That's What She Said

So, basically, this video made my week. I don't know if the car was supposed to keep driving through the store, but it makes the whole thing worth it. I think I had a dream like this once.

Pie for Life

(The above-pictured pie features a pecan filling, topped with chocolate chip cookie dough.)

"For example, a 30-year old in Texas would pay $23,498 and would be set, pie-wise, until they die. It's non-transferable, making it something of a pie-insurance policy. Live forever, and you beat the system: discount pies. Die tomorrow, however, and Royers makes out like bandits." -- from EatMeDaily.com

The Fall of Rome, as Told Through Cat Food

I once stayed at a Four Seasons and learned a very important lesson: Rich people are AWESOME. The room service menu had all of the accoutrement you'd expect: proteins poached and slathered, then drained and fluffed. But it also had something unexpected: a menu for cats.

The truly wealthy don't travel with small dogs! Humph! So passé! They take their cats with them. And do you know why? Because they can. That's why. And when little Chairman Meow has downtime between his whisker extension appointment and kitten mitten yoga hour, you know what he does? He has his butler order room service. Sure, the menu was limited and included things that would probably be funnier to watch cats eat -- like fresh berries in whipping cream -- than things cats actually want to eat, but that's not the point. The point is that the menu exists. But even there, at the Four Seasons, there was no mention of appetizers, or of any progressive course order for that matter. Thankfully, Fancy Feast is on top of it.

Forever a trailblazer in the cat food arena, Fancy Feast has boldy ventured beyond even its line of gourmet varieties, like Spinach Florentine, and into a truly brave new world: Appetizers for cats.

To be paired with gourmet main courses from teeny tiny tins!

Served on asymmetrical plates!

With tarragon!

Who cares if you’re eating Ramen?

(a note: Someday, many generations from now when our world is eroded and crawling with roach-like aliens, they will uncover a cat food appetizer can, wrapped in a Dog Snuggie, and simply climb back into their space ships and leave. Knowing instantly that our story was a junk paperback in the leatherbound library of the universe.)

Secret Hoarders, Yeah, That's What We Are

Me: So, what are you doing today?
Mom: Well, there's this great show on Lifetime later tonight.
Me: Mmm-hmm....
Mom: It's all about hoarders.
Me: Oh, yeah. I saw a preview for that. Looks depressing enough for Lifetime.
Mom: Wait, no, it's on A&E.
Me: The new Lifetime. So, yeah, you're excited about this?
Mom: Well ... I think your dad might be a hoarder.
Me: Hmm. A small-scale hoarder, maybe. America is probably the only country where storage units are so abundant because no one can throw shit -
Mom: I want to burn it all.
Me: Oh...

I didn't tell her about the show I watched this weekend about people with OCD, lest another family secret come tumbling out. I especially didn't tell her about the woman who is so germaphobic she has to masturbate with a rubber glove. Or the show about the 650-lb. virgin. Man, Labor Day weekend programming really reaches for the stars, and then throws those stars in your eyes, like Chinese stars.

If you want to wash your sad sandwich down with a glass of uncomfortable juice: HOARDERS.

Going There, America

You Haven't Got the Guts

Ugh. Whenever I see a preview for a new Tyler Perry movie, I have to watch this immediately.

Insert "Computer Virus" Joke Here

According to tourism futurologist Dr Ian Yeoman, in oncoming decades pleasure travel is going to get hot. Robot sex hot.
Yes! While you've been holding out hope for hover boards, flying cars, and machines that magically make snacks materialize upon request, Dr. Yeoman is taking the futuristic path less traveled. He believes that within our lifetimes we'll be able to order up some robot prostitution in germ-free hotel rooms.

More depressing than the nether regions of Yeoman's mind is certainly the mental image accompanying the phrase "robot prostitution." It conjures up a rickety robot with a pink, faux-bunny stole wrapped around its shoulders while it monophonically bleeps out phrases like "let. me. turn. you. on." On the bright side, your no-good, lazy, do-nothing Roomba could finally start pitching into the family budget.