I'm Back, Baby...

What began as a bit of an unannounced break from Interwebland, turned into almost 2 months of your lives Sans Kris. For this, I apologize, as I know from my own personal experience that anyone's life completely Sans Kris is just kind of meaningless. I honestly didn't realize it had been so long, and if I had known my absence would extend into September, I would have gone out on a bit of a stronger note than with something bearing "ape tit" in the title. Well maybe not, but you could give me the benefit of the doubt. Unless you want to be a dick about it, of course.

My life went through a HUGE change about two and a half months ago, and the plan was to take a couple of weeks off from writing, in order to devote the needed time to this new endeavour. 2 weeks turned into 2 months and here we are. The good news is that the big life change I experienced was ALL positive. It's eaten up a lot of my time (more than I even anticipated), but my life is much more fulfilled as a result. Now I can get back to the business of wasting your time.

First of all, thanks so much to those of you that were kind enough to send me your thoughts and take the time to write. Extra Happy Thanks should go to Naibebbi Oujunina for taking the time to send me an email every single day. In retrospect, I can't say I completely understand what Nigerian bank transfers have to do with my little musings, but thanks all the same. It is appreciated, sir.

Secondly,

God. Damn.

Thirdly, expect a certified plethora of new content to read about here in the near future. Halloween is my favorite holiday and I'm sure to spend far more money than anyone really should on useless shit that completely loses its cultural relevance as soon as the clock strikes midnight on some arbitrary day. Since my psyche demands I justify everything I purchase, you will be hearing about it all. How does it feel to be justification? I bet it feels bittersweet.

Fourthly, I'm going to see against me! in two days. Yeah, that's right. Jealous? What the fuck do you mean "Who's against me!?". Bah.

Fifly, or fively? Semantics. I may get to see Blind Melon in two weeks. That one I know you're jealous about. Fuck your "they haven't been relevant in fifteen years" bullshit too.

Sixly, can I just say that if you haven't seen The Dark Knight yet, you should just kill yourself. Seriously, what the fuck are you waiting for? It doesn't get better with age. On your way out, whisper a little thanks to Chris Nolan for preventing the great nerd war of 2009. That shit was brewing, and I don't know about you, but I didn't want to have to fight a bunch of nerds to the death for my own survival. Seriously. If for some reason I need to know what the klingon word for spatula is, I would like to be secure in the knowledge that this kind of information is available. The Dark Knight brought us all together, and you should pay your respects. *

Sevenly, I have discovered the magic of podcasts...and they are good. I don't think I've listened to music at all in the last 2 months. Just fucking podcasts. Shit's addicting. Three good ones for you to check out. Feel free to google, as I am too inebriated to search for links. Who knows what the fuck you'll actually be clicking on if I try and provide that service right now. I would probably Rick Roll you.

Smodcast

The Ken P. D. Snydecast

Stuck in the 80s

Don't check them out unless you want to literally lose days of your life to catching up on all that podcasty goodness.

Eighthly, why didn't anyone tell me mussells were so fucking good? How I waited almost 27 years to try what is probably God's perfect food (right after Cherry flavoured Pez, ofcourse), is just beyond me. Can we please try and be more open in the future? These secrets have got to stop. They're tearing us apart.

Ninthly, if you ask me...turnips are vastly under-rated as a side dish. Why can't it be choice of potato, rice or turnip? I think the Turnip Council needs a new ad campaign.

Turnips.....Terrorists Hate them. You're Not a Terrorist, are You?

Tenthly, and most importantly... I missed you guys! :)

* Spellchecker has advised me that "klingon" should be spelled with a capital "K". Fuck that. War's back on.

Why Don'tcha Give Me Ape Tit for 200...

I know my titles have a tendency to bear very little resemblance to the actual post itself. Sometimes I like to be a little obscure. That being said, today's title has really nothing to do with the below post, so allow me to explain.


Today is a grab bag, if you will. Just a few little things that don't really have enough substance to warrant their own complete post. Using this reasoning, I was going to call the post "Potpourri", after the Jeopardy category that utilizes a variety of topics all within the same column.


So as I was standing at the bus stop this morning, musing over how clever I am in my blog naming abilities and thinking about Jeopardy, a certain SNL skit jumped into my head. You may already know which one I'm talking about.


The scene in question involves Norm McDonald portraying Burt Reynolds in a round of Celebrity Jeopardy. That fucking line still makes me laugh.

Random Thing A





Ape tit....he he he

Random Thing 2

You know what gets me all worked up?

Well this picture usually does the trick, but that's not what I'm talking about

No, I mean worked up in an angry sense. Like most things that piss me off, it involves The Bus. I've probably beaten my hatred for public transportation into the ground by now, but I haven't covered this aspect. Surprisingly, the bus has very little control over this, and yet I still blame it. Goddamn bus.

