of human emotion (boredom).
Christian Music Snob – There are several different molds of the Music Snob. Some are Classical Rock Snobs and claim that the newer stuff can never compete with the old. Some are Indie Snobs, until the entire world went Indie and now they feel a bit insecure, hoping to find their identity in a different genre. Then you have the Real Music Snobs – people mentioning old school Jazz and country musicians from the 20s and 30s, people who only listen to vinyl, who have never even heard of Dave Matthews. These people scare me. There is a whole host of Music Snobs and they are by far the most predominant of the Christian community – there is a Snob for every conceivable genre and era.
Christian Movie Snob – These Snobs scoff at mainstream, blockbuster, Hollywood pictures. They prefer B films, no, C films. If it is foreign, it already has a head start against homegrown films. The more subtitles, the better. If it is black and white, even better. Does it have a never-heard-of-before foreign director? Now we are talking. The content should be abstract and confusing, looking absolutely meaningless and stupid to the average viewer, but to the Movie Snob, these movies far surpass anything else. They appreciate the lighting, the cinematography, the angles, the symbolism, and other ridiculous things that no one else pays attention to.
Christian Snobs are sort of like Christian Gnostics. Whatever field of expertise they camp on, they invest their heart and souls and discover the secret element that allows them to appreciate the thing more than your average, run of the mill consumer. They are the elite. They have the key to understanding. “Oh, you didn’t catch that can of peas on the table in the foreground, that was a symbolic foreshadowing of the protagonist’s plight against his childhood memories. Oh, that’s too bad you didn’t catch it. It really unlocks the story.” Or perhaps you’ve heard, “You don’t like that? You didn’t catch that peppery, almost cherry, hint on the back palate?”
I’m somewhat of a blend of all the above – too insecure to not want to be an expert in something and too lazy and scatterbrained to invest and commit to any one field. But I suppose if I had to choose, it would be the Coffee Snobbery. Hate that Starbucks (but secretly love it).
Which one are you?
Christian Beer Snob – These may be the most pervasive and the loudest of Christian snobs. For some reason they prefer the darker brews to the lighter. They hate anything domestic and even have nice little names of mockery for them (“Butt wiper” comes to mind for Budweiser). They hate macro-breweries. In fact, the only thing they really like is some weird, never-heard-of-it-before, Belgian and German dark brews that were produced in the basement of some monastery and come in larger, differently shaped bottles. These beers taste absolutely disgusting to the average beer consumer, but to their advanced and sophisticated tastes – it is the only real beer available. Everything else out there is a sell-out. Christian Wine Snobs and Christian Liquor Snobs could fit under this category as well, I suppose.
Christian Coffee Snob – These are less frequent than the beer snobs, but like them, they prefer their drink dark. Folgers, Maxwell House, and any homegrown, domestic, macro-produced, grocery-store-selling grounds are no good. They call that “brown colored water.” The real coffee has to be imported from some small, South American village where they privately grow their beans (organic, dark, bold, coffee beans). Depending on the degree of Coffee snobs – Starbucks is at worst Satan and at best tolerable. But most coffee snobs secretly like the coffee (they say that it is simply “ok”), they just hate the Starbucks culture. They would never order a frappuccino. The darker, the bolder, the better.
Christian Literature Snob – Don’t be confused, these people don’t prize themselves on “Christian literature,” no, no, they are Christians who happen to prize themselves on anything but Christian literature. They quote things from authors and books the average reader has never heard of and claim that these pieces of lit are the greatest things ever. And you have to read them. Ever tried reading one of these books that the Lit Snobs recommend? Try getting through the first 50 pages. They’re about as entertaining as watching dust collect. But they will assure you that it is the greatest piece of literature ever composed, touching the depths of human emotion (boredom).
Christian Music Snob – There are several different molds of the Music Snob. Some are Classical Rock Snobs and claim that the newer stuff can never compete with the old. Some are Indie Snobs, until the entire world went Indie and now they feel a bit insecure, hoping to find their identity in a different genre. Then you have the Real Music Snobs – people mentioning old school Jazz and country musicians from the 20s and 30s, people who only listen to vinyl, who have never even heard of Dave Matthews. These people scare me. There is a whole host of Music Snobs and they are by far the most predominant of the Christian community – there is a Snob for every conceivable genre and era.
Christian Movie Snob – These Snobs scoff at mainstream, blockbuster, Hollywood pictures. They prefer B films, no, C films. If it is foreign, it already has a head start against homegrown films. The more subtitles, the better. If it is black and white, even better. Does it have a never-heard-of-before foreign director? Now we are talking. The content should be abstract and confusing, looking absolutely meaningless and stupid to the average viewer, but to the Movie Snob, these movies far surpass anything else. They appreciate the lighting, the cinematography, the angles, the symbolism, and other ridiculous things that no one else pays attention to.
