In lieu of sitting at my desk yesterday, I helped set up for the local 4th of July "We've Got Funnel Cake" festival. I think yesterday's bout of hard labor was the most strenuous that I have ever experienced, and I've been through three moves. The sun was hot and, like an idiot, I showed up wearing jeans. Much like a real construction worker, I enjoyed an ice cold brewski at one point in the day; afterwards, I immediately regretted this decision. The other people I worked with drank way more than me, smoked like chimneys, and avoided water and Gatorade altogether. AND they got more work done than me. I should probably stick to sitting at my desk.
I've been sick as well. Monday was the first day of 2006 that I utilized a sick day, but it was well-deserved. For a few hours, I fretted that I had strep throat and would require a visit to the doctor office. I used to get strep all the time when I was kid. Later, in college, I knew I was coming down with strep and thought that I could ignore it and it would just go away. Bad decision: strep morphed into Scarlet Fever, and I was the town freak for at least five days.
I saw my wedding video on Tuesday. Yikes. I had received a decent amount of compliments that day on how nice I looked, but, after watching the video, I'm now certain that my friends are a bunch of no-good liars. I'm really not happy with my appearance; the only thing that pleases me even slightly is my body. But I wish I could take off my head and swap it out for somebody else's head. Do you think Natalie Portman would be up for a trade?
I came to the realization that I can't stand high school or college students in groups of three or more. Hopefully when I have a kid that age, he or she won't have more than one friend. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course my kid won't have more than one friend.
Jun 26, 2006
Every time I go to a barbecue, I think, "Gee, it would be so wonderful to have a yard so I could host my OWN barbecues." Then, midway into the barbecue, when I'm on my third beer and the yard-owner has nearly burnt off his own eyebrows and has this pissed off look on his face due to some drama concerning a marinade, I think, "Holy hell, am I glad I don't have a yard so nobody expects me to host such nonsense!" 'Tis better to receive the meat than to give the meat.
Yesterday, Rob said the first fifteen people who arrived could have steak. Chris and I were among the first fifteen, we both received steak, and when I didn't even come close to finishing my steak, I realized that if I hadn't been told that the steak was in short supply, and that it was practically my door-prize, I probably would have been more than fine with some chicken or a burger. Rob's approach was accidentally akin to Tom Sawyer's approach to painting the fence. Only eating a steak is usually better than painting a fence.
Unless the fence is made of steak and the steak is made of fence. Then, you've got trouble.
Yesterday, Rob said the first fifteen people who arrived could have steak. Chris and I were among the first fifteen, we both received steak, and when I didn't even come close to finishing my steak, I realized that if I hadn't been told that the steak was in short supply, and that it was practically my door-prize, I probably would have been more than fine with some chicken or a burger. Rob's approach was accidentally akin to Tom Sawyer's approach to painting the fence. Only eating a steak is usually better than painting a fence.
Unless the fence is made of steak and the steak is made of fence. Then, you've got trouble.
Jun 25, 2006
At my aunt's wedding, Chris and I got into the whole "why would I want to eat year old cake for our one year anniversary?" debate. I don't understand this tradition. I have stale cake sitting in my freezer, and quite frankly, it's taking up too much room. Not to mention that Chris and I are doing okay financially; we can afford NEW cake when our one year rolls around.
My sister told the worst joke ever.
"What did one coffin say to the other coffin?"
"Is that you coughin'?"
Then she laughed hysterically, as if it were the funniest thing she ever heard. Or said.
My aunt and new uncle had their faces painted on heart shaped candies in some kind of mostly edible ink. This is what Chris had wanted for our wedding favors. I told him that it was the kind of lavish expense that nobody would even notice or care about it. I was wrong; these heart shaped chocolate photographs were the talk of the party. Oh, well, at least I saved a buck.Jun 22, 2006
I wrote a song for my wedding day. It's very short and does not require jazz hands.
Weddings are neat!
Weddings are fun!
Weddings are one way
To get the job done!
Today I am singing this song in preparation for my aunt's wedding on Saturday. It's an odd feeling to be going to your 47 year old aunt's wedding, especially since she's already had two other weddings. There was a lot of hemming and hawing over what to buy her. Money did not seem appropriate, especially since she's marrying a doctor and has the kind of house that I couldn't even afford to rent a linen closet in. And it's not like she needs kitchen stuff or any of those "building a home for the first time" type of things; she got that taken care of at weddings One and Two. Eventually, I fell back on my old stand-by: the engraved clock.
