This salsa was made in New York City.

I was in New York City this last weekend, from Thursday through Sunday. It was a fun trip. What did I learn?

-If you can only find Batman gloves and black face paint rather than a full Batman halloween costume, then find a name tag and some business casual wear and go as Consultant Batman. (My name tag says BCG: Batman Consulting Group.)

-A bad combination: daylight savings time and drunk kids who need to set an alarm to wake up at 7:00 am. You may think that since we adjust the clocks back that, if anything, people woke up an hour earlier than normal. No. Drunkenness found a way to screw even that up, so that alarms still woke them up at the wrong time. If they woke up at all.

-On that note, we set a new record for time changes: 1. Move clocks 1 hour forwad as we hit Eastern Time. 2. Daylight savings time last night, move clocks back an hour. 3. Fly back to Chicago, where we adjust the clocks back an hour. 4. Drive to South Bend, where we move the clocks forward an hour.

-The musical "Movin' Out"-Billy Joel's musical-sucked. Except for the S&M scene. What?

-New York is pretty fun.

That's all

Can I get a WTF?

Holy crap.

http://prussianblue.net/index.htm

This is the scariest thing I have seen this year. It's scary in a way that deeply, deeply disturbs me. I am warning you now, it may seem cute, and you may be surprised at first, but honestly, this is the most psychlogically perturbing thing you will see all week, nay, all month.

Follow the link if you dare.

Girls are funny?

THE CONTENT OF THIS POST HAS BEEN EDITED, BECAUSE IT WAS PRETTY OFFENSIVE BEFORE TO ABOUT HALF THE POPULATION OF THE ENGLISH-SPEAKING WORLD. I HAVE REMOVED IT AND REPLACED IT WITH SOMETHING THAT SUITS EVERYONE A LITTLE BETTER: A PICTURE OF EVERYONE'S FAVORITE ANNOYING COUSIN, BALKI BARTOKOMOUS.

Meatloaf

The recording artist not the food.

Is awesome.

Some great songs:

Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are
I'd Lie for You (and that's the Truth)
Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back
Not a Dry Eye in the House
Midnight at the Lost and Found

and of course

Bat out of Hell


Trivia (and I know I've asked some of you this one already):

In the song "Bat out of Hell," the bat in the title is a metaphor for what?

Put your answer in the comment section of this post. Make sure you write your name. If you get it right, I'll give you something.

Oreos

So I was at LaFortune today, specifically, at the huddle. I was buying mint 'n creme oreos on this particular trip, and when I brought the green and white cream filled cookies to the counter, the register guy commented that, "these are quite the popular item tonight." Now let me tell you they're pretty good. I told him they were especially good refridgerated. However, he informed me that he was not a fan of the cookie, for he only liked his cream filling to be white. Now I know what you're thinking.

This guy is a racist.

A cookie racist.

I held my tongue, but inside, my blood was boiling. I paid and quietly left, but I wanted to explode at him. Come on man. Expand your cookie borders. Embrace other cookie cultures. Respect your cookie brothers.

I wanted to reply; "Oh yeah, bigot? Do you like the (brown-colored) coffee oreos? Or do you think they're lazy?

Jerk.

This is for you

This blog entry goes out to Jess Fishwick, who reads this blog more than any of you suckers (as far as I can tell. Maybe Charlie reads it more, I don't know). She's my coolest friend, if the coolness quotient is determined by number of times that the friend in question reads this blog.

Everyone else: you've got a lot of work to do to prove our friendship.

Lost

I've started watching Lost on DVD. It began yesterday, and as of right now I have seen about 11 or 12 episodes, i don't know, they run together. The thing that pisses me off for all you Lost fans out there: the show is outlined around a 5 or 6 YEAR story arc. WTS. Can they not just bring themselves to end it on a high note, instead of dragging on for as long as possible? Oh man.

Also, my search for pumpkin beer has been less than fruitful as of late. By the time I find it, I will have already discovered who killed Kennedy, stumbled upon the fountain of youth, worked my way through a cure for cancer, and had all of my Lost questions answered, and yet pumpkin beer is still harder to find.

But it tastes so good when it hits your lips.

Space is fake

Life is planning to kick you in the junk. Just be wary of this inevitability. I'm almost afraid to ask if things are going well for you, because, sorry, your glad tidings can only signal impending doom. Nothing is easy. But without the bitter, I guess the sweet just ain't as sweet.

Read "To a Skylark" by Shelly.