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.
Showing posts sorted by date for query sara. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query sara. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
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:
CHAPTER THE ONETH:
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:
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.
TODAY'S HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT:
Apparently this is Bac-Log episode 200! [scattered awkward clapping].
Okay, fine. Have this instead:
CHAPTER THE ONETH:
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.
CHAPTER TOOTH:
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-week5-day2-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.
CHAPTER LETTUCE:
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.
TODAY'S HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT:
- Enjoy some Fun Dip
- Vote on the prize poll
- Come over and ride Tinybike with me over some sweet jumps
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.)
.jpg)
“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.
.jpg)
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.
.jpg)
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.
.jpg)
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.
.jpg)
“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.
.jpg)
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..jpg)
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..jpg)
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.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Magic!
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].
TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: Cheesebag.
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].
TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: Cheesebag.
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:
IAN:
"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"
SARA:
"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.
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:
IAN:
"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"
SARA:
"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
SERVICE DELAY
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.
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.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
FINALLY
What up, gang[?]
Two things: 1.) When used as a greeting, does that actually need a question mark? 2.) I renewed my drivers license yesterday (because I'm old), and counter 6 was piloted by the most awesomely archetypal DOL employee ever. You know, rumpled, beady, bespectacled, completely humorless-- if the DOL ever pulled a Star Wars Episode 2 and hired a weird water dolphin planet to clone bureau-troopers, this guy would be like Boba Fett. Anyway, every time he called someone up to the counter he meticulously deployed the standard, "Firstname Lastname, please come to counter six. Firstname [pause] Lastname," even if the person was already standing there. I watched this machine-like bureaucratic precision for maybe half an hour, when this Indian dude wanders up to counter 6, and the DOL employee just says, "what up," with a little head nod. What? Does this Indian guy come in so often that he and the DOL-bots are on "what up" terms?
Anyway, I meant to post these awesome Bac-Log reviews a couple days ago, but I somehow became really busy. Sorry! [not that sorry]. Okay, so here's how this review contest is going to proceed: I will post either the whole review (if it is of reasonable length *cough* *cough* Courtney *hack* *HACK*), or a representative summary. I will conclude each review with an associated tagline. Also, as in the legendary Cancer-Fighting Haiku Contest, each review will be accompanied by an image generated by entering the tagline into Google Image Search.
Hold on to your butts:
Wait, what movie is that from?
Tagline: Bac-Log: Like the defunct teen fashion magazine Sassy but for bacon.
Tagline: Bac-Log: Meh, sometimes something something *bored*
Tagline: Bac-Log: blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.
Tagline: Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming.
Tagline: Bac-Log: Those stories from the weekend are true!
Tagline: Bac-Log: ...something about scary lego people. What?
Tagline: Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not.
AWESOME! Okay, so now that you've all thoroughly read the reviews and carefully considered the taglines and discussed the elaborate thumbnail images with your colleagues over piping-hot cups of fancy tea, you must vote on your favorite. THAT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO VISIT THE BLOG, GOOGLE READER USERS. Don't worry, I will refund those extra mouse clicks. (The check is already in the mail.) (Please don't cash it until at least the 15th. I don't want to overdraw again.)
Just in case you don't like any of the taglines, I have included the versatile "None of the above/I am incapable of human feeling" option.
Also, you can vote for multiple taglines.
VOTE NOW HURRY GO GO GO GO
Two things: 1.) When used as a greeting, does that actually need a question mark? 2.) I renewed my drivers license yesterday (because I'm old), and counter 6 was piloted by the most awesomely archetypal DOL employee ever. You know, rumpled, beady, bespectacled, completely humorless-- if the DOL ever pulled a Star Wars Episode 2 and hired a weird water dolphin planet to clone bureau-troopers, this guy would be like Boba Fett. Anyway, every time he called someone up to the counter he meticulously deployed the standard, "Firstname Lastname, please come to counter six. Firstname [pause] Lastname," even if the person was already standing there. I watched this machine-like bureaucratic precision for maybe half an hour, when this Indian dude wanders up to counter 6, and the DOL employee just says, "what up," with a little head nod. What? Does this Indian guy come in so often that he and the DOL-bots are on "what up" terms?
Anyway, I meant to post these awesome Bac-Log reviews a couple days ago, but I somehow became really busy. Sorry! [not that sorry]. Okay, so here's how this review contest is going to proceed: I will post either the whole review (if it is of reasonable length *cough* *cough* Courtney *hack* *HACK*), or a representative summary. I will conclude each review with an associated tagline. Also, as in the legendary Cancer-Fighting Haiku Contest, each review will be accompanied by an image generated by entering the tagline into Google Image Search.
