Good Lord. Eleven of you visited the blog today. Here I am trying to dust off some moss (because, see, some of these verses have got me QUITE cross), and you're just all up ons. Please, carry on.
"But, Rob," you may ask, as I forget yet again whether or not I have revealed actual names on this blog, which is going to be quite awkward when residency interviews and the like begin to crop up, "what brings on this sudden burst of verbosity and generosity, because we're now rhyming like champs, gramps?"
To which I say, first off, I'm not that old, regardless of whatever my rapidly receding hairline may have you believe.
Second off, I have some things to say.
Secondly first off (2a-ly off? 2-ly a off?)...
... the following was posted on Facebook by The Cemetery Strangler: "It's one of those cold nights you just want to watch 'Silver Linings Playbook' and laugh at all the shennanigans." Hoooooom. "Shenanigans" only has three n's, none of which are doubled. Also, those "shennanigans" are due to SERIOUS MENTAL DISORDERS. THESE PEOPLE ARE SICK, AND, THANKFULLY, SOME OF THEM ARE GETTING MUCH NEEDED HELP. YES, JENNIFER LAWRENCE IS ADORABLE, BUT ROBERT DENIRO AND BRADLEY COOPER HAVE SERIOUS PROBLEMS THAT NEED ADDRESSING (ASSUMING THAT THE WHOLE FILM ISN'T JUST IMAGINED BY AN INSANE BRADLEY COOPER (as opposed to an insane David O'Russell). Yeah, ran out of steam towards the end. I blame it on the incorrigibly adorable (incorradorable?) Jennifer Lawrence.
Also, son of a bitch, that picture was taken in Paris while I was living there.
But we'll move on.
Nextly (ha HA! Deftly maneuvered (or, as they would write across the proverbial pond, manoieauyvered (I, too, can put vowels where they don't belong, just like parentheses)), Rob), as some of you are aware, I tend to be a bit of an impulse buyer on large bottles of beer. Usually, this has served me well. The Foothill's People's Porter, the Breckenridge Vanilla Porter, the Bourbon Aged Dragon's Milk Imperial Stout, the Bourbon Aged Anything, etc. But this time...
Rogue, you've done me wrong. For months, if not years, I passed a nice tall bottle of yours in the Piggly Wiggly. I was intrigued by its pastel colors and its aspirations to interesting flavors. Well, I finally tried the Voodoo Doughnut Chocolate, Peanut Butter, and Banana Ale, and I was not impressed. Frankly, I was disappointed. It's not wholly horrendous (unlike that weird sour beer that I had a few months back which tasted like I was sucking on only the sour part of a Warhead, which, for those of you who have never had a Warhead, tastes somewhere between year old yellow milk and fresh bile), but I am picking up no notes of chocolate, peanut butter, or banana. I'm trying to finish it as I write this post, and it is doing me no favors.
But, as always, we must soldier on, even if we're playing the part of Private Ryan.
No, I won't post a picture. Haven't seen the movie, so I'm only making vague assumptions.
Anyhoo, I made a trip to Wal-Mart tonight, because I needed hangers (as I have new shirts and had too few hangers), bananas and carrots (because Bi-Lo is very sporadic in their offering of 2 pound bags of carrots), and a watch (because I have proven too much man for my previous watch, which was wonderful and blue). I even got some yogurt, because, hey, I should make it to the gym, even if The Sisters are still giving me trouble and I don't have good running shoes (as I have worn mostly through my current pair). And then I hit the cereal aisle.
Growing up, it took a while for my folks to branch out into kid cereals. Until I was 5 or 6, we basically had Grape Nuts and Rice Krispies, both of which I doused in sugar before eating, because it is well documented that I hate my pancreas.
Around then, I think we went to Disney World, and they realized that they couldn't keep me from brightly colored cereals that would lower my sperm count/give me cancer/give a thousand lab mice that would get cancer anyway cancer (read it again and diagram it if you have to- I know the modifiers get weird there)/give me autism/give the greatest public health menace of the 21st Century Jenny McCarthy's kid autism/give the greatest public health menace of the 21st Century Jenny McCarthy's kid a rare neurological disorder that she thought was autism and then his indigo aura and now probably something else that isn't scientifically sound because I guess a doctor was mean to her once? I don't know. Even then, though, Froot Loops was about as colorful as it got. No Trix, no Fruity Pebbles (because every parent wants their kids eating rocks), no Cocoa Pebbles/Krispies/etc. (although there WAS some Count Chocula in some of the cereal samples that came in the mail (I think? That sounds really sketchy when I write it), and I recall it being thoroughly amazing). There was some Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Frosted Flakes, and some Raisin Bran, too, and they were delicious.
But the cereal aisle is always odd. I've usually just had dry wheat toast for breakfast (lending further credence to the theory espoused by my scalp that I'm 60), but I wanted to get some cereal for funsies. We've already talked about my love of Cracklin' Oat Bran, which Wal-Mart apparently doesn't carry, because they're anti-puppet.