What I'm talking about is Aisle Seat Sitters. If you've ever rode the bus, I'm sure you've seen this. Those inconsiderate people that choose to sit in the aisle seat, even when the window seat beside them is open. It's a subtle way of saying "Don't sit beside me you weirdo freak. I don't care if all of the other seats are full, and you have to stand, I want to sit alone". Well fuck that. If you want to sit alone, buy a goddamn car. You relinquish that right when you choose to travel by bus. This is becoming more and more common place, and I aim to stop it. The next time I see someone doing this, I'm jumping right the fuck into action.

Captain Justice: Excuse me miss...but I believe the seat beside you is open. Perhaps you should move over, lest someone else needs to rest their tired bones.

Random Bus Douche: You can't tell me what to do! This is where I want to sit.

CJ: I would like to sit, and if you refuse to move, I shall be forced to sit on your lap. Which would you prefer?

RBD: But there are lots of other seats open. Why can't you sit somewhere else?

CJ: Because I want to sit right...fucking...there. Now move over or I'll sneeze on you.

People on the bus are always afraid you're going to sneeze on them.

Random Thing III

I need a little advice from any bearded gentlemen out there. Or bearded ladies I suppose, as I really shouldn't discriminate. Recently I became afflicted with a condition that I've never seen or heard of before. Beard dandruff. Anyone else ever experience this? I guess the skin under my beard is really dry, to the point of flaking when I rub it. Although I'm not a chronic beard scratcher (beyond the usual stroking to make myself look scholarly when all I'm really ever thinking about is whether Ghost busters Ectoplasm is a superior commercial slime as opposed to the He-Man variety). I don't think this has ever been a problem before (I've been bearded since High School), but lately I noticed that after a bit of stroking, the front of my black shirt looks a little "salt and pepper" for my tastes.

Short of shampooing my beard with Head and Shoulders, I don't know what the fuck to do. Any help?

Random Thing the Fourth

As I'm approaching 30 at an alarming rate, I fear I am getting old. Now this fear has been confirmed. My seven year old son is now better than me on Guitar Hero. When the fuck did this happen??? How the fuck did this happen? When he first started playing, I had to hold the frets down for him while he strummed. Now he throws me a condescending laugh when he sees me play on Medium, while he thrashes away on Hard. I'm sure he's thinking something equally spiteful such as "Ha ha, old man. Your fingers are too old and brittle to keep up with those notes. Why do you even try?"

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It should be a proud day when your little bundle of joy can come into his own and best you at your own game. Obviously I did something right in raising him into the fine little gentleman he is, right? I should be happy about that. Well I'm not dammit. I'm petty and jealous. Little bastard....

Ever Tried Making Sense?....

Ever tried lying on a thousand vibrating cell phones?


That was the question I was greeted with this morning as I was enjoying my daily commute to the office. It was in the form of a bus ad for 5 gum, and I think it killed my brain a little bit.


Before I get into all out rant mode, let me say that 5 is my preferred brand of gum. As a smoker, it goes without saying that I buy a lot of gum (if something "goes without saying", why do we feel the need to say it?) and Wrigley's has definitely made some money off of me with this newish product. Is it the taste? The long lastinest of the flavour? Nope. It's all about the packaging baby. Take a look....

That is one sexy pack of gum. From the cool, flip open lid, to the stylish and vibrant colors (the black and blue really play off of each other nicely) it is a package to truly embrace. But does it taste like ass? Not at all. Although I would be hard pressed to say it tastes better than any other gum, it doesn't taste bad, and that's good enough for me.



Remember....I'm the guy that buys movies he doesn't even like because the DVD case has some cool gimmick involved. I'm the idiot that marketing gurus cream their pants over. An easy sell, through and through.




But there's one thing my love of pretty packaging will not abide by. Stupid fucking slogans. And puns. And sometimes Unicorns. And shouldn't Unicorns be called Unihorns? I hate mystical creatures that defy the laws of vocabulary.




So lets look at this again:

Ever tried Lying on a Thousand Vibrating Cell Phones?

How is that even possible? And what the fuck does lying have to do with anything? It's like the Chewbacca defense of gum marketing. It doesn't make sense.

Should it be "Ever tried Laying..." as in to lay down? Maybe its just me, but saying "Ever tried Lying" sounds like you're trying to tell a fib while talking on a thousand cell phones. Which is impossible. Unless you do it one at a time. But why would you? IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!

I could be completely off base here, as my command of the English language can be suspect at times, but this just feels misleading. And I don't tolerate misleading gum ads. Not since the Juicy Fruit debacle of '01 anyway.