Hold on to your butts:
Wait, what movie is that from?
RACHEL'S REVIEW:
 | I think your friend Sara's friend eats too much paste during passing period. Your blog reminds me of the excellent, albeit defunct, teen magazine called Sassy. Sassy was "fashion" magazine that did not focus on fashion much in the way that Bac-Log does not focus on bacon. But that's what made it great. Keep up the good work. Sara's friend can suck it. End of review. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: Like the defunct teen fashion magazine Sassy but for bacon.
* * *
HEIDI'S REVIEW:
 | Meh, sometimes I read it. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: Meh, sometimes something something *bored*
 | OK, this is not where I thought this blog post was going to go with previously mentioned title, but ok, I'm at work and I don't have anything else to do. Blah, blah, blah.............. blah...Ha.... blah blah blah... hahahaha... that is soo Grant... blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.
* * *
ADRIAN'S REVIEW:
ADRIAN'S REVIEW:
 | I would say the best thing about bac-log is that it allows me to maintain an excellent distant tenuous relationship with a brother who lives in the same town as me but whom I never see because he lives farther than a ten minute walk. It is a tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming...in blog format. I like to read it when I pretend to work and recommend it to jewish people. I suck at writing comments! I need to scan the picture I drew of a squirrel going to work-That would more accurately portray my feelings about this blog. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming.
* * *
TRICIA'S REVIEW:
TRICIA'S REVIEW:
| The bac-log is where I go when I am feeling glum and bored with the thoughts that are floating through my head. I am consistently surprised by the witty commentary and always amazed at its complete randomness. I often try to bring up random and exciting topics of conversation with the author of bac-log in hopes that one day it will make it to the all-hallowed walls of the bac-log, but it has yet to happen... I also use it to prove to co-workers that the stories I bring back from the weekend are true, and that Grant really is off his rocker. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: Those stories from the weekend are true!
* * *
RITA'S REVIEW (excerpt):
RITA'S REVIEW (excerpt):
 | So you want a review? [Uses the promise of familiar crisp, satisfying bacon to lure you into the thick smoky outer regions of the blogsphere, some never to return.] I hate to admit it but Yes, I did drop him on his head when he was very young, that or maybe those scary Lego people. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: ...something about scary lego people. What?
* * *
SARA'S REVIEW (excerpt):
SARA'S REVIEW (excerpt):
 | Bac-log makes no sense to me. I always read it and laugh, but then I wonder if I actually get it, or if its all an inside joke that I would understand if I actually lived in the same state as the author. However, with this contest, sprung from the comment that my completely disconnected friend made, so I feel that I've been brought back in the fold and get the joke. I probably still don't get it though. |
Tagline: Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not.
AWESOME! Okay, so now that you've all thoroughly read the reviews and carefully considered the taglines and discussed the elaborate thumbnail images with your colleagues over piping-hot cups of fancy tea, you must vote on your favorite. THAT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO VISIT THE BLOG, GOOGLE READER USERS. Don't worry, I will refund those extra mouse clicks. (The check is already in the mail.) (Please don't cash it until at least the 15th. I don't want to overdraw again.)
Just in case you don't like any of the taglines, I have included the versatile "None of the above/I am incapable of human feeling" option.
Also, you can vote for multiple taglines.
VOTE NOW HURRY GO GO GO GO
Monday, March 2, 2009
More shining reviews of Bac-Log
Check out this awesome review of Bac-Log by one of my friend Sara's friends:
Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences.
Awesome! I just can't get over how completely and perfectly Informed Expert (or IE for short) encapsulated all of Bac-Log in one tiny review. IE sure CRASHED my blogging party! (Ignore that sentence; it is just to see if I can get Bac-Log to pop up when people search for Internet Explorer problems).
I think this week should be Bac-Log Review Contest 2009 Week™! Send me a short review of Bac-Log (in the comments or email), and then somehow there will be prizes. Trust me, I might not know how to blog, but I also don't know how to make contests.
I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.Hahahahaha! In case you missed it, here is the relevant part again, with emphasis added:
How do you have a blog about bacon? What the eff happens with bacon consistently enough to dedicate an entire domain name to it?
Bac-log is an amazing name for a bacon blog, if it made sense to have a blog about bacon.
