Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Here you go:

INSTRUCTIONS: Go grab a drink while you are waiting for this to load.

AmbushGifbinkidkickingfootbal320sw728439Almost thereF5baZ20090817-bunnylickWait_for_itSleep-runner

I like to think this montage pretty much sums up what life is like. You know, sometimes life nails you on your little walker car thing. Sometimes you try something new and end up getting nailed with a 2-liter bottle. And sometimes you are a bunny and you get ice cream. Yes!


Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Step 4


It might seem like I don't have a plan for this blog, but that is just an optical illusion, because I just made one up:

Step 1: Start blog.
Step 2: Get bored of blog's nominal theme.
Step 3: Lose focus and just start rambling and randomly arranging words together for about a year.
Step 4: ?
Step 5: Jewels!
Step 6: ?
Step 7: Grow a really long beard.
Step 8: Ride on the back of a whale.

EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN. Step 4 is just taking longer than expected.

As soon as I think of a new theme or shtick and sufficiently lower everyone's expectations, Bac-Log will be "bac" [ha ha! Get it? Jokes.] and better than ever. Maybe I will call it "Bac-Log: Millenium" or "Bac-Log: Titanium" or "Bac-Log: Resurrection", and maybe the dancing bacon guys will have sunglasses. And on that day all calendars will change to a new year 0 and there will be no more war or spiders.

Here is a good idea: Whenever you guys who like to complain that I don't write in my blog (you know who you are) want to complain that I don't write in my blog, you should structure your complaint like this:
Dear Mr. Grant,

Thank you for the great nickname you came up with for me. [insert awesome name for a softball team] would be a good softball team name. Also, [insert thing you would like to know more about from an expert in the subject] would be a good new theme for your blog. Also, I am in love with you and always have been here have a beer and some pepperoni. I wish you would write in your blog more. Here are some pictures for you to caption [attach embarrasing pictures of yourself].

Respectfully, [your name here]

Adhering to these guidelines will go a long way towards building a sustainable and influencial organization here at Bac-Log Enterprises.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

My May 27th Resolution is to write in my blog

Hey guys! Long time no talk at. Long time no use propositions to end sentences with. Did you miss me?


Recently I've been reading this blog called We Will All Go Simultaneous, so if all of a sudden I start making even less sense you can blame it on a dude named Crispin Best. But seriously, you should check out his super awesomely great Ninja Turtle flash fiction. If you don't cry a little from laughing at Raphael's bit, I might not be able to renew our friendship contract. Times are tight, people.

* * *

I found this mysterious slip of paper in my desk at work last week:

What could this list possibly be about? Why did I keep it? Did I misspell "Mercer", or is that intentional? It sounds like Past Grant is in trouble and that Present Grant will have to embark on a National Treasure fan fiction adventure before my hand dissolves. Who's with me?

Seriously, though. What?

* * *

I found this on a bathroom wall:

At first I thought this guy was encouraging the use of quotes over phallic imagery for effective bathroom expression, but now I think he might be being sarcastic. It's amazing how good literature can really make you think.

* * *

Check out how my coworker is going to handle a zombie attack:

Man, that's so good. I can't wait until I'm a zombie.

* * *

Check out this awesome baconolli my sister and Way-Lon and Chris and Booster Seat and I made a few weeks back:

The baconolli is draped around a foil-clad Vitamin R can:

The baconolli is cooked with some baco bodyguards:

After being gingerly removed from its aluminum scaffolding, the baconolli is used as a wonderous kaleidoscope that displays an ever-shifting menagerie of sparkling grease beads and carbonized bits of pig:

The baconolli receives a new heart of egg and cheese and stuff:

And then it gets eaten.

* * *

I'm so glad it's flip-flop weather FINALLY.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Man VS Machine

