Originally, I had a topic for tonight, generously provided for me by Chantal and Zelda.

And it didn't even have to do with spiders! Way to get out of the box!

Unfortunately, the topic was pretty well done to death. I'm talking, of course, about movie beards and moustaches (because, for once, taking out the "o" just completely ruins the word and all the sophistication it implies. It's like a monocle for the word, but a friendly and non-pretentious one in this case. Think kindly British aristocratic librarian rather than railroad banking tycoon who employs orphans to clean the stoves). You could probably abbreviate it to movie facial hair, if one were so inclined.

"You could make all kinds of abbreviations out of everyday words and phrases. If one were so inclined."

I mean, I would have probably included the obligatory Pai Mei moustache (and eyebrows, of course), because if you can throw your facial hair over your shoulder, you are clearly more man than most. I say "most" because, as always, there is an exception, and that exception is Jeremiah Johnson.

"You're goddamned right."

And while that beard and that smile have well over a thousand words apiece just boring their way into your mind(s, because I got nothing but love for dissociative identity disorder), somehow I don't think that it counts toward my final word count (despite my fondest dreams).

So, yes. The initial plan was beards, but it was unfortunately not quite a potato post. Heh. Classic potatoes. Back when he and ketchup were together, but before the tour with mayonnaise through the Low Countries. He sure was riding high. Since the beards were taken (repeatedly- seriously, there were plenty of results about just what I would have talked about, and I'm not feeling like being a google service about beards for tonight), though, the post has somewhat fallen apart.

Pictured: The last time Rob tried to ice skate. NEVER FORGET.

My foot smells AWFUL right now. I'm sure everyone wanted to know all about that, but it's quite funky (and not in the good "Funkaaaaaay" sort of way either). More so than usual, too. But enough of my foot stank.

Other suggestions included Chris Hemsworth's muscles. A lot of people would probably go with the biceps, but I tend to prefer the triceps, as they're more important for swinging hammers. Duh.

I was hoping to find a gif of the following panels, wherein he retracts his finger and points at his head again, wordlessly. But, yes (or rather, no), ninjas can't grab you if you're on fire. Common knowledge.

Huh. I guess I exhausted that one. I think I pretty well handled Thor 2: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Stay Through the Fucking Credits last night. Okay, fine- the post-credits thing wasn't as good as the mid-credits thing, as always. I was more miffed that we were literally the only ones still in the theater for it. There's always something after the credits in Marvel movies. Okay, fine, maybe not necessarily the X-Men movies.

They always were the black sheep.

Still, you'd think that after... however many movies (I'm too tired to count them up), folks would have figured that part out. I don't care if you're tired of seeing who was in the catering company. Stay, have a chat with your friend, and wait for there to be a convenient gap in the music followed by a new scene. Worst case, shawarma.

Shawarma all the way home.

It has been said that shawarma is basically a giant meat hive. I mean, I always heard of it as kebab, but that's mostly because I didn't really encounter it much until I was in Paris. Even then, I tended to avoid it, because, hey, 7 euros a day for food. I don't need to be spending it on shawarma kebab. I could buy some carrots or some freaking apples (if they were in season, and they usually weren't). Maybe even beans.

"Hey, are you hungry? Do you want some beans and shawarma, Carl? They've got the best French beans and shawarma here." Okay, fine. Nobody got that reference but me. I understand.

I may have just mildly hallucinated a mosquito for a second there. I think we're good for the moment, though.

Some of you might think I'm kidding about this meat hive thing. Hahaha, no. I remember thinking this shit was absolutely freaking incredible the first time I saw it. I probably thought something along the lines of, "My, my. That appears to be a spinning column of meat. I suppose they'd need one heck of a knife to slice off good portions of that terribly greasy goodness. Well, fancy that. They don't use a knife at all, eschewing such primitive tools for the tool of the modern era: the buzzsaw. Yes, they appear to be taking the buzzsaw and using it to shave off slices of meat that they are then putting into a bit of bread along with some french fries. This truly is a strange form of cuisine."

Frankly, it's better to imagine that with Morgan Freeman's voice.

But, as this picture so deftly illustrates, what isn't?

And, yes, you read that right too. All of it. The buzzsaw (albeit a smaller one- think R2D2 from Return of the Jedi).

I couldn't find a picture of the scene itself, likely because the buzzsaw was replaced by several walkie talkies in the Super Special Fudge Coated Awesome Special Blu Ray Special Edition Special Special Star Wars Fun Pack.

Where was I?

Ah, yes. All of it. The buzzsaw. The French fries (although, paradoxically, despite being in France, the fries did not feel particularly French) IN THE BUN. It was terribly, terribly greasy. This, of course, meant that it was also terribly, terribly delicious before it gave you a terrible, terrible feeling throughout your body as you tried to extrude the grease.

Artist's rendering of photoshopic evidence. Dramatization. Offer not valid in Saskatoon on a weekday before Threevsdoon.

That was really one of the less fortunate things about French food. There seemed to be a bit of an aversion to bringing vegetables where they didn't belong. Yeah, there was definitely encouraged vegetable consumption (hence how I got into a habit of eating a carrot before most of my meals), and fruit apparently counted as a dessert. But whenever you got a sandwich, it seemed to be some sort of meat on some bread with a bit of cheese. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could snag a panini, but it wasn't likely that you'd find any lettuce or other such amenities on your sandwichy goodness.

The Almighty Bob's Sandwich Maker is most displeased.

Yes, there were some mains that handled the vegetable problem pretty well, but sometimes you just want a sandwich. What are you going to put on it? Jelly and peanut butter were absurdly expensive (seriously- a small jar probably cost more than a gigantic jar from the US, and you could only find it next to the equally small jar of salsa. Speaking of, shortly after I left, there was apparently a bit of a boom in the Mexican restaurants out there. I'm happy to be back where I can have authentically non-authentic Mexican food.)

To say nothing of the authentically non-authentic non-Mexican Mexican food. Which is mostly cheap. And available. Like.. like your mom? Okay, I'm sorry I said that. I was caught up in the moment.

(and since we're still in the sentence, have a comma), the bread that was available consisted mostly of baguettes (which, while delicious, aren't the most spacious for a good sandwich), and if you put anything beyond meat and cheese on your sandwich, you'd probably get a funny look.

At this point, I should probably point out that I didn't really eat too many sandwiches in France. I mean, I did early on, because I needed protein and they were available. Otherwise, again, I didn't want to spend the money, and I usually didn't want to spend the time making a good sandwich. Okay, fine, unless I was traveling, in which case I would do a baguette and cheese (with the obligatory carrot) to stave off the hunger on my self-imposed shoestring budget. Hence the comments on how "svelte" or "skeletal" I looked at the time (and possibly some of my early hair loss). I did, however, have a phenomenal sandwich or two in Barcelona, although I cannot remember what was on them.

Great story, Rob.

Anyway, I think we've all learned a whole lot here today. For example, shawarma is fun to say. Also, Rob apparently has strong feelings on the merits (or lack thereof) of French sandwiches. Rob seems to have strong feelings about a lot of things. Maybe he should tone that shit down a little bit and relax a bit. Maybe have some shawarma. We did NOT learn a lot about celebrity beards, which may be for the best. Yes, there are some amazing ones (looking at you, Alan Rickman (and now hopefully you're reading this in an Alan Rickman voice, if such a thing is even possible)).

Old school for life.

Okay, fine, Alan Rickman's beard is just pretty wonderful. Have a picture of it for the road.

Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste. Pleased to meet you. Hope you're reading this in an Alan Rickman voice.