Carl's Jr. (SHUDDER)

For the record, I can't even remember the last time I willfully ate Carl's Junior. I was probably 13 and drunk. I am therefore entitled to make the following post because I can always say (with Taco Bell chalupa firmly in mouth), "Dude. At least I don't eat at Carl's Jr."

Too long have I suffered through the Carl's Jr. commercials. Every time I hear the distinct sounds of slurping and gnashing, I just know that if I turn towards the monitor, I will see someone devouring one of their Buick-sized menu items with sauce oozing and dripping all over the place. It doesn't even matter what menu item is being attacked. Be it a burger, salad, taco salad, fries or a drink, every eating sound must be turned up to 11 just so they can get some kind of point across. The point, presumably, is to make us hungry by thinking, "Wow, that burger sure sounds delicious," which is actually a very clever tactic being as a Carl's Jr. burger is not, in any reality, delicious.

But there is a new menu item that I cannot abide. It is so bad, in fact, that each time the commercial comes on I have to mute the sound and turn away from the screen. For those of you who have seen it, I'm sure it won't surprise you to learn that the menu item to which I am referring is Carl's Jr.'s new Chili Cheeseburger. There are so many problems with this burger that it's hard to know where to begin.

First, there is the fact that Carl's Jr. is even making a chili cheeseburger. I'm not sure how the board meeting was going or what kind of mood the powers-that-be at Carl's Jr. were in. They apparently wanted their shit-on-a-shingle burger to actually take on the physical appearance of shit leaking out of an already shitastic cheeseburger. I can only assume one of the board members had an unpleasant encounter in the restroom (after eating Carl's Jr., of course) and thought maybe if they just scooped out the bowl and slopped it on one of their "burgers," they could have a marketable new menu item. And let's be honest - there is no way the Carl's Jr. "chili" is actual chili. It may take on some of the shapes of chili but I shudder to think what is actually in that concoction.

The second problem is the photo of the new chili cheeseburger, taken in traditional Carl's Jr. style. All of their menu items are taken from a low angle with a fish-eye lens to make the item appear as though it is twenty feet high; as though when you go to your local Carl's Jr. and order it, you are going to be directed outside where a forklift will bring it to you. Hopefully you brought a truck so you can get your leftovers home. What is inexcusable with the new chili cheeseburger photo is the fact (expounding on the last paragraph) that shit is gushing out of it. It's an enormous picture of shit flowing from a cheeseburger.

The third and final problem with the commercial is the way in which the burger is being eaten by the male actor. In the beginning of the commercial, the camera angle is taken from his backside, facing the female actor with whom he is lunching. She is loudly devouring her cheese-covered bacon fries when she pauses and informs her companion that he has "a little somthin' over here" as she mimics the area on his face where the "little somethin'" is located. The camera is still at his back when he asks if he got it. She looks up from her bacon fries and says, "More in this area," as she indicates on her left jowl where he missed. The camera finally takes the male actor's face full on and what we are presented with is his lower face absolutely COVERED in the Carl's Jr. "chili." Only we know it's not really chili. So what's on his face? You guys, he has a shit-covered face. His face is literally covered in shit. Everything below his nose is a chunky melange of putrid ass juice.

The first time I saw this commercial, I was mortified but I was in such a state of shock that I couldn't look away. The second time I saw the commercial, my stomach turned and dinner threated to make a reappearance. And now, well you know how it is now. Why couldn't Carl's Jr. just stick to their "Don't Bother Me I'm Eating" slogan and have a construction worker packing away their chili cheeseburger from the top of a building frame as "chili" rained from their 20 foot high burger onto the streets below? I mean, sure it's still disgusting but at least we wouldn't have a close up of someone's face covered in shit. Ugh. Okay I have to stop typing because I'm thinking about it too much. Any more time devoted to this post and I'll be horking into my trash can for sure.

Removing Wallpaper

(Quick note: Our new house is great, perfect, lovely, fun, exciting, exhausting and all those things.)

Four rooms in our new house are "decorated" with wallpaper. The previous tenant, RIP, was kind enough to only wallpaper two of the four walls in each room (with the exception of the bathroom which positively needed all four walls "decorated"). We also discovered that underneath the wallpaper is a perfectly fine textured wall.

I'm on the record as being anti-wallpaper since 1987. I hate it. I think it adds nothing to a home and in fact should be erased from existence.

