Abnormalities of Life

Someone stole this morning's granola bar!

I buy a box of Nature Valley Granola bars for Breakfast. $2 for six mornings is pretty good compared to $7 for six mornings in the cafeteria. Its a variety pack of 2 Cinnamon, 2 Oats-N-Honey, and 2 Peanut Butter. I opened this box last Friday, which should have let me go until this Friday. I had a Peanut Butter on Friday and an Oats-n-Honey yesterday.

We have a real douchebag principal of our 3-D visualization group who sits on the other side of the building. He's known for snooping around the office after working hours looking for treats. Our little office mouse I guess. When something is out in the open at the end of one's desk, it is surely a sign that the items in question are available for the masses.

I guess its my fault that I didn't keep them hidden, but the box is next to my computer tower at the inner-most part of my desk. This morning, there were only 2 cinnamon and 1 peanut butter left. What makes someone feel entitled to your breakfast bar when it is not positioned in the matter described above?

I get that you're a principal, and as such, you should just be entitled. But also as a principal, shouldn't you have enough money to purchase your own food rather than mooch off the less fortunate underlings? I hope it gave you food poisoning, jerkface!

I loved the Super Bowl! Pittsburgh finally won! Their last win was 1980; I was one. The last time they went to the big game, I was 16. But now, I was a beer-drinking (legally this time), football-loving, commercial-laughing fan of the game. While my solo Seattle fan friend is still yet to talk to me after the devastating loss, I have managed to find other ways to occupy my time.

We all saw the hilarious high jinks that are the super bowl commercials. But in case you missed them, you can catch them again here. My favorites are those for Fed Ex, Budweiser (they had a few), and Burger King. But only one has had staying power for the whole week. I've never been a huge fan of Burger King--Wendy's is where it's at--however I've never been so excited to build a burger my way. Condiment clad women making a human sandwich, what could be better! Check out this custom sandwich built just for me by me.

Is that excessive or what? Its so damn cool though. Who needs 5 patties, 5 slices of cheese, and 7 strips of bacon? A guy on the way to the morgue, that's who. If you listen at the end, they tell the girl to watch the ceiling. They've thought of everything! Kudos to you BK. I can't wait until mini movie "Extra Cheese" debuts on February 14.

What goes well with a Whopper? Budweiser of course. My friend sent me this Jewel of a picture yesterday. So below you can find your bonus advertisement for Bud; it was just too good not to share with the masses.

Hot huh? You know at least one of them is someone's mom, if not all of them. So STOP STARING you sicko. I'd guess the middle one as the mom; gravity has been less kind to her. Although the first one can't even button her pants. And lets not talk about the tounges' destination!

Honestly, 40+ women should never do this. But it is really funny nonetheless. I can't wait to see Budweiser pull this ad off for the 2007 Super Bowl! Get 30 of them, have them do a big dancing number, and then jump on top of each other while sharing a huge lilly pad swimming in beer. And then the creepy King from the BK commercials can make a cameo. Oh, cobranding is so fun.

Yes, I'm sick and twisted, and very excessive in my thoughts! But if Budweiser and BK want to take my idea, develop it, and pay me lucrative royalties, I'm totally ok with it.

I just learned that "Jack" from Elevator does have a name. His last name is Moose. That is classic. "Jill" must love that.

I remember the first Steelers Super Bowl in which I was alive to participate. It was 1996; I just recently got my first car and was now upwardly mobile. I went over to the Brewer’s house where T and his brother were decked out from head to toe. Erica, the three Matts, Emily, Jodi, Mike, Dawn, Traci, and Chuck were all there. We were excited, but no one as much as T. The rest of us watched, but mostly for the commercials. But towards the end, when Troy Aikman couldn’t go wrong and Neil O’Donnell couldn’t go right, we knew it was going to be tough. Keeping in mind that we were only 16, we each had half of a consolation beer. Yes, I know its wrong, but with a family name like Brewer, I think alcohol is in your blood—literally and figuratively. We took some time to sober up and then packed into two cars and spent the night at Connie’s house. Fortunately, Super Bowl Sunday spilled right into President’s Day Monday that year, giving us a nice day off.

Oh high school. We were all so cool and knew everything. What the hell happened since then?

