There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


It has been some days since I jotted anything down here, perhaps a fortnight, and it's good to be back. It's strange that many bloggers, and obviously I am including myself here, feel compelled to address their lapses in posting. I suppose it perpetuates the illusion of readership.

Last night as I headed out on a run I shouldn't have been on I encountered a familiar scent. At first I thought it was a skunk, but the smell was awfully isolated and the smiling faces I saw in a car brought back a few memories. "Wait a minute," I thought, "I used to be hip, I used to be cool." I actually wasn't thinking that at all, because the moment you start thinking you're cool you become instantly not. But we all know what mary j. smells like (which I had hoped to call Watson, extrapolating from Spiderman, which I thought was clever but never took off. This is like being cool. The moment you think you're being clever, you probably aren't). Mostly it made me happy to witness the simple joys of the hotbox, an especially daring move in Highland Park, where the cops are well-known for being quite meddlesome.

Last night I also figured out why I thought a guy coming out of McDonald's last week looked like a spokesperson for the brand doing his best Ronald McDonald impersonation, he worked for DHL. You can get a pretty good idea of the jacket and winter hat from the polo shirt and baseball cap being worn in that photo, but it still can't compete with UPS apparently. Really though, did DHL change there color scheme recently because they always came to my house growing up to pick up manuscripts and I swear they were dressed normal, and not ridiculous.

A final shout-out for the moment goes out to Cookie-pus, perhaps the worst-named children's dessert item in the history of man. Still, he makes one hell of an ice cream cake because they ingeniously incorporate a hint of mint ice cream in the nose region. I found this both unexpected and delicious as I managed to consume about a half or more of one of these at work the other day. I'm banking on the cake I ordered from Thomas Sweet last night to beat the pants off Carvel's offering, but I could be wrong, especially as I've yet to consume a Fudgy the Whale. Aw hell, I just like ice cream cake. And I'll be sure to pour some out for The Corner Confectionary, which met a sad demise this month. This place was an institution and Highland Park is much worse off without this bit of character.

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