A dollop of karma

Another collection of random mini-posts.


* Wendy's doesn't dip the buffalo chicken. Everyone needs to know that. I've mentioned the allure of generic buffalo stuff before.

I got myself one of those Wendy's buffalo chicken sandwiches, the ones they gratuitously show dunking in sauce on the commercial. Scam! They don't come close to dunking it in sauce.

A silver dollar. That's it. Merely dollop-sized, it tis. Dollop, I say! Scant traces of buffalo wing. It wouldn't bother me so much if they didn't go out of their way to advertise the "fact" that it's completely dunked in sauce.

Maybe I shouldn't expect so much out of a second rate fastfood joint, but once again, no one anywhere ever gets buffalo stuff right. I don't know what bothers me more: the being cheated once again, or the lack of reliable wing stuff.

Oh what times are these, when you can't even trust the veracity of fastfood advertising??

[UPDATE: Look at this google search. Haha! Go to hell, Wendy's! -- as they quake in their boots. Hey, I'm a blogger, man... that means, like, ya know, I have like, the power? of teh internets? Tubular. Yeah.]


* I was watching Ghost in the Shell, one of the more popular anime shows you can catch on Adult Swim, and realized a Japanese girl I was semi-dating in college passed off the goldfish story as her own. That's ok, because I was sending her Phish lyrics and calling them my own. Karmic retribution?


* Why does everyone but me think you can assemble an army and invade the Caucasuses in under 25 minutes? Yes, I'm sure you're going to walk home, shower, change, buy beer, and be back in 20. But allll the same you might as well head out 15 minutes ahead of time, just to be sure. I know it doesn't bother you to stumble over strangers in the dark to find a seat, but it bothers me. Eh.


* Am I the only person who karmically balances their grocery cart? You know how when you go shopping for beer, but you buy other stuff? Good healthy stuff like vegetables and tofu, to offset the beer?

Naw, me neither.

Incidentally, I have enough salad makings to feed all the sheep in New Zealand. Grazing, anyone? Broccoli. We're talkin' qwest field sized. You could dunk an escalade in the hummus.


* I was Dad for a day today. My bro's wife and kids came to town to see the science museum. She asked if I wanted to help out and of course I said yes.

There's something odd about being "Dad", especially when the kids can walk and talk. I'm not the sort to get overly emotional about stuff like this, but it hits you right there when a little kid calls you Daddy and wants to be picked up. You don't see it coming. It's like being sucker punched with love.

Right there in the same spot that elephant got up from when you found out your Dad wasn't going to die. And you know, you just know, in that instant, that you would do anything for this little person. Suddenly the thought of being a parent is no longer quite so fearsome (you mean there's an upside?).

These are the sorts of poignant moments you have when your nephews are crawling through a giant rectum. What are these positive emotions I'm feeling? I still have emotions? Didn't alcohol deaden all those pathways yet? I guess not.

She wants me to take the boys to the museum alone next time. That would be my first solo. I should be looking for ways to shun the responsibility, but I'm actually really looking forward to it. The boys are 6 and 3.5.

Doesn't she know what a scatter brained idiot I am? And then the truly scary thought sets in: if she trusts me, she must think I wouldn't make a terrible father. Damn. There goes another excuse.


* Signs you're getting older number 782: you look at the ring finger of the girl before checking out her ass.


That's all for now.