Okay, so I just took a little stroll to the ol' neighborhood QFC because I'm sick and I need my friggin' juice. I bought two cans of frozen juice concentrate (one is pink lemonade, the other is strawberry orange mango, in case you are interested)(of course you are). After I paid I headed out of the store with zombie-like determination and pace, because being sick really brings me to the top of my zombie game. But because I was so out of it and not really paying attention to anything except for imagining how much fun I'm going to have with my juice when I get home, I failed to execute the very important ceremonial pre-automatic-door pause! Usually I am very dependable when it comes to the ancient tradition wherein a human must pause and visually acknowledge the infinite wisdom and majesty of the automatic door in token of respect before entering within and plucking Doritos and PBR from its insides. But this time my unfortunate lack of piety caused the automatic door to become displeased with my lack of reverence, and I slammed right into it! I dropped one of my juices, and then as I was trying to catch it I dropped my other juice, and then the door opened. And then the manager, who was talking to the florist lady, asked me if I needed help out, but I said no, because I'm pretty sure I could handle two juices, but from the looks in their eyes they did not share my optimism. Anyway, I grabbed my little juicies from where they had rolled and tried to leave, but then the door tried to close on me! In the future, when archeologists and scientists try to piece together this important story, they will probably come to the logical conclusion that my juice had rolled too far off to the side so that the automatic door sensor did not register my attempted exit, but I know the truth. The Automatic Doors are displeased and shamed by me. From now on I will probably have to wait until someone else is coming in or out before I can slip quietly into the hallowed halls of the Interbay Quality Food Center to hunt for the wild pepperoni that sustains me.

Also, here is a chant from the classic San Francisco zombie march a few years ago:
"What do we want?"
"When do we want them?"

UPDATE: This is the most important video in the history of time:

If laughter truly is the best medicine, I think I just cured my cold, and 50 cancers.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

it turns out that I AM capable of self-editing

Okay, so I was just diligently composing a comprehensive post about the debilitating writer's block that I've been dealing with for a couple of weeks, which has annoyingly extended into every corner of my life, but then somehow against my will it became a super long gripe about the etiquette associated with sharing things you find on the internet. I guess the secret to overcoming writer's block is to be really crotchety and bitter about something trivial!

So I'm going to go ahead and give myself some kudos and some candy for not actually subjecting you all to it. Thanks! And you're welcome.

Also, I promised my sister that I'd post pictures of this awesome bacon tube that we cooked the other night, but I only have the "before" pictures at the moment, so I'll get right on that as soon as I get the "after" pictures from Booster Seat. Also, Dramatic LEGO Reenactments are slowly coming along. End of update.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

cooking with pooh

Hahaha, check out what ol' Kevin Bacon just found:

This is an actual book! Amazing! Although what is more amazing is that she found this on a blog called StrollerDerby, which as I don't see any little kids stroller-checking each other as they recklessly race around a track, appears at first glance to be a blatant example of false advertising. Which is disappointing.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Oh man, so Heenkenstein and I saw My Bloody Valentine last night, and I seriously can't hear today. It was the second loudest show I have ever subjected my fragile hearing organs to, following only that one Kinski show at the Crocodile where I'm pretty sure my skull changed shape. At one point last night I was convinced that I was going to get a bloody nose just from the sheer wall of noise and that all of my arm hair was going to vibrate off.

Since neither of us could hear anything after the show, Kyle and I basically had to yell at each other all the way home, which definitely added an exciting new dimension to our typical intellectual banter. However, the yelling and the "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?"s made a lot of sense when it was between two similarly afflicted parties, but this morning I realized that my newfound lack of hearing was also causing me to shout everything, including my internal dialog. To get an idea of what this feels like, you should just pretend that everything you are reading is being yelled at you, but you still can't quite hear some things, so you have to ask yourself, "WHAT? WHAT WAS THAT?" Every once in a while.

I can tell this is going to be a really productive day.

ANYWAY, I am super pleased to announce that as her prize for such a comprehensive and cohesive review, which tickled the fancies of billions of people and showed children the true meaning of Christmas and taught robots how to feel love, Sara will be recieving a dramatic LEGO reenactment of that one year that she and I and four other people lived together in a crappy tiny apartment right next to the freeway! In the future, when she gathers all thirty of her children around her in a multi-tiered semicircle to tell them her story, Sara will simply have to produce this stunning reenactment before their hungry eyes, and they will know their heritage.

I am pretty stoked about this, mostly because I actually mananged to secure some LEGO Brand Dramatic Reenactment Blocks! I think the past might have to be rewritten to include some exciting spaceship battles that end with everything exploding and then reforming into little cars that only seat one bald person. Which is totally plausible, considering the other random stuff that happened during that year.

Alright, Grant out.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Go Humans Go

Is anyone else totally confused by the new Quaker Oats advertising campaign?

This sign seems to imply that the Quakers are either aliens or robots who I guess are trying to encourage us to eat hearty whole grain oatmeal products so that we will be healthier and more efficient as we harvest fuel for their spaceships that run on babies. I will never be able to look at a can of oatmeal the same way again, now that I know that the seemingly delightful and friendly Quaker dude probably has a metal skeleton and enjoys his simple Quaker evenings reclining on a porch swing made of human bones. "Go humans, Go", he cackles maniacally as he flings flaming globs of flavorless gruel at us as we try to run away.

