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What’s Bueno At The 99¢ Only Store: Toshica’s Finest Jumbo Braid!
I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU, but in this economy, I just can’t pay crazy salon prices for my synthetic jumbo braids anymore.
That’s why I was thrilled when at the 99¢ Only store the other day, I happened upon these:
Now, I know what you’re saying. “Ted,” you’re saying, “I ain’t buying no dollar store ba-raid! No sir! Mmn-mn!”
Look, I felt the same way – at first.
But what if these braids were sixty inches long and not “puffed up” to give the appearance of more braid to the package? What if they were soft, silky and shiny? What would you say then?
Still not convinced? Well, then what would you say if I told you you’re getting 22% more braid – for free? Oh, sure, you’re paying for 2-1/4 ounces of 100% Super Synthetic jumbo braid, but for you, today, you’re getting 2-3/4 ounces of 100% Super Synthetic jumbo braid.
You’d call me a filthy liar – and brother, I wouldn’t blame you. So that’s why I made sure to get photographic proof:
So, yes, friends, the choice is clear!
Toshica’s Finest jumbo braids are…
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I Have Tried The New Taco Bell Doritos Tacos! A Review!
GUESS what! I tried that new “Doritos Loco Taco” from Taco Bell!
And perhaps by writing about it here, this site may top six visitors today.
I was going to go to Taco Bell at midnight Wednesday night for the much-anticipated launch (industry term) of this culinary delight, but then I’d have to give up my place in line for “The Hunger Games” outside the Viceroyalty Dollar Theater on Arroyo and San Fernando in Pacoima. Regular readers of this blog know I’m an unashamed HungerGuy (which is what we fans of “The Hunger Games” universally agreed to call ourselves – well, “HungerGuy” for the guys and “HungerGal” for the gals) since I picked up a copy of the first book while hanging out in the “Planet Teen” section of the library a few years ago. (They have beanbag chairs there.)
As you know, as of this writing, “The Hunger Games” opens in just fourteen days, six hours and twelve minutes, and I plan on being among the first to see it. Well, I had planned to, anyway, until the manager pointed out to me that it’s a dollar theater, they never show any new releases, and they wouldn’t be getting “The Hunger Games” until at least late-April – and then, only a Spanish-dubbed print.
That bit of unfortunate news, multiple citations for vagrancy, and the scabies I picked up from letting a talkative fellow named Durrel (his spelling, not mine, I assure you) share my sleeping bag for warmth (after he shared his bottle of Boone’s Farm Snow Creek Berry with me) convinced me to give up and head home. I guess it’s just as well – I’d forgotten that Becca switched weekends with me again so I have the goddamn kids from six p.m. tonight until Sunday night at seven.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah, so today I bought one of those new “Doritos Loco Tacos.” They come in two varieties: Regular and Taco Supreme. I decided to splurge and go for the Taco Supreme variety since all of this can be written off come tax time. And also a small Pepsi.
Here is what that looked like:
Now for the unboxing, or as I like to call it, the unbagging.
So here it is, partially unwrapped. (You have to do these things slowly; build up a sense of anticipation. Learned that from my blogging mentor, or blogntor, as I have dubbed her, Sylvia Haynes-Darden.)
Let’s take it a step further. Ready? Here we go!
Here you can see it comes in a little stiff paper holder. These will be very collectible in the years to come, so I licked the sour cream and grease off mine and packed it away. (I may buy another taco just for the holder and put it up on eBay “to see how it does.” Stay tuned.)
Okay, here it is:
There’s the actual Doritos Loco Taco, unfettered by its cardboard trappings; nude if you will. As you can see, it’s Dorito orange in hue.
The taste? It’s like…a Taco Bell Taco Supreme in a vaguely Dorito-esque shell. Eh, it was okay. The problem with taking Taco Bell food home – that is, not eating it right away, fresh off the griddle – is that the taco shells get soggy. Such was the case here – and I sped home like Old Scratch himself was after me. But until the good people at Yum! Brands start taking my back-of-receipt survey answers seriously and open a Taco Bell within three blocks of my home rather than the current inconvenient six blocks, there’s little I can do about that.
