U.S. Airways

Dear U.S. Airways,

Where is my toothpaste?

 

-Sincerely annoyed

Me

Fat boy apples

So I was at work the other day, when the topic of apple picking came up.  I asked my fellow co-workers what they would be making with their apple booty.  I got the standard answers: apple pie, apple cake, apple sauce, apple turnovers, and apple bread.  Being the rational thinking, level headed guy I am, I in no way cursed them out for being “unoriginal hot dog entrails” or “leporatic”, instead I offered my well thought opinions on potential new apple delicacies.  Remaining even keeled and my volume at a non-embarrassing level, I calmly explained my first idea.

1.)  Candy apple cider.  It’s a basic twist on the traditional hot apple cider most folk find quaint, or fall-like.  You get your hot apple cider, then simply add caramel to the mix, top with whipped cream and peanuts (my original wording may or may not have replaced the word peanuts with my nuts.)

After wooing my fellow office slaves with a new treat, they began forming around me like poor English folk form around Robin Hood.  They asked me curiously “Do you have any other ideas?”

“Do I have any other ideas?” I replied questioning the audacity of their question.  “Of course I do”  I said matter-of-factly, though my brain shook its proverbial head disapprovingly because I had no such ideas.

Ever the quick thinker, I came up with:

2.) The fried apple surprise.  Take a piece of dough, butter it up, cut up apples, place them in the dough, sprinkle cinnamon on top, fold crust over forming an apple calzone, deep fry that fucker, top with powdered sugar.

The gawkers ooh’ed and ahh’ed.  I had them eating the apple of my eye out of the palm of my hand.  (that sentence doesn’t make any sense but it sounds good so I’m leaving it.)  But coming up with hit after hit only leaves the faceless mob wanting more.  I told them “I will give you one more idea”  My brain was in super freak out mode, my mind had attained a level of stillness rivaled only by George W. Bush (too soon?).  Sometimes you paint yourself in a corner, and you must call for help, admitting you have made a mistake; however, I did not feel this was one of those times.  So in my panic I came up with:

3.) Fat boy apples.

This apple had no idea what was about to happen to it

As you can see you will need an apple (your favorite kind, I went with Macintosh), chocolate (again preference here is key, I like milk chocolate), ice cream (fuck your preference, something with peanut butter cups in it dammit!), caramel, and a paring knife.

Step 1) you cut a hole in that box…errrr….you cut a hole in that apple.

cut the core out, it's the only way to kill them!

No seriously, cut the core out.

Step 2) You put your di….skin the apple

I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti

OK, so I am not really handy with kitchen things, so the apple doesn’t look great, but I was trying to not cut my fingers off, so get off my back.

Step 3) Melt the chocolate…muahahaha

Pictured above: Oprah's swimming pool.

Step 4) Apple, have you met chocolate?  Chocolate this is apple.

That's ig'nant. That apple put on black face

Make sure to coat the inside of the apple with the chocolate as well.  Think of the chocolate as a protective coat for the apple.  A very delicious protective coat.

Step 5) Put it in the refrigerator for about 10 minutes, or however long it takes the chocolate to harden.

Step 6) Where you at ice cream and caramel?  First heat some caramel, not too much as it is only a “sauce”

you...you eat that?

So what you see above is the peanut butter cup ice cream filling the previously hollow hole, and caramel drizzled all over the apple, as well as circling it on the plate.

Step 7) Eat the shit out of it!

I almost let him get it

People be crazy

I read an article in the WSJ today, it said that there is a new movement in developed countries like the U.S. and the U.K. attempting to curb newborns.  These ‘non-birthers’, as it were, use the current mathematical projections of carbon usage to say that for every new baby in the U.S. or the U.K. the environmental impact would be 160 times greater than someone born in India, or the Philippines, or any other under developed nation.  Their entire idea for environmental consciousness is to have fewer babies; while I agree that overpopulation is bad, I also feel these left wing crazies have forgotten something more important.  There is an idea floating in the ether that humans are someone above, or disconnected from nature, that we are masters of our surroundings and brains instincts.  However, I think reproduction, the biological urge we face at some point in our life, is one of the few reminders of our link to nature.  To turn our back on the pragmatic answer to the question ‘why are we here?’ would be to sever yet another bond to nature.  The ‘non-birthers’ hearts are in the right place, but their heads are polluted with zeal and arrogance.  Eliminating one of the last remnants of our humanness would further our descent into artificial hell.  Instead of thinking of ways to make us less human, maybe it’s time to think about how we can become more human, to reconnect to nature, to fill the collective void in our life with a harmonious union with the world around us. 

