I have a problem with you. Why? All you are famous for is being fat, and then getting skinny. Kind of like Anna Nicole Smith. Except I guess she did a few other things in there too….like four dozen other men, and some pornos. Either way, someday Subway fans are going to stop being impressed with your “from stout to svelte” act, and somebody’s marketing director is going to get the pink slip and have to work at Kinko’s, just like whoever came up with the Taco Bell chihuahua. Come up with a catchy new slogan or mascot, or I will start going to Quiznos.
Speaking of Quiznos, who remembers these bastards?
The Quiznos “Sponge Monkeys.” No one really knew what they were, if they were hamsters, guinea pigs, mice–it was up in the air. These commercials got me, and damnit they got me good. They were just too catchy. Boy were they short-lived though. What was the deal there, Mr. Quiz Prez? I even went so far as to order a hooded sweatshirt with the Sponge Monkeys on the front, starring their hit single debut “We Love Tha Moon,” which you can probably find on YouTube somewhere. I’ll take a singing, dancing, banjo-playing rodent over Jared “This Is All I’ve Ever Done” Fogle any day when it comes to choosing my sandwich vendor based strictly off of marketing angles.
That being said, I just returned home from Subway (ha), and while there, I was checking out the nutritional information they had posted under the menu for the various products they served there. That’s when I made an amazing discovery:
Apparently when it comes to weight gain, it is not WHAT you eat, but WHERE you eat that matters! If you’re feeling a little west coast., prepare to tip the scale, Bessie. But eat up, Nebraskans, South Dakotans, and Iowans. Turns out that a Californian’s Whopper with cheese is an Iowan’s Lean Cuisine! This is exciting news. I wish I had known this information before I chose which university to attend college at; that would have remedied by freshman fifty fluctuation in an entirely different manner. You live, you learn.
All Hallow’s Eve has come and gone, boys and girls. Naturally Trent and I scurried off at about 7 pm on Halloween night toward Hy-Vee to pick up some candy for the little beggars. There’s nothing like waiting til the last minute, is there. I was trying to figure out what some of the people in Hy-Vee were dressed up as for Halloween. Then I realized they weren’t wearing costumes. That sucks.
We bought two bags of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and two bags of Hershey’s Cookies ‘n’ Cream bars for the six trick-or-treaters that came by. Needless to say, I’ll be consuming a lot of chocolate this week.
When we got home from the grocery store, we flipped on the boob-tube to the news. The hot topic of the day: Halloween safety, of course. More specifically, keeping your kiddies safe from pedophiles and child molesters while they run about trick-or-treating. The new rule? If you are a registered sex offender (Dane), you may not leave your home between the hours of 5 and 10:30 pm on Halloween night.
Oh, that’ll show ’em. Good move team, restrict the weird uncles out there by keeping them at home for a brief time-out as their dressed up prey prance around in the open streets all night long. Is this really what they consider to be an effective safety precaution? If I am a serial killer, but the law suggests I must stay inside between the hours of 1 and 4 om Monday, that is not going to stop me from tearing out of my house at 4:01 pm to start sniping neighbors in the street, ya dig?
I have been very liberal with my Facebook friend rejections lately. I also did a little “spring cleaning” through the ol’ friend list and cleaned out a good ninety people whose names I could not pronounce or did not recognize within three seconds. I also decided to just remove anyone I really don’t care about, also those whose statuses make me want to cut my wrists. I am tired of friend requests from people I don’t know. “I’m sorry, Austin Melbourne? I don’t know you. How do I know you?”
“Well, we both live in Kansas!”
“Right. So how do I know you? Go to hell.”
That’s what I’ve been doing a lot of lately. Listen, folks–if I don’t know you well enough to wish you a happy birthday, we aren’t friends. Let’s just make that the rule for now, until I come up with something more clever.
ANYhooter, I’m done for now. Adios amigos.
“I didn’t know you guys were black!“