Starved for attention

23 March 2012

Earlier today, I used Twitter to share my desire not to see the film version of The Hunger Games. In case you missed it, here are the tweets in their entirety.

[Begin transmission]

11: 00 AM – To say I enjoyed the #HungerGames novels is an extreme understatement. I read all three in two days.

11:01 AM – However, I will not be going to see the movie version of @TheHungerGames

11:02 AM – So, please enjoy my series of things I will be doing while not watching the #HungerGames

11:03 AM – 1. Listening to Dance Hall Crashers while drinking a Mountain Dew – not watching the #HungerGames

11:04 AM – 2. Walking through Ogden, UT and looking at Mormons on lawns – not watching the #HungerGames

11:05 AM – 3. Watching The Page Master on VHS – not watching the #HungerGames

11:06 AM – 4. Playing Jenga with some friends who are cool – not watching the #HungerGames

11:07 AM – 5. Interviewing disenfranchised Cheetahs unable to vote in latest feline recall elections – not watching the #HungerGames

11:08 AM – 6. Doing my homework so I can be caught up on the contributions of Neils Bohr – not watching the #HungerGames

11:09 AM – 7. Checking which oven setting is optimal for cooking a Toaster Strudel, starting at 100 – not watching the #HungerGames

11:10 AM – Thus endeth the list of things I will be doing instead of seeing the movie version of the #HungerGames

[End transmission]

Follow @mentalmacguyver on Twitter for future reasons I am not participating in certain aspects of popular culture.

Crisp in glover compartment

24 September 2011

Good Saturday and almost Sunday friends and lovers. Yes, the title is a stretch, but so is…um…something really stretchy (whether you Lycra it or not).

Tonight’s post features headings!

Zip, Zapp’s, Zop

On Thursday of this past week I travelled to Richmond, VA. I drove on I-95. On the way back from Richmond I decided to stop at a Wawa in Fredericksburg, VA to purchase road trip junk food.

I am not sure of the appropriate nomenclature for the population we derogatorily refer to as “white trash.” I don’t think an alternative using the word “trailer” is suitable. The term “Redneck” is too broad and does not take into account the groups living throughout the country and not just in the US South. For now, they shall remain an unnamed group in this here blog.

A young man belonging to the unnamed group walked into the Wawa directly behind me. (The man was directly behind me. The Wawa was directly ahead of me.) He said, “What’s up,” and I could not tell if he was actually speaking at me, but I answered anyway. He then turned into a human homing missile, stumbling dazedly into my path as we zigzagged our way to the toilets.

After I “nipped to the bog” (you’re welcome UK readers) I went to purchase a soda and a bag of chips. (I also bought a terrible buffalo bleu chicken wrap that made me wonder why I am not still vegetarian.) This particular Wawa had Mountain Dew in a 12 oz (64 m) can. Those of you who are my most passionate and intimate lovers know my Mountain Dew hierarchy (primarily because I cannot help but spout about the soda nearly every conversation) and know how pleased I was to find the 12 oz (114 dB) offering of purportedly penis-shrinking pop. (Was not that one of the biggest conversations among adolescent youth in the 1990s? Perhaps it was just among me and my unnamed group friends who consumed enough Mountain Dew for the company to legally change the name to Range Fog if they so chose.)

My most intimate lovers also know my proclivity to purchase potato chips. While many humans expecting disaster may stockpile water, bread and batteries, I gather cart loads of chips.

I am always willing to try a different flavor of chip, no matter how off-putting the name or description.

Hence, my decision to purchase a chip called “Spicy Cajun Crawtators.” (Note: I am unsure how two ounces equates to a “super size.”)

A chip off the old block(ed colon)

Verdict on the chips: Surprisingly edible and cause only minor heart palpitations and digestive dis-ease.

Facebook

I held out so far, but I do not think I can refrain any longer from weighing in on the latest Facebook changes. The only thought I really have (other than we maybe should not really expect any privacy from online networking sites) is considering if I can remove myself from the Facebook universe. I primarily use the site now to promote this blog and other creative activities. Perhaps I can disengage myself as a mere human from the site and engage myself solely as a creator and entertainer. Not sure. So I put the question to you, dear readers: Shall I remain on Facebook or make like a tree and disappear?

Whatever you decide, you should still be sure to follow me on Twitter. @mentalmacguyver

Preview

Stay tuned for the next post when I show and tell of the recent trip to Olive Garden.

Streams of consciousness

10 August 2011

I drink copious amounts of beverages. I drink Mountain Dew, Coke Zero (thanks to a former intern who turned me on to it), water, tea, coffee and more throughout the day.

I pee. Frequently.

Today, I went to pee and for some reason (you can probably guess the reason) I utilized a stall (not the sweet skateboarding move) rather than a urinal in the bathroom for male-identified people at my office. While I was in there, someone entered another stall.

Within 13 seconds, the unidentified person and I were urinating concurrently (literally, “with similar streams” in the Latin). I spent the next 34 seconds stifling a chuckle.

The person left the stall, turned on the water in the sink (I couldn’t see if they actually washed their hands), turned off the water in the sink, grabbed paper towels, crumpled them and exited the bathroom.

For a few brief moments, our streams were simultaneous, our flows one chorus ringing in the frequently churning waters of the loo lake.

It was synchronici-pee.