 

Just a thought.

The Office Crusade

So, yesterday I started sending out e-mails to my co-workers, but not your typical work e-mails, no these are something much better.  So consider this the beginning of a long running series called the Office Crusade.  Below are the first 3 shorts

I was having a great morning, everything was OK.  The North Koreans were acting like complete buffoons claiming that if anyone attempted to watch them launch a satellite they would retaliate with a missile strike, so it wasn’t the best possible morning, but in the overall scheme of me, it was damn fine.  I went to the cafeteria, got myself a bacon, egg, AND cheese sammich on a lightly toasted English Muffin.  The aforementioned English Muffin was lightly buttered, making it quite decadent.  I gleefully ate my morning sustenance, letting my mind wander to the abstract places, found only when one concentrates on a sense, in my case that sense was taste.  I sauntered down to the kitchen area and fixed myself a hot cup of java.  I schmoozed with some of the IT guys and had them all laughing, this especially lightened my mood because a few of them will no longer be with us come month’s end.  I returned to my seat, happily drinking my coffee, finding myself in an almost euphoric daze, when suddenly and most dishearteningly, my grotesque monster of a neighbor began to rumble and churn.  The noises emanating from the beasts gullet resembled a middle school band playing Holst, or Beethoven.  The butchered airwaves assailed my ear lobes, cut through my wax, and pierced the serenity of my brain.  The feral pitch, forced my mind to a dark place, the kind of place only psychiatrists and lovers should ever see.  She spoke like a war drum of an advancing army.  Finally her sound waves crested, and retired back into the sea of her mouth; however the ebb and flow of words left my mind eroded.  I am already a shell of the person I was 20 minutes ago, and I fear I will never get back to that place.

Mondays always get a bad wrap, and it’s so unfair.  It’s all Jesus’ fault too.  If he was never born, then there would be no Christianity, if there were no Christianity, there would have been no protestant work ethic, with no protestant work ethic, Sundays, now having no meaning, and are actually the first day of the week, would most likely the first working day of the week.  Monday would now become just as blase as Tuesday, but secretly Monday would love it.  All its life, everyone hated Mondays, now people would be indifferent, Monday could enjoy going out to a museum, or a ball game without being victimized, but no, Jesus Christ had to go get hisself strung up, and now Monday, poor Monday suffers a fate worse than spending an eternity in hell.

When you arrive at work in the morning, leaving your cocoon behind, do you ever wonder how other people are directly or indirectly affected by your actions?  I took it upon myself to partake in one of the finer things in life this morning, a nice hot cup of coffee.  After walking 10 minutes in this morning’s bleariness, my spirits were low; I knew I needed something to revitalize my soul.  After procuring some griddled dough mixed with bananas and walnuts, and filling up on some fried potatoes, I sensed my being was still not one.  My heart left wanting, my brain running like a computer built in 1995, I knew what it was I was missing, coffee.  My brisk pace and direct line to the coffee maker indicated to the androgynous IT department that I was in no mood for socializing.  As I fell upon my Zion, I was greeted rather ominously by a seer.  Asking a plethora of questions, each building upon the last, the seer left a taste more bitter than the impending coffee in my mouth.  In what can only be described as tragic foreshadowing, the seer and his pet Valkyrie left with the slightest hint of a grin on their faces.  Showing no emotion on my exterior, but visibly shaken on the inside I began my coffee dance.  I shuffled to the left, reached in the jar of sweets, and with one sweeping motion tore open 3 rations and poured them directly into my grail.  With a deft spin, I found myself face to face with the selection of nectars.  I chose the one of my liking, and without delay begged the great beast, “BREW!”  I received a hushed murmur in response, not the great bellow I have grown used to.  I knew something was wrong.  The great java god began to expel its wisdom, except instead of the mocha brown of which I was accustomed, the liquid was transparent.  “egads!” I shrieked, as the rest of the liquid seeped from the bottom of the altar.  The human to coffee interface told me that there had been an error and I must contact an operator immediately.  “I will do no such thing” I retorted.  I removed the powerful machine’s façade, ripped out its container and lo and behold, I found my offering smashed and mangled being hung from his head.  “Who could have done this to you?” I asked.  The offering remained silent; it was no longer with us.  After begging and pleading with the great coffee god, I managed to wrestle my offering free and give it the proper burial it deserved.  I began the ceremony again, this time with no showmanship or elegance, the coffee god was appeased.  As I sit here writing, my mind wanders back to that seer.  Was he asking those questions to warn me of the impending doom, or maybe it was he who angered the coffee god in the first place?  My wisdom nearly done now, I must digress, but know now that I must track down this seer and extract from him the truth…

Beware the IdeAs of March

Anticipation is letdown’s brutally ugly, ill-intentioned Mother. 