Also, I hated how I got Dorito residue on my fingers, and then had to risk getting that on my expensive blogging camera to take the damn pictures. I imagine everyone else blogging about this now is saying the exact same thing – so I guess the idea of me bringing a fresh perspective on reviewing a new fast food item has been shot to hell quicker than this combination of ground beef, lettuce, diced tomatoes, shredded cheese, sour cream, Dorito shell and eight packets of hot sauce will be shooting out of me within the next hour or so.
All in all, I wouldn’t buy it again – I’ll stick with the Dorito grit-free regular Taco Supremes, thank y– …eh, muchas gracias very much. You know, if you ask me, this whole new Dorito taco campaign is just a lot of pointless hoopla – or, since this is a chain selling Mexican food we’re talking about, all this jupla. It’s a lot of nothing, or as the proud Mexican people say – those who brought their delicious food to our shores – as they say, it’s nada.
Really, the only good melding of snack- and fast-foods are the HushFunyuns at Long John Silver’s – part of their unadvertised “secret menu.” You have to ask for ’em special.
Well, that and the Sausage McCheeto but that’s something I make for myself and there’s not a goddamn thing McDonald’s can do about it. Not a goddamn thing.
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Book Club Thursday! “Found II!”
HEY, it’s been ages since we had a meeting of the Ted Parsnips Book Club! First there were the holidays, and then Johanna and Seth broke up, and, well, we had the house fumigated the first week of January for carpet bugs, and then the Turkelsons went on vacation, and then Tina and I broke up, and then Johanna and I got together, and then we were going to have a meeting the first Thursday of February, but we all agreed it would be “weird,” and then I realized what a controlling witch Johanna is and understood why Seth and her broke up, so then Seth and I got together for a couple of weeks, but then he needed “space,” and then Tina realized her name was on the mortgage and moved back in here (whatever), and then Seth and Johanna got back together for the sake of Yung Soo who was having trouble in school, and then last week the State Department finally flew back the Turkelsons’ remains from Costa Rica and we all got together at the memorial and one of us said, “Hey, why don’t we start up that book club thing again?” so here we are.
This week’s selection is “Found II“, compiled by Davy Rothbart. And it cost only 50¢ at the used bookstore just inside the lobby of the library across the street from Rite Aid. There was only one copy and this was it, so looks like the rest of you had to get your copies in other used book stores in other libraries. Hope that worked out for you, because if you don’t have a copy of “Found II,” you can’t participate in this week’s discussion, and you’ll take a zero for this assignment.
You know “Found” – it’s that wonderful magazine dedicated to discarded notes, letters, flyers, photos, lists, and drawings found and sent in by readers.
This book, a compilation of stuff from the magazine has a bunch of those finds, and it’s a delight to leaf through. An absolute delight!
However, I will not, nay, I cannot recommend it because I’ve sent in a few things to “Found” over the years and I’ve never heard back from them, and frankly, this irritates me.
You’re going to use my submissions, you’re not going to use them, whatever – just drop me an email one way or the other. I mean, how many submissions could they possibly be getting each day? Three? Four? Oh, sure, I get the self-serving “Buy Our Latest Issue” emails they send out every few months, but never “Hey, Ted, we got that cocktail napkin with the schmutz on it that you sent in – thanks! Look for it in Issue #8!”
Anyway, I find Found-quality stuff all the time. All-the-freaking-time. Hell, you know, me, I’m always picking up trash in the street – how do you think I met Tina? But the fact is, Davy Rothbart and his merry band of Foundsters aren’t getting any more of my treasures – no how, no way. And believe me, brother, ho-ho, believe you me, they’d kill for this stuff! This is high quality crap that I’ve found, you know, in the, eh, gutter.
And just so they might see what they’re missing, just so they know how mistreating me has its consequences, sure, I’ve compiled just one week’s worth of finds below!
Look at all that great stuff! Look at all that great stuff I found! “What is it all?” I’m glad you asked! I’ve arranged to have our art department draw up a key to the above.
Yeah, that’s entirely necessary and not confusing at all, in this vertical format.
Anyway!
1. Thin, galvanized steel sign that reads “NO PEDDLERS OR AGENTS” that looks to be from around the 1950s. Found! On the ground by my car near Wienerschnitzel in Simi Valley! Fascinating!