If he were a chef who only cooked bacon, maybe the above would be feasible (and incredible!!!!).
Bacon blog research? Really? Who are you talking to?
I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.Wait, maybe that is not enough emphasis:
I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.Fringe blog scientists have long postulated that there existed at the asymptotic limits of infinitely-dimensional blogspace a better slogan than "The most important blog in the history of time." For the most part, these fringe blogologists have been shunned and ridiculed by the mainstream conservative blog science establishment, who are primarily concerned with securing blog research grants and free tickets to fancy black-tie open-bar Blogsonian events, rather than forwarding the frontiers of the most important of all sciences. Well, score one for the underdogs, ladies and gentlemen. The absolute limits of perfection have finally been reached:
Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences.
Awesome! I just can't get over how completely and perfectly Informed Expert (or IE for short) encapsulated all of Bac-Log in one tiny review. IE sure CRASHED my blogging party! (Ignore that sentence; it is just to see if I can get Bac-Log to pop up when people search for Internet Explorer problems).
I think this week should be Bac-Log Review Contest 2009 Week™! Send me a short review of Bac-Log (in the comments or email), and then somehow there will be prizes. Trust me, I might not know how to blog, but I also don't know how to make contests.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Brooklyn Bacon Takedown
Guys: It is almost time to ride the Bacon Warpig!
Finally!
Seriously, though, it is a 30-bacon-recipe smackdown and something called the Bacon Warpig at a bar called Radegast Hall in Williamsburg. This cannot possibly not be awesome. That sentence is a little awkward because of the double-negative, so you may also think of this event as can't be not impossible to not be awesome. Or maybe, you can't not disagree that this can't not be impossible to not can't be unawesome. Um. JUST GO TO IT, OKAY.
I think all of the Brooklyn-based Bac-Log enthusiasts should go and take pictures and make friends (because networking is an important part of the New York lifestyle.) [Note to Sara: I heard that all of the bacon they used is actually locally-produced artisan vegan bacon, they're just being chill and not advertising it that way.] [Note to IFK and Kevin Bacon: [SARA DON'T READ THIS] Don't worry guys, it's totally meat, probably meat-fed meat stuffed with more meat inside. Probably even the air will be meaty.]
Quote from Skulls and Bacon blog:
Finally!
Seriously, though, it is a 30-bacon-recipe smackdown and something called the Bacon Warpig at a bar called Radegast Hall in Williamsburg. This cannot possibly not be awesome. That sentence is a little awkward because of the double-negative, so you may also think of this event as can't be not impossible to not be awesome. Or maybe, you can't not disagree that this can't not be impossible to not can't be unawesome. Um. JUST GO TO IT, OKAY.
I think all of the Brooklyn-based Bac-Log enthusiasts should go and take pictures and make friends (because networking is an important part of the New York lifestyle.) [Note to Sara: I heard that all of the bacon they used is actually locally-produced artisan vegan bacon, they're just being chill and not advertising it that way.] [Note to IFK and Kevin Bacon: [SARA DON'T READ THIS] Don't worry guys, it's totally meat, probably meat-fed meat stuffed with more meat inside. Probably even the air will be meaty.]
Quote from Skulls and Bacon blog:
And it's in a beer garden which is just like icing on the meat cake.Yep. March 29. If you guys don't go get hammered and ride the Bacon Warpig I'm going to be pissed.
Friday, January 2, 2009
[ghost post] Ghost posting is awesome.
I think one day I am going to start a blog called ghostlog.blogspot.com (um, I did not actually verify if that is available or not. DON'T SUE ME, GHOSTLOG.BLOGSPOT.COM!) where the entire blog is written ahead of time with posts scheduled at regular intervals so that it appears to be actively maintained. Free from the heavy burden of active blogging, I will finally be able to just lie on a beach all day playing cribbage or scrabble with my friend Sara, which is what I am probably doing right now in Peru. Also, I need someone to figure out how to get "ghost paid" from "ghost work".
ALSO: Hey Laura, did you water my plants again? They like it if you put a squirt of the plant food in the can before adding the water.
ALSO: Happy New Years, people!
ALSO: Hey Laura, did you water my plants again? They like it if you put a squirt of the plant food in the can before adding the water.
ALSO: Happy New Years, people!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Peru is awesome
Okay, so I knew Peru was going to be fun, but so far it has completely decimated my previous definition of fun and replaced it with a more extreme, exciting, and shiny version of fun.