Did you know 74.3 % of all statistics are made up on the spot?

A mission can be cloak and dagger, but not singularly cloak, or dagger.  Why is it that the application of both a cloak and a dagger can connote a missions secrecy, intrigue, and potential danger, yet these items by themselves make the mission sound stupid and childish.  “Oh man, that mission was so cloak”…or…”I just got back from North Korea, total dagger mission”

When a dog dreams, (that is its legs are kicking and maybe it’s even woofing a little), and it suddenly wakes up, does it know it was dreaming?  Or does it just accept the fact that it was previously running loose in a snausage factory, gobbling up all those delicious treats and then instantaneously transported to the doldrums of its life back on planet your house?  Is no one studying this?

If you had superpowers would you be a super hero or a super villain?

I think instead of telling people not to judge a book by its cover we should be more open and honest and say, “just because you aren’t physically attracted to someone, doesn’t mean they suck”  I feel like not enough kids understand the implied innuendo, the subtlety of metaphor, in fact, it would surprise me if anyone takes the time to think anymore.

Northern New Jersey has the world’s best pizza and bagels, New York City is an extremely close second, and no where else even comes close.  Chicago, your pizza is too thick, and requires the sacrifice of a few good tomatoes.  Boston…stick to seafood.  LA, it doesn’t matter how anything tastes since you will either, A)not eat it B) vomit it back up immediately, or C) get surgery to take care of it.  Washington, you are a joke, you are not a city, you are a district, an unwanted bastard child Maryland and Virginia.  Also, if you currently have any frozen bagels in your freezer, or have EVER owned any, you are automatically disqualified and deserve to have your taste buds removed with a piping hot poker.  If you think that Dunkin Donuts makes good bagels, die.  If you get your bagels or pizza from a chain restaurant, I feel sorry for you, I really do. 

Love, like happiness cannot be bought, but it can be leased.

loose…lose…loose…lose (one of them means to not win, the other means not tight, please use them correctly)

Why are people always looking for shoulder to cry on?   I want to cry on some hot chick’s tits.

If you were Tom Hanks in Castaway, when you get back, what do you do?

If my walls could talk they would be pissed about all the paint in their mouths.

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure…I think we need to discuss what sort of trash we are talking about, because if someone ever picked up a used kleenex and threw that shit in a fucking treasure chest, I’m calling the goddamned authorities. 

It is a fact that no matter how much you try, no  matter how much patience you have, there are just some people in this world who suck so awfully that you cannot help them.

-Me, like 30 seconds ago….bitches.

Vantage Suck

I saw the movie Vantage Point on TV the other day.  Let me start off by saying no.  NO NO NO NO NO.  Absolutely not.  This movie sucked so much it went beyond unintentional hilarity and into the realm of the unbelievable.  When a movie is done right, the audience can accept almost anything.  Look at the predator series as an example, in the first one, no one walks away from that movie thinking “that thing had a nuclear bomb attached to it’s arm’, or ‘how can a species capable of interstellar travel have such crappy vision and crude hands?’  No, you think, ‘man, that movie fucking kicked ass!’  Then you move on to the second predator, a complete farce of a movie; however the power of the first movie allows you to still believe that a giant rasta-alien is running amok in LA, because come-on, isn’t that what LA is all about?  Then you have those complete abortions, the ruining of two franchises; I am of course referring to the AVP series.  These movies are so bad you forget how awesome the originals were and you stand up, face your television, throw your hands up, and simply say “NO”. 

Vantage Point, not having an awesome prequel to stand on, creates a world full of backstabbing, double agenting, and of course the evil United States.  The plot is really stupid and not worth my effort to describe, but let me highlight some of the ‘NO’ moments. 

A man, a terrorist, motivated by his brother’s kidnapping single handedly kills well over 15 secret service agents to get to the president.  ok…NO.  If Arnold was doing it, Chuck Norris, hell even Wesley Snipes, I might buy it.  But during this scene he is simply shooting the agents in the chest once or twice and moving on…ok…NO.  Secret Service agents wear god damned bullet proof vests, they also do this pesky thing called checking in.  But whatever, let’s say this guy is the most amazing assassin ever, why does he never reload?  I know about the whole re-loading in movies thing, but this was not set out to be a cheesy action flick, this was supposed to make you think, and it was supposed to be ‘real’  ok…NO.

