“Hello, Emergency Credit Repair? I was denied for a Capital One Visa, I defaulted on my Learning Annex student loans, my FICO score’s somehow in the single digits, I have a bankruptcy on my record from a game of Monopoly I played with my sister in 1985, and the Salvation Army down the street won’t take my check for $3.99 to buy a pair of shoes I need to walk to the bank so I can beg them not to foreclose on my mortgage!”
“Sit tight! We’re sending the van!”
A magnificent example of home furnishing decor from the H.P. Lovecraft Collection, originally sold exclusively at Bed, Bath & Beyond’s Innsmouth location.
Discovered in the health & beauty aisle at my local Dollar Tree!
VitaRocks C Immune System Support Dietary Supplement!
“No Water Needed” reads the box. “Just Pop In Your Mouth!”
Like you’d be, I was intrigued. Could this be Vitamin C in fizzing candy form?! I gambled a buck to find out. For you, my readers.
Once home, I tore into that box and found fourteen of these packets inside:
So I ripped one open and what I found inside there, well, eh, I didn’t take a photo of.
Orange powder. Or it would have been, had it not been all clumped together.
I ingested it — and why not? — I paid for it.
Tasted like a pulverized chewable Vitamin C tablet, it did.
I thought I detected a bit of fizziness, so throwing caution to the wind (and possibly risking a Vitamin C overdose — what I do for you what, six, readers!), I dug into another packet, the contents of which were more powdery, less clumpy, and yes, fizzier.
Eventually, I read the damn box and yes, it confirms the popping aspect of this product:
“Enjoy a burst of orange flavor while getting immune-boosting benefits all in a great-tasting, popping vitamin!”
Fourteen packs for a buck is nothing to sneeze at, and the benefits of Vitamin C may well prevent you from sneezing altogether.*
*Sneezing is often associated with having a cold.
Despite the expiration date on the bottom being almost six months in the future, it seems that some of the contents’ packets were clumpier than others, with VitaRocks’ celebrated popping being more pronounced in the less clumpy ones (or, conversely, less pronounced in the more clumpy ones).
Still, I found that if it’s the popping that you’re aiming for (and you should be), clumpy or no, tap the contents of a packet into your gaping maw, but then chew it with your mouth open, like a damn cow.
For whatever reason, that seems to enhance the popping; but if you look like me (and you don’t), it doesn’t make for a pretty picture. A healthy immune system has its costs.
Presumably that “unfair advantage” refers to those of us who don’t have the resources to have our heads surgically removed and then grafted onto the bodies of muscular men of a different race.
Continuing with today’s head-grafting theme, which I imagine is a short phrase that has never been written before…
“Love your idea for the ‘Game of Thrones’-themed bottled water. Now, it’s not right for us here in Licensing, but we’re going to send your concept art over to the mortgage refinancing division of our corporation in case they can use it.”
AS REGULAR READERS of this blog know, I ordered a coupla parts for my weed whacker from Sears on Tuesday, March 3rd. Of this year. 2015.
Here’s my order confirmation:
Well, sheesh, how long is the wait for items that aren’t in stock?!
LIKE YOU, I’m pretty impressionable when it comes to advertising.
For instance — that new commercial with the unlikely animal pairs worked exactly as the genius ad-men behind it had planned:
I found myself immediately running out to the exotic pet black market down the street and buying an Australian crocodile and one of those red-assed monkeys — hoping to create some adorable magic of my own.
(Didn’t end well for Mr. Bananas, but I did manage to save most of his butt — I’m having it made into one of those horseshoe-shaped neck pillows you take on planes.)
Anyway: Also like you, I may be pretty impressionable, but I’m not stupid. You and me, we weren’t born yesterday, were we? Nope.
So recently, when I was in the parking lot of a local thrift store — thinking about sending flowers to a friend or loved one or grieving parents of a red-assed monkey, as many of us so often do when we find ourselves in the parking lot of local thrift stores — I saw this…
…and I was of course intrigued. Maybe even a little impressed. And curious.
But not yet won over.
Because while such a magnificent and elaborate car window display certainly implies a particular level of professionalism and an advertising budget quite possibly over the $5 mark (depending on where they bought those rhinestones), I’ve been fooled by car-florists with clever names and flashy signs before.
Then I wandered to the other side of the vehicle where I saw this:
Ah-haaa…! They somehow managed to scoop up both .net and .com! Not an easy task, I reckon, for such a popular domain name!
These people are on the ball! That’s what I’m looking for in a florist.
They’ve got all my flower business now, and, if I may be a bit presumptuous, I dare say yours, too!
Strange name for a vodka? Perhaps.
But maybe it’s so-named intentionally — you know, to help fun-loving, dyed-in-the-wool drunkards skirt inquiries about staying sober without resorting to lying.
