Saturday, August 26, 2006

8/25/06 Fudge 'Ems

Have you seen the Dominoes Pizza commercial with the Fudge 'Ems? It's a giant cube shaped lump of poo with tiny hands and feet. The mom touches it and gets doody on her hand. Then, her little girl goes up and hugs the giant turd and gets it all over herself. Her shirt, her face, her arms and hands. It's sickening. How did this get past the focus group? Is there some demographic where poop is appetizing?


I was "sick" from work today. To take advantage of this precious free time, I ran a couple of errands. One of my errands was going to my normal barber for a haircut. I was in the "in between" stage for a haircut. But I'm going home to visit family and friends in less than 2 weeks, and by then, my hair would be too long. The place I go to is one of the few old school barber shops left, especially in southern California. I walk in and the guy I normally go to isn't there. Some other guy just motions for me to sit down. If you're like me, you get into a habit where you stick with the same barber (or hair stylist in your case) because you know exactly what you're gonna get. And, I say this with all due respect... This guy was old. Like, World War II vet old. He asked how I wanted him to cut my hair. I said, "Use a number blade on the side and back." "Eh?" I know, I tend to mumble. I'm a mumbler. But I spoke slowly and clearly. And he had no idea what I was saying. Eventually we figured out which blade to use. He picked up the clippers with both hands, like one would pick up a 25 pound sword you might see in a Lord of the Rings movie. He used both hands the entire time. I tried to convince myself that it's only a haircut and, worst case, it'll grow back. At that moment, I noticed my reflection in the mirror directly in front of me. And I looked absolutely petrified. No wonder I can't contain my tells in poker - My expression was written all over my face. Long story short, my friend, Natalie, complimented the haircut that afternoon (and Natalie's an honest soul will tell you what's on her mind, so I trust her), so I feel alright about the whole experience. Now.

During the afternoon of errands I also went to get one of those inside and out car wash jobs since I'm trying to sell my car. I sat next to some guy who had that "I wish I could be in the cast of Entourage" looks to him. He was getting a $150 wash on his 1995 Toyota Corolla. I admire that. Although I had a personal rule that I won't spend more than 1% of the total value of my car on a wash. He far exceeded my personal rule of thumb. But I try to follow the immortal words of Metallica - "Judge not, lest ye be judged yourself." Anyways, he doesn't surprise me one bit when he starts talking about smoking weed within 60 seconds. According to this guy, in the state of California you can obtain a prescription for marijuana for $200 for one year (and $100 every year thereafter). This part didn't exactly surprise me. The part that surprised me was what he was buying with the prescription. This dude says that, with a prescription, you can buy pot filled lollipops, brownies, cookies, along with 1/8 ounce bags of pot. What the hell kind of pharmacies are these? Was this dude full of shit? The whole thing seems so shady.


I learned something from The Sports Guy. The lyrics to I Think I'm Turning Japanese is about masturbation.

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