Google Weather on my start page says it’s hot:
Weekend Kick-Off.
It’s a two gig DJ weekend for me. I’ll be playing this song at least twice this weekend. It is awesome!
Take a listen to The Potbelleez, “Are You With Me”.
The Market Thing.
So Earl and I needed a few items from the market to get us through the weekend to our traditional grocery day. I had a total of 12 items on my list. Back in the late 1990s we could go to “Great American”, a chain of relatively small neighborhood markets. It was a little more expensive (as the stores were locally owned) than the big box stores, but it was convenient and it was always busy when we went in there. (It was also the site of the Great Chip Incident of 1999 but we’ll save that for another blog entry).
In the early oughts it was decided that two Wal*Mart Supercenters within 10 miles of our home was not enough and therefore two more were built. So, we now have four; within 25 miles of our home we have FIVE Wal*Mart Supercenters. Now THAT is selection. I hate them.
Unable to compete with these monstrosities, as well as the larger big-box grocery stores that surround the closest Wal*mart (“Always White Trash, Always”), Great American subsequently closed. The building was torn down and it was replaced by a gym that only opens between 9 and 5 on weekdays. So when we need something from the store, we are left with two choices, grab it at the local convenience store where everything is VERY expensive or drive eight miles to one of the big box grocery stores. These stores are so large you have to take a bus to get from produce to dairy. It’s not convenient and you have to deal with all the traffic that surrounds the big box arena in a local suburb.
All I want is a place where I can pick up a few items. We live in a large town, I can’t be the only person to feel this way. If we were to win the lottery tonight I would push to have a neighborhood market built right here in our lovely neighborhood.
Until then, I hate grocery shopping.
Motivated.
After sleeping in for a bit this morning, I awoke to a paw in my face (reminding me it was tuna dispensing time, logic would dictate that it was not Earl’s paw that was in my face at the time). After doing my various Daddy duties I went downstairs and started my morning ritual of checking out various blogs.
It was then that I saw the wooftastic shots posted by BrettCajun. I’ve been known to look at a few pictures of good looking guys in my day but when I saw Brett’s photos I said to myself, “if he can look that good, so can I.” I mean, we’re nearly the same age. It’s not like I’m trying to flatten my stomach to look like one of my college classmates or anything. I want to feel good about myself. I’m not nearly as heavy as I was back in 2000-2001, but I’ve crept up the scale a little bit and it’s mostly in my gut (hello beer!) So (insert favorite deity here)-damn it, I’m doing it.
I laid down a few ground rules that I plan to follow: 1. Beer consumption is limited to Saranac Thursday nights. I can’t cut out beer out of my life completely, that will lead me down the path to failure. I’ll renegotiate the beer with myself when I get to weight goal number #1 (there are a total of three). 2. No more sleeping in until I get a headache on my days off from work. I’m up exercising and getting all brisk with myself. This includes working out before work. 3. I will continue to use the new Wii Fit on various nights of the week just to keep myself in check. 4. I will continue to climb the stairs to my third floor office everyday and I will shun elevators and escalators whenever possible. 5. I will not eat after 7 p.m. unless something weird is going on with my schedule. Fat grams are always in the single digits and calories are kept at a reasonable level. 6. I’m back on the bike as soon as the sun decided to make an appearance.
Long, long ago a psychic at the State Fair told me that I wouldn’t make it to 40. I intend to prove the bitch wrong.
Vacation Time.
Earl and I have decided to take a little vacation next week. We are going to visit my sister and her boyfriend Thursday and Friday in Toronto and then it just happens to be Gay Pride weekend in that beautiful city. We’ll be staying on Yonge Street.
Now there is something to look forward to.
Oh That’s Real.
I don’t know why we call a certain genre of television “reality television”. Who in their right mind thinks that what they see on a reality tv show is real? Are there people out there that really think that network X scooped Joe Citizen off the street to make him star? Please.
I was folding laundry and turned on TV Land hoping to catch an episode of something classic: “The Munsters”, “Leave It To Beaver”, “I Dream of Jeannie”, something nostalgic. Apparently TV Land has shucked the whole nostalgia angle because now they’re showing “She’s Got The Look”, a reality tv show aimed at making women over 35 into models. They scooped them right off the street.
Yeah, right.