Yes, the engraved clock from Things Remembered is the perfect "I have no idea what to get you" gift for any wedding, retirement, graduation, or flag day ceremony. It says "Classier than the digital read out on your microwave!" and "Place me on your bookshelf with all of your bowling trophies!" and implies that at least a little thought went into it. After all, I had to stand there and dictate what the engraver was to place, in script, on the base of the clock. I even had to check the date of the wedding on the calendar, which took an extra second. Could you imagine if I told the engraver to put "June 29" on the clock when her wedding date was "June 24?" You could forget about Christmas gifts for a few years!
I thought about all the people I've given clocks to over the years, and I realize that you could pretty much connect most of my married friends by the silver, engraved clocks on their mantels. It's not that I'm the only person who gives clocks as a gift; it's just that I give them to EVERYBODY. This is because I am incapable of thinking of a unique gift. This is also because I get a 25% discount at Things Remembered.
I remember thinking that I would throw a FIT if anyone had given me an engraved clock for my wedding. I would have been downright pissed off about it, especially since, once it's engraved, it's pretty much non-refundable. At least with a salad shooter, there might be a store credit situation. Yet here I am, giving the very gift I would have hated to receive. This is because I am a lazy creature of habit. This is also because none of my very close friends have yet to marry. I can promise you that when my best friends wed, I will give more than an engraved clock.
After all, the people at Things Remembered will engrave just about anything.
Weddings are neat!
Weddings are fun!
Weddings are one way
To get the job done!
Today I am singing this song in preparation for my aunt's wedding on Saturday. It's an odd feeling to be going to your 47 year old aunt's wedding, especially since she's already had two other weddings. There was a lot of hemming and hawing over what to buy her. Money did not seem appropriate, especially since she's marrying a doctor and has the kind of house that I couldn't even afford to rent a linen closet in. And it's not like she needs kitchen stuff or any of those "building a home for the first time" type of things; she got that taken care of at weddings One and Two. Eventually, I fell back on my old stand-by: the engraved clock.
Yes, the engraved clock from Things Remembered is the perfect "I have no idea what to get you" gift for any wedding, retirement, graduation, or flag day ceremony. It says "Classier than the digital read out on your microwave!" and "Place me on your bookshelf with all of your bowling trophies!" and implies that at least a little thought went into it. After all, I had to stand there and dictate what the engraver was to place, in script, on the base of the clock. I even had to check the date of the wedding on the calendar, which took an extra second. Could you imagine if I told the engraver to put "June 29" on the clock when her wedding date was "June 24?" You could forget about Christmas gifts for a few years!
I thought about all the people I've given clocks to over the years, and I realize that you could pretty much connect most of my married friends by the silver, engraved clocks on their mantels. It's not that I'm the only person who gives clocks as a gift; it's just that I give them to EVERYBODY. This is because I am incapable of thinking of a unique gift. This is also because I get a 25% discount at Things Remembered.
I remember thinking that I would throw a FIT if anyone had given me an engraved clock for my wedding. I would have been downright pissed off about it, especially since, once it's engraved, it's pretty much non-refundable. At least with a salad shooter, there might be a store credit situation. Yet here I am, giving the very gift I would have hated to receive. This is because I am a lazy creature of habit. This is also because none of my very close friends have yet to marry. I can promise you that when my best friends wed, I will give more than an engraved clock.
After all, the people at Things Remembered will engrave just about anything.
Jun 20, 2006
Jun 19, 2006
I'm exhausted. New York was great, but draining. Although my good friend Carole is a party animal with no need for sleep or water or rest and relaxation of any kind, it was a very good thing that Jess and I were on the same page as far as most things were concerned. Otherwise, I'm sure I would be in way worse shape than I am right now.
We did a lot of walking, a lot of drinking, a lot of random sight-seeing. We bought lots of bottles of water and met a good amount of Carole's NY friends. She's really found a nice little niche for herself out there, and it was great to see that, for all intents and purposes, she has become the toast of the town. There were a lot of moments when I was struck by how different our lives truly are. Carole's always on the go, living the life of a single career gal with a completely full dance card. Then there's me, the quiet homebody suburban girl. The thing is, though, I would never trade what I have for what she has. And I'm 110% sure that she wouldn't trade her life for mine.
Yet, we're essentially the same people that we were ten years ago, only now I'm married and she's off in NY. It's strange how friends evolve in their lives and yet still stay mostly true to their cores. I think a good number of chick lit books have been written on this topic.
