Incite Full

Sometimes I walk around and see something that jars me. Cake would call it a bowel shaking earthquake, but this was simply awe inspiring. I’m at the grocery store trying to decide which tortillas I would purchase, and that’s an adventure in itself. Do I need 10, or 20? Flour or corn? Reduced fat? Regular? Whole wheat? And then what size? Taco size? Burrito? WRAP?! Honestly, it needs to be a much simpler process to make a damn taco.

But I digress, sitting next to the tortillas was some beef jerky. I thought it was odd to place it there- especially this particular beef brand. It was, and I’m not sure how to say this, Jeff Foxworthy beef jerky. The man who knows ten ways from tuesday if you’re a redneck or not is now slapping his face on beef jerky.

As an aside, Jeff Foxworthy looks a bit like the Brauny man from the paper towels. The old one, not the new stud that they have selling, prostituting, their goods.

Jeff Foxworthy now sells dried, cured meet. Is he involved in the jerky making process? Is it his home recipe? I know you share my keen interest in this topic, so i did a bit of sleuthing for you. Monogram is the company that makes the jerky- which is located in Minnesota. A bit far from Redneck land, but I can let that go. Monogram wanted a notable face to sell it’s brand, and they believe Jeff is the one. Mission, which makes those delicious tortillas I was looking for, and those chips as well, partnered with Monogram to distribute the jerky product all over the country.

And that’s the story of Jeff Foxworthy’s salted meat. Can we call him a sellout now? I rarely throw a term like that around; I feel that people deserve their due especially after some hard work. Musicians get this label a lot, Chuck Palahniuk had this to say about being a sellout:

Why have I sold out? You think I’m supposed to grow old, beating some trite old protest drum that people don’t hear anymore? Please; protest is now just a backdrop for a Diesel clothing ad in a slick fashion magazine. My goal is to create a metaphor that changes our reality by charming people into considering their world in a different way. It’s time — for me, at least — to be clever and seduce people by entertaining them. I’ll never be heard if I’m always ranting and griping.

He has a very valid point in casting off his critics. But Jeff Foxworthy is no Palahniuk, and I’m sure he’s quite happy with that. If I were to define sellout, I would have an alternate definition which included slapping one’s likeness on a package with which you were not consulted for, invested in, or have anything to do with in any way, shape or form. It’s just mind boggling to think about this, honestly. I’m sure he eats jerky, at least I hope he does. If I’m wrong on this one, then the entire idea becomes even more preposterous.

Unfortunately, my plights on decency in marketing will most likely go unanswered. Lets be honest, with apologies to the late Vonnegut, me writing this entry is as effective as donning a full suit of armor to fight an ice cream sundae. At least you won’t be shocked, when looking for tortillas, to see this:

At work the past few days, I’ve gotten lost in some random thoughts. After having a conversation with a friend about over thinking things. Some people over think relationships, or their job, or decisions that need to be made. Not I, however.

Today while listening to some music, I heard what must be music’s greatest sin. I’m talking about something worse than a great group ceasing to use heroin leading to a decline in lyrical awesomeness and melodic magnificence. I’m talking about the dreaded, and I shudder thinking about it, fade out. It’s like falling asleep to a book on tape, or knowing that the band didn’t care enough about the song to finish it properly.

So I got to thinking, what is the best song with the worst ending? I’m still trying to figure it out, but will let you know when I do. Suggestions are welcome.

Also, in a meeting yesterday I heard the following statement: “I’m sorry, my brain must be thrashing.”

If you follow that link, it’s a term used to describe what happens to a computer when it is constantly reading from disk and not memory. I know, nerdy. But this guy used the sentence, and what’s more- no one batted an eye. It was like common lingo or terminology in this group. I wasn’t sure what to think at first. Then I realized I don’t ever want to become like that. Sure, nerdiness to a certain extent is a badge of honor- like winning bar trivia. Not this, though. This was not cool.

I’m currently watching the Simpson’s movie. And it feels very forced, unfunny.

Something else I’ve thought about is that one could probably get away waisting 60% of their time. If anyone were to ever call you on it, you could just blame meetings and bureaucratic blunders for the lack of work getting done. Now this isn’t a very ethical way of getting through life, but I think it is the norm.It seems, from other places I’ve worked, as if they expect you to waste half your time until you realize that you need to get shit done.

Then it’s a week of insane work which one complains about non-stop for being “overworked.” How ridiculous.

This weekend  we hiked.
Many animals we saw.
giardia fear.

This past weekend I went hiking for the first time. I’m really glad I liked it, especially after dropping a couple bones at REI. In fact, I’m already planning a few more trips to the great outdoors: Sequoia, Joshua tree, and possible Catalina Kayaking.
The trip started a little later than we wanted, but that was probably for the best as we missed out on the hottest time of day for our 7.5 mile hike into the valley. I was told that Los Padres was a National Forest. Apparently that’s synonymous with National Desert. Over the next days we saw a plethora of animals and plants, fox, frogs, bugs, man eating flowers- everything except for other people, basically. The scariest thing we saw, and I suppose that depends on what you consider scary, was the leg of a deer we found while lost.

Oh yeah, we got lost. I was considering who I would eat first (it was Steph) when we happened upon the leg of a deer, obviously ripped off by some carnivorous creature. It did comfort me slightly to know whatever it was was probably no longer hungry.

We did finally find our way out, and we made it up the ginormous mountain and back to the car in pretty good time. Another 7.5 miles in about 3 hours.