2. Business card belonging to Eugene Sinai, salesman for Knudsen Dairy Products! Features a phone number with an exchange (RIchmond 7-6471). Found! In a little book from the 1940s about milk production! That I bought in a thrift store! In Simi Valley!
3. Drink ticket! Good for 1 drink! I presume this is good anywhere! (Doesn’t say otherwise!) Found! In a parking lot outside Jack in the Box!
4. Condom with a googly eye somehow stuck to the end! Smells vaguely of cheap nacho cheese sauce! Found! In the bushes outside the post office!
5. Xeroxed page about “Cults, Ritualistic Abuse and Satanism,” and I quote, “The time has come to take this compulsive and total immersion in music seriously. It is time for adults to learn what the funny clothing, the blaring music, and the weird hairdos mean.” Found! On the sidewalk when I was running!
6. Coupon for 10¢ off Post Raisin Bran from 1979! Found! In a pile of papers on my desk!
7. Envelope postmarked 1959 from defunct Southern California supermarket upon the back of which someone has written a recipe that seems to be for some sort of pie! Found! In a cookbook in thrift store in Reseda that I didn’t buy, but I pocketed the envelope! Oh, spare me your lectures on morality! It’s a worthless goddamn envelope!
8. Sheet of “Fix Notes” from episode 316 of “Phineas & Ferb” presumably for the sound editor. (“2:56 – be more mysterious on Isabella talking about Ferb playing soccer with a pumpkin. Or could be silent.”) Found! Again, on sidewalk when I was running, about a quarter mile before the Satanism page!
9. Harmonica! Found! Along traintracks! Plays great! (–once I managed to tweeze out all the Red Man chewing tobacco that was impacted in the blow holes – thank God it was still moist and pliable!) Just call me Toots Thielemans!
10. Oh, this one I love: Scrap of paper with “Pink Lock 24-38-8” scrawled on it! Found! On the floor of the men’s locker room in my gym! It’s like when Eddie Pufahl couldn’t remember the combination to his lock in 7th grade and wrote it on the outside of his locker! Ha! What a loser! Remember that? Or did you not go to my school?
11. Canceled check for $30.95 payable to Readers Institute of America, from one John Cannon of Albany, Georgia dated August 7, 1964! Found! Inside an old issue of “Ford Times!”
12. Page of exceptionally crazy end-of-the-world religious ranting and Bible verse-quoting (including a delightful passage where the writer calls the current head of the Catholic church “Nazi Pope Ratzinger.”) Found! In the parking lot at IHOP in Carson, California!
13. Neat little perfectly oval rock! Found! At El Matador Beach in Malibu!All of this could have been yours, Davy, to include in the next issue of your magazine. But instead, because of your insouciance to my previous submissions (and each one was phenomenal!), it’s all going to our first ever contest winner in our first ever contest. (Except for the drink ticket and the harmonica. And the rock, which I think is kind of neat.)
And the winner is… [and here I churn my hand around in a fishbowl full of slips of papers featuring the names of every single person who’s ever written in here to TedParsnips.com]…the winner is…”Chris C.” in Sacramento, California!
Congratulations, Chris C., whoever you are! It’s all yours, pal – as soon as I’ve found, in my mailbox, a check covering the cost of me mailing it all to you!
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Oy Vey For Hollywood!
Oh, sure!
Sure, I sell one or two (allegedly) pirated movies on DVD at the Rose Bowl Swap Meet the one Sunday some asshole from the legal department of some pissant production company that specializes in TV movies for Lifetime happens to be there with his ugly girlfriend who he tries to impress by calling the police on me…and $160,000 and ninety days in Men’s Central later – after Paramount and Warner Bros. and Universal and RKO and Disney all band together and decide to make an example of me – what do I find at my local Council thrift store but a plastic storage tote FULL of these things, for a buck a piece!
I was charging five! At least I wasn’t undervaluing these films!
So that’s how you spell her name! On my DVD covers, I had “Glen.”
Anyway, the fact that the studios have no problem whatsoever with the National Council of Jewish Women thrift stores selling these movies go to prove what we’ve known all along, folks. Oh, we all know it, sure – we’re just not supposed to say it.
Thrift stores run this goddamn town.