As I tuned into the middle of tonight’s episode, a very angry barely-female looking woman was ranting and raving about not being understood. She had a lot to say about stereotypes and how the world is superficial and no one gets her. It would have been somewhat interesting and mildly amusing if I hadn’t seen it LAST year when she gave the SAME speech dressed up some superhero, I think it was “The Shrill”, on “Who Wants To Be A Superhero?” And yet we see another duplicated real person on a reality tv show. Remember that Man-Beast Toni who was on “Love Cruise” and then “Paradise Hotel”? You know, that ugly chick on steroids with the bugged-out eyes1. She made her rounds on the reality TV shows and now she’s gone.
We can only hope that Paula, a.k.a. “The Shrill” meets the same fate.
And while I’m ragging on TV Land and their as of late idiotic programming, I know that I have mentioned how much I dislike the ads for medicine on television before. I don’t know what the latest miracle drug was for (maybe it was another one to make taking a dump more comfortable) but one of the listed side effects was an “irritated pancreas”. “If you have an irritated pancreas you should consult your physician.” What the hell does an irritated pancreas feel like? I’m not even sure I could point to where my pancreas is. I’m pretty sure it’s in the torso. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone in a grocery store say, “I should eat more brussel sprouts to help my irritated pancreas.”
And while I’m having a fit about these stupid drug commercials, for the love of all that is worthy would someone please pull those damned medical ads from the movie theatre chain preview shows? I have yet to see someone abandon their popcorn and intended movie to run out and have an MRI. “My GOD I haven’t had an MRI in years! I must leave!” Or those varicose vein ads – “Someone please get rid of these varicose veins right now!” It’s disgusting and detracts from the enjoyment of popcorn, M&Ms and Raisinettes.
Thank you.
1 Wow, I’m a little harsh tonight!
Lost Video.
I had forgotten I had made this video on Friday night. It was wicked hot in the DJ booth.
[MEDIA=62]The Frog.
I may be crazy but I know that I read somewhere that if you place a frog in hot frying pan, he’s going to jump out. However, if you put a frog in a cold pan and then heat it up slowly, the frog will never jump out but instead he’ll just sit there and burn to death, content all along his journey to delicacy.
I think that is exactly what is happening in the United States today. As Americans we were very content in the “cold pan” of yesteryear and for the past several years the heat has steadily been increased. We are eventually going to burn to death without even realizing what’s happening to us. I am applying this metaphor to countless topics. For example, on my way home at lunch I noticed that the price of gas jumped six cents between 7:30 a.m. and 12 noon. A gallon of unleaded is now $4.259 at the corner store. It was a year ago that I was outraged at $2.399 a gallon. Doesn’t anyone care? Why are people not outraged? I know folks that are miffed, but where is the outrage?
People think nothing of standing line at an airport for three hours as your bags are scanned, your illegal shaving cream is confiscated and the fear of God is instilled in you as you board an airplane to your favorite destination. It’s all in the name of security, you know. Be afraid. Be very afraid. That’s been the theme of the 21st century. “Be afraid”. The Flying J still boasts a threat level of orange. Please.
And while I’m at it, why in the hell should I pay extra to bring my luggage along on a vacation? They don’t want us to bring our clothes, they’ve designed xrays that strip us of our clothes yet the rent-a-secure-feeling personnel balk every time I suggest I just go through security naked. Do you want clothes or not? Just follow the lead of the gas companies and raise the fares for everyone. “You’ll have to pay extra for your luggage.” Stupid.
You need a passport to cross into Canada. We need a fence along the Mexican border. What happened to “tear down that wall?” What has Canada done? More importantly, why are people not questioning things? Why are tomatoes all of a sudden the forbidden fruit (or vegetable, I can never remember)? What happened to growing your own tomatoes? Hell, I can grow tomatoes in a 5 gallon pail on the back porch and know that they’re safe from pesticides and god knows what else. And why do we accept high-fructose syrup in “all natural” tea (and yes, I’m firmly entrenched in the “New Coke/Coke Classic” conspiracy theory from the 1980s). Why do people think that Splenda is splendid? The stuff was rushed to market. It’s unnatural. In the 1970s it was all about the saccharin. And today people are literally dumping scoops of Splenda into their favorite dish. I know I eat a lot of crap but I still go out of my way to avoid chemistry when I can. Up until a couple of months ago I was an avid diet pop drinker. That was until I discovered it had many of the same ingredients as rat poison.
Personally I think the United States was headed toward insanity in 2000 and my suspicions were confirmed when Bush Lite was re-elected in 2004. It’s a slippery slope we are headed down. Something has got to give, and when it does, it’s not going to be pretty. When does this madness stop? When will the pan get too hot?