Pros:
Cons:
Laters!
Pros:
- CRAZY CABLE CAR! We crossed a class 5 river in a ricketty basket on a cable by pulling ourselves along with ropes. We were told by the trek company that we wouldn´t be doing this because I guess people die on it (not that surprised), but our trek guide, Juan Carlos, was THE BEST.
- 4 hours of (mostly) downhill mountain biking in the pouring rain.
- Hiking up to Maccu Picchu, hiking up the mountain next to Maccu Picchu to get an ariel view, and then hiking down the back-side to visit some totally off-the-radar ruins in the jungle.
- I broke every rule at Maccu Picchu except the No Smoking rule.
- There was this one bathroom that had a lightswitch with exposed wires in the shower!
- Groundscore mangos, avocados, and tangerines.
- WE SAW A LITTLE MONKEY IN A BUSH!
- Way too much other awesome stuff to tell now without pictures (no SD reader at this computer).
- Also, internet is about $.30/hour. ¡Awesome!
- Also, check out all of these awesome characters on this keyboard: ñ窿¬º. They are where I expect other buttons to be. It is fun.
Cons:
- Hundreds and hundreds of bug bites.
- I totally messed up my knee in the jungle, and then hiked for about 10 hours on a wonky knee yesterday, and now can barely walk. One of our new friends has some codeine, though, so that should be awesome.
Laters!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Product review: Pro-abstinence sweatpants.
My friend Ian's friend Molly (the same degree of separation as I am from Kevin Bacon, although not the famous actor Kevin Bacon, but rather my friend Sara's boss who is also named Kevin Bacon. ANYWAY, I guess my point is Molly = Kevin Bacon) sent Ian a link to this product to review:
PRODUCT: Piper and Blue Junior's Crop Pant with "True Love Waits" graphic available at Kmart
REVIEW: If worn as directed, this product is 100% effective at preventing sex, including premarital sex. Also, according to the online promotional literature, this product features elastic cuffs and is imported.
Is it just me, or from afar does it kind of look like these pants celebrate the gravelly-voiced music stylings of Tom Waits? This is appropriate, since Tom Waits is the Kmart abstinence-only sweatpants of music.
I wrote a review on Kmart's website, but apparently it may take up to 72 hours to post, which makes me think someone is going to read it before publishing the review. If this is the case, I put the probability of it actually getting posted at about 15%. On the off chance it does get published, look for the review by "Falcor" ("Grant" and "Falcon" were already taken as review nicknames, so what choice did I have?)
UPDATE:
Since beginning to write this review, the following events have unfolded:
Evidently my review has successfully navigated the murky passages of the Kmart online review process, and against all rational hope has been posted. Hurrah!
PRODUCT: Piper and Blue Junior's Crop Pant with "True Love Waits" graphic available at KmartREVIEW: If worn as directed, this product is 100% effective at preventing sex, including premarital sex. Also, according to the online promotional literature, this product features elastic cuffs and is imported.
Is it just me, or from afar does it kind of look like these pants celebrate the gravelly-voiced music stylings of Tom Waits? This is appropriate, since Tom Waits is the Kmart abstinence-only sweatpants of music.
I wrote a review on Kmart's website, but apparently it may take up to 72 hours to post, which makes me think someone is going to read it before publishing the review. If this is the case, I put the probability of it actually getting posted at about 15%. On the off chance it does get published, look for the review by "Falcor" ("Grant" and "Falcon" were already taken as review nicknames, so what choice did I have?)
UPDATE:
Since beginning to write this review, the following events have unfolded:
- I use one of our BABE Rally team email addresses to register on Kmart's website, which I forgot was set up to auto-forward to all of my teammates, which causes me to have to explain to Kyle that the reason he is getting Kmart spam juice all over his inbox is because I am writing a review of pro-abstinence sweatpants.
- I have a cup of coffee.
- I have to make a couple of phone calls at work.
- Ian informs me that not only does Kevin "Molly" Bacon want credit for finding this magnificent product, also Kevin Bacon's roommate, Claire, wants credit. Then I start thinking about the staggering size of this world where someone is more degrees of separation away from me than Kevin Bacon is, and I suddenly feel lonely and small.
- I nick some candy from my coworker.
- I have another cup of coffee.
- Kmart still hasn't published my review. SIGH.
Evidently my review has successfully navigated the murky passages of the Kmart online review process, and against all rational hope has been posted. Hurrah!
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