Maybe I'm being too hard on Wrigley's. Let's assume for a second that it isn't misleading (and I'm not an idiot). So Wrigley's is telling us that chewing 5 is akin to resting on top of 1000 vibrating cell phones. That doesn't sound terribly comfortable. And are they ringing, or just vibrating? I need to know these things Wrigley's! Who exactly thought this would be a good slogan?


Bill: Hey Bob! How's It Going Today?




Bob: Not too shabby Bill. But I would be better if I could experience what it might feel like to lie down on top of 1000 vibrating cell phones....


Bill: Holy fuck Bob, do I have something for you to try!




No no no no no no no no no no no. And a French non for good measure. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.


Why would you want to experience lying down on 1000 vibrating cell phones? Hey Wrigley's, here's a slogan for you...

5 - Ever Had a Thousand Screaming Dildos in Your Ass?

Jesus Christ...

Would You Like a Lil' Diabetes With That?...

I don't really have a "sweet tooth" to speak of and if pressed for my opinion on snacks I always tend to stick to the "savory" side of the fatty fat fat spectrum. One simple reason for this is that sugar kicks my teeth's ass. Assuming my teeth has ass, which I like to think they do. I don't have black mouth of death cavities or anything, my teeth just don't appreciate sugar. Sometimes, however, I can't help myself. Such was the case yesterday when I stumbled across the coolest candy store ever to grace the planet earth. Or at least that I've seen. It was called Sugar Mountain, and it was glorious.

Sunday was spent with Mini Kris 1 and 2, exploring The Forks. If you ever get the chance to visit Winnipeg, The Forks is a MUST see. Set aside at least half a day as well, because there is alot to accomplish while you're there. Check out http://www.theforks.com/ to really see what its all about, because frankly, I'm here to talk about SUGAR, not be your tour guide to blah blah blah.

Back on point: We were strolling along, enjoying a gorgeous day, when Mini Kris 1 spotted a couple of train cars just planted in the middle of our prime strolling path. His line of sight bounced back and forth from the ground to the train car itself for a minute before I realized where his confusion stemmed from. There were no tracks anywhere to be seen. I could picture his little mind at work, puzzling over how the fuck these train cars arrived at this place, at this time. It made no sense, but Mini Kris 1 is a boy who loves his trains, and he is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly the situation called for further investigation. Mini Kris 2 came along as well, because she is only 5 after all and I'm not going to just leave her alone on the side of the road while we check out this oddity. What the fuck, right?

We went around to the other side and were greeted with a very happy looking sign proclaiming this particular train car "SUGAR MOUNTAIN". A fucking candy store......located inside two very retro looking train cars......called Sugar Mountain. Glory be to god in the highest. Or Moses or Mohammad or The Devil if that's how you roll. You get the point.

I love candy stores, which is strange, because as you now know, I don't like candy. If you've read this site more than once though, you know that I like weird shit and cool packaging. And an entire store devoted solely to candy is bound to have some cool shit that I haven't seen before. Or at least some stuff that I can't just pick up from the 7-11 down the street.

Remember Pic-a-pop? I have no idea how far reaching Pic-a-Pop was back in the 80s, so you may not know what the fuck I'm talking about, but they had it. And it was good. They also had about 5000 different types of candy to choose from. Big League Chew was there, and Red Vines graced us with an appearance. Candy Buttons made the scene, along with his good buddies Blackjack gum and Fizzes. In addition to all of the classic goodies, there was a ton of stuff I had never seen before. They had chocolate covered grasshoppers, 5 different types of Caramilk bars I never knew existed and energy drinks branded with Stewie from Family Guy. I think it was called Stewie's Domination Serum or something, but I can't be 100% sure. To be honest, there was way too many things going on to retain much of anything. I was like a kid in a....well a candy store I guess. Fuck, I hate being obvious.

I easily could have spent TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS there, but the Province of Manitoba demand that I feed Mini Kris 1 and 2 foods rich in vitamins and nutrients , and spending TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS on nothing but candy would have forced me to feed them nothing but dog food for the next couple of years. Sacrifices needed to be made, and we limited ourselves to one item each. The pic-a-pop from earlier doesn't count because it is a tasty tasty beverage, although I don't know why I feel the need to justify myself.

To my dismay the kids picked out some random crap devoid of any originality or cool, retro packaging. For a second I questioned their genetic lineage, before chalking it up to a simple fact. Candy is candy as far as young children are concerned. They are going to eat it, so it doesn't matter how cool the package is, as long as there is a pound of sugar crammed into every square inch of the winning confection. Understandable, but I mocked their lack of creativity anyway. How does that old parenting slogan go? Emasculate your young?

My pick, however, was much more enlightened. Well, maybe not, but I love surprises.

The almighty surprise bag!! What magical wonders does it hold. What mysterious secrets lie inside? I don't know about you, but I'm excited. Let's go in for a closer look....

We start with the classic Pixy Stix. Nothing says "I want to die at a young age" better than pure color treated sugar. My teeth started to hurt just holding this package.