PROOF THAT I'M RIGHT: You might think it looks good now. You think to yourself, "Hey! I found some beautiful wallpaper that I could slap on my walls to give this room an extra kick!" You think, "Golly gosh, wallpapering would only take a little time and effort on my part, after which I can enjoy the fruits of my labor!" But what you are not taking into consideration is the fact that wallpaper, like all of us, gets old. Not only does it get old, but it yellows and stains and rips and begins to peel. In short, it eventually looks disgusting. Which means that eventually, you will have to re-wallpaper or take it down entirely. And trust me, you will rue the day you wanted to put up wallpaper once you're scrubbing off the adhesive for countless hours. Here's why:

Long ago, in a time before time when the universe was just a little baby, Satan was sitting alone in his room. Mom and dad had gone out for dinner and drinks with friends, giving Satan the run of the house. Nothing was on TV, so he went into his room and got into his pajamas.

Being of a certain age, parts of Satan's body were beginning to develop. When he removed his clothes, Satan noticed that a certain lump between his legs got all tingly. He touched it. Then he touched it some more. He touched it so much that before he knew it, an explosion of euphoria erupted from his loins. Hot, steaming liquid exploded out of him like lava from a volcano. He doused the walls, covering them in a slick, sticky paste. When it was all over, he looked around and realized the mess he had caused. He looked at the clock and began to panic. Mom and dad would be home in a half hour!

Satan burst open the linen closet, digging for old towels or rags. The only thing he could find were perfect, fluffy new towels! "DAMMIT," Satan said aloud, "Mom must've made a trip to Goodwill!" He rushed down the hallway and into the garage, where sitting neatly by the recycling bin was a stack of newspapers. He grabbed some and headed back into his room. A quick touch revealed that the goo was still wet. He hastily placed newspaper on the wall. Obituaries, comics, community news, national news, advertisements, sports, all of it soon covered his walls.

When mom and dad arrived, they found Satan reading The Hardy Boys: The Search for the Snow Leopard silently in his room. Noticing the new walls, mom said quizzically, "Honey? Why do you have newspaper on your walls?" Satan brightened up and walked excitedly to the nearest wall. "Waddya think? Cool, huh? I thought my walls could use an extra kick!" Satan waited for the inevitable line of questions, the probing, and the eventual persecution once he tearfully explained the real reason for the papered wall. Instead, his parents just gave each other a look and didn't seem to mind. His dad shrugged, "Well, it's something, I'll give you that," and they walked out of the room.

And that is the story of how wallpaper adhesive (and subsequently wallpaper) was invented.

Hey Kids, Gather 'Round! This is What a Fear Mongerer Looks Like!

I realize that the past few posts have been videos. Perhaps someday my blog will return to its usual sparkling commentary full of innuendo, double entendre and a certain je ne sais quoi. In the mean time, here's another video! And might I just say, Bill O'Reilly keeps looking sexier and sexier. And by sexier I mean creepier. And by creepier I mean crazier. And by crazier I mean douchier. I could go on, but I'm sure you'll see what I mean...

Fred and Sharon

Monday was totally sucking until I stumbled across this. It is completely real and all I can say is Canada 2 US 0. First national health care, now the Best TV Ad In History:

Digital Animated Music

Thanks Ben!

The video below will only give you a rinky-dink preview. I highly suggest following their link for the whole thing.

AtomFilms.com: Funny Videos | Funny Cartoons | Comedy Central

HELLO?? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! HELLO?!?!

There is a big national conference going on in our building this week. Over 3000 people have descended upon the school and will be attending one talk or another, participating in one workshop or another. Sequestered far away in my indescribably gorgeous office, I don't have to deal with it too much; only when I have to take the occasional bathroom trip. The interesting folks who attend include professors, students, attorneys, lawyers, mediators, lawyers and attorneys. It is by far one of the most successful and highly-anticipated conferences of the season! You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a keynote speaker.

One thing I enjoy about such gatherings is the amount of diversity they bring. Oh don't get me wrong, it's still 99.9999999% white, but at least there are different shades. You know, the California whites are olive-skinned and freshly botoxed, the Midwest whites are walking around hugging everyone because it's above -30 degrees and the East coast whites are scowling because they were summoned from their Gregorian mansions. All in all, it's an interesting bunch.