It is now almost ten years to that day. I don’t really speak to any of my “best friends” anymore. We all grew apart; some grew up and some never did. Some grew old beyond their years, and some grew fat beyond their gut. I’m fortunate enough to be one of those who grew up. But what exactly did it get me?

As I sit only two days away from Super Bowl XL—we won’t even discuss how confused I was until I learned that ‘L’ is an actual Roman Numeral, and not part of a weird marketing scheme to make the Big Game even more extreme or extra large—and I look at what I have planned. Mike and Cheryl are having a party, courtesy of their 52” HD TV. How awesome is that?! I would love to go, but they are an hour away and it’s a work night. Stephanie usually throws parties, but as a Seattle fan, I’m banned from there this year. Many of my other friends aren’t football fans and thus don’t have a strong desire to see the game. My, how things change in 5,256,000 minutes (figure courtesy of Rent). Well, even if I curl up on the couch by myself, swathed in enough black and gold to make school bus drivers everywhere green with envy, I know I’ll be a die-hard supporter of the Black and Gold this year, next year, and even ten years from now. We won’t discuss how life will be at 36, but I’ll still be there cheering for them loud and clear.

I was on the phone with my mom the other day. She and I discussed this year's academy award nominees. She told me she and my aunt went to see Brokeback Mountain this past weekend. She proceeded to tell me how much she enjoyed the movie and really cried over the sadness she felt for each of the characters.

"If more people went to see this movie, there would be much more tolerance in our society" she muses. I couldn't believe my mom was this progressive. She has always had a more liberal bent, but this was an attitude that made me jump for joy.

We then proceeded to discuss a few other items about her weekend, where she informed me that she watched The Road to Perdition on cable. She then talked about the sadness in that movie.

She further elaborated on another made-for-TV movie of which I can't remember the title. She also enjoyed this movie. I had seen the other two movies on her repertoire, so she needed to give me a synopsis of the third to tell me how it too made her sad about the injustice of the world.

"It was about this Negro school in Africa, with a strict Negro teacher". Negro?! Mom, what happened to your liberal attitude? That word has been on the no-no list for at least a decade. She realized the error and corrected it, and then she called herself out for being ignorantly insensitive.

Parents! Gotta love 'em. They support you in every way, they are there to build you up, and once you've done that, if they've done a decent job, you idolize or envy them. It's sometimes tough to admit that they too have faults. Sometimes they show their human side too. When they do, it makes you that much more proud to call them Mom or Dad.

I was walking about on a gorgeous 60-degree January day. Keep in mind that I'm in the Northeast, so 60-degrees and January rarely ever fit in the same paragraph, let alone in direct correlation to one another.

As I strolled down Market Street towards the soon-to-be-Macy's-but-right-now-still-Strawbridge's, I saw several older men in wheelchairs or rascals convening outside of the store. I was still far back to examine my surroundings. About 50 feet in front of me was a "Goth Kid". This kid, who totally looked like he was up to no good, approached the three men and I was ready to call the cops in. The kid then proceeded to talk briefly with the men and grabbed the door, allowing them entry. It seems the automatic doors were not working that day.

The men thanked him, and each went on about their business. What more proof do we need than to that to realize that one shouldn't judge a book by its cover?

It's those kinds of little things that brighten up my day.

I got in the elevator on the way home. As I boarded, three other people from my floor got on with me; two were waifish 20-ish intern girls, one was a pleasantly plump 30-something man.

One of the girls, "Jill" (I don't know her real name) was dressed for the gym. When "Jack" (same deal with the name) asked why she was dressed like that, she replied "I'm going to the gym on the first floor". She proceeded to ask him where he was off to.

"To my gym", he says as he gestures to his backpack.

Jill, looking stunned in amazement, replies "no, seriously, where are you going?"

"The gym", Jack repeats with a more noticeable gesture to his backpack.

"Oh", said Jill, "I thought you were kidding. . . I don't know why I thought you were kidding, but I did. . . I. . . um. . . It doesn't matter. I hope you have fun!" She then quickly ran off the elevator.

Go ahead and say it Jill. "Jack, you're fat. You need more than a gym".

Jack, you're not really that fat, Jill's just really stupid.