Sincerest Form of Flattery

I love the McFlurry™.

To me, on the market, on any market, there is no more blatant a rip off of another company's developed and successful product. Even beyond the iPod clones.

I was working at McDonald's when they rolled out the McFlurry™, I know what kind of shit they were trying to pull.

Here's how it works, they fill a cup full of their signature ice cream, then they drop some topping on top. Then, they stick a special spoon in to the mix, which clips in to the McFlurry™ machine and is supposedly going to stir your McFlurry™ until it realizes a near Blizzard™ consistency.

But the reality of it is that the person that's making your McFlurry™ doesn't give two shits about how your McFlurry™ tastes because he makes $6.25 an hour... and the only reason he got that is because he's a crew lead (meaning he's the only one of the 10 people they hired over the summer that didn't quit with the coming school year).He held the McFlurry™ in the machine just long enough to make it look like he made an effort. But he didn't. The only thing mixed at the bottom is the ice cream and the little bit of topping the McFlurry™ spoon took to the bottom.

Enjoy your delicious McFlurry™.

Speaking of Potatoes

Did you know that a micro-waved potato is the 3rd hottest thing on the planet, following Thermite and Molten Steel.

What's that you say? Not true?

Tell that to the roof of my mouth.

What More Can I Say to You?

I like music. A lot more than I should.

If you had known me in high school, you'd think I was a raving ego maniac. And it's true. I was, mostly because of my above average vocals. I'm still an ego maniac, but there's less to back up my claims now.

I'm still not a bad singer, but I'm certainly not good enough to do anything with it, anymore. My last high school choir instructor (we had three) has even been quoted saying, "A real shame. He had a lot of potential. The true definition of a 'never was'."

Which is absolutely true. And had I gone to a vocal instructor and learned all the tricks of the trade, like the inward cough, I might even be singing in a semi-professional/professional capacity. Possibly in an opera. I could have been that good.

But I've met some of the people who sing professionally. Not even I was that bad. I don't think I could have done it. Not while still maintaining my current bad attitude. I'm kind of glad things are the way they are.

The only problem is that I can't let go of music.

I never had the kind of training required to go anywhere with it, though.

I can barely read music (I only read tenor clef). I can't play the piano. My wife is a musician, it makes things that much more discouraging when it comes to actually doing something about the crap that rattles around my head.

I hear it, and it goes quickly. I can see why people think composers are insane. They are. I feel like I'm going crazy with all of this rattling around. Worse yet, if I get it out, is it mine? Or did I steal it from someone?

I try to tell my wife what it's like, but I feel bad. I feel like I'm offending her, or that she thinks I'm crazy.

But, then, am I deluding myself? Is it just my ego? Or my inability to let go of the things that aren't anymore?

Wow... this is all so depressing. I didn't think this post would end up this serious. I'll say something to lighten the mood.

Potato.

Continued Torment

Do you have sibling? Many siblings? Do they break your shit?

Mine does. It's non stop. Even now that I've moved out of my parents' house.

He's broken things you wouldn't believe, studio quality headphones, infinity speakers, VCRs, game controllers, computers, airsoft guns, cameras... the list goes on. It does.

Trust me.

We had him over on Sunday for a bit of Ole Piper. It's good, old fashioned greasy pizza. Tastes good, but eating in the restaurant is not a pleasant experience. We elected to eat at my house.

During the course of the meal, my brother made it a point to declare his loves for olives, black and green. Feeling seasoned, I determined the time to be right to introduce my junior sibling to the Kalmata variety. I pulled out the jar and my olive pitter, I then deftly pitted the olive in question and placed the olive pitter in the sink. I handed him the olive, and I'd say he enjoyed it.

Dinner wrapped up, and we were about to head out. I ran to the latrine and finished up my business. I walk back in to the kitchen, and there's my brother. Looking out of sorts.

"What's up?"

"Your olive pitter broke."

A Missing Chapter

Does anybody but me actually admin to enjoying Star Trek?

I thought not, but I'm going to tell you about some little revelation I had. In the first and second seasons of every Star Trek show, they have no idea what the fuck they're doing. Well, maybe on Enterprise, which might explain the lack of charm people felt towards the whole show.

The first season of The Next Generation, or TNG, was rife with poor acting and bad ideas. Picard's character was written as the anti-Kirk, but Stewart play him just like Kirk, down to the pauses between words... or mid-words, as it were. There were rehashes of Original Series, or TOS, episodes and homages that went way past homages and straight in to bludgeoning. All of the character motives lacked any subtleties or clever nuances that kept the viewers interested in later episodes.

In short, it's fascinating to watch, and god-damned hilarious.

But I'm going to focus on one episode in particular. An episode I had no idea even existed until 2001 or so.

Season 1, Episode 25.

In this Episode, an Admiral comes to take the Enterprise away from Picard to use for his own devices. During all of this, they discover that the Admiral is actually an alien, whoo took over the Admiral's body and was trying to make the Enterprise a part of an alien fleet loyal to the aliens who had taken over bodies in the upper echelons of Star Fleet's ranking staff.

Before this episode, there is never a mention of any aliens or this plot, mostly due to the caustic nature of the show in it's infancy. I'm willing to deal with this.

But they never mention this again. Ever. Not even in stagnant conversation.

Like during a poker game.

"Commander, do you remember at the end of the first year, when all hell broke the fuck loose?"

"No, and neither should you. Raise, indiscriminate amount, regardless of the fact that we don't have currency."

It made me hope that it would come back and bite them in the ass later... but I didn't even get that satisfaction.

Instead... we got the Borg.

And someone stopped doing drugs.

DIY Your Life

My father was never what you'd call a "handy" man. Thanks to that, neither was I.

I've tried to be, lately, with The Wife's father's help. And I've have some successes. And some longer term failures.

The work I did solo, on the shower, was a tremendous success. I had help with the kitchen sink (which I'd discovered recently, actually leaks). But guess what, I know how to fix it. That's right, this morning, I found inspiration on one of my two favorite places to think.

I always do my best thinking in bed, just before sleep claims my consciousness. My second muse inducing spot? Like any other man, it's on the can.

This morning, that's where I got the idea that perhaps, just maybe... the water pressure is too high. I never stopped to put two and two together, but there it is. And you know what? It's gonna work. I always get this feeling when I'm right.

That's why it always seems like I'm right, Gina, because I generally don't push if I'm not sure.

And yet, here I am, nervous like a school boy who might have written something particularly nasty about a teacher he was attracted to and not realized that she had just walked by (Kurt, if you're out there, you remember what I'm talking about).

I'm willing to cut a hole in a wall, jam my arm thru some fiberglass (which, I've discovered, I'm extremely allergic to) and re-pipe the bathroom, caution to the wind, "who cares about water damage"? But the idea of opening up my Xbox360, a $250 dollar item, has me in a cold sweat.

It's Alanis Morissette's definition of Ironic.

Distended Elation

I no longer want an iPod touch.

The lack of an "Add Event" to calendar feature just kills me.

Really, Apple, what the fuck?