Next, the man with the best cell phone ever.  Not only does his cell-phone control a remote controlled sniper rifle, it can tap into the Secret Service chatter, and it can detonate bombs.  ok…NO.  Speaking of bombs, after they remotely shoot the president’s stand in (because he was giving an outdoor speech in a foreign country, ok…NO) this awesome cellphone remotely detonates a bomb that was underneath the podium. OK…MOTHERFUCKING NO.  Are you telling me the Secret Service agents are not sweeping for packages sitting underneath the stage, and this was not a discrete package either, it was clearly a bomb.  I don’t care if one of the Secret Service agents was a defector, which brings me to my next point, one of the Secret Service agents was a defector.  ok….NO.  It takes a long time and numerous background checks simply to make it into the Secret Service, then you have to be assigned to the protection branch, not the investigation branch, then you have to actually pull the president’s detail.  Not the VP, not an Ex pres, not anyone else.  This guy was plotting from before he even joined the Secret Service to pull this off.  ok…ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NO.

Which brings me to my last no.  The little girl.  The terrorists have succeeded, they have the president in an ambulance, and amid the chaos they are fleeing the scene.  Only to have a little girl step into the road and the driver to swerve the ambulance, crashing horribly, killing the passenger (seat belt), severely hurting himself (seat belt), but having the president (back of ambulance, no seat belt, unrestrained) come to no harm.  ok…NO.  But why did the driver swerve, they had done it, they had killed so many people and now they had the President and the driver (who was the main bad guy) couldn’t just step on the gas and drive that bitch over?  Let me recap, international terrorist has president, about to get away scot free, won’t run over little girl.  ok………………………………………………………………………………………….WHAT A FUCKING COP OUT TO AN ALREADY SHITTY STORY, I WANT MY FUCKING TWO HOURS BACK YOU FUCKING COCK GOBLINS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

 

All in all I give Vantage Point my OK to watch with other people, but sadly pathetic to watch by yourself rating.

First fruits of the harvest

WHAT?!?!..what the hell does first fruits of the harvest mean?  Well my dear chap, in Africa in means Kwanzaa.  Yes that’s right Kwanzaa. 

Are you like me?  are you one of the 5.9 billion people on this planet that have no idea what Kwanzaa is, despite being taught what it is 7 consecutive years by the New Jersey public school system?

Well I am not really here to educate, since I have no clue what it is, I figure this website pretty much sums it all up.

Now that you are well versed in Kwanzaa, here is my list of complaints.   

1.  They say it isn’t meant to compete with Christmas or Hanukkah; however it begins the day after Christmas, and since Hanukkah is a floating holiday, there is a chance it can overlap.  Also while we are discussing Hanukkah, here is my problem with it.  The story goes, a bunch of refugees only had enough oil to light their lamp for one night, but for the grace of yahweh himself, they got 8 nights out of it.  WRONG.  Clearly what happened was whoever was in charge of the oil for the lamp, had no idea what he was talking about, they clearly had 8 nights worth of oil.  NEXT….MOVING ON.

2. or more like 1.5 .  If Kwanzaa is not competing with Chrismakkah, why the menorah?  They call it a Kinara, but damn it, I know a Menorah when I see one!

3.  The holiday came into existence in 1966.  It’s not even traditional, if not made to compete with the other kick-ass holidays, then why not put it in some other month, you know, a month that doesn’t already have a major holiday in it, like August.

4. Part of the celebration is to decorate your home in an African motif.  OK wait..like a fucking Christmas tree for Christmas or holiday lights?  Come on Kwanzaa.

5.  You give gifts.  Only whereas in Chrismakkah you give good stuff, for kwanzaa you give stuff you built.  While it would be cool to get something original from an artist, or a musician, I don’t want a plank of wood glued poorly to another plank of wood with the words “I LOVE YOU” sloppily written with black sharpie on the side. 

6.  It’s not religious, except let me quote the last sentence of the libation statement.  “For the creator who provides all things  great and small.  If that isn’t a reference to god then I don’t know what is.

