Of the breakfast blues and petty pastry politics

Gahh. Monday. School doesn't start until tomorrow and I'm already feeling the sluggish, sloshing, sandy feeling of Monday. I have senior portraits today, what fun. Later, I think I'll take a history exam or two. Summer classes are a bitch, by the way.

What could possibly help me survive this god awful day? All of my cartoon pals on the television tell me to have a good breakfast every day to help me concentrate and perform better in school and aim better and shoot better and be more intimidating during interrogations. Sounds like something I can definitely dig. I've always wanted to learn how to fly; to think it's as simple as a bowl of Apple Jacks. Time for this sports fan to wrassle 'imself up some breakfast.

I've come to learn that when you're a smartass, simple things like breakfast suddenly become much more eventful. Allow me to demonstrate.

  • "Jeez, is anyone buying the REGULAR sized Frosted Shreded Wheat?"
  • "I don't even know what the word 'skim' is supposed to mean."
  • "Where do they find these kids to take the photos for these cereal boxes? Nobody his age spikes his hair, that's for damn sure."
  • "Mom, we're out of Sunny D and I need you to finish filling this pitcher with urine so that I can make more. I'll be right back with the toothpaste."
That not doing it for you? How about a nice old people rant?

There was a time in my family when a mother would get out the goddamn waffle iron and make waffles for her family instead of strutting around all day wearing jeans and being a whore. Thank GOD we have those damned Ego waffles now so that Mommy can push her bastard children out the door and get back to turning tricks on her front porch. I find it hard to eat breakfast in the morning; my mind says I'm hungry, but my stomach won't wake up. I've never been able to eat eggs at all without getting gas. That's not a problem anymore, considering my daughter in law happens to smell much worse than that. I think the government has Tony the Tiger locked up somewhere. When I was in the service, we had no tolerance for sugar cereal. It was either plain Cheerios, or you went hungry until one of your buddies got his foot blown off by a land mine. Goddammit woman, hurry up with my eggs over there! You goddamn Jew-whore!

Poor grandpa. Anyways, while I was gone, I scrounged around and finally found me some Toaster Strudel. Yippee. Now THAT'S a good breakfast. That is, if you're a professional gamer. As for us fans of physical activity every once in a few months, those things really mess with your stomach. I'm already regretting this decision.

Toaster Strudel kinda bothers me, though, and not just physically. I'm talking about the stupid advertising war they've decided to declare on poor ol' Pop Tarts. Ever notice this? They constantly compare themselves to Pop Tarts. Toaster Strudel and Pop Tarts are two separate entities in my book. They're not even in the same food group. Toaster Strudel are for a home breakfast in front of the computer; Pop Tarts are something you eat on a bus. And yet, those arrogant bastards over at Pillsbury have decided they want to take the low road and use smear tactics in their commercials.

What did Pop Tarts ever do to anyone? Ol' Grumpy Gramps was telling me about how when he was a kid, they had to walk for twelve miles a day, barefoot, for no reason. What do you think he brought as a snack? Toaster Strudel would have been too messy. Only Pop Tarts come in that nice little silvery pouch. If it weren't for Pop Tarts, I may not even be here today. Who does Pillsbury think they are?

I think I'll send them a letter with a picture of my grandpa, asking them to look him in the eye and tell him Pop Tarts are no good. We'll see if these guys have a heart or not. Until then, I'm going to finish my breakfast.



Of frequently found fallacies following fellatio

Okay, so here's something that's been bugging me for a while.

Maybe this is just American society being dumb again, but I've noticed something about relationships and the way other people that are not in them view members of said relationship after certain events occur.


Case 1: Matt and Stacy have been dating for as long as anyone can remember. Now high school seniors, they first met on the first day of junior high and have been inseparable ever since. Nobody doubted that they were madly in love. Their friends and family were all supportive of their relationship, having never seen a more perfect couple. Even after all this time, they still call each other often, go out on dates every Friday night, and have always respected each others' boundaries.

Until one night, they decided they were both ready for Stacy to give Matt a blowjob. They've never had sex before, or done anything really close to it until now, and have decided that they are both ready. Other than that, it's just another normal date.

By Monday, the whole school knows and is calling Stacy a slut behind her back. Some are calling her a slut to her face. They talk about it on the phone later that night, decide it's best for them to not be seen together, and they break up.


Case 2: Guy and Jennifer have been dating for about three weeks now. They don't go to the same school, but met at a basketball game and Guy got Jennifer's number through a friend. They too are happy together, still enjoying the fruits of a new relationship by staying up all night on the phone, getting to know each other, and talking about whatever they want. It's been a week since Guy last saw Jennifer, but they've finally got a date. Guy's parents are gone for the weekend and Jennifer's parents both work late. Guy planned on picking up Jennifer and taking her back to his place. She said that was cool.

They ended up fucking that night, which was no big deal. Neither of them were virgins. But Jennifer was a classy girl and refused to give Guy a blowjob. Being a gentleman, he didn't push it.

By Monday, the school was already sick of talking about them. Some still didn't know they were going out. Most didn't care. It was no big deal. People have sex all the time, why make a big deal about it?


Anybody else see the problem here? I've noticed that, according to the modern teen, fucking is okay, but oral sex is not. If two people fuck, they're obviously in love. None of our business, let's talk about that slut who gave her boyfriend a blowjob.