One thing I don't enjoy is that all these people have to bring their obnoxious habits with them. I mean, come on. Leave your irritating personal behaviors at the door people! Awwww, that's rude. I have plenty annoying behaviors that I wear proudly on my sleeve every day. One of them is not, however, jabbing away on my mobile phone in elevators.

[I enter the 3rd floor elevator pushing a dolly full of boxes destined for the 2nd floor. A well-dressed woman on her mobile steps out when the door opens, looks around and says, "Whoops. This isn't the ground floor," and steps back in.]

"Hello? What? WHAT?? No, I'm in the LAW SCHOOL. THE LAW SCHOOL. I'M IN THE LAW SCHOOL. HELLO?? CAN YOU... HELLO? I'M. NO! I'M.... THE LAW SCHOOL. I'M IN THE LAW SCHOOL. DID YOU.... HELLO? HELLO?!?! THE! LAW! SCHOOL! I'M ALMOST THERE! NO! I'M LEAVING RIGHT NOW!!! THE LAW SCHOOL!! HELLO??!!"

The above quote is not exaggerated in the slightest. She was yelling so loud that she would have been the perfect candidate to scream for help had the elevator failed. At least in that case, I could be thankful for her grating tone rather than suffer through it. Add to this the fact that our elevators are tortuously slow and the perfect storm of Obnoxious Lady on Her Cell Phone in an Elevator rained hell upon me.

I shivered in frustration. She didn't pay me even the slightest bit of attention. If she said, nay, gestured something like, "Sorry about this!," then I would have been less irritated. As it stood, by the time the doors finally opened, I had half a mind to rip the phone out of her hand, scream, "SHE'LL CALL YOU BACK," into the receiver and throw it back at her. I probably would have at least said something snarky were it not for the packages with my name printed largely on top. Instead, I decided to take a page from my man Gandhi and walk away. Wait, that's not right! Gandhi was all about shankin' kidneys! Too bad I left my shank in the office.

Irregardless

I am usually tolerant of all types of lexicon abuse; I myself am privy to the occasional slip-up. There is one type of abuse, however, that I do not think should be tolerated and in fact should be punished (sexily). This type of abuse occurs when a self-professed erudite law student sends me emails and includes vocabulary that is misused but done in such a way as to make them sound more edumucated than s/he actually are.

Exhibit A:

"I will be unable to make this meeting today. I am confident that the agenda will be reviewed with aplomb and the goals of the meeting will be accomplished.

Please update me on any news or action items. Thank you."


My issue with the above email is the second sentence. First of all, I can't stand the way this student ingratiates themselves by a cheap attempt at stroking my ego. [Mincingly] Mmmmm, yes I'm sure my agenda will be reviewed with aplomb and the goals will be accomplished, mmmm, yes. The problem, if you haven't guessed already, is the use of the word "aplomb." I had to double-check because I had never heard "aplomb" used so poorly, but my gut was right and in fact, aplomb means "imperturbable self-possession, poised or assured." Therefore, taking the literal definition of the word and putting in context with the email doesn't make much sense. Here's what I think of when one uses the word aplomb:

Several English professors take their seats in plush, high-backed Louis XIV chairs. A sommelier pours each of them a fine cognac and lights their cigars. Lord Puffington, Regent Executor of Socksburyshire, turns to Baron von Shrewsberg with an air of petulance, "Baron, I say. You have been keeping up on the latest Trans-Atlantic property debate raging in the Colonies, have you not? You have yet to submit your report." The other professors eye each other delicately, for they realize the gross misstep in formality the Baron's oversight has caused. "My dear Lord Puffington, the report you requested cannot be completed until General Braxingly gives me his account of the native villages. Until then, it is unlikely we will make any further gains in taxable assets." Lord Puffington lazily regards the painting of his father, Lord Puffington The Great, above the mantle. "Baron. I have given you ample time to digest the situation and furthermore, you have assured me that by this time it would have been resolved. Now I find that not only is it unresolved, but you have placed the blame squarely upon General Braxlingly who coincidentally I heard from myself just this morning." The Baron shifts uncomfortably in his well-appointed Louis XIV chair. "My Lord, surely you...," but before the Baron could finish, Lord Puffington's eyes swell with rage and a pistol blast rings through the hall. The Baron's lifeless body slumps to the floor and the other professors try their best not to notice.

I hope you can see from the above example that Lord Puffington is chalk-full of aplomb.