“Parsnips you pathetic lush — you been laying off the Smirnoff?”
“Huh? Whuh? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah – Abstynent!”
“Good for you! Keep it up!”
Here’s something I’ve been seeing at the 99¢ Only store for a while, and I’ve decided to share it with you.
It’s hair donut — the donut for the hair.
What makes hair donut bueno?
It’s bueno just by virtue of not being the kind of hair donut that has you pulling long brown strands out of your cruller (and your teeth) and threatening to call the health department on the little pastry shop on the corner for lapses in hairnet protocol.
What’s more, for those of you who’ve fantasized about the forbidden love between man and Muppet — the love that dare not speak its name…
…well, for just 99¢ only, you can cross another item off your bucket list.
AS REGULAR READERS of this blog know, I have a tendency to see similarities between celebrities that no one else does. Maybe I just have a keener eye for these things; maybe it’s chronic macular degeneration and early-onset glaucoma coupled with the cucumbers I had for dinner. Who can really say?
For instance, I think we all remember the time when I was convinced that Bob Odenkirk was a dead-ringer for the guy who played the Scarecrow in “The Wizard of Oz.” That is, we’d all remember that time if I bothered to post my findings here. But no, I chose not to, shamed as I was after I mentioned it to a few friends who decided I was “smoking crack.”
(I no longer think Odenkirk looks like Ray Bolger, but I was watching the third episode of “Better Call Saul” a few weeks ago and there’s a scene when he’s in his car and he looks exactly like Kevin Costner for a few moments. And for the record, thanks to random testing, I’m still clean.)
Anyway: My latest issue of Entertainment Weekly came in the mail the other day, and this is the cover, featuring Taraji P. Henson and Terrence Howard from the hit new Fox show “Empire”:
Now, I’m not too familiar with Taraji’s body of work, but something about her and that vamp-like pose seemed very familiar…
Then it struck me:
She looks just like Lily Munster!
You see it, don’t you?
I mean, just give her a widow’s peak and a skunk stripe and she’s Lily!
Now maybe that’s not the perfect “Munsters” still to make my case, but if you think I’m going through seventy episodes to get a screen grab of Lily in a pose identical to the EW cover, you’ve got another think coming, bub.
And take heart, Taraji, if you’re reading this: Looking like the Munster matriarch is not a bad thing at all; Lily was indeed quite attractive. (However, Terrence Howard bears little resemblance to Herman, eh, thankfully for him.)
“So now,” you, what, six readers ask, “what exactly do we do with this information?”
Good question. Here’s my thought: I think this is where we all get on board and do one of those internet petitions where we try to get her to play Lily Munster in something. Why not? Seems like a worthy cause.
…Really, just — just anything to rid the foul taste still in our collective mouths from that god-awful “Mockingbird Lane” pilot from 2012, right?
It’s always interesting to me, and now you, when I find items in thrift stores that were obviously part of a collection…and then were donated all at once.
Here we see not a big collection, but evidently a collection nonetheless.
I consider myself fairly well-versed in the realm of tacky souvenirs, but the ceramic “I Got A Kick Out Of…” bottom-of-a-foot is a new one on me. Thimbles, egg timers, oversized novelty pencils, salt & pepper shakers, mugs, shot glasses — I’ve seen them all as tourist trinkets.
These things? Nope; never noticed ’em before.
And yet, as we can see above, they exist.
Too small for a spoon rest, not deep enough for use as an ashtray, they were maybe 3″ to 3-1/2″ long, so I don’t know if they served a purpose other than to gather dust as a knick knack.
Why would someone decide on collecting these? Aside from the Guadalajara one, there’s very little in the way of variety — the others were probably cranked out by the same manufacturer (and “Recuerdo De Guadalajara” was likely made by some other company creating a mold from one).
Were they just “cute” to the buyer, and purchased all by him or her?
Or did he or she just buy one, and then — egads! — a visitor noticed it on a shelf in the den and later gave another as a gift after going on a trip…? And then someone else saw the then two of them…and gave one more and thus, the collection grew, quickly and exponentially metastasizing into something increasingly horrific with each well-meaning friend’s return from vacation…until finally, there were — dear God above! — seven of them?!
And then what prompted someone to suddenly get rid of them?
Seems unlikely you’re going to collect these, actively or passively, and suddenly experience a moment of clarity where you see them for the hideous things they are, and so out they go.
Nope. Someone died. That’s my guess.
Grandpa finally kicked the bucket and Grandma, perhaps feeling a little guilty (or perhaps not), quickly rid her home of them, the only lingering reminders of the concession she’d made to his foot fetish after she said no to letting him sniff her navy blue canvas slip-ons with the little red anchor on the top.