Thursday, March 30, 2006

Half and Half Nastiness

Is it so much to ask? I mean, I can overlook the fact that these half and half tubs mysteriously don't need to be refrigerated, and don't seem to go bad, well, ever. And the fact that they're called "Mini-Moos", while disturbing in the sense that it calls to mind liquefied baby cow, can be glossed over. But...I ask you,

Can we make a Mini-Moo that doesn't ejaculate all over my leg every time I open one?! For the love of God!

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

The Leprechaun Ladder

I know, I know. I've been gone a long time. A really long time. Like maybe so long that you were searching around for me, and you almost went so far as to look in the freezer and in the sock drawer, but you drew the line, because that would be a little silly. But I wanted to wait until I had something really trivial to discuss before I broke my silence.

And the thing is The Leprechaun Ladder.

Now, I'm not big into St. Patrick's Day, though I can get behind any holiday whose general thrust involves drinking lots of Guinness and Shamrock Shakes. The whole pinching thing seems a little gratuitous, but who am I to judge?

One of my neighbors has taken St. Patrick's Day to a weird new level: he's installed a ladder from his lawn to the roof of his front porch...and it's got little leprechauns climbing it. At least I assume they're leprechauns. They could be little green-clad James Brolins for all I know. And the ladder is one of those rope ladder deals like you see in pirate movies. So maybe they're pirate James Brolin homunculi?

But there are several two foot tall bearded effigy persons scaling the ladder. One of them may or may not have a knife in his teeth. And the one at the top of the ladder is just cresting the gutter. Would that not scare the crap out of you if you were a kid living in that house? Totally leaving aside any association with the fine Leprechaun series of films, just knowing that several unheimlich little green freaks are climbing onto your roof could really do a number on you. Like every day you pull up to the house and from the back seat of dad's Volvo you steal a glance at the one at the top of the ladder, and you can swear that he's higher than yesterday.

But your dad allays your fears, possibly by telling you that they are tiny roofers, wanting only to shingle and dance, with a tiny hydraulic nail gun.

It's odd is what I'm saying.

I can't wait to see what he'll have out for Easter. Maybe an Easter Bunny drum circle or animatronic stone-rolling-away-from-the-cave-mouth display.


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