She wiped her mouth?

Today I saw the banner ad I mentioned a couple of days ago and noticed that they've changed it all of a sudden. Now the woman doesn't have chocolate smeared across her face. They haven't been reading this blog have they? I checked their site and they still have the knee-boobs woman picture up, so maybe they haven't been reading my disgusting comments about their ad campaign.

Sucka

This afternoon at work I decided to finally eat the Christmas sucker I've been carrying around in my coat pocket for a month. This was a swirly sort of sucker made of two different colored candies, kind of like a candy cane, except it was strawberry flavored.

When I opened the plastic I noticed a hair. It was a long, dark brown, and somewhat wavy human hair. Ordinarily this would've nauseated me and I wouldn't have dared put the sucker in my mouth, but I was at work, where desparation invalidates all ordinary rules. I picked the hair up, and much to my horror, discovered it actually was embedded in the sucker. During the manufacturing process, the hair had gotten mixed up in the swirling candy, and now it went all the way though it. I could see the hair hanging out of both sides. So I did what any other desparate sucker-craving bastard would've done, I just yanked off both ends of the hair and popped the sucker in my mouth.

The sucker tasted quite good and it was surprisingly easy to forget that it had a hair going all the way through it. Periodically I'd take it out of my mouth and look for the hair. At first I didn't see it and hoped that I'd been wrong about it being embedded in the candy, but soon I saw it sprouting out of one side like it had grown there. I tugged it and it wouldn't budge. The sucker went back into my mouth.

I had no tweezers, so I couldn't do any kind of quasi-surgical follical removal, so I just put up with it. The hair was actually detectable by my tongue. I tried not to dwell on it, but I kept thinking about it. Oddly, it wasn't repulsive, it was weirdly fascinating. I really wanted to be able to successfully pull the hair out.

The sucker got smaller and smaller, then the stick came off. It was a plastic stick rather than one of the hard rolled up paper ones. It came out easily, but I didn't want it come out. How could I watch the progress of the hair without a stick? And then I accidently bit the sucker in two. After that I just gave up and sucked on it until the pieces basically just broke appart with the pressure of my tongue. I crunched the bits with my teeth and swallowed them. Afterwards I kept thinking the hair was stuck in the back of my throat and I had to fight the urge to start hacking like a cat bringing up a hairball.

I guess I just swallowed the hair. And for some reason, swallowing a quarter inch long piece of some candy-maker's hair doesn't bother me in the least.

Listen to the auctioneer

Lately I've been spending a lot of time (and money) at Ebay. A few minutes ago, I was looking at some crummy old razors and saw an auction with an odd sentence in the item description: "Please dont bid if you feel too high." Huh? I'd always suspected that quite a few people bidding on Ebay crap were stoned. And maybe some of the sellers are completely baked as well.

More!

A little while ago I once more saw the ad I mentioned below and this time I actually clicked on it. It ended up being for some kind of chocolate weight loss stuff. They claim it's "The French Secret to Weight Loss". Hmmm...I'd always thought the French secret to weight loss was that they understoood the concept of portion control, but I digress. Anyway, this stuff reminds me of that strange appetite suppressant candy called Ayds that an aunt always seemed to have around the house when I was little.

The only reason I'm even bothering to post any of this is because the stock photo of the woman on the scale. Don't her knees in that position sort of look like bare, misshapen breasts? But since they had that vile chocolate-smeared woman in their banner ad, I don't think they would've noticed anything odd about this photo either.

But why would you want it to?

I keep seeing a strange banner ad at the top of the page when I'm poking around the MSN shaving forum (stop laughing!) that features a woman with chocolate smeared across her mouth and face. I think the ad's for some diet pill or potion. (I didn't bother to click on it.)

The slogan "Can your diet do this?" is featured prominantly, but my eyes keep straying to the woman. Who but very small children and the feeble-minded eat chocolate and get it smeared all over their faces? Is there some other hidden meaning at play? I don't see them wanting to appeal to fans of German shit porn. But what else? The ad is vaguely repellant to me rather than inviting.

Are they really saying, "Our diet pill/formula/program is so lousy it'll drive you to a deranged binge"? If they wanted to show a sort of chocolate ecstasy, then why not just cover the woman in in it? If only anthropologists read my blog; I can't understand anything without the aid of anthropologists.

Vegan porn

My sister sent me another email featuring another stupid photo of unknown origin. Naturally, I see such emails as a way to weasel out of coming up with original blog content.

Is this what vegetables do when we're not looking? Filth! I'll never eat vegetables again.

Enough already!

Back in June, I think, I posted a link to an asinine photo my sister sent me in an email. Now, for the past two months or so, I get multiple hits a day from all over the world because this photo pops up on Google Image Search when people look for cactus pictures.

