bac-log!

Here you go:

2009-12-23T10:06:00.000-08:00

INSTRUCTIONS: Go grab a drink while you are waiting for this to load.

I like to think this montage pretty much sums up what life is like. You know, sometimes life nails you on your little walker car thing. Sometimes you try something new and end up getting nailed with a 2-liter bottle. And sometimes you are a bunny and you get ice cream. Yes!

SO HOW'S EVERYONE DOING?

Step 4

2009-06-24T12:00:00.000-07:00

Guys!

It might seem like I don't have a plan for this blog, but that is just an optical illusion, because I just made one up:

Step 1: Start blog.
Step 2: Get bored of blog's nominal theme.
Step 3: Lose focus and just start rambling and randomly arranging words together for about a year.
Step 4: ?
Step 5: Jewels!
Step 6: ?
Step 7: Grow a really long beard.
Step 8: Ride on the back of a whale.

EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN. Step 4 is just taking longer than expected.

As soon as I think of a new theme or shtick and sufficiently lower everyone's expectations, Bac-Log will be "bac" [ha ha! Get it? Jokes.] and better than ever. Maybe I will call it "Bac-Log: Millenium" or "Bac-Log: Titanium" or "Bac-Log: Resurrection", and maybe the dancing bacon guys will have sunglasses. And on that day all calendars will change to a new year 0 and there will be no more war or spiders.

Here is a good idea: Whenever you guys who like to complain that I don't write in my blog (you know who you are) want to complain that I don't write in my blog, you should structure your complaint like this:

Dear Mr. Grant,

Thank you for the great nickname you came up with for me. [insert awesome name for a softball team] would be a good softball team name. Also, [insert thing you would like to know more about from an expert in the subject] would be a good new theme for your blog. Also, I am in love with you and always have been here have a beer and some pepperoni. I wish you would write in your blog more. Here are some pictures for you to caption [attach embarrasing pictures of yourself].

Respectfully, [your name here]

Adhering to these guidelines will go a long way towards building a sustainable and influencial organization here at Bac-Log Enterprises.

My May 27th Resolution is to write in my blog

2009-05-27T12:45:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! Long time no talk at. Long time no use propositions to end sentences with. Did you miss me?

Blogging:

Recently I've been reading this blog called We Will All Go Simultaneous, so if all of a sudden I start making even less sense you can blame it on a dude named Crispin Best. But seriously, you should check out his super awesomely great Ninja Turtle flash fiction. If you don't cry a little from laughing at Raphael's bit, I might not be able to renew our friendship contract. Times are tight, people.

* * *

I found this mysterious slip of paper in my desk at work last week:

What could this list possibly be about? Why did I keep it? Did I misspell "Mercer", or is that intentional? It sounds like Past Grant is in trouble and that Present Grant will have to embark on a National Treasure fan fiction adventure before my hand dissolves. Who's with me?

Seriously, though. What?

* * *

I found this on a bathroom wall:

At first I thought this guy was encouraging the use of quotes over phallic imagery for effective bathroom expression, but now I think he might be being sarcastic. It's amazing how good literature can really make you think.

* * *

Check out how my coworker is going to handle a zombie attack:

Man, that's so good. I can't wait until I'm a zombie.

* * *

Check out this awesome baconolli my sister and Way-Lon and Chris and Booster Seat and I made a few weeks back:

The baconolli is draped around a foil-clad Vitamin R can:

The baconolli is cooked with some baco bodyguards:

After being gingerly removed from its aluminum scaffolding, the baconolli is used as a wonderous kaleidoscope that displays an ever-shifting menagerie of sparkling grease beads and carbonized bits of pig:

The baconolli receives a new heart of egg and cheese and stuff:

And then it gets eaten.

* * *

I'm so glad it's flip-flop weather FINALLY.

Man VS Machine

2009-05-12T16:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I just took a little stroll to the ol' neighborhood QFC because I'm sick and I need my friggin' juice. I bought two cans of frozen juice concentrate (one is pink lemonade, the other is strawberry orange mango, in case you are interested)(of course you are). After I paid I headed out of the store with zombie-like determination and pace, because being sick really brings me to the top of my zombie game. But because I was so out of it and not really paying attention to anything except for imagining how much fun I'm going to have with my juice when I get home, I failed to execute the very important ceremonial pre-automatic-door pause! Usually I am very dependable when it comes to the ancient tradition wherein a human must pause and visually acknowledge the infinite wisdom and majesty of the automatic door in token of respect before entering within and plucking Doritos and PBR from its insides. But this time my unfortunate lack of piety caused the automatic door to become displeased with my lack of reverence, and I slammed right into it! I dropped one of my juices, and then as I was trying to catch it I dropped my other juice, and then the door opened. And then the manager, who was talking to the florist lady, asked me if I needed help out, but I said no, because I'm pretty sure I could handle two juices, but from the looks in their eyes they did not share my optimism. Anyway, I grabbed my little juicies from where they had rolled and tried to leave, but then the door tried to close on me! In the future, when archeologists and scientists try to piece together this important story, they will probably come to the logical conclusion that my juice had rolled too far off to the side so that the automatic door sensor did not register my attempted exit, but I know the truth. The Automatic Doors are displeased and shamed by me. From now on I will probably have to wait until someone else is coming in or out before I can slip quietly into the hallowed halls of the Interbay Quality Food Center to hunt for the wild pepperoni that sustains me.