I'm very happy that Jess and Carole get along as well as they do; sometimes adding a third girl into a mix can cause disastrous results. This is because women are a mostly catty breed. However, the three of us had a great time together, and I can't wait until we do it again. This probably won't be for another five years, though, since I'm going to need at least that long to recoup my financial losses from this time.
Today, though, I'm just happy to be full of great memories. I'm also happy to have slept in my own bed last night. Too many nights, I take that for granted.
We did a lot of walking, a lot of drinking, a lot of random sight-seeing. We bought lots of bottles of water and met a good amount of Carole's NY friends. She's really found a nice little niche for herself out there, and it was great to see that, for all intents and purposes, she has become the toast of the town. There were a lot of moments when I was struck by how different our lives truly are. Carole's always on the go, living the life of a single career gal with a completely full dance card. Then there's me, the quiet homebody suburban girl. The thing is, though, I would never trade what I have for what she has. And I'm 110% sure that she wouldn't trade her life for mine.
Yet, we're essentially the same people that we were ten years ago, only now I'm married and she's off in NY. It's strange how friends evolve in their lives and yet still stay mostly true to their cores. I think a good number of chick lit books have been written on this topic.
I'm very happy that Jess and Carole get along as well as they do; sometimes adding a third girl into a mix can cause disastrous results. This is because women are a mostly catty breed. However, the three of us had a great time together, and I can't wait until we do it again. This probably won't be for another five years, though, since I'm going to need at least that long to recoup my financial losses from this time.
Today, though, I'm just happy to be full of great memories. I'm also happy to have slept in my own bed last night. Too many nights, I take that for granted.
Jun 15, 2006
My Dear Chris,
By the time you read this, I'll be in New York. It was nothing that you did, per se.... It was just time for me to leave. I hope that, in the days to come, you will think of me fondly and remember all the good times we had. Like last weekend, when you insinuated that I didn't know the difference between a grapefruit and an orange. We both got a good laugh out of that, didn't we?
For the most part, you've been everything that I wanted in a man. I will hold my memories of you deep inside my heart, in a safe place where they are password protected and cannot be corrupted. As far as my rings- they were a gift, Chris, and I'm taking them with me. The rings symbolize more than just commitment and love. That big honking peridot, surrounded by the more traditional diamonds, was your way of telling me that you knew me, inside and out. Or at least that you knew the general thirty-day range of my birthday. And the fact that you didn't just buy it from a store, but had it custom designed. It was your way of telling me that our love was a creative, unique entity, and my ring finger was always different and special from every other married/engaged girl that I came across. I will never pawn it or give it to a bum.
I ask that you attend to my affairs once I'm gone. The vacuum cleaner is tricky, but you'll get the hang of it. If you haven't had to change outlets yet, then you're not even close to done. I've hidden the checkbooks and changed the passwords on your debit cards to insure that you won't go nuts with the cash I've painstakingly saved, and I will ask, politely, that you don't delete any of the songs that I've downloaded onto your iTunes account. I should have probably made a copy of the mailbox key for you, but there's never anything important in there anyhow. The occasional sale ad, random invitations to parties for your second and third cousins, quarterly 401K statements- certainly nothing that you can't live without.
I love you. I have for three and a half years, and I'm assuming that I'll love you for at least another three and a half years. The wedding was wonderful despite my full fourteen months of bitching about it, and seeing your waiting face at the end of the aisle- it still breaks my heart to think about it. You were everything that I wanted, ever.
But now I'm in New York. And you're not. You'll be fine without me; you'll find games and tv shows and random women (who will not be as awesome as me) to occupy your long, lonely minutes. I know it will be hard, and I'll miss you, but let's just try to make a clean break, okay??
I'll hear your name when the wind blows trash down the dirty streets, when the street vendors scatter their peanuts against the grey, gritty pavement. I hope you hear my name in random hip-hop songs blasted by our infuriatingly thoughtless neighbors.
Yours, always, in one form or another-
Jackietown Berger
P.S. I swear to God that I'll murder you in your sleep if you forget to pick me up on Sunday night. I know Midway is about two days away, but you'll manage. The I-Pass is in my car. See you then. Wear clean underwear.
By the time you read this, I'll be in New York. It was nothing that you did, per se.... It was just time for me to leave. I hope that, in the days to come, you will think of me fondly and remember all the good times we had. Like last weekend, when you insinuated that I didn't know the difference between a grapefruit and an orange. We both got a good laugh out of that, didn't we?