Actually, I could really go for some oatmeal right about now.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Another milestone DESTROYED

Hey dudes and chicks:

Apparently this is Bac-Log episode 200! [scattered awkward clapping].

Okay, fine. Have this instead:


Who wants to go see an exhilarating Seattle Mariners baseball squadron baseball game tomorrow (Tuesday) night? I have THREE FREE* TICKETS that do not include my own ONE FREE TICKET! Who wants to spend a beautiful spring evening making up inappropriate nicknames for the esteemed members of the opposing ballclub, the mildly detested but begrudgingly respected Tampa Bay Rays baseball squadron? And eating nachos? You know you want to. Bring it.

*While free in monetary terms, you will have to pretend to listen to me as I make up inappropriate nicknames for the opposing ballclub, the people around us in the stands, my friends, and probably myself.

Email me if you want to go. The seats are awesome, and even come with free parking passes.

UPDATE: Looks like I'm the middle of a Kyle sandwich with a side of Vik! Wait, eww.


Because she lives 3000 miles away, coming up with a suitable selection of appropriate prizes for Sara's dominating slogan contest victory has been difficult, because I can't just make the prize poll consist of nothing but noogies of various durations. So I have had to settle for the following:
  • Election as Bac-Log's Minister of Defense, Slogans, and Time Management. (Sara has proven that she can handle at least part of that job.)
  • The subject of an epic poem and/or limerick!
  • A custom T-shirt that reads "I won a custom t-shirt contest but all I got was this lousy custom t-shirt back".
  • A one-week 5-day 2-day moratorium on making fun of her behind her back.
  • A seven year old box of stuffing autographed by Heenkenstein, BRG, and I.
  • A dramatic LEGO reenactment of what life was like when Sara and I were roommates in college.
  • A poorly-photoshopped sparkly poster of Sara riding a unicorn or a dolphin or a unicorn dolphin or driving a barbie car with Robo-cop.
  • A Dicks cheeseburger [this also counts as this post's inside joke].

Pretty awesome stuff, right? Now remember, Sara's prize will be determined by YOUR VOTE! VOTE ON THEM NOW AND TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW TO VOTE. It is the only way we can ever hope to make this world a fair place.


Tougs and I had some Fun Dip on Saturday. That stuff is awesome! If only there was a way to use this blog to assign homework, the first assignment would be to enjoy some Fun Dip and vote on the prize poll and come over and ride Tinybike with me over some sweet jumps.

You do care about your grades, right? Better get on this.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009


Ack! I totally forgot about this awesome giveaway contest that my robotic aquatic flightless doctor bird friends over at are doing! Check out this awesome tote bag that you can win by merely clicking on mouse buttons and possibly occasionally typing some letters:

All you have to do to enter this thrilling contest is become a facebook something something fan something something JUST CLICK HERE AND THEN CLICK STUFF UNTIL YOU WIN. There is also something about commenting on a photo album that will also increase your chances of winning somehow. How about you just read the actual rules and stuff presented in sequential order using complete sentences and inane-babble-less instructions HERE.

If you somehow manage to navigate the dark murky passages of facebook fandom and achieve the high crown of ultimate tote-bag glory, it would be awesome if you could give a little shout-out to Bac-Log in your acceptance speech, right between thanking God and your mom. If you do this, I will either buy you a 24oz Miller Highlife from the AM-PM by my apartment, or let you ride my tiny girl's bike with training wheels over some sweet jumps, or preferably both.

YOU HAVE ONLY TWO AND ONE HALF HOURS TO WIN. GO GO GO GO GOGGOOG OG OGgogo gOgogogogo asfhaskljhlash hasjkdf238 Q#GQW#$%Q#

[ed note: I can't believe this is the first time I've just mashed the keyboard in a blog post!]

TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: port commissioner of death

Monday, April 13, 2009

[Guest Post] Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

This is a guest post by the esteemed Ian F. King recounting his epic adventures at the Brooklyn Bacon Takedown in Williamsburg illustrated with some select photographs by the esteemed Sara A. Morrisson. I guess they also brought a back-up Sara just in case, which is an excellent example of being prepared. (This is why I always keep around multiple Brians and Kyles.)