The most fun, however, was definitely the bouldering we did down the river. Not only because of the great waterfalls, but because it made me feel like I was five again. As a kid, I had this giant rock in my backyard that I would leap off of and grab onto the birch trees in  my gravel pit. That rock had a lot of stories. It’s where my parents found out that my sister was dating our neighbor (and her eventual husband). It’s where my sister burned her arms on a Roman Candle, and it’s where I Played ‘fort’ with my childhood best friends.

Back to the bouldering, I seriously cannot wait to do it again. That’s the motive behind going to Joshua Tree- the bouldering there is supposed to be phenomenal.

The Sequoia is purely because I want to see the redwoods. Maybe cut one down or something and make the biggest bon fire of all time. Or maybe just take a picture. Or two.

“The richness I achieve comes from Nature, the source of my inspiration.”

Righteous indignation is a redundant phrase, and pistachio nuts are the most amount of work I’m willing to put into my food wen compared to taste.

Yes, those two thoughts were quite random, but they had to be said. I’s been a whirlwind past few days. And I’d rather not relive most of the experiences i’ve gone through- but I’m glad I went through them once, I suppose. I’ll tell you one thing, coffee has helped me get through the past week more so than any other drug, food, drink, and activity could. Yeah, even Rock Band is playing second fiddle to the caffeinated deliciousness.

I feel that this blog has grown in popularity a bit. It’s not famous, by any means, and I’m quite alright with that.  But it’s almost to the point where I can no longer talk about personal issues or my life without offending someone or some people.

I suppose the people I would offend, though, aren’t exactly central to my life at this point.

Also, I’m going camping this weekend, and am a little nervous and a little excited. It’s not exactly something I do often, or ever for that matter. I have visions of being lost in the woods, or polar bears, or polar bears eating my maps so I get lost in the woods. And what the hell do you eat? Do i bring peanut butter and bread? Granola? Trail mix? I feel that will not satisfy the hunger of a man, let alone the man and a half hunger I get.

Will my cell phone work? And am I going to be a fifth wheel? If I see any hand holdin, will I vomit uncontrollably? And how charged should my iPod be to drown out the sounds of sex in a sleeping bag?

I don’t even want to think about the kids that will probably outhike me.

I also need a backpack and a sleeping bag, and have no idea which kind of either I should get. I can see myself asking for advice from the guy at REI and he’ll ask me question for which I have no answers, and he’ll sell me the most expensive shit there is. And here I wanted o save money this month. I guess that’s going out the door already.

Fuck.

So I was just now watching some television, and an interesting commercial came on. It was one of those Yellowbook commercials, set in the future, where a woman needs a tattoo removal service. She has the name “Mike” written on her lower back, but is marrying a Josh or something, it’s not really important.

So with my plentiful spare time, I started thinking about what kind of guy would marry the kind of girl who gets a guys name tramp stamped.

If you’re still with me, I’ve never been more proud of you.

First we have to consider “Mike” and the girl. Excuse me while I flow in and out of conversation. Yeah baby, you know what would be hot? A tattoo. But not just any tattoo, but my name. So when i’m laying the pipe I can see it and be all Yeah: That’s my mother ‘uckin name!

And the girl is totally down with this. Probably because she has no self esteem, or maybe she desperately wants to hold onto this monogoloid probably-a-cousin-catch that she’s got. Then, the relationship fizzles, who didn’t see that coming? He probably cheated on her or something.

She eventually puts together the broken pieces of her life and starts dating again. But she doesn’t get the tattoo removed. Perhaps for a while she only dated Mikes, or maybe a miles in there for good measure, because to a girl like that, it’s close enough. But she eventually leaves the circle jerk of mikes and moves on and she finds Joe or John or kevin or whatever the hell this guy’s name is.

This asshole doesn’t mind another guy’s name on his future wife? He was probably attracted to it at first- who isn’t? But then he decided that it was more than just liking a girl or hate-me sex. He found The One. My feelings about marriage aside, she chooses the dress that shows off her tattoo and then, only days before the wedding (creative license, there) she decides to get the tattoo removed. Genius idea, and probably the smartest one she has, or ever will, have. And maybe in the future there won’t be some ugly bandage or gauze there to show off with that skanky wedding dress.

Aside: Firefox was trying to tell me I meant Swanky instead of skanky. That’s normally a good bet, I’d imagine, but skanky is all encompassingly a word. Which, to further the tangent, is also not a word.

So we’re back to this unknown bride, who also should not be wearing white. I mean, the kind of girl who gets a guys named stamped 5 inches above her ass probably is not saving herself for marriage. In fact, I would love to see the ratio of tattooed women who aren’t virgins to tattooed women who are. She should probably be wearing a black or brown dress.

Or maybe I’m reading into the 30 second commercial too much.

There was one time in Vegas, when I was with an ex-girlfriend, that I saw a bride in a white dress with black stripes or something on it (If i were gay I’d be able to describe it better). This girl was the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. There is a good reason that she was getting married, you gotta lock that shit down. Most weddings or couples, by the numbers, are unattractive. So I’ve never seen a bride that was simply gorgeous.

Also, girls, and this is the same with prom, get all fancied up when they go to these big events. That’s fine, but know that the groom (stupid spelling on this word, by the way) or the date asked you when you looked normal. Don’t be surprised, if your hair has nine million twists and curls in it, that the guy is a bit taken back. Yeah, it still looks nice, but if flies die from the amount of product necessary to keep that “nappy ass weave” in place… Odds are it will also kill some of the romance.

That’s a lot of writing from a commercial.