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Resellers of the Broken Ark!
Marion, don’t look at it!
Shut your eyes, Marion!
Don’t look at it!
No matter what happens!
…You looked at it.
But if there’s any justice in this world – or the next – it’ll be Goodwill that’s held accountable for this sacrilege!
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Thank God For Focus Groups! Part II!
Otherwise, Sunflower Farms might have gone with an unappetizing name for their pasteurized process.
“Their pasteurized process what?” you ask demandingly.
That’s it. Their pasteurized process. They probably can’t legally call this stuff “cheese.”
Speaking of cheese-like substances, I had jack chunks once.
But a penicillin shot at the free clinic took care of that.
Well, there go another eight people who’ll never visit this site again.
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Frank Zwolenkiewicz, R.I.P.
SAD NEWS TODAY out of Baker, California courtesy the Baker Bingo Beacon. Legendary extra Frank Zwolenkiewicz has passed away, much too young, at the age of 71.
“Zwolenky” to his friends (probably) – and he had many (I guess) – was one of the most professional extras you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting (if you ever had the pleasure of meeting him). He was always on time, he always hit his mark, and he never spiked the camera lens (I’m presuming; I don’t know). This is all the more amazing considering that his entire career as a movie extra was limited to just one scene in one film.
But what a film it was: Frank Zwolenkiewicz appeared in, as regular readers of this blog will know, a little masterpiece called “Don’t Worry, We’ll Think of a Title.”
His big scene, of course, was when “Charlie Yuckapuck” (Morey Amsterdam) lectured about abstract art to a group of university students. Frank delivered a particularly stunning performance as one of the ten kids who stood there, watched politely, clapped on cue, and chuckled at Morey’s awful jokes.
Unfortunately for the film industry, after “Don’t Worry…,” Zwolenky, for the most part, left Hollywood behind. But the story of how he got into show business in the first place is as fascinating and hilarious as the film itself: In June of 1966, Zwolenkiewicz was just finishing up a ten-month course on air conditioner and refrigerator repair at Valley Vocational College in Encino. It was there, on a bulletin board, that he saw a little note mentioning that extras were needed for a low-budget film shooting nearby. It paid $18 for a day’s worth of work – an enormous sum back then for anyone, but a veritable king’s ransom for a struggling trade school student. Frank answered the ad and the rest, as they say, is history.
After completing vocational school, Frank joined an air conditioning company in Ventura. Within a few years, the original owner retired. Zwolenkiewicz bought him out and changed the name to Frank’s Air Conditioning & Refrigeration.
He continued working – and eventually expanded into the West Valley – until his retirement in 2005 at which point he sold the business himself and moved to Baker, California – home of the world’s tallest thermometer and well-known for its scorching summer temperatures. Whether this move to the desert by a man who spent his life working with appliances meant to keep things cold was ironic or somehow fitting is something for you to decide.
I HAD THE PLEASURE of working with Frank, or “Mr. Z” as I called him since I wasn’t about to attempt that last name, on three memorable occasions:
The first time was when I directed him to the kitchen to show him our broken refrigerator when Amana sent him as an outside contractor to fix it. (Thank Christ that jackass at Sears managed to fast-talk me into the usually useless extended warranty!) Our paths crossed professionally a second time when I had the chance to interview him with regards as to where the best place to install our new central a/c unit would be – after which he installed it in that place. And we worked together a third time when the Amana crapped out again about two weeks after he first fixed it – he didn’t have his assistant with him that day so I helped him pull the refrigerator away from the wall.
By the way, you’ll note that I mentioned that after “Don’t Worry, We’ll Think Of A Title,” Frank mostly left show business. Mostly, but not quite. Because when he was out at the house repairing the fridge the first time, I had a chance to grill him about other famous people he’d worked with. And as it turned out, a few years before, he’d installed a new compressor in a Frigidaire belonging to – as best I can figure by the description he gave – either Jane Dulo or possibly Kathleen Freeman. He wasn’t good with names, but he was pretty sure she was an actress he’d seen before in something.