A vast majority of the cereals on that aisle I have never tried. And you know what? Thank goodness. I do NOT need to be eating chocolate for breakfast. I DEFINITELY did not need to be eating chocolate for breakfast when I was growing up. That would have been a brown tornado of references to cartoons that nobody watched but happened to be on TV during one of my binges.
For the record, I ended up going with Cheerios, because my cholesterol is probably high or something. Get off my lawn. I need a nap.
 |
| Quite cross indeed. |
"But, Rob," you may ask, as I forget yet again whether or not I have revealed actual names on this blog, which is going to be quite awkward when residency interviews and the like begin to crop up, "what brings on this sudden burst of verbosity and generosity, because we're now rhyming like champs, gramps?"
To which I say, first off, I'm not that old, regardless of whatever my rapidly receding hairline may have you believe.
Second off, I have some things to say.
Secondly first off (2a-ly off? 2-ly a off?)...
 |
| Too-rye aye-ly off? |
... the following was posted on Facebook by The Cemetery Strangler: "It's one of those cold nights you just want to watch 'Silver Linings Playbook' and laugh at all the shennanigans." Hoooooom. "Shenanigans" only has three n's, none of which are doubled. Also, those "shennanigans" are due to SERIOUS MENTAL DISORDERS. THESE PEOPLE ARE SICK, AND, THANKFULLY, SOME OF THEM ARE GETTING MUCH NEEDED HELP. YES, JENNIFER LAWRENCE IS ADORABLE, BUT ROBERT DENIRO AND BRADLEY COOPER HAVE SERIOUS PROBLEMS THAT NEED ADDRESSING (ASSUMING THAT THE WHOLE FILM ISN'T JUST IMAGINED BY AN INSANE BRADLEY COOPER (as opposed to an insane David O'Russell). Yeah, ran out of steam towards the end. I blame it on the incorrigibly adorable (incorradorable?) Jennifer Lawrence.
 | |||||||||
| Why, yes, that is Christina Hendricks. Is there a problem with that? ... You're goddamned right there's not. |
But we'll move on.
Nextly (ha HA! Deftly maneuvered (or, as they would write across the proverbial pond, manoieauyvered (I, too, can put vowels where they don't belong, just like parentheses)), Rob), as some of you are aware, I tend to be a bit of an impulse buyer on large bottles of beer. Usually, this has served me well. The Foothill's People's Porter, the Breckenridge Vanilla Porter, the Bourbon Aged Dragon's Milk Imperial Stout, the Bourbon Aged Anything, etc. But this time...
Rogue, you've done me wrong. For months, if not years, I passed a nice tall bottle of yours in the Piggly Wiggly. I was intrigued by its pastel colors and its aspirations to interesting flavors. Well, I finally tried the Voodoo Doughnut Chocolate, Peanut Butter, and Banana Ale, and I was not impressed. Frankly, I was disappointed. It's not wholly horrendous (unlike that weird sour beer that I had a few months back which tasted like I was sucking on only the sour part of a Warhead, which, for those of you who have never had a Warhead, tastes somewhere between year old yellow milk and fresh bile), but I am picking up no notes of chocolate, peanut butter, or banana. I'm trying to finish it as I write this post, and it is doing me no favors.
But, as always, we must soldier on, even if we're playing the part of Private Ryan.
No, I won't post a picture. Haven't seen the movie, so I'm only making vague assumptions.
Anyhoo, I made a trip to Wal-Mart tonight, because I needed hangers (as I have new shirts and had too few hangers), bananas and carrots (because Bi-Lo is very sporadic in their offering of 2 pound bags of carrots), and a watch (because I have proven too much man for my previous watch, which was wonderful and blue). I even got some yogurt, because, hey, I should make it to the gym, even if The Sisters are still giving me trouble and I don't have good running shoes (as I have worn mostly through my current pair). And then I hit the cereal aisle.
Growing up, it took a while for my folks to branch out into kid cereals. Until I was 5 or 6, we basically had Grape Nuts and Rice Krispies, both of which I doused in sugar before eating, because it is well documented that I hate my pancreas.
 |
| Little fucker. Get that insulin bullshit out of here. |
But the cereal aisle is always odd. I've usually just had dry wheat toast for breakfast (lending further credence to the theory espoused by my scalp that I'm 60), but I wanted to get some cereal for funsies. We've already talked about my love of Cracklin' Oat Bran, which Wal-Mart apparently doesn't carry, because they're anti-puppet.
 |
| Hence the death of Pets.com. |
A vast majority of the cereals on that aisle I have never tried. And you know what? Thank goodness. I do NOT need to be eating chocolate for breakfast. I DEFINITELY did not need to be eating chocolate for breakfast when I was growing up. That would have been a brown tornado of references to cartoons that nobody watched but happened to be on TV during one of my binges.
For the record, I ended up going with Cheerios, because my cholesterol is probably high or something. Get off my lawn. I need a nap.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire