23 December 2012

When life throws you lemons...

...make a t-shirt.

...roast marshmallows. (I would not advise the the installation of these glass cases in crematoriums.)

...don't get things monogrammed.

Unpolished Sushi Rock

During a trip to Cincinnati last July, I joined my aunt and cousin for some sushi at a place called SUSHI ROCK. 

Pretty tasty sushi, though they made the situation much more complicated than a rock. Instead of opting for light, traditional melodies designed to lead one to zen, the management of this establishment chose to play thumping music at a volume so distracting as to remove the possibility of comfortable conversation (unless you're one of those people who shouts everything). And the tunes weren't live or even GOOD; it was Top-40s (do they stop at 40 anymore?) club-friendly crap. Okay, friends: I admit that I often listen to the genre when I'm doing housework in an empty house or in my car avoiding carpool lanes despite wishing to be eligible to use them. But I don't make a habit of listening to this light, inconsequential stuff with other people (unless we're having a "girls night" -- complete with manicures and makeovers! -- or we're suuuuuuuper drunk and I mean hate-myself-tomorrow plastered). Why the hell would I want to listen to a Justin Bieber dance mix with my aunt and cousin? (I mention Bieber -- whose name may or not follow the "i before e" rule without changing my world -- because the same song played twice during our hour-long stay.)

I suppose this would have been okay if the chopsticks wrappers had said "ROCKS" rather than summoning the animal-vegetable-MINERAL (!!) and YES, I suppose we could have better researched the establishment, but I also think that a place that takes the trouble to make their own chopsticks wrappers can take the time to put a damn rock in the place and at least FAKE some zen. For the prices they charge, I'd say I deserve as much.

15 December 2012

Are these on your reading list?

For those who don't know me, I majored in English and -- true to type -- rarely have my nose out of a book. That being the case, it's strange that I haven't featured books in this bloggity bloggerson. (The previous statement was false, but let's pretend otherwise...as the challenge of rewriting this intro might defeat me and this post altogether.) That changes today.

First up, a book that I initially scorned...because I have prejudged the Fifty Shades series to be a bad thing because I semi-consciously cling to the puritanical idea that erotica's status as a genre is a baby step away from romance and shouldn't be lauded, let alone discussed in public by grown adults (or, God forbid, by their preteen daughters). Truth be told, I feel like my initial disinterest (which, embarrassingly enough, is crumbling under the stress of self-driven reverse psychology) stems from the fact -- if it's even true -- that the books were originally written as Twilight fanfiction. (Which is as fictive as fiction can get, if we're going to be honest.)

Just occurred to me that I haven't shown you a photo yet.

After having stepped away from this one for a few weeks, I'm now a bit anxious to check out the book again. (Not that I need any chicken recipes at the moment; I've got my hands full with cookies right now.) 

Extra points for F.L. Fowler writing a book about fowl. It seems I've screwed things up for myself by marrying a Chilean -- single Emily could have written about palm trees or palm reading or religious pilgrims...but what the hell is an Abarca supposed to compose?

Moving on.

I love the cover of this book (such enthusiam!) but he doesn't appear to be puzzled. No, he appears triumphant, or possibly bat-crazy (are bats as crazy as colloquialisms would have you believe?) after having spent an hour trying to find one stupid word.

Another crazy book (on sale for a mere $20 at the local thrift store):


In case you can't read the small font, the book is called Character Sketches from the Pages of Scripture Illustrated in the World of Nature. Whose highdea was this? ("Dude, Jesus is totally a woodchuck because he could have chucked through the wood of his cross but he didn't because his dad told him not to.")

Get ready for another helping of crazy!

Good ol' Screech, proving that some things do not get better with age. Has anyone told him yet that's he's not a magician?

I appreciate the fact that the key word of the subtitle is "behind the" label. (I take pleasure in the little things.)

Damn, I am definitely letting the team down tonight. I had 11 more photos in the queue and am too sleepy to continue. (Damn you, Dustin Diamond!) I suppose we can all point out at least one reason why a 15-topic blog post is a bad idea (not enough nudity, for one) so I'm going to assume that you're okay with this arrangement. Off to bed where my crazy noodles up top mix these four topics. 

The question is, WILL IT BLEND?

13 December 2012

Potential(ly terrible) Gifts

I had some overtime to burn at work, so I wandered over to the Big Lots next door. Not nearly as many curiosities as I find in second-hand shops, but I've got a few to offer.

Someone must really need a caffeine fix. The question is, are they wishing for the red $29 model or are they shooting for the stars with the $39 stainless steel machine?