I mentioned to him that I’d had the pleasure of working with Jane Dulo and Kathleen Freeman some time earlier – Jane was shopping at Ralphs when I bumped into her and helped her get a box of Nabisco Sociables off a high shelf that she couldn’t reach; Kathleen was coming out of the Beverly Garland in North Hollywood and I held the door open for her. As Kathleen was walking out, Herbie Faye was walking in, so I had the pleasure of working with him, too.
But Frank Zwolenkiewicz was the modest sort – definitely not someone impressed by Hollywood star power; indeed, it was refreshing that when I showed him photos of Jane, Kathleen and Herbie, he merely glanced at them, shrugged and mentioned that if he didn’t get the thermostat reconnected soon, we’d be heading into time-and-a-half. The man was as modest, honest and forthright as Gary Owens’ hair is purple, who I have had the pleasure of working with. (Both Gary and his purple hair.).
Frank was that rare breed of man – all but extinct today, and even more extinct-er now that he’s gone – who is best described as a true gentleman of the highest order: He wiped his feet on the mat before he came into the house; he asked to use the bathroom when he needed to – and then he washed his hands when he was through. (I listened at the door.)
He was an enormously generous guy, just as quick to give you a little magnet in the shape of a van with the name of his company and phone number on it as some people will offer up a smile. And he wasn’t stingy with those, either. I don’t know of a single person anywhere who has anything the least, teeny-tiny bit negative to say about him – no one at all! – but then I don’t know any of his friends or family or any of his other customers. Did he have a wife or kids? I don’t know. Perhaps he did and I had the pleasure of working with them on something; sadly, it’s unlikely we’ll ever know.
But I sure don’t have anything bad to say about the man. Well, except that it took two trips to fix the damn refrigerator, and I lost a lot of frozen burritos and my last box of Birds Eye Fordhook Lima Beans (only available in late winter!) because of it. And I would have put that on a Yelp review, but they didn’t have Yelp when all this happened.
Tomorrow: I recount the time I had the pleasure of working with a fork on a garden salad at DuPars when I saw Amzie Strickland eating a grilled cheese sandwich!
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Big Lots Presents Circus Peanuts!
SO I was in my local Big Lots the other day looking for a set of bed sheets that had been bought by someone else, opened, possibly used but not washed, returned, haphazardly repackaged with an excess of clear packing tape, and placed back on the shelf at the same price the last person paid for them.
After I’d done that, I headed toward the front of the store when I came across these:
Oh boy! Nearly a pound of the candy everybody hates, at only twice the price you’d pay for them anywhere else, if you’d ever buy them – which you wouldn’t.
Circus peanuts, or as you and I like to call them, “giant orange vomit tablets,” are precisely the sort of thing you’d find hanging on a peg hook on that Wall of Miscellaneous Crap Candy in every Rite Aid, Walgreens and CVS, where a small bag of any of these things – be they circus peanuts or their equally hated siblings – Mary Janes, burnt peanuts, and the like – are marked “2/$1.00.”
Even the modest handful they give you for fifty cents is too much. You’ll be violently spewing them up in an orange froth of sugar, corn syrup, artificial flavoring, stomach bile and sauerkraut before you get to the last peanut! (Presuming you had sauerkraut for lunch, and knowing you, I think that’s a safe bet.)
And Big Lots, a discount store, expects us to pay $3 for 15.5 ounces of these things and then be pleased with ourselves as though we got some sort of deal? Well, here’s a deal for you: Don’t buy them!
Don’t buy them and instead put that $3 to good use with the purchase of an 18.5 ounce bag of their delicious vintage 2011 Easter candy corn!
Can we get a close-up of the bottom of the bag?
Yep, here comes that sauerkraut.
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Now Here’s Something You Didn’t Know!
IN India, Poppin’ Fresh is considered sacred, and it is forbidden to poke him in the belly.
I was going to go with “Shouldn’t Poppin’ Fresh be wearing a turban instead of a chef’s hat?” but then we both know I’d be down in Human Resources watching those goddamn ’sensitivity’ videos again.
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No Wonder This Stuff Ended Up At The 99¢ Only Store!
OH, big surprise this stuff bombed. Big surprise! I mean, there’s nothing new here! Jell-O’s always made color-changing instant pudding.
Of course, in the past, you had to digest it first.
Though I suppose the change in hue is more evident with some varieties than others.
Ted Parsnips
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