“Emergency! Emergency!” squawked an unfamiliar voice on my drawing room windowsill. I spun around in my smoking chair, and there before me perched the frantic visage of Speckles, who was filling in that day for Nugget, my trusty carrier pigeon, taking over his route duties while Nugget was off on a preposterous sojourn to “find himself” along the coastlines of Andalusia, no doubt nibbling at discarded tapas every step of the way. Speckles was a reliable-enough substitute, but he lacked the social graces that Nugget so naturally displayed, being the product of the Philips Exeter Avian Academy.
“Lucifer pinch your cursed beak!” I replied, sending one of my numerous smoothed-alabaster paperweights sailing in his direction, the forcefulness of my reason immediately striking Speckles, compelling him to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before continuing on.

“Apologies good sir, but it’s Mister Laine, I’m afraid worst fortune has befallen him, and he requires your immediate help.”

“Go on…” I leaned forward.

“Well sir, he was on his way this morning to attend the Worlds Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown in Williams’ Burgh, but whilst on his way over in his private zeppelin, he became distracted by a particularly engaging sandwich, and unfortunately his pilot mistook the name of the pub where the Takedown is held for the name of the city they were going to, so that by the time Mister Laine was able to disengage from savoring his lunch, they were already tethering down in an airfield just outside Radegast, Germany.” Speckles was all but entirely out of breath, but I knew exactly where this was going.

“So,” I exclaimed, rising briskly from my chair with a purposeful thumbing of my suspenders, “I shall then go in his stead, and see to it that no faithful Bac-Log subscriber’s screen goes unfilled with the glorious reporting of the Great Bacon Takedown that they should rightfully expect!”

“Oh Mister Laine shall be most appreciative,” Speckles said. Though the estimable Grant V. Laine has never been one with a need to bestow appreciation upon those who merely attend to their destiny, I knew that both Mr. Laine and I would ultimately rest easy knowing that he had not enjoyed that sandwich in vain. This, my handsome friends, is how I briefly came out of retirement, to fill my role as Mr. Laine’s assistant once more.

Understanding what lay before me at the World’s Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown – upwards of nearly three dozen bacon-blessed epicurean masterpieces, and a salt-crazed mob of equally immense size and appetite – I enlisted the help of two willing companions, the conveniently twin-named Sara and Sara. “Assistant’s assistants” I called them (continually throughout the day), if you will allow me a moment of whimsical cleverness. Sara and Sara were as willing to face this challenge as I was, and the three of us made the epic, epic journey from our respective homes just outside the ancient mortared walls of Fort Greene, north as the crow flies to farthest reaches of Williams’ Burgh.

We arrived later that day weathered but un-weary from the long, long journey, only to find ourselves thrust into the teeming cavernous bowels of Radegast Beer Hall, which was swollen with the bacon-scent of promise, and a capacity crowd upwards of three hundred unruly citizens ready to ravage any and all foodstuffs put before their rapacious eyes. It was a thing of wonder, and a thing of terror.

Soon enough after we arrived, the mass began to align itself for the ceremonial dishing-out of God’s own great pork feast, and having been distracted by our attempts to get an early eyeful of the bounty that lay before us, we got a pretty shit place in line. We carried on with our spirits high however, singing rounds of traditional bacon carols with some of the fellow merry-makers, and regaling each other with tales of our fondest memories of Takedown’s past.

As Father Time ticked on and on, our feet remained mostly unmoved, and a growing sense of impatience began to chip away at the demeanor of some of us more than others. Unbeknownst to me at first, one of the Sara’s, though she might not have appeared to be an individual capable of such sinister thoughts [pictured at left], made numerous unsuccessful attempts to barter my recreational services for a more favorable position in line. When this did ultimately come to my attention (let’s not worry about exactly how it did), Sara was very forthcoming with apology, and I insisted we let bygones be bygones. This was the World’s Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown after all, an event known to drive man and woman to the edges of reason in the quest to consume one’s heart content with the sizzled fat of nature’s fourth smartest land creature.