I realize women are quick to pick up on a man's scent and pheromones play a pivotal role in the...blah blah blah. But this is really bad marketing...I mean sexy musk? Ugh.

These snowman head lollipops look pretty yummy for snowcone fans and masochists with a penchant for anthropomorphizing spheres of snow and destroying their newfound humanity...until they:
  1. Realize they're not actually snowcones
  2. Get arrested/committed after mental issues lead them to decapitate Conan O'Brien or an equally white white guy
  3. Notice the adjacent product

Yum, there's nothing I like better with my lollipops than dish soap.

Though I suppose if they can avoid options 1, snowcone lovers afflicted with pica might really get a thrill out of this new flavor...and masochists narrowly-escaping jail time just might enjoy witnessing others' pain while consuming this disgusting snack.

(We should probably add my name to the sign-up sheet for the mental hospital.)


...wait for it...

My second choice for the previous link was this picture, by the way.

Yes, that's a whole YARD of amazing Dansk cookies. And yes, I am hungry. 

[The timing of the next photo proves that the universe has a sense of humor.]

 Thank you, Lifestyles, for teaching the world what the shape of pleasure is (not square, not circle, not hand-shaped, and most certainly not vagina-shaped). I hadn't been so confused about shapes since square-peg-round-hole games in infancy. No, I'm not alluding to molestation; I'm talking about this thing (or was it this thing?).

One other point of confusion: What's a "relaxed" condom tip? Does that bear any resemblance to Lee's "relaxed" fit jeans? 

In my mind, I'm composing a photo of the various fits of condoms to match the main graphic on Lee's MENS page. 

If Lee's "relaxed" guy is Lifestyle's demographic here, I think I'll pass on the condoms (what decade is that haircut from?!?) and...

...Hell, I could judge all of these models here (why is the hipster most appealing to me for God's sake??) but I think I'll move on to the epitome of masculinity.

Yes, you read that right. Bieber has a singing toothbrush. In a few years, he'll have to grow with his fan base and put out a singing vibrator.

(Yes, I am aware that I am a sick puppy.) Woof.

Speaking of puppies, I found a Chewbacca sweater for mine:

Okay, so truth time: I've got 4 photos left to discuss and have plans to hit up The Hobbit (nice euphemism -- hit up the hobbit -- if I can find time to determine what it euphemizes) with friends shortly, so I'll have to cut this post short. 

I realize that to short you on a post during a week in which I've shorted you posts is pretty despicable, but I figure you have to come to terms with your beef (another good euphemism, with a much more obvious connotation) and you like picking my (almost-certainly atrophying) brain here, so...

...You'll be back.

09 December 2012

Album Cover Stockpile

So turns out I have 114 drafts and only 25 published posts. In some cases I can't quite seem to verbalize the joke in my head, though more often my unwillingness to publish is due to an inability to add enough "deadwood" to my prose to substantiate a post. You'd think an English major would be a pro at bullshitting. Witness a few of my failures below:

Bathe in the Fountain of Pete

I did the band nerd thing in high school. Some opt to continue for a few years in college, drum corps, what have you. But only the truly insane continue wearing costumes after the party's over (I'm looking at you, Juggalos). My [by-no-means-comprehensive] internet search turned up alternate cover art for this album (maybe Mr. Fountain learned his lesson and scrambled to hide his misstep). Maybe I should have bought it as a conversation piece or a curiosity for a family member with the Palmer sense of humor, but alas...I left Pete Fountain and His Mardi Gras Strutters (yup, "strutters") on the shelf.

Thank you, Red Bull 

...or possibly a Mack truck, depending on which mythology you subscribe to. I'm a bit concerned by the lack of speakers in this setup, not to mention the fact that cherubims do not qualify for electric instruments.

Speaking of segues, wouldn't be appropriate for this album to be a posthumous hit for Sheila Green?

The Honey Horn Sound Hurts a Bit

It's fitting to me that Al Hirt (who is just as likely to be an accomplished trumpeter as a registered sex offender) is peering at us from behind a wire cage. It's strange that this particular combination of facial expression and facial hair is acceptable (particularly during la Natividad) when the person has gone white like Santa...but not so much when he's recently touched up with Just for Men. 'Nuff said.

Simply Beautiful
I'm not sure I understand why a wave about to crash into the viewer's face is a beautiful thing, but apparently Bud Tutmarc is okay with it and unconcerned with the fact that his island guitar is very likely to be destroyed in the process. 

Height Disparity
I can't help but think this little guy is Danny Devito. This mistaken identity makes the viewing experience (viewing of the album art, that is) much more enjoyable than it would be otherwise. I imagine most of Devito's love interests are taller than he...or underage, I suppose. Having nothing else to say on the topic, I'll simply advise you to check out It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia for hours of lols.