7.  Even people who celebrate Kwanzaa don’t know what the hell it’s all about.

Look Kwanzaa, you are totally trying to compete with Christmas and Hanukkah, and Hanukkah was pumped up to compete with Christmas.  It’s OK, just come out and say, hey, if you aren’t christian or Jewish, or even if you are, and you don’t want to celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, why not give our holiday a shot?

Well it would disappoint Kwanzaans everywhere to discover that another holiday, which started in 1966, is more widely known than Kwanzaa.  I am of course talking about Festivus.  Sadly a completely made up holiday is more popular than….another completely made up holiday.

The Sports Paradox

Sports.  No, not the Huey Lewis album, but the thing on TV.  The bane of most girlfriend’s existences, sports, while not exclusive to men, is pretty much dominated by them.  Guys routinely will devote ungodly amounts of time just to sit on a couch/bar stool, and watch sports. 

The Sports Paradox refers to all forms of sports media other than the actual game itself.  Sports is seen as a very manly thing, very ROOOOAAARRRR and GRUNNNTTTTTT, and high five, slap butt (wait, why did Bob just grab my ass?), and chest bump (chest bumping is way cooler with girls).  What is seen as a faux pas, is a man, a manly man, who does not know about sports.  Let me set a scene:

Jim enters his local drinking establishment, the house lights are dim, and on the HDTVs are various sporting events.  Jim sets his 6’3″ hulking frame on a stool, removes his hard hat, and places it on the stool next to him.  The force of Jim’s manly hands ramming the hard hat down, cause plumes of grit, and grime to come off the helmet, causing the two men next to him to cough.  Jim looks at the bartender, and orders a Budweiser.  Jim asks the bar keep for a match, to which the man in the apron replies, no smoking sir.  Unfazed, Jim strikes a match against his 5 day stubble and the sulphur ignites in a blaze of what can only be described as pure man-god-coolness.  As Jim puffs away on his Marlboro red, one of the  men sitting next to him says, ” hey, did you see that pass Favre just threw?”  Jim replies “uhh, yeah..the..uhh..pass catcher..guy..did a…funny dance thing after he caught that..uh..pig ball”  The man looks at Jim, and asks “you…you don’t know football?”  Jim looks down at the floor, and begins sobbing, big salty man tears, “NO!” Jim cries out, “WHYYYY GODDDDDDDD”  He is then instantly transformed into a hair stylist with a lisp, and frosted tips, he runs out of the bar, crying, trips over his pumps, and gets mud all over his soul-patch.

Sad, so sad.  The story of Jim, while fictional, happens to men everyday (psychologically).  Being able to wax sports is a way for a man to show other men that he is in fact, the alpha dog.  (without having to beat up everyone)

In order for a man to understand sports, he must read every article in the sports section of his local rag, or watch ridiculous amounts of ESPN (not advisable).  Now here is where the paradox comes into play.  Any man, worth his salt (we’re talking biblical times when salt was like gold and oil’s bastard son), considers ESPN to be the Antichrist of sports, and wouldn’t be caught dead watching it (except for PTI, that show rocks).  Reading a sports section of a newspaper is like putting your hand in a blender, also it makes you appear weak and effeminate that you have to read a newspaper to follow sports.  So basically men have decided that we all have to know sports, but we can’t read about them, or watch TV to garner knowledge, we simply just have to know………….WHAT ARE WE, FUCKING OUT OF OUR MINDS?

How is it possible to know about sports without getting any information on them?  DAMN YOU SPORTS PARADOX!

It’s the end of the world as we know it

Every few years there is some loon who predicts that this is it, that the world is going to end.  God is angry at us, and he is going to put on his smiting boots and smite us all until he his smite wine.  The problem with all these end of the world scenarios is that most of the fine upstanding people preaching about these things, offer us tips on how we can avoid the fucking apocalypse.

I for one, do not want to be saved, I do not want to survive the apocalypse.  Just imagine, there you are, completely saved from the doom that befell EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN AND LOVED/LIKED/DID NOT HATE WITH A PASSION.  You are alone, the entire world is dead, everything you ever liked to do is completely retarded and pointless.  Just imagine your passion in life was to shop, sure no one can stop you from going to the mall and take anything you want, but with no one to show off your new Gucci bag how can you rub it in peoples faces?  Also, what if it is one of those zombie apocalypse things?  Now here you are stuck in 2009 fashion trends and the zombies will be laughing at you for being so behind the times.