For the most part, you've been everything that I wanted in a man. I will hold my memories of you deep inside my heart, in a safe place where they are password protected and cannot be corrupted. As far as my rings- they were a gift, Chris, and I'm taking them with me. The rings symbolize more than just commitment and love. That big honking peridot, surrounded by the more traditional diamonds, was your way of telling me that you knew me, inside and out. Or at least that you knew the general thirty-day range of my birthday. And the fact that you didn't just buy it from a store, but had it custom designed. It was your way of telling me that our love was a creative, unique entity, and my ring finger was always different and special from every other married/engaged girl that I came across. I will never pawn it or give it to a bum.
I ask that you attend to my affairs once I'm gone. The vacuum cleaner is tricky, but you'll get the hang of it. If you haven't had to change outlets yet, then you're not even close to done. I've hidden the checkbooks and changed the passwords on your debit cards to insure that you won't go nuts with the cash I've painstakingly saved, and I will ask, politely, that you don't delete any of the songs that I've downloaded onto your iTunes account. I should have probably made a copy of the mailbox key for you, but there's never anything important in there anyhow. The occasional sale ad, random invitations to parties for your second and third cousins, quarterly 401K statements- certainly nothing that you can't live without.
I love you. I have for three and a half years, and I'm assuming that I'll love you for at least another three and a half years. The wedding was wonderful despite my full fourteen months of bitching about it, and seeing your waiting face at the end of the aisle- it still breaks my heart to think about it. You were everything that I wanted, ever.
But now I'm in New York. And you're not. You'll be fine without me; you'll find games and tv shows and random women (who will not be as awesome as me) to occupy your long, lonely minutes. I know it will be hard, and I'll miss you, but let's just try to make a clean break, okay??
I'll hear your name when the wind blows trash down the dirty streets, when the street vendors scatter their peanuts against the grey, gritty pavement. I hope you hear my name in random hip-hop songs blasted by our infuriatingly thoughtless neighbors.
Yours, always, in one form or another-
Jackietown Berger
P.S. I swear to God that I'll murder you in your sleep if you forget to pick me up on Sunday night. I know Midway is about two days away, but you'll manage. The I-Pass is in my car. See you then. Wear clean underwear.
Jun 14, 2006
I'm writing a personal ad, just for the hell of it. I know I'm married and all (yikes, it still sounds weird), but I guess there's no harm in putting myself out there. Maybe you're interested?
SWF, 25, seeks champion Scrabble player and big-time Lebowski lover. Must have acceptable Body Mass Index and no desire to ever own a pet. It would be nice if you hated sports.
A little about me. I have violent mood swings and need somebody to keep me in check. I will think that I'm smarter than you but then do something stupid, like set the kitchen on fire via a wayward, gasoline-soaked dish towel. I will not appreciate being lectured. I enjoy complaining, because complaining is funnier than gushing. For example, I am more likely to say"the train smelled like poop and gin" than "what an enjoyable train ride," even if the latter is more truthful than the former. I worry about insignificant things. I have a Body Mass Index that is not to be believed, and I will often comment to you, out of nowhere, that I have a nicer butt than most anyone I know. I like reading young adult fiction (for ages 10 and up [I'm the "up"], playing most games, gambling, drinking, and sitting still. At any given time, I'm usually wearing two pairs of socks.
Ideally, we'll work as a team. I wash, you dry. You shuffle, I'll deal. I vomit, you hold back my hair. We'll present a united front. Even when you know I'm wrong, you'll be sure to back me up. The whole point of a relationship is so I won't look stupid alone.
We should have the same beliefs, probably. Republicans and real estate agents need not apply.
Should love the following: cheese, wine, Jimmy Hoffa jokes, magic tricks, bad puns, Rube Goldberg inventions, Mold-A-Rama, gossip, five solid hours of television, gawking at accidents,
that uncomfortable feeling when in line at the store behind somebody wearing the exact same shirt as you, mixed nuts, tickle fights that turn violent, finding money on the street.
Should hate: most other people, car shows, flip-flops, Cook County politics, corn on the cob, bad spellers, falling asleep with your arm around somebody in such a fashion that you're choking them, Pottery Barn, aerobics, anybody in life with a better station than you.
SWF, 25, seeks champion Scrabble player and big-time Lebowski lover. Must have acceptable Body Mass Index and no desire to ever own a pet. It would be nice if you hated sports.