The Odyssey: A Night to Remember
A single night filled with Ulysses' masterpiece would be...well, epic. I don't suspect I could accomplish the deed in a single eve, but kudos to the person who manages that feat. 

...At this point, I could pull something mildly amusing out of the back of my mind, but if I must be honest I have lost interest. I'm a bit tired, craving a shower, and would really rather play some Rock Band. So, since I keeps it real, I've got to skedaddle. Good eve, good folk.

07 December 2012

Abandoned Albums

For our enjoyment -- mine because I'm turning several old drafts into a real post (very Pinocchio, don't you think?) and yours because...well, duh -- Mrs. Window Shopper brings together some vinyls from various thrift store shops. 

High School Musical 4: Debate Club 
(Available on Spotify! Warning: Some tracks may be more persuasive than others.)

Is percussion all it takes to argue your point? Politicians have used cheesy songs to bolster their causes to varied levels of success...but I can't find any record of a drum-heavy track putting a candidate into office. Perhaps "Bolero" or "Moby Dick" could change that (yes, I put Ravel and Zeppelin into the same category)? I suppose Jason's percussion (take that as you will) persuaded me to become his wife and drums have led many a warrior into battle so there's that. And one cannot argue the persuasive power of a marimba solo... *swoons*

Speaking of swooning...



Let me first admit that what comes most readily to mind when I think of Robert Goulet is Will Ferrell. The SNL sketches are actually what led me to snap these photos, terrible as that is. 

My main problem with these albums is Goulet's ill-advised use of prepositions:
  • I suspect the background noise on ...On Broadway is unbearable.
  • The white text on the second album asserts that it is a recording so the title of In Person is a pretty terrible choice.

Adventuretime's Muse?

This album art seems to have inspired a slew of cartoons: Adventuretime? Superjail? Chowder? This cover makes about as much sense as the plotlines of those shows (read: none) and creates a slew of questions. Why are these creatures in a huge bathtub? How can I get my showerhead to spray out rainbows? And most importantly: Where did the owl get that gorgeous hat? 

Jokes aside, the featured artists seem legit -- I'm pretty sure you're REQUIRED to juggle and wear silly hats when listening to Billy Joel and Kenny Loggins in the bathtub.

The Mighty Mighty Moog-tones
(not available on Spotify, though I did find Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sea Lions But Were Afraid to Ask)

EVERYTHING? Well, there's no "Stairway to Heaven" but there IS a Moog version of "Bolero" which brings some continuity to this post if nothing else. Let's vote: Which is more persuasive -- percussion or Moog?

Pedobear's Jams
Since finding (and laughing uproariously at) this album, I've learned that Mitch was a pretty big deal back in the day (despite his show's subpar production values). I won't detail all of his badassery here, but trust me that he was a pretty kick-ass individual. So respect to you in the big beyond, dude.

That being said, this "all smiles" picture is a bit unsettling to my contemporary sensibilities.

Now that I've gobbled up my stock of album art, I suppose it's time to find some more. Joy!

06 December 2012

Everybody, do the locomotion.

Gobbly goop.

Who needs an intelligible opening statement when you're me?

Okay, you got me: I'm lazy. Moving on.

If you haven't strolled through the toy section recently, let me tell you: that shit be fucked up.

Case in point: the Thomas & (suspiciously absent) Friends "Thomas at Pirate's Cove".

Before I get into my spiel, let me draw your attention to the placement of the apostrophe in the toy name. Apparently this cove only houses a single pirate...who is somehow able to maintain a large ship by himself.  In researching this toy, I discovered how this single rapscallion managed this incredible feat: a cannon appears to have destroyed the majority of the ship (check it). But now I'm left wondering how the pirate kept the shell afloat (especially with the added weight of a locomotive).

Returning to Imaginationland, where Thomas is on an intact ship...

What the hell is a locomotive doing on a sailboat?!? I'm pretty sure that if steam power is an option, pirates are going to choose that over sails -- unless there's a Windfinder available...but now I'm crossing my fictional(?) universes. And in the case that Thomas has been sent back in time to a world before the technology running his innards came into being, those seamen -- - what with their enterprising spirit and all -- are going to turn their barnacle-encrusted ship into a steamboat. Thomas, I do believe you're gonna die. If you're lucky, maybe your wonky face will be their new figurehead. 

If our little trip to the cove left you wanting more Thomas-time, check out his other offering:

The Thomas & Friends Phone.  It took me a minute to place this blue plastic monstrosity, as Thomas' wheels are missing and his face seems to be turned in the wrong direction. He's either a covert Transformer or got in some serious trouble with the mob.

