The Good Stuff

So Gia came home the other day with a surprise for me.

She scored some really good stuff. ::wink:: South of the border stuff, if ya know what I mean. ::nudge:: Real primo stuff...pure. From Mexico. ::nod::

Wow...I'm so damn square I can't even pull off an easy drug joke.



That's some Mexican Coke right there, as in the soda. And instead of that high fructose corn syrup that's used in the recipe here in the States, it's made with pure cane sugar. And it's becoming more and more popular north of the border because of it.

I don't know about you, but high fructose corn syrup kinda freaks me out. I've mentioned this to Gia in the past and she has kept her eye out for Mexican Coke. I'm not sure my taste buds are discerning enough to tell you that it is definitively better. It does taste different. But just knowing the ingredients, and lack thereof, makes me think it tastes better.

That's good enough for me.

You ever score some sweet Mexican Coke?

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Note: Remember to play the Badgerdaddy Trivia Challenge every day. Is it still hip to be square?

(Sub)Urban Legends

I love a good urban legend. I really do.

Something that's meant to throw a good scare into us. Whether it's watching out for the guy with a hook instead of a hand terrorizing kids making out down by the lake, or being careful not to eat Pop-Rocks with any kind of carbonated drink. The best urban legends give our inner twelve-year-old the chills or the thrills. The cheapest kind.

Then there are the urban legends that make no sense to me whatsoever.

Case in point: Yesterday, Gia was telling me about one of those forwarded emails that we all get. I'm sure you've either heard of this one or received it yourself from your mother or someone equally gullible. It was about the actor Lee Marvin and his time spent in the military. The email claimed he was on The Tonight Show and he told a story about how he was injured at Iwa Jima in WWII. Carson called him a hero, but Marvin told the story about the bravest man he ever knew...a real hero. His sergeant, who saved him and his entire platoon by drawing the enemy fire to himself. The man's name was Bob Keeshan, or Captain Kangaroo as the older of us kids know him.

Nice little story, right? The email then went on to talk about how Fred Rogers from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was, in fact, a former Marine sniper who had served in Vietnam and who had several dozen confirmed kills to his credit. His trademarked sweater was actually used to cover tattoos that he had gotten while in the service. Hard to believe, right?

That's because it's all bullshit.

Well, most of it. Lee Marvin did serve in WWII, but he was never at Iwa Jima having been hurt earlier in the war. And Bob Keeshan also served in the Army in WWII, but he joined up too late in 1945 to be deployed overseas. Everything else? Bullshit. Especially all that crap about Fred Rogers, who was pretty much the furthest thing on Earth from a tattooed Marine sniper with a couple of dozen confirmed kills.

Now, what's the purpose of a urban legend like these? It's just a lie or several lies about someone famous. Or someone who used to be famous. I heard these urban legends and I responded with a big fat "huh". Why would somebody even care to make something like this up? Is there some evil genius wannabe cackling away in his secret lair about sending that first email out? "It worked, Mother...hehehe...it worked!"

I have no fault with people believing this stuff. Gia believed it. Or she kinda believed it, but questioned it enough to tell me about it. And it took me all of 10 seconds to find out that it was all crap on Snopes. I just don't understand the purpose of making this shit up in the first place.

I hate a shitty urban legend. I really do.

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Note: Remember to play the Badgerdaddy Trivia Challenge every day. Really...a guy with a hook instead of a hand. Look it up.

Here's something I don't understand.

Breakfast blend coffee.

I guess it's supposed to be a mellower blend of coffee. Something that won't offend our delicate palates early in the morning. A lighter, less acidic beverage for the early morning tastebuds.

Fuck that shit.

The only time I want a mellower cup of coffee is about ten minutes before bedtime. In the morning I want the hi-octane shit. Something to get my synapses firing, if ya know what I mean. What the hell is a "breakfast blend" good for anyway? Lulling you back to sleep?

That's just a half-ass cup o' joe, in my opinion.

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Note: Remember to play the Badgerdaddy Trivia Challenge every day. Don't get me started on decaf.

The Surreal Deal

So I had this weird dream, right? I was drinking beers with a buddy of mine and a bunch of local fisherman on a bridge by my home at around 1AM. The fisherman were also smoking weed. Didn't offer us any, but they seemed like good eggs.

Suddenly a car pulls up out of the fog (it's always foggy in dreams) flashing it's high beams at us. It's my buddy's wife and she wants to go out for a drink. So I recommend a place that I think might still be open. Once we get there we find ourselves in the middle of a trashy wedding after-party. I'm only assuming the wedding was "trashy", but considering that they wound up at this joint afterward it is probably a good bet. The bride and groom are wasted and grinding it to the silky smooth sounds of the bar band's version of "Love the One You're With". Really? Glad to see that my dream life isn't lacking in irony.

We grab a booth in the dining area to distance ourselves from the perceived losers in the bar area, when perception turns to reality. A fight breaks out. A classic sprawling bar room brawl. Amongst the wedding party. No way we were getting involved, but then I see the bride kinda in the middle of it. So I gallantly rush over to escort her out of harm's way. She pleads with me to find her husband and make sure he is okay.

So I wade into the mass of drunken idiots to find the groom. Along the way several mini-fights flare up around the edges of the larger overall fight. I tip-toe through it all. Then the fight spills into the dining area and into the booth we were occupying. I check to see that my beer is okay, and I see that one of my friends has saved it. Phew!

That's when the entire place spills out into one of the joints two parking lots and a bunch of cop cars show up to break things up. And I wondering just what kind of second-hand buzz I must have caught from those dude's fishing on the bridge.

Oh, and yeah...it wasn't a dream after all. It all really happened.

How was your weekend?

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Note: Remember to play the Bug-Eyed Trivia Challenge every day. All the drunken buffoons are doing it.