But I digress; the real point of this entry to is talk about the upcoming doomsday scenario.  I know what you’re thinking, is it another one of those cult leaders, who ask us to drink the kool-aid? No.  This one is brought to you by people who have been dead for quite some time.  A long time ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a people known as the Mayans.  The Mayans had an extremely advanced calendar for their time, it mapped the stars with a great deal of accuracy and came in the month-to-month and even weekly planner editions!  (if you believed that last statement, just please stop reading and put your head in a microwave.)  There calendar was pretty accurate though, what with the alignment of heavenly bodies, lunar, and solar cycles.  What has everyone in a tiff, is the fact that their calendar inexplicably stops on what would be 12/21/2012 (man with that many twos and ones, it sounds legit), the winter solstice for 2012.  This unexplained stop has really freaked out the common idiot, and now it is up to me to lay some reason on you.

If you follow my steps you will either be very relieved or very frightened.

1. Find the closest calendar

2. Go to the last page

3. What’s the date?

My god, according to my calendar time ceases to exists on 12/31/2009.  I don’t know what’s going to happen, but man is it bad.  PEOPLE, it’s a fucking calendar it isn’t a prophecy, did anyone stop to think that writing up a calendar that never ended would take…forever?  Maybe the Mayans got tired of mapping out the planet alignments 2000 years in the future, maybe they thought, hey when we get close to running out of calendar we’ll just make some more.

But why that date?

Because the winter solstice marks a major point in the Mayan calendar, that’s a good place to stop don’t you think?  I mean, kind of like how our calendars stop at the end of the year and not just some random day in March.

Still not convinced?  OK, for all you skeptics who believe that a bunch of loin cloth wearing, human sacrificing, Mel Gibson Apocalypto people predicted the end of the world, then bet me.  That’s right, I will wager anyone any amount that the world will not end on 12/21/2012.  To enter, send me a comment, or e-mail from this site, give me a valid e-mail address and an amount and I will get a legally binding contract drawn up that if the world does not end on 12/21/2012 you will pay me, and if it does, then I will pay you, it’s that simple!

Also, for an end of the world type catastrophe, at least 5.5 billion people need to die ON that day. Nothing else qualifies as end of the world, doomsday type scenario, instead it would just be your run of the mill type catastrophe.

What’s Baba Ganoush?

So, many of you have seen that god awful bud light commercial where the guy (douche bag) is at a festival and draws a human body then proceeds to draw food inside of his stomach, culminating with his so called ‘favorite’ dish, Baba Ganoush (or baba ghanoush).  A woman, then asks “What’s Baba Ganoush?”  To which the earlier stated man replies, “I don’t know”

OK, so beyond the obvious, how could you not know what Baba Ganoush is, if it’s your favorite?  No, what bothers me about this 30 second travesty is the woman.  If you watch her, she over acts terribly.  Her reaction when the guy knocks the chicken leg out of the other guys hand, she is clearly a second late, and her attention is so focused that you wonder if she has eaten anything in the past year.  On top of her terrible acting, the way she asks her question makes me want to rip my ears off of my head and jam them down her throat, until her vocal chords pop.

While I’m on a rant, I might as well mention the Burger King commercial for the angry Whopper.  The commercial is awesome for the first 20 seconds, then comes completely undone in the last 10 seconds by the horrible acting of the patron who claims that his Whopper is extremely hot.  Listen, we have all eaten something that is too spicy for us to handle, for some it is a simple piece of wasabi, for others it is that bastard, Tabasco’s, sauce, and for others still, it is that dare to drink the entire spice rack.  But we all know the face on someone that says, my god, what have I done?  I can’t spit this out, but swallowing this will only result in my innards becoming liquid shit, and my ass vomiting out my internal organs. And the man in the Burger King commercial does NOT make that face, he simply opens his eyes nice and wide, and says “hot” while pointing at the burger.  At no point does he grab his mouth or anus, he does not turn bright red, and he does not open his mouth and try to get oxygen in.  He does not take a drink, steam does not come out of his ears…THIS MAN DISPLAYS NO REAL SYMPTOMS OF EATING SOMETHING TOO GODDAMN SPICY!!!

But I digress, and now want to talk about good acting in a television commercial.  AT&T has their commercials with the family and their role-over minutes.  The mother, who is constantly nagging her family about their role over minutes is absolutely perfect.  You know why she is absolutely perfect?  because she plays the role so well you don’t think you are watching a commercial, you find yourself caught up in the family dynamic.  I’m not going to dissect this commercial, or her acting merits, but next time you see any one of these commercials, please pay attention to the good and bad acting.

Oh and by the way, in case you were wondering what Baba Ganoush is, click here.