A little about me. I have violent mood swings and need somebody to keep me in check. I will think that I'm smarter than you but then do something stupid, like set the kitchen on fire via a wayward, gasoline-soaked dish towel. I will not appreciate being lectured. I enjoy complaining, because complaining is funnier than gushing. For example, I am more likely to say"the train smelled like poop and gin" than "what an enjoyable train ride," even if the latter is more truthful than the former. I worry about insignificant things. I have a Body Mass Index that is not to be believed, and I will often comment to you, out of nowhere, that I have a nicer butt than most anyone I know. I like reading young adult fiction (for ages 10 and up [I'm the "up"], playing most games, gambling, drinking, and sitting still. At any given time, I'm usually wearing two pairs of socks.
Ideally, we'll work as a team. I wash, you dry. You shuffle, I'll deal. I vomit, you hold back my hair. We'll present a united front. Even when you know I'm wrong, you'll be sure to back me up. The whole point of a relationship is so I won't look stupid alone.
We should have the same beliefs, probably. Republicans and real estate agents need not apply.
Should love the following: cheese, wine, Jimmy Hoffa jokes, magic tricks, bad puns, Rube Goldberg inventions, Mold-A-Rama, gossip, five solid hours of television, gawking at accidents,
that uncomfortable feeling when in line at the store behind somebody wearing the exact same shirt as you, mixed nuts, tickle fights that turn violent, finding money on the street.
Should hate: most other people, car shows, flip-flops, Cook County politics, corn on the cob, bad spellers, falling asleep with your arm around somebody in such a fashion that you're choking them, Pottery Barn, aerobics, anybody in life with a better station than you.
Jun 11, 2006
the wells street art festival went okay. dude's camera got a little banged up.
i went yesterday with my friend will and some of his buddies. i took a whole shitload of pictures only to discover this morning that my piece of crap fucking camera is no longer allowing me to transfer pictures from my memory card to my computer. real nice, fujifilm. i give you four years of my life, and what do you give me in exchange? a kick in the teeth? thanks for the memories.
obviously, this is a problem. i'm leaving for new york in something like four days, and clearly i'm going to need my camera. how convenient, fujifilm. how very, very convenient.
i did have a great time at the art festival yesterday, even if i'm going to have to trek to walgreens, memory card in hand like some kind of asshole, in order to relive the experience con photos. there was a lot of great art, a lot of humorously horrible art, and a lot of beer and sangria. the prices of some of these pieces were just downright ridiculous. of course, some prices were justified, but then you'd get to those booths where the artist just painted a bunch of red and purple stripes, added a yellow circle to break up the monotony, and then slapped a price tag of $2,000 on the piece. who would pay that? and if i had spilled my sangria on that particular painting, would the value have gone up or down?
all in all, nice time, shitty camera.
i went yesterday with my friend will and some of his buddies. i took a whole shitload of pictures only to discover this morning that my piece of crap fucking camera is no longer allowing me to transfer pictures from my memory card to my computer. real nice, fujifilm. i give you four years of my life, and what do you give me in exchange? a kick in the teeth? thanks for the memories.
obviously, this is a problem. i'm leaving for new york in something like four days, and clearly i'm going to need my camera. how convenient, fujifilm. how very, very convenient.
i did have a great time at the art festival yesterday, even if i'm going to have to trek to walgreens, memory card in hand like some kind of asshole, in order to relive the experience con photos. there was a lot of great art, a lot of humorously horrible art, and a lot of beer and sangria. the prices of some of these pieces were just downright ridiculous. of course, some prices were justified, but then you'd get to those booths where the artist just painted a bunch of red and purple stripes, added a yellow circle to break up the monotony, and then slapped a price tag of $2,000 on the piece. who would pay that? and if i had spilled my sangria on that particular painting, would the value have gone up or down?
all in all, nice time, shitty camera.
Jun 8, 2006
Ha ha HA- Chris is getting glasses! This is the best news ever. I can't wait for Chris to get his glasses, because I can't wait to make fun of him non-stop. Not that I have anything against glasses- I'd wear them myself if my prescribed lenses weren't Guiness Book of World Records thick- but it's Chris we're talking about. And it's sooo much fun to tease him.
We got eye exams on Tuesday. Apparently, my sight has evolved from legal blindness to a state of god-like blindness. This, of course, is troublesome. I was a little upset trying on my new mega-powered contacts, but then I cheered up instantly when Chris walked out of the doctor's room and said that he'd have to wear glasses for night driving and the like. Oh, happy day! We had a ball picking out frames, ultimately settling on a decent looking pair of the "sixty-dollar specials."
Chris is wearing glasses, AND they're cheap ones! How awesome is that?
I can't wait to be riding in the car at some point in the near future, watching Chris studiously adjust his glasses as he strains to see a road sign in the distance. This image gives me so much pleasure. Every time I think about, I smile so widely that my face hurts.
Ha, ha Chris. That perfect vision you used to hold over my head ain't so perfect anymore. Four eyes!
We got eye exams on Tuesday. Apparently, my sight has evolved from legal blindness to a state of god-like blindness. This, of course, is troublesome. I was a little upset trying on my new mega-powered contacts, but then I cheered up instantly when Chris walked out of the doctor's room and said that he'd have to wear glasses for night driving and the like. Oh, happy day! We had a ball picking out frames, ultimately settling on a decent looking pair of the "sixty-dollar specials."
Chris is wearing glasses, AND they're cheap ones! How awesome is that?
I can't wait to be riding in the car at some point in the near future, watching Chris studiously adjust his glasses as he strains to see a road sign in the distance. This image gives me so much pleasure. Every time I think about, I smile so widely that my face hurts.
Ha, ha Chris. That perfect vision you used to hold over my head ain't so perfect anymore. Four eyes!
Jun 3, 2006
my friend- we'll just call him bob- woke up yesterday with no hearing at all in his left ear. nothing was getting through; he couldn't even feel vibrations. he goes to the doctor, and they can't figure it out, so they decide to schedule a cat scan. his nurse calls him back in the afternoon before scheduling the cat scan and asks him if there's anything bob wants to tell him.
"what do you mean?" bob asks, pressing the reciever to his one good ear.
"anything that you've done that's out of the ordinary," the nurse explains. "have you done anything we should know of?"
bob admits, "i did some coke on saturday. i don't see how that would have affected my hearing."
the nurse doesn't say anything for a minute, then starts asking bob about his coke habit, if it's a social thing or if he does it all the time. bob doesn't feel comfortable answering all these questions, and so he hangs up. a few minutes later, bob calls back.
"yeah, nurse? i was also shooting a gun on saturday," bob says. "maybe that affected my hearing."
"so you were doing coke and shooting a gun over the weekend," the nurse repeats, and it's at this time that bob realizes he's said too much. his whole doctor's office is going to think of him as that coke-snorting, gun-toting deaf guy, and now bob knows he'll have to switch health care providers.
"well," bob says weakly, "i shot the gun before i did the coke if that makes it a difference." they schedule the cat scan and bob relates the story to me, speaking extra loud because he's 50% deaf.
"what do you mean?" bob asks, pressing the reciever to his one good ear.
"anything that you've done that's out of the ordinary," the nurse explains. "have you done anything we should know of?"
bob admits, "i did some coke on saturday. i don't see how that would have affected my hearing."
the nurse doesn't say anything for a minute, then starts asking bob about his coke habit, if it's a social thing or if he does it all the time. bob doesn't feel comfortable answering all these questions, and so he hangs up. a few minutes later, bob calls back.
"yeah, nurse? i was also shooting a gun on saturday," bob says. "maybe that affected my hearing."
"so you were doing coke and shooting a gun over the weekend," the nurse repeats, and it's at this time that bob realizes he's said too much. his whole doctor's office is going to think of him as that coke-snorting, gun-toting deaf guy, and now bob knows he'll have to switch health care providers.
"well," bob says weakly, "i shot the gun before i did the coke if that makes it a difference." they schedule the cat scan and bob relates the story to me, speaking extra loud because he's 50% deaf.
Jun 1, 2006
Who thought this was a good idea?
KFC's Famous Bowls remind of that "Friends" episode when Rachel screws up the trifle recipe and combines custard and ladyfingers and jam with beef and peas. Nobody enjoys eating it of course, except for that lovable scamp Joey, who states, "What’s not to like? Custard? Good. Jam? Good. Meat? Gooooood."
What does this product say to me? Here are some first impressions.
"You CAN have it all!"
"Gravy and cheese, together at last."
"Would you like a milk of magnesia with that?"
"KFC: Why dirty two dishes?"
"Don't worry, you can pick out the corn."
"Best consumed in a dark, empty closet."
The commercial for this bowl makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. You get the feeling that it's supposed to be a skit for some late night comedy show until you realize that they're actually quite serious. And that this bumbling asshole getting all of his "favorites" tossed together into a bowl is supposed to represent you.
You. You disgust me.
On the other hand, those are some tasty biscuits. I wonder if the bowl comes with a biscuit on the top. Or... on the bottom?
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