Christian Snobs are sort of like Christian Gnostics. Whatever field of expertise they camp on, they invest their heart and souls and discover the secret element that allows them to appreciate the thing more than your average, run of the mill consumer. They are the elite. They have the key to understanding. “Oh, you didn’t catch that can of peas on the table in the foreground, that was a symbolic foreshadowing of the protagonist’s plight against his childhood memories. Oh, that’s too bad you didn’t catch it. It really unlocks the story.” Or perhaps you’ve heard, “You don’t like that? You didn’t catch that peppery, almost cherry, hint on the back palate?”
I’m somewhat of a blend of all the above – too insecure to not want to be an expert in something and too lazy and scatterbrained to invest and commit to any one field. But I suppose if I had to choose, it would be the Coffee Snobbery. Hate that Starbucks (but secretly love it).
Which one are you?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Mascots and Have-nots
While reading the news this morning, Kathryn and I came across a few more articles pertaining to the Tamil Tiger rebel group in Sri Lanka. Kathryn said something to the effect of, "Finally, a terrorist organization with a mascot."
I agree.
It's about time those radical, political, militant rebel forces out there go by something other than those weird, unpronounceable names. They need something a little more down to earth, something a little more collegiate. How about the Hezbollah Eagles? Or the Al Quida Yellowjackets? Or the Hamas Oilers? Or the Taliban Sooners?
Do the Tamil Tigers have cheerleaders? Do they chant, "Go Tigers, Go Tigers, Go!!!" as they invade innocent lands and oppress innocent people?
I think these terrorist/political groups should establish an intramural sports league. I'd buy tickets to see the Eagles play the Oilers. I would even try and snag some courtside tickets for the Sooners vs. the Tigers.
But I wouldn't cheer for them. I'd bring one of those big, giant foam finger things. Only mine wouldn't be the pointer finger.
I agree.
It's about time those radical, political, militant rebel forces out there go by something other than those weird, unpronounceable names. They need something a little more down to earth, something a little more collegiate. How about the Hezbollah Eagles? Or the Al Quida Yellowjackets? Or the Hamas Oilers? Or the Taliban Sooners?
Do the Tamil Tigers have cheerleaders? Do they chant, "Go Tigers, Go Tigers, Go!!!" as they invade innocent lands and oppress innocent people?
I think these terrorist/political groups should establish an intramural sports league. I'd buy tickets to see the Eagles play the Oilers. I would even try and snag some courtside tickets for the Sooners vs. the Tigers.
But I wouldn't cheer for them. I'd bring one of those big, giant foam finger things. Only mine wouldn't be the pointer finger.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Budgeting with Bush
I am currently writing my very first blog entry. I can't tell if it's an inevitable stage, like walking or riding your bike, or if it's the beginning signs of a spiraling down. As George Costanza was convinced that every moment in life "could be a show," so Matt thinks every thought in life "could be a blog". So here I spiral...
I recently read an article about women with the highest salaries in the world. I then jumped to the thought of the President of the United State's salary. He makes $400 thousand a year, which looks like a quarter compared to some of these techies out there. I was confused and even a little angry. Doesn't the President hold the highest, most respected seat in all the United States? No, I don't want him and his family to have enough money to create their own reality TV show, but this discrepancy seemed a little ridiculous.
Then I started having a little fun with my ponderings. For real. Why does the President need money? "Yeah, I gotta fly out to visit the Prime Minister of Malaysia...Shoot...We didn't budget for this...eerrrr...we'll have to cut back on groceries next month." Or maybe at a dinner with his cabinet. "Y'all, seriously, I've got this one! What do you think they pay me for??" I don't know much of anything about the specifics of the President's salary, but I'm having a hard time coming up with things he actually has to pay for. Tuition? Would his daughters' institutions really charge the President for their tuition bills? Or the power bill for the White House...who pays for that? I honestly doubt it's GWB. I can see the daughters shopping with that money. I can see that. But my mind doesn't venture much further.
I recently read an article about women with the highest salaries in the world. I then jumped to the thought of the President of the United State's salary. He makes $400 thousand a year, which looks like a quarter compared to some of these techies out there. I was confused and even a little angry. Doesn't the President hold the highest, most respected seat in all the United States? No, I don't want him and his family to have enough money to create their own reality TV show, but this discrepancy seemed a little ridiculous.
Then I started having a little fun with my ponderings. For real. Why does the President need money? "Yeah, I gotta fly out to visit the Prime Minister of Malaysia...Shoot...We didn't budget for this...eerrrr...we'll have to cut back on groceries next month." Or maybe at a dinner with his cabinet. "Y'all, seriously, I've got this one! What do you think they pay me for??" I don't know much of anything about the specifics of the President's salary, but I'm having a hard time coming up with things he actually has to pay for. Tuition? Would his daughters' institutions really charge the President for their tuition bills? Or the power bill for the White House...who pays for that? I honestly doubt it's GWB. I can see the daughters shopping with that money. I can see that. But my mind doesn't venture much further.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
555-DUMB
Whenever I am watching a television show or a movie or sorts and somewhere in the action, a character reveals a 7 digit phone number, my initial reaction is, "I can't believe they gave the entire number. What if some stupid prankster-kid out there dials it and it turns out to really be some poor, unknowing person's phone number. And what if like 500 people around the world have the same idea and start calling that phone number? Wouldn't the poor, unknowing person be able to sue the television show or movie for televizing their phone number? Shouldn't they be held responsible for the harassment? The poor, unknowing person would have to change out their phone number. It would be a huge mess. They'd have to send out one of those mass emails that says, "Hey my phone number has changed. From now, on call this number..." And then you'd have those people out there that got the email, but didn't immediately update the phone number in their cell phone and 3 weeks down the road they'd try to call the poor, unknowing person and not be able to get in touch with them. They'd call and call and only be met with the obnoxious tonal sound and the robotic-lady voice informing them that the number has been disconnected. Relationships destroyed. Legal alligations made. Compensation. Responsibility. Culpability. Drama. All because a television show or movie decided to disclose some fake number they made up."
And then after a while, once I calm down, my secondary reaction is, "Who would actually call one of those numbers? What type of prank would that be? What would they expect to hear on the receiving end? Do people really do that? I mean, seriously. That's ridiculous. Why would anyone reach for the phone, dial it up real quickly (or perhaps rewind the show if they missed it - assuming they had TiVo or a DVD/VCR player), and make the call? That's just stupid."
And then after a longer while, once I get revved up again, my thirdary reaction is, "Maybe I should do that. Just to see what happens."
And I invite you to do the same.
And then after a while, once I calm down, my secondary reaction is, "Who would actually call one of those numbers? What type of prank would that be? What would they expect to hear on the receiving end? Do people really do that? I mean, seriously. That's ridiculous. Why would anyone reach for the phone, dial it up real quickly (or perhaps rewind the show if they missed it - assuming they had TiVo or a DVD/VCR player), and make the call? That's just stupid."
And then after a longer while, once I get revved up again, my thirdary reaction is, "Maybe I should do that. Just to see what happens."
And I invite you to do the same.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Donuts or Doughnuts?
If I was a police officer, I think I would be just a little insecure about going into donut shops wearing my uniform. Do cops even go in there anymore? Is the stereotype still legit? It is, at least, in every one's mind, but do you really find cops sitting at a table by themselves in the old Krispy Kreme, passing the time with a chocolate cruller? I must admit, it has been a long time since I have actually gone into a donut shop, so I can not be the voice of experience on this one. But all that to say - suppose I was a police officer...go ahead, suppose it....I think I would feel a little stupid going in to a donut shop. Wouldn't the cashier make a subtle joke or something? Would the rest of my cop buddies tease me if they found out? "Oh, Officer Howell, we don't go into donut shops anymore. That was so 1993."
Why are cops known for their obsession with donuts? I still remember the opening scene from Die Hard 1, where the black guy from Family Matters is a cop in a convenient store buying some goodies and donuts. (By the way, he played a cop on Family Matters too. That's just bizarre. Does this actor only play cops? Carl Winslow.) And you know it is in other movies. Especially good 80s and 90s flicks. I don't doubt it was all throughout Police Academy, but I don't know. I haven't seen those flicks in a LONG time. But for whatever reason, Hollywood wants you think that our police officers love a good hunk of fried dough. But who doesn't? Why are cops the only ones getting stereotyped? Surely there are other professions that eat more donuts than cops. What about donut bakers? They are back there all day, probably eating donuts. Or what about loiterers? Certainly those that loiter in donut shops should be stereotyped more than the coppers.
Making this world fatter one person at a time...
Why are cops known for their obsession with donuts? I still remember the opening scene from Die Hard 1, where the black guy from Family Matters is a cop in a convenient store buying some goodies and donuts. (By the way, he played a cop on Family Matters too. That's just bizarre. Does this actor only play cops? Carl Winslow.) And you know it is in other movies. Especially good 80s and 90s flicks. I don't doubt it was all throughout Police Academy, but I don't know. I haven't seen those flicks in a LONG time. But for whatever reason, Hollywood wants you think that our police officers love a good hunk of fried dough. But who doesn't? Why are cops the only ones getting stereotyped? Surely there are other professions that eat more donuts than cops. What about donut bakers? They are back there all day, probably eating donuts. Or what about loiterers? Certainly those that loiter in donut shops should be stereotyped more than the coppers.
Making this world fatter one person at a time...
Monday, September 11, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Trident White: Whitens Teeth and Helps Prevent Stains
We recently purchased some Trident "White" chewing gum. Gum is always a handy item in case one is looking to have a chew. Besides, Trident White is sugarless. And it whitens teeth as you chew it. And it helps prevent stains. With all of the benefits included, it was hard to pass up. We gladly paid the 85 cents for a cool rush of Trident flavored chewing gum that aided in the whitening of our teeth.
Once we got home I read the back of the package and took a closer look at the fine print. It reads:
The great tasting way to a whiter smile!
Chewing 2 pieces of Trident White sugarless gum after eating and drinking helps:
-Prevent stains
-Strengthen teeth
-Whiten teeth in as little as 4 weeks
Ok. Let me get this straight, Trident White people. I need to chew 2 pieces of gum after every time I eat? I would say that it is fairly accurate to assume that an average person eats 3 times a day. So the Trident people expect me to chew 6 pieces of gum every day? Excessive. Then it goes on - it will whiten your teeth if you do this for 4 weeks straight! So in order to really experience the "white" part of Trident White, I have to relentlessly chew 6 pieces of gum a day for 4 straight weeks.
I've done the math. That is 168 pieces of gum. Only after chewing 168 pieces of gum do you get your whitening results. And if 12 pieces of gum come in one package, you have to buy 14 packages of gum. Surely this much gum chewing can't be good for you. Assuming they are 85 cents a package (I'm not sure....could be more or less), that is going to run you close to 12 bucks. Just on gum alone. You could buy a CD for that.
So there it is people. Do you want whiter teeth? You can have them. It will only cost you 12 dollars, 4 weeks of time, and 168 pieces of gum to chew. Stupid.
Once we got home I read the back of the package and took a closer look at the fine print. It reads:
The great tasting way to a whiter smile!
Chewing 2 pieces of Trident White sugarless gum after eating and drinking helps:
-Prevent stains
-Strengthen teeth
-Whiten teeth in as little as 4 weeks
Ok. Let me get this straight, Trident White people. I need to chew 2 pieces of gum after every time I eat? I would say that it is fairly accurate to assume that an average person eats 3 times a day. So the Trident people expect me to chew 6 pieces of gum every day? Excessive. Then it goes on - it will whiten your teeth if you do this for 4 weeks straight! So in order to really experience the "white" part of Trident White, I have to relentlessly chew 6 pieces of gum a day for 4 straight weeks.
I've done the math. That is 168 pieces of gum. Only after chewing 168 pieces of gum do you get your whitening results. And if 12 pieces of gum come in one package, you have to buy 14 packages of gum. Surely this much gum chewing can't be good for you. Assuming they are 85 cents a package (I'm not sure....could be more or less), that is going to run you close to 12 bucks. Just on gum alone. You could buy a CD for that.
So there it is people. Do you want whiter teeth? You can have them. It will only cost you 12 dollars, 4 weeks of time, and 168 pieces of gum to chew. Stupid.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Greek Week: Sneak Peek
3 weeks, 20 chapters, and 227 vocab words later, I have survived Greek 1. Endless hours forcefully cramming bizarre paradigms and strange vocabulary into my skull are over. No more daily quizzes. No more third declensions. No more memory clues to help remember tricky words. No more afternoons spent plugging away on workbook excercises when I could be tossing a frisby in the park. No more dreams about me studying (it is true, I did have several dreams....nightmares). It is over. Yes, it is over. And I have the scars and battle wounds to prove it.
I'm very excited to be finished with Greek 1. And I really am going to enjoy the 5 WHOLE FREAKING DAYS I have before Greek 2 starts. Good grief. It just doesn't stop. 5 days. That's all I get. And then the insanity resumes. More vocab. More quizzes. More translations. More weird memory clues. More afternoons spent. More dreams.
I'm very excited to be finished with Greek 1. And I really am going to enjoy the 5 WHOLE FREAKING DAYS I have before Greek 2 starts. Good grief. It just doesn't stop. 5 days. That's all I get. And then the insanity resumes. More vocab. More quizzes. More translations. More weird memory clues. More afternoons spent. More dreams.
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