I’ll spare you, loyal reader, any more of the tedium that was the endless queue, because what laid at the end of the tunnel, as we all knew, was light – a blinding heavenly light ready to shoot across the dark expanse of our eager tastebuds. Once we finally arrived at the banquet tables, we were administered a small sacrament of bacon bourbon ice cream that threatened to overwhelm our palettes. If a cloud full of trumpeting angels had a taste, this would have surely been its proxy. And it was just the beginning. As Sara and Sara and I slowly wound our way through the orgasmic gauntlet, we reveled in creations like the bacon tomato soup, bacon piroshky, bacon sloppy joe, home-cured ‘electric’ bacon, and even a very odd invention described to me as a “cupped cake”, topped with a shingle of the Good Meat. On first sight, I was a little taken aback by the appearance of these bizarrely small cakes, perturbed by the faulty reasoning that must have led someone to think that you could improve a food by shrinking it. “The very thought is sheer lunacy!” I cried. However, the other Sara [pictured above] – the one who did not attempt to use me as Takedown currency – beseeched me to give it a chance, and upon giving it such a chance, decided that perhaps there was room on the desert table for cakes of a diminutive figure. Wonders never cease.

We feasted and feasted, and our stomachs churned and roiled with new pleasures. The event was unparalleled success, and Grant V. Laine, after spending the day eating his way through every goulash hall in Radegast, Germany, did eventually make his way back to the welcoming shores of America, berating the absent-minded pilot of his zeppelin nearly the entire way back. I was honored to serve in this great man’s assistance once more – and dear reader, in yours.

Friday, April 10, 2009


What up, internet?

Okay, so I have been extremely busy for the last few weeks, which is why I have not been blogging with my usual reckless disregard for content, style, or structure. DO NOT BE AFRAID! I will get back to delicately swaddling your brainfruits in wrappings of directionless rambling next week. In the meantime, I guess Ian got tired of waiting for me to write up a thrilling recap of his epic harrowing excursion from Park Slope to Williamsburg to attend the legendary Brooklyn Bacon Takedown, so he will be doing it himself. So be prepared to be gripped in the throes of suspense and wonderment as Ian regales you all with how he probably had to walk all the way to the G train so he wouldn't have to take the F into Manhattan and how he had to wait in line and how his tummy hurt afterward. With pictures!

Here is an exciting story to make this not just another procrastination post: While I was sleeping on Wednesday night I managed to somehow roll onto my stomach with both my arms pinned awkwardly beneath me. I must have slept that way for a while, because when Clocky told me it was time to wake up and start a new day of fresh possibilities and infinite promise, both my arms were asleep. I made to hit the snooze button with my typical unnecessary force and bitter disposition, but I couldn't control either arm. I sort of managed to get my left arm to flop around a bit, but even deep in the fuzzy clutches of morning logic I realized that trying to wail on Clocky with a limp club attached to my shoulder would probably result in a spilled glass of water and a broken lamp long before it made a successful fleshy impact on the snooze button. Finally I managed to sort of squirm my whole body up to where I could hit the snooze button with my chin. I gave up on trying to squirm back down during my precious 9 minutes of snoozcation, so I just kind of curled up enough to lay back down and went back to sleep. When the alarm went off again, both my arms were still asleep, and now my back hurt. It was an awesome morning!

Good story, huh?

Okay, back to work.


Wednesday, April 1, 2009


I have been to many obscure little villages in Alaska over the last few years, and have gotten used to the sub-optimal conditions associated with going to obscure little Alaskan villages in the middle of winter. Which is why it is so exciting that my low expectations were so easily exceeded by the discovery that I can get internet here in Naknek! Sure, I have to trudge from my room through the icy winds to a little shack to plug my laptop into an ethernet cord that emerges mysteriously from a giant plywood box, but Hey!! Internet! ALSO: usually when I go to Alaska, I get unlimited free food, but only at designated mealtimes. But here, I get unlimited free food available ALL THE TIME! I have eaten at least one entire chicken, if that chicken was made entirely of eight other chicken's fried legs and had ranch dressing for blood, and also I ate his friend made entirely of jalapeno poppers and bacon.

Alaska is truly the land of magic.

However, as proven time and time again by every discipline of science and the greatest minds that history has ever known, unlimited free food and magic internet come at the cosmic price of being really freaking cold while you have to measure stuff. I had to survey this building today that was 8 degrees Fahrenheit inside with a windchill of -5. (The building is missing a wall, which happens to face the icy river along which the wind runs). I brought a cup of coffee from unlimited free breakfast, and I set it down for a bit while I took some measurements, and when I returned it was COMPLETELY FROZEN SOLID. Awesome. So cold.