So, I present to you, the reason for most of my recent traffic:

City of the Dead

Once in a while I'll search for blogs written by other people in my town. Why I do this I don't know, since I have little or no interest in meeting any of these people. Anyway, I did some searching this afternoon. Most of the blogs I found today written by denizens of my doomed hometown were about Jebus and other subjects I'm not interested in. But I did find an interesting paragraph about my fair city in a blog written by a guy from another part of the state:

For those who've never been there, Danville IS the definition of a dead city. I'm sure it may have been a bustling metropolis in its day, but there's nothing there anymore except abandoned factories and burned-out warehouses. Oh, and a mall that's 4x the size of the one in Harrisonburg. Why does an abandoned city have a Giant Mall Of Doom? I have no clue, but I was quite thankful for it.

OK, there's not that many burned out warehouses here, but we do have our fair share of abandoned factories and textile mills.

My all time favorite thing about Danville I've found in a blog was something along the lines of "If Virginia needed an enema, then there's no better place to insert it than Danville." Yes, this town has a unique effect on its visitors.

Oh, and I found out there's also a dominatrix living here.

Der Utensils

A guy I have odd conversations with at work told me today that some relative or family friend had gotten Hitler's silverware in WWII. Apparently they took der Fuehrer's challet in some battle or other.

Hitler's silverware? The mind reels.

I can clearly see this family preparing for a fancy dinner:

"Get the good silverware out."

"The good silverware? Are you crazy? No, this is a very special occasion! Get the Hitler silverware out."

But just how important an occasion would it have to be to use the Hitler silverware?

File under, "icky"

Earlier today I was poking around Ebay because, let's face it, I have no life, when I stumbled across some British guy selling "amateur" photos of his girlfriend. I don't know what's more appalling, the fact that he's selling said photos on Ebay or that he's selling them for such a pitifully low price. You'd think he'd think more of his "girlfriend" than to sell five sets of 85 pictures each for a lousy $3.18. It's hard work crawling around on the floor with your ass stuck up in the air, so I can't imagine what kind of cut she's getting of the meager proceeds.

Naturally, I had to see what else this guy was selling. Big surprise! What I found was a whole page of the same kind of stuff. Lots of photo sets of his "girlfriends", but some sets were of his ex-girlfriends, and more confusingly, his wife. So he has a wife, around twenty girlfriends, and two or three ex-girlfriends. Even I don't have a fantasy life this rich, but I guarantee you if I tried to make money off it I'd have a higher asking price.

Jebus

I was just interrupted by two middle aged women (one had bright orange hair) who showed up at the front door that wanted to discuss bible verses. There was also something about the bird flu. Or something, I don't know. Anyway, I don't really understand these people who go around doing this sort of thing. I especially don't understand the ones who do it on Sunday mornings when the people who would want to listen to this stuff are already in church.

Clothes make the man

How many times have men heard women complain about how badly men dress? Women wonder why men wear the same thing over and over again, or they wonder why men are in such bland fashion ruts. Well, I've figured it out. Yesterday I went to a big chain clothing store that shall remain nameless to buy a couple pairs of jeans. I'd gotten a new pair of said jeans for Christmas that came from this same store and I wanted to get a couple more pairs. I figured I'd simply be able to walk into this store, find the jeans, get my size, pay for them, and then leave. Naturally, I was living in a sad fantasy world of my own making.

When I walked in, all I saw were women's clothes. The men's section must be in the back or upstairs, I thought. So I walked around. And around. Then I went upstairs. Somehow I found myself in the middle of a huge lingerie section. Now as much as I appreciate lingerie, I have little to no interest being caught in public ogling bras and panties. It reminded me of that scene in an episode of Father Ted where Ted, Dougal, and several other priests are hopelessly lost in the middle of Ireland's largest lingerie section, except I wasn't a priest, and the experience at the time was about as amusing as getting repeatedly kicked in the nuts.

After a bit of walking, I found myself in a huge children's section. I don't mean it was a section for huge children, I mean the section itself was huge. Anyway, I had about as much interest in being caught in the children's underwear section as I did the women's underwear section.

I walked around and around, upstairs and down, but found no men's clothing. Perhaps they have a few shirts and pairs of jeans piled in a broom closet somewhere, but I saw nothing, nor did anyone offer to help me.

So, women of America (and possibly the world), when complaining about the frayed plaid shirts and bland pants men wear, I ask that you take into consideration the fact that men can't find clothes because there aren't any. It's a miracle we have any clothes at all and aren't walking around naked or wearing burlap bags.

So I'm giving up on buying clothes and will be wearing what clothes I have until they fall apart. After that, who knows.

Crappy New Year!

The novelty of staying up past midnight to ring in the new year has long since worn off with me. Last night I went to bed at 10:30 or so and slept right through the festivities. Of course there were no festivities at my place; I was referring to TV festivities. The people on TV are the ones always having a great time it seems, except the people on the news; bad things are always happening to them.

Pointless trivia: I've never been to a New Year's party. The closest I ever came was the time I was working second shift and we were punching out to go home at midnight one New Year's Eve. Yep, I live an excitement-filled life.

I seem to recall one New Year's Eve years ago spent watching porn with the sound turned off and my police scanner on in the background so I could hear the locals getting arrested for partying too much. Such wholesome fun I have.