That's just dumb. First of all, I hate listening to gossip in the first place. I don't care who fucked who, who's dating who, who killed who with who's car, I don't care. But I'll be honest, this kinda bugs me. To know that my generation places these sorts of backwards priorities on sex is very disturbing. I'm all for two people doing whatever they want as long as they're actually in love and not just being whores. But why is one sex act any different from another? Why does that even matter?

Then, of course, there's gay sex. ANY time you have gays getting together, you hear about it. At least, this is how it is around here. There are plenty of gays around here to make me not really care what they do. It's just like two straight people: I just don't care. But some people still think this is some new and exciting thing, guys dating guys and girls dating girls. I'm sick of hearing it. If they're my friends, I'll hear it from them. If they're not my friends, I don't give a fuck.

To get back to my main point, I'm just sick of hearing about any of this shit. But the fact that people my age are saying that there's nothing wrong with a girl who fucks around every weekend but a girl who gives her boyfriend a blowjob is a slut. It's stupid. High school is stupid.



Of adventures in baking

Behold! for I am a man in the kitchen!

What is it about baking that is so feminine? We always assume that, if someone is female, they are baking. Or, if someone is baking, they are female. Or, if something has been baked, they are either Cheech & Chong or they are cookies baked by the womenfolk. And yet, here I am, a card-carrying man, and I am baking cookies and posting about it on the internet.

Perhaps I am simply looking for something edgy to write about, seeing as how my summer has drawn to a close and now refuses to offer such sweet story ideas as I have been able to write about in prior months. (Er, month, seeing as how this blog hasn't been around for very long.) They told me to stick to easy jokes. Nutshots, poop jokes, and a lethargic cartoon cat with an obsession with Italian food were all safe; I was to never touch baking jokes. Call this my way of sticking it to those Ivy leaguers with their nice jackets and their unpronouncable wines and their tiny breads and their fancy soaps and their disgusting cheeses and their shiny money and their fast cars and their over-achieving sons and their...stuff. I will be edgy and daring. I will talk about a subject so taboo that neither Obama nor McCain nor Jesus Christ (who is running as an independant this year) dare to mention it: men baking.

Ignore those queers on the Food Network for a second. Those are just puppets who found a good way to make money. I'm talking about real, live men who bake. (Gays aside as well, they do whatever they want without consequence) Men like me. Us male bakers have lived either in fear of being discovered, or have been living in ridicule for their lifestyle choice. I say, no more! For too long have we been forced to give up credit for delicious, delicious brownies for fear of being labeled fudge packers; too long have we hid our eggs and sticks of butter from sight, lest we be thought of as "butter dumpsters". Such injustices are not to be tolerated any longer.

Men! Bakers! Rise up against your female counterparts! Rise up against your dumbass friends who mock your secret life! Rise up against the society that has rejected you! RISE UP!

Looking back, this is pretty stupid. There are plenty of male bakers out there. What the hell was I thinking?

Must have been the salvia in those cookies.



Of missing you (the reader) and missed opportunities

Alas, I am blogging again.

I took a good month off to collect my thoughts, finish up some summer classes (which are still not done) and do other things besides blogging, like picking my nose and having fun with friends. But, now that both of those things are gone, I am back to doing what I dread having to do even though it's not my job and no one appreciates.

As punishment for not missing me enough, I'll tell you the most boring story I can think of.

Okay, so yesterday was commissary day at my house. Commissary day is pretty much Christmas around here; we're usually just dying of starvation and cursing the name of God by then. Personally, I was in need of shower soap. Thankfully, we got two bottles of it. While I was out on my run this morning, I was thinking about how nice my shower was going to be now that I actually had soap and didn't have to scrub my ass with laundry detergent. I get home and see the two bottles still on the kitchen counter. I grab one and head upstairs to take my glorious shower. It was pleasant and yet uneventful, just how I like them. The rest of my morning goes rather well, dining on last night's pizza, scanning the major cable news networks on the off chance that I may get mentioned, beating the shit out of my aging dog.

But later today, my mom asks me why I only took one bottle upstairs and left the other one on the counter.

"Jeez, mom, are you saying I'm really that dirty?"

That's what I should have said. It would have been clever. Probably would have scored a chuckle; entertaining my mother in the slightest is my aim every day. But what did I actually say?


How gay! I didn't think of the better line until, like, 12 minutes ago.

I've been sulking for the rest of the day, shoving cake down my throat and playing old N64 games ever since. I hate missing opportunities like that. Seems to happen all the time. I like blogging because I get to fine tune my jokes before hitting "Publish". Why, this very sentence that I am typing right now is the result of four rough drafts and sixteen revisions, along with two peer reviews. But all of the effort is nice, because, being a perfectionist, I get to make every word perfect before I post it.

So I guess I'm glad I'm back to the blogging scene. This particular post didn't go as poorly as I thought it would.

ON A SERIOUS NOTE: I'm currently awaiting an inline phantom power source for my new mic that I just bought. Once I get it, I think I may start some kind of audio version of this blog. Uncyclopedians, I'd love to feature you guys on the show via Skype if you'd like. Start Special:Emailuser'ing me before I start doing it to you to request interviews.