Things From Around the Interwebs: Ryan Gosling Won’t Eat His Cereal Edition

The nature of my job allows for quite a bit of down time throughout the work day.  However, I can’t leave the room and am further restricted by being more or less changed to a workstation the entire time.  It’s not all bad, as I have plenty of time to catch up on my reading of great American novels, balance the family budget, or crank out new and exciting blog posts for you all to enjoy.

Of course, most of that time is actually spent poring over the Internet in search of things like…Ryan Gosling refusing to eat his cereal.  This may be the best thing to hit the Internet since boom goes the dynamite.

My wife was decidedly less amused at Mr. Gosling’s refusal to eat his Wheaties, but I enjoyed it thoroughly.  You be the judge.  Who’s right?


(Ad)dressing Salad

saladLet’s be honest.  The only reason for the existence of salad is as an excuse to eat salad dressing.  Think about it.  Have you ever eaten a bowl of lettuce and radish slices without some creamy, cheesy, oily, tangy substance slathered all over it?  On purpose?  Of course not, why would you?  The thought has probably never even crossed your mind.  But admit it, on a late night snack run to the fridge you’ve stood there in the soft glow of that single bulb, in only your bathrobe and slippers, taken a quick glance around and considered sucking some Hidden Valley Ranch straight from the bottle.  Its OK to admit it.

How else can you explain man’s constant urge to find new and exotic ways in which to use salad dressing?  It is now common place to find Blue Cheese alongside buffalo wings, or Italian dressing to be used as a chicken marinade.  And that secret sauce on your burger?  C’mon, we all know that’s Thousand Island.  Don’t even get me started on Ranch.  If it can be dipped, it will be dipped into Ranch dressing.  French frys, onion rings, carrot sticks, Snicker bars, and chicken in all its unnatrual forms; nuggest, fingers, and tenders.

We all know its true, but why do we hide from it?  Why does my wife look at me cockeyed when I scrape my fork across my empty dinner plate, trying to collect the last tiny puddles of dressing?  Would she rather I lick the plate clean or waste those last precious droplets?  And by the way, salad dressing ain’t exactly cheap and in THIS ECONOMY you need to get the most for your dollar.

(Quick aside, my new pet peeve is when people end every negative thought with “in this economy.”  Things like, “Wow, its so hard to find a place to park downtown, in this economy.”  Man, that really bugs me.)

This is not to say that salad dressing cannot be abused.  I have a friend who has put Blue Cheese on a toasted bagel and Creamy Caesar on a burrito.  That’s just wrong.

Whether you’re a Ken’s Steakhouse man, a Wish-Bone enthusiast, or just like regular old Kraft, don’t be ashamed.  We can all put on airs when we go to the fancy restaruants, (“Oh, just a little spritz of olive oil for me, or maybe a light vinigerette if you have it.”) but deep down we know if we were true to ourselves we’d say, “Hold the lettuce and bring me a bowl of croutons drenched in Honey Mustard!”

YouTube Friday: I don’t even know what to call this

You know, I hate to look down my nose at other Christians but when they go and do something like this its awfully hard not to.  I’ve been raised in church my entire life and know hundreds, if not thousands, of church going folks, and have been to countless churches around the country and I have never in my life witnessed something even remotely close to what you are about to watch.  If you’re at work, close your office door so your co-workers can’t hear your reaction or they may think you’ve gone stark raving mad.  Hat tip to The Search where I first saw this gem.

Unfortunately, now that its gone viral, this will be the image a hearty portion of the world’s unchurched will have when they think of Sunday morning services.

YouTube Friday: Duck Soup

I watched Duck Soup last week end, which stars the four Marx brothers:  Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo.  Actually, I watched it twice.  Its only about an hour long so I had to see it two times to feel I got a whole movies worth.  That’s not true, it crams so much absurdity into one hour that any longer and it would’ve made my brain melt.  I was going to do a full Wednesday Review of it, but to be honest I wouldn’t even know where to start.  Like I said, it’s so chock full of delicious absurdity that a proper review would be pointless.  Whether its the one-liners, the slapstick, or the over-the-top musical numbers, it’s comedy of the highest degree.  There’s no better example of all those elements working together in perfect harmony than this Goin’ to War musical number.  Enjoy.

McCain Nabs Crucial Vietnamese Jailer Endorsement!

Election season is always good for a bizarre news story or two and I particularly enjoy all the celebrity endorsements candidates get.  What, Liza Manelli is backing Obama?  Well, I did love Cabaret so I guess I’ll vote for him too.  Almost always ridiculous.  But this one has gotta be one of the weirdest.  McCain’s old jailer from his Hanoi Hilton days has given his endorsement to the Senator from Arizona.  I don’t know which is more strange, the endorsement, or that the jailer is described thusly:  “a 75-year-old retiree and amateur ballroom dancer.”  Must be American election season.

The First Time

They say you always remember your first time.  I know I do.

Jen and I hadn’t been married long.  I’m not sure how long, but the air was still warm out so it was probably in September.  It was a Monday.  I had just gotten home from an evening of basketball.  I came up stairs, hot and sweaty, ready to take a shower.  Jen was in the bathroom getting ready for bed.  I walked into the bathroom and we started chit-chatting about the day while she brushed her hair.  As we wrapped up our conversation, I looked deep into her dark brown eyes, said, “I love you” and leaned in for a kiss.  As I leaned toward her, I heard what sounded like a short bugle call.  Only it wasn’t a bugle.  I don’t know if it was my tired muscles or the sudden leaning forward, but my muscles relaxed and a sound as natural as a baby’s laugh (but not quite as beloved) slipped out.  And that was the first time I farted in front of my wife.  They say you always remember your first.  Is that what they mean?