Another classic, although very common item. I'm obligated to give it bonus points for being Cherry flavoured, but ultimately it is a fail. I could buy an entire bag of these just about anywhere I go. I even got one from the bank once. I don't need to rely on my Sugar Mountain surprise bag for a tootsie pop fix.

These were new to me. I don't know how retro they are, but the 25 cent price printed right on the box would lead me to believe they are not of this time. Companies don't seem to print prices right on the box anymore. I have no idea how they taste, but I think its safe to assume "grapey".

The Pepsi to Pop Rocks' Coke. Again, the gods have favoured me with a flavour in the Red section of the food pyramid (the tastiest section of all). But I must say....that is one fucked up looking guy on the package.

Good old Popeye brand candy cigarettes. That's right, I went there. These will always be candy cigarettes, and I don't care how fucking PC our society is today. Candy sticks my ass. Why are the tips still red!?!?!. Answer me that, Popeye.

Fun dip. Because sometimes colored sugar just isn't enough. You need more colored sugar (now in handy compressed form) to lick and stick it to. And is it just me, or is Wonka buying up all the candy brands? Everything seems to be Wonkafied these days.

I was almost at the end of my surprise bag, and starting to wish I had bought that five dollar classic Nintendo controller shaped tin of mints instead, when I reached in, and pulled out some pure 80s sex.

In card form.

Yes, god, fucking yes. Garbage Pail Kids cards from 1987. I used up alot of karma in this 10 seconds, so I fully expect the rest of the year to be absolutely shitty, just to balance things out. Take a closer look...

Beautiful

Captivating

Magical

He he he. Phil 'Er Up.

Okay, this one's fucking gross

I've been thinking about the Garbage Pail Kids movie alot lately (don't judge my thoughts) and a review of sorts is definitely in order once I finish with Masters of the Universe.

But my all time "want" in regards to useless 80s memorabilia? An unopened box of Garbage Pail Kids Crummy Candy and Cheap Toys. Does anyone remember these? The package was a little garbage bag, closed with a twist tie, and containing a tiny garbage pail kids figurine and assorted pieces of garbage shaped candy. Fucking impossible to find. Empty boxes go for more than a hundred bucks on EBay! If anyone can point me in the direction of this treasure, I will sign over my third born child to you. I'm going to keep my first and second born, because I've grown kind of fond of them over the years.

So that was my candy adventure. I'll definitely be going back (soon) so I'll let you know if I find anything else worth blabbing about. I think the chocolate covered crickets deserve a taste test, but we'll see. I'm kind of a girl about putting stuff in my mouth. Wow, that came out way wrong...

Forgive Me Blogger, For I Have Sinned...

Miss me? No? Jerk.

I'm not going to lie. There is a real reason for my absence these past few weeks, but its boring. So for your convenience, I've listed 4 alternate reasons below. Pick whichever one suits you, and we'll go with that.

1. It's all Heather's fault. You see, since she is the resident blogging authority, I live and die by her comments. When she didn't comment on my last post, it sent me spiraling down into a pit of self pity, remorse and my own bitter, salty tears. She finally commented a few days ago, just in time for me to move the razor away from my wrist. Thanks Heather.

2. I recently watched the live action spectacular that is Masters of the Universe. I hadn't seen it since I was a wee lad, and the sheer magnificence of seeing He-Man and Skeletor battle it out in all their live action glory caused my eyeballs to simultaneously orgasm. While totally worth it, an eyeball orgasm tends to leave a side effect not unlike cataracts. I've been stumbling around in the dark ever since, with my vision finally returning just this morning. Ofcourse the first thing I did upon being able to see the world again, was to write this post. How can you question that dedication?

3. I was abducted by aliens. Big, grey-headed ones that sounded suspiciously like pudgy, late 90s Corey Haim. It was pretty scary at first, but I was relieved to find out that they had reached the limits of what ass-raping anal probes can teach them about Human society. We embarked on a grand adventure that culminated with me saving the universe. Oh, Zeldor...the times we shared. I'll tell you about it some time. And you're welcome for that whole saving the universe thing. It was my pleasure.

4. My fingers were lopped off in a horrific camping accident. It's still a little too painful to go into much detail (it was only today that the nubs had healed enough for me to do any sort of typing), but let's just say that when they tell you not to feed the bears, man you better not stick your hands in their mouths. Not sure why I thought that would be a good idea, but then, cocaine is a hell of a drug. Huh?

Not to fear though, because I'm back and better than ever. I know the internet can be a scary place without me, so I'll do my best not to leave you alone for so long again.

I've got a couple of things planned for the next week or so. You will be hearing much more about the Masters of the Universe movie, and I'm even going to throw in a review of a product that shall remain nameless for now.

Until next time...