Category Archives: Pizza Parties

Where’s the remix?

This song made its home in my head more than 15 years ago.  Mainly a quiet tenant, she only pipes up with occasional outbursts when I order take-out.  We’ve learned to live with each other.  And now you will learn too.

Bobbin Pandemonium

Threat level orange

Threat level orange

Like most of you, I have had several yarn emergencies over the years.

Most times the yarn will trip over the dog or shove  necco candy buttons up its left nostril.  Once the yarn will burn its tongue on hot cocoa at a Mets game, but that is more of an urgent situation than a technical emergency.

Every single yarn emergency, I walked myself the yarn to the emergency room at St. Luke’s Roosevelt.  This course of action is now obsolete. Hooray for this news.

Swimming

Technically, Norfolk has more gross tonnage.

Technically, Norfolk has more gross tonnage.

I saw two men jump into the East River over Fourth of July weekend.  The spot they chose was 500 meters from a public pool.  I’m guessing they were really, really hot.

Or they did it for the glory.

Over the years people have done a lot for the glory.   Several World Series of Poker rounds, a few games of basement Kerplunk, and five NCAA Division II Badminton Championships have been won for the glory. Also, thousands of Thanksgiving dinners have been prepared and cooked entirely for the glory.¹  Personally, the last thing I did for the glory may have been riding inside the Ben and Jerry’s Pig mobile. Also, fighting in the Civil war.  I had a brother on either side so my time at Antietam was mainly glory-motivated, as well as completely imaginary.

Most notably Peter Cetera released an entire album for the glory.  Specifically, for the glory of “Glory of Love”, which was the single released for the glory of the The Karate Kid, Part II.  Statistically, this was the best glory-driven song from a film in 1986.  Unless you count Yello’s “Oh Yeah” from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  And I do.

1. The Thanksgiving desserts however, are prepared for bragging rights alone.

Liquid Summer

DON'T LOSE YOUR MIND WITH PANIC!

DON'T LOSE YOUR MIND WITH PANIC!

Ah Summer, it hasn’t really arrived until Country Time Lemonade commercials have told me that it’s almost over.  Those slow, dusty images of laughter in the golden sun lulled me into a false sense of security.  I would curl up for a snooze in my mental hammock. Then, that gentle-voiced announcer would BRING THE HAMMER DOWN, announcing there were only 30 days left of summer.  Coming from an official sponsor, that really stung.

This is the second reason I hate lemonade.  The first involves sitting at the end of a rural driveway waiting for customers.  The third involves Tom Collins—the man, not the drink.  However, serve me an Arnold Palmer (the drink or the man) and you’ve got a friend for life.

P.S. If you’re confused it’s because I could not find video of this ad anywhere.  I just found one with similar images and the same announcer.  If you find me video of the ad to which I refer, I will send you a prize.  Yes, it absolutely will be a coupon for Country Time Lemonade

Snack Time

Tacos of the future

Tacos of the future

I’ve been waiting all my life for you, Doritos, Late Night: Tacos at Midnight.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at my 12am taco and thought “why aren’t you more portable?”

I have a few questions. I’m 27, am I going to get carded if I try to buy these in a store?  Or can you only get them from a cart outside Washington Square Park?  Is there an even seedier way these can be packaged? What about a three pack in a fishnet stocking?  What about attaching a condom and cigarette to the back?  Give them away free to any motel guest using an hourly rate? I’m just spitballing here.

If Quentin Tarantino directed Doritos instead of movies then they’d all look like this bag (and they’d taste like uncooked meat).  My last statement was more than just not a compliment; it was also a thinly-veiled criticism of the aforementioned director, his aesthetic, and the snack-food packaging.  If I were to make a snack-food name out of my last sentence it would be “Tarantino, Sucks Hard: Slick Doritos with MSG”.¹  However, the double-subtitle shows me you care enough to write me a haiku on every package.  More than that, you’ve made it possible to experience a late-night taco run in the daytime.  I will need to find something else to dream about now.

1. He really only sucks mildly, except Death Proof, that sucked Cool Ranch.