Don't get me wrong, I understand what the student was trying to say. But if you're going to call yourself a graduate student, at least try and use words correctly. Or if not, go big and use a word that has absolutely no relevance but sounds cool. For instance, they could have said, "I am confident the agenda will be reviewed with laconic mellifluousness."

Weekend Haps

Off to a bad start: The word "haps" really annoys me. I could change it but then I'd be censoring myself.

WARNING! Super sexy interesting blog post ahead! It's so sexy your genitals might EXPLODE after the first paragraph!!

We sign our closing papers on the 14th; less than two weeks away. I hear that it takes eight illegally-harvested old growth Douglas Firs to make up one stack of closing papers. At least, that's what my friend Chandra tells me. I think she only knows that because one time she chained herself to a Doug Fir and when Weyerhaeuser came and took it (and her) away, she got an insider's look at the home buying industry's illegal paper trade. Sordid!

This is the fifth time Robin and I have moved together. The first few times, we moved from a small space to a slightly larger place and therefore didn't have a lot of things to worry about. If we didn't get it all boxed up before moving day, no big deal. However, after almost six years of mind-altering bliss, we have lots of crap. When we moved into our current house, we put a bunch of old sentimental things in boxes with the intention of going through them one day. They were placed in the office closet and are still there, untouched.

One thing we learned from our last move is that when you do a little planning and put in some elbow grease before hand, moving day is actually quite smooth (cue schmaltzy Disney "work song"). We enlisted the help of several friends but made sure to have all our possessions boxed up and ready to go the day before. We rented a gigantic U-Haul which was far too big, but one trip and twenty minutes of packing/unpacking later we were moved. We were so organized, in fact, that we even had a party in our new place that night. This efficient moving model is one we will again be employing in a couple of weeks. Actually, I think it fulfills a more primordial desire on both our parts because we're of German descent. Efficient German moving! Mach schnell!

In order to achieve maximum results, the Efficient German Moving Model requires a lot of prep work. So, this weekend was partially spent going through our clothes and Goodwilling a bunch of crap we never wear which turned out to be a lot. I completely forgot how skinny I used to be and might I just say, I'm glad my breasts finally developed. A long time ago we took a stab at Goodwilling our clothes but were for one reason or another still delusional about our body size. I remember thinking, "Yeah, well if I just lose most of my muscle mass and don't eat for a year I could totally fit into this!" This time around, we were much more comfortable getting rid of pitted-out t-shirts and size 30 pants.

Our bedroom was one thing; the office is quite another. Another aspect in the EGMM is not moving junk you'll never-in-a-million-years use again. This means going through all those closet boxes and throwing out or Craigslisting old crap that at one time or another was sentimental. The thing is, I can't remember why I was holding on to most of the stuff in the first place. I mean, my Bachelor's Degree? Who the hell needs that? I gave up after one box and instead packed up the book shelves and other random items.

The final step in the EGMM is making your friends move all your crap. This can easily be accomplished with the promise of delicious pizza and a keg of Ninkasi when they're done. Oh, and a ragin' party at the new digs. Now that I think about it, this post has become more about the EGMM than anything else. So because I love redundancy love, I will now give you the step-by-step successful achievement plan of the EGMM:

1. Find place to move
2. Mach schnell!
3. Lay out time line and indicate when things must be ready to move.
4. Arrange for change of mail and cable.
5. SCHNELL!
6. Call bank, loan companies, family, friends and others who need your new address.
7. Email and call your friends to help on moving day. Promise pizza and beer even if there won't be any. Reward those who wonder where their pizza and beer is with a quick kick in the gut. No time for sympathy!
8. Goodwill everything you don't need. This is not the time for sentimentality or remorse! If you do not use it any longer, it is of no use to you! Mach schnell!
9. Box absolutely everything possible in the weeks that precede the move. The night before, box up everything else.
10. MACH. SCHNELL.
11. On moving day, have your boxes properly labeled with what area of the new house you want them in along with "light" or "heavy." Anything not labeled with a weight is to be considered of medium weight that the average human can carry! If you cannot carry it, you are not average and therefore may be disposed of!
12. Listen to your commanding officers! If they request your help moving or unpacking something, do not hesitate! The system will collapse if you take ONE SECOND to contemplate your action! Verstehen Sie? Mach Schnell!!

I swear I'm not crazy.