ANYWAY, as I mentioned before, I have been really really busy with stuff, and when I get really really busy with stuff, I tend to "phone in" this blog, in the way you might, um, "phone in" life when you die. Which has been sad, because I was really very excited by the enormous response that we got for the Bac-Log Review Challenge 2008! As you probably know, the winner of the most awesome and applicable tagline was the esteem Ms. Sara Morrisson, from whose thoughtful and completely relevant review begat the mighty Titan of Slogandom, "Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not." While fascinated that a full third of willing and/or wasted participants are apparently confused as to whether this blog is an inside joke or not, I am a little bit sad that my favorite of the bunch finished second: "Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming". I think I like it so much because I don't really understand it and it uses big words and talks pretty and is full of smarts.

Actually, one thing I find interesting about the majority of people being uncertain as to the inside-jokiness of this crazy Bac-log contraption is that I totally feel the same way sometimes. If this really is an elaborate inside joke, I think I am totally on the outside.

Anyway, my original plan with this contest was to deploy another exciting poll full of various fabulous prizes for the winner. You see, this way the same people who chose the winner would also get to choose their ultimate fate, and you would all get drunk on your God-like power over the destiny of others, and I would be able to take advantage of your fate-controlling intoxication to hit you up for a drink or something. But since Sara won, and she is 3000 miles away, most of the fabulous prizes that I had been collecting or growing or killing would require expensive, and possibly illegal, cross-country shipping! So now I have to start from scratch on generating fabulous prizes which can either be pumped through internet pipes or magically materialized in New York. SIGH. I guess I'll have to work this into my intense unlimited free food eating schedule tomorrow somehow.

ALSO, before you go (right, because that's how blogging works), I thought of something that will be an exciting bonus prize in celebration of Sara's dominating slogan victory, and also make her slogan's uncertain implications come true. Starting today, every char-filtered, mountain-broiled, hand-fresh, cold-crafted Bac-Log single-serving, not-for-individual-resale blog entry will be concluded with-- wait for it-- AN INSIDE JOKE! [pause for gasps of surprise followed by sustained applause and excited laughter]. But wait, there's more: [more gasps followed by eager silence and one dude coughing. Geez, guy, get some cough drops]. Not only will I conclude every blog entry with an inside joke, to keep with the spirit of Sara's now-famous confusion, some of them wont even be real inside jokes! Hahahaha ha hhaa... ha ha... ha... [looks at shoes].


Tuesday, March 31, 2009

sigh, blogging.

Hola amigos!

So one of the many really stupid conceptual blog ideas that I have had from time to time has been a blog in which every entry is an apology and excuse for not blogging. I am dangerously close to unintentionally implementing this idea, although as wild chance would have it, Bac-Log also happens to be an applicable title for this concept.

Okay, so because they won't stop bothering me about it, I am pleased to announce that apparently I managed to passively convince my friends Ian and Sara in New York to attend the Brooklyn Bacon Takedown, where they had to wait in line FOREVER and it was CROWDED and HOT and there were WOLVES AFTER THEM and one of them probably RUPTURED THEIR SPLEEN and they were HUNGRY and WHEN WILL WE GET THERE, and then they got stomach aches from eating 27 different bacon dishes. BOO HOO.

Here is a good selection of their text whining:

"Hey! We're at the bacon-off. It is hella crowded and there is nowhere to sit. Sara is providing photos. More updates to come."

"This line is soooo long and hasn't moved in twenty minutes! You bastard!"

"We're never gonna get to eat!"

"I am not fucking anyone for food today! Too tired from doing it all those other days."

"I have a tummy ache"


"40 minutes early and still standing room only."

"In line for 20 minutes, still no bacon."

"We can see but not eat! You set us up!"

Anyway, they finally made it to the glory that was 27 different bacon dishes, and I will post some of Sara's photos later, when I am not pressed for time in an airport. Also, I promise I will get to the super-exciting prize distribution for Sara's unprecedented slogan contest victory.

Okay, anyway, I have to catch a plane now. I am going to the land of volcanoes:

Apparently that is an actual picture of Mt. Redoubt erupting.

Monday, March 23, 2009


Due to STUPID WORK STUFF, I have not had sufficient time to randomly arrange words on a blue screen for you. Bac-Log apologizes for the delay in heaping glory and stuff on Sara, who I guess won the slogan contest. Until time is available for a proper display of well-deserved gratitude, I think everyone should wave a tiny mental flag in celebration of Sara's dominating victory.

Also, I know it's early and all, but in case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas:


I thought I was getting close to being a complete person, but then the internet has to drop HORSE HEAD VASES on me. Now I have to line my entire hallway and probably every wall of my bedroom with alternating white and black horse head vases at tastefully varying heights, and then fill them with seasonal flower arrangements. So close, yet so, so far.