And if no one else is brave enough to pose the question, I will: What the hell does a train have to do with telephony?!? If they insist on making this connection, they should at least use a rotary phone since the circular dial adapts much easier to Thomas' native biology (wheels or face, your choice). NOT TO MENTION rotary phones are as obsolete as steam engines these days!! Arrrr.

(Sorry, the pirates from the previous toy must have rubbed off on me.)

While we're on the topic of transportation devices:

Sure must be nice to have a job where you drop acid then brainstorm toy ideas. 

I'm going to act out of character this time and let you assess this bus without me (I can't do everything for you).


Okay, so I hear you singing "One of these things is not like the other" and I'm with you: Farmville is incapable of locomotion (though it's sure great at getting people to sit in one spot for hours on end). But I figured a hippobus led pretty well into a game entitled Hungry Hungry Herd.

Growing up in the Midwest, I caught a few glimpses of mealtime on the farm. Cows of all hide variations pretty much chew cud all day without any regard for the ticking of the clock. Horses are grazers too.

So my money's on the pig to win this thing.

After all this talk of hunger and transportation (as classic a combo as PB&J), I feel like nomming in front of a viewing of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Who's got a copy they'd like to share? (I'll bring popcorn and sarcasm.)

05 December 2012

Oink, Pt. II

Yesterday, I brought you several examples of oinkers in Target's aisles and the "theory" that the store would be trading in their canine mascot for one with a pink, curly tail. I wanted to help the retailer find some products that demonstrate the power of the pig...so I headed to the thrift store.

Serve someone breakfast in bed on this thing to say "The rooster just crowed at the rising sun and this pig has been awake for hours rolling in the mud. Get your lazy ass out of bed!"

And I suppose it might delicately discourage overeating...

Ha! Subtlety is overrated.

Chef Pig doesn't have discriminating tastes -- ask your local mob boss -- but he sure makes that toque blanche look good. (You can see how excited I was with this find.) My only concern was Chef's empty arms. So I tried a few things...

I unfortunately didn't find anything more appropriate in the store to give Chef Pig, though he seems the perfect pedestal for an array of items like bacon packages or dildos (gosh, I can't imagine why I couldn't find either of those).

At this point, my attention was drawn to a holiday Billy Bass or novelty mug so thus ends the porky examples from yesterday's adventure. I'll keep my eyes peeled for more items to add to the pigpen.

04 December 2012

I'll take one of each (for kindling)!

It was half-off day (a.k.a Tuesday) at the local thrift store, so I took a stroll. Rather than hoard these photos and hope for enough inspiration to compose a post on each, I've opted to dump them here.

Football fields in the Appalachians are twice as long as those in flatter parts of the country. This makes it considerably tougher for the athletes but much easier to tell who's dominating the game -- not to mention who's got the best calf muscles!

There are many reasons why I'd avoid wrestling one pirate (el razón número uno: anal rape), but TWO pirates?? I'd rather stay away from dual Blackbeards, thank you.

 What do you MEAN they meant "duels"? Only someone with a handful of concussions in their medical history would mix up those two...oh wait.

In other news, did Blizzard approve the use of those orc silhouettes?

Do kids love Publix as much as this t-shirt claims or is this just an impulse item targeting pedophiles in the aisles?

It's really a bitch when the ball goes out of bounds.

Noah really knows how to please a woman.

Noah really knows how to please a sow.

1. Cael is not a misspelling.
2. If you want to survive Penn State athletics, you'd BETTER be good at wrestling.

Do a 5K to gauge your fitness and prove your persistence. Run to support a charity. But I can think of better ways to celebrate than sweating on a dirt path with my family. I do believe I'm one of those people by the grill, thank you.

I was thinking something along these lines.

Or maybe an allusion to this guy.

Get in shape or you're dead.

1. I only see ONE peanut there. What proof do I have there are more? Is the crowned peanut featured on this red shirt the leader of the [insert legume-appropriate collective noun]? 
2. Your peanuts aren't famous just because you say so. I'm going to need more proof than a flashy red shirt. Maybe an endorsement from a movie star (genre TBA) would help.

I can understand wanting to dress up like a superhero, but I'm pretty sure Superman never had a backpack with his emblem on it (so as not to reveal his secret identity) and I'm 83% sure that Clark Kent prefers fanny-packs.

Looking for an outfit that will guarantee you'll remain single for another Valentine's Day? Try this cardigan, which features four familiar insects with a lot of heart! *sparkly smile*

Alright friends, that's it for today's photo dump. Let me know what you think of the different format & perhaps I'll make a regular thing out of it. Until next time, innocent bystanders.

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