Also, here is a chant from the classic San Francisco zombie march a few years ago:
"What do we want?"
"Braaains"
"When do we want them?"
"Braains"

UPDATE: This is the most important video in the history of time:

If laughter truly is the best medicine, I think I just cured my cold, and 50 cancers.

it turns out that I AM capable of self-editing

2009-05-05T13:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I was just diligently composing a comprehensive post about the debilitating writer's block that I've been dealing with for a couple of weeks, which has annoyingly extended into every corner of my life, but then somehow against my will it became a super long gripe about the etiquette associated with sharing things you find on the internet. I guess the secret to overcoming writer's block is to be really crotchety and bitter about something trivial!

So I'm going to go ahead and give myself some kudos and some candy for not actually subjecting you all to it. Thanks! And you're welcome.

Also, I promised my sister that I'd post pictures of this awesome bacon tube that we cooked the other night, but I only have the "before" pictures at the moment, so I'll get right on that as soon as I get the "after" pictures from Booster Seat. Also, Dramatic LEGO Reenactments are slowly coming along. End of update.

cooking with pooh

2009-04-29T07:10:00.000-07:00

Hahaha, check out what ol' Kevin Bacon just found:

This is an actual book! Amazing! Although what is more amazing is that she found this on a blog called StrollerDerby, which as I don't see any little kids stroller-checking each other as they recklessly race around a track, appears at first glance to be a blatant example of false advertising. Which is disappointing.

MY INTERNAL DIALOG IS ALL-CAPS TODAY

2009-04-28T07:49:00.001-07:00

Oh man, so Heenkenstein and I saw My Bloody Valentine last night, and I seriously can't hear today. It was the second loudest show I have ever subjected my fragile hearing organs to, following only that one Kinski show at the Crocodile where I'm pretty sure my skull changed shape. At one point last night I was convinced that I was going to get a bloody nose just from the sheer wall of noise and that all of my arm hair was going to vibrate off.

Since neither of us could hear anything after the show, Kyle and I basically had to yell at each other all the way home, which definitely added an exciting new dimension to our typical intellectual banter. However, the yelling and the "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?"s made a lot of sense when it was between two similarly afflicted parties, but this morning I realized that my newfound lack of hearing was also causing me to shout everything, including my internal dialog. To get an idea of what this feels like, you should just pretend that everything you are reading is being yelled at you, but you still can't quite hear some things, so you have to ask yourself, "WHAT? WHAT WAS THAT?" Every once in a while.

I can tell this is going to be a really productive day.

ANYWAY, I am super pleased to announce that as her prize for such a comprehensive and cohesive review, which tickled the fancies of billions of people and showed children the true meaning of Christmas and taught robots how to feel love, Sara will be recieving a dramatic LEGO reenactment of that one year that she and I and four other people lived together in a crappy tiny apartment right next to the freeway! In the future, when she gathers all thirty of her children around her in a multi-tiered semicircle to tell them her story, Sara will simply have to produce this stunning reenactment before their hungry eyes, and they will know their heritage.

I am pretty stoked about this, mostly because I actually mananged to secure some LEGO Brand Dramatic Reenactment Blocks! I think the past might have to be rewritten to include some exciting spaceship battles that end with everything exploding and then reforming into little cars that only seat one bald person. Which is totally plausible, considering the other random stuff that happened during that year.

Alright, Grant out.

Go Humans Go

2009-04-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

Is anyone else totally confused by the new Quaker Oats advertising campaign?

This sign seems to imply that the Quakers are either aliens or robots who I guess are trying to encourage us to eat hearty whole grain oatmeal products so that we will be healthier and more efficient as we harvest fuel for their spaceships that run on babies. I will never be able to look at a can of oatmeal the same way again, now that I know that the seemingly delightful and friendly Quaker dude probably has a metal skeleton and enjoys his simple Quaker evenings reclining on a porch swing made of human bones. "Go humans, Go", he cackles maniacally as he flings flaming globs of flavorless gruel at us as we try to run away.

Actually, I could really go for some oatmeal right about now.

Another milestone DESTROYED

2009-04-20T10:52:00.000-07:00

Hey dudes and chicks:

Apparently this is Bac-Log episode 200! [scattered awkward clapping].

Okay, fine. Have this instead:

CHAPTER THE ONETH:

Who wants to go see an exhilarating Seattle Mariners baseball squadron baseball game tomorrow (Tuesday) night? I have THREE FREE* TICKETS that do not include my own ONE FREE TICKET! Who wants to spend a beautiful spring evening making up inappropriate nicknames for the esteemed members of the opposing ballclub, the mildly detested but begrudgingly respected Tampa Bay Rays baseball squadron? And eating nachos? You know you want to. Bring it.

*While free in monetary terms, you will have to pretend to listen to me as I make up inappropriate nicknames for the opposing ballclub, the people around us in the stands, my friends, and probably myself.

Email me if you want to go. The seats are awesome, and even come with free parking passes.

UPDATE: Looks like I'm the middle of a Kyle sandwich with a side of Vik! Wait, eww.

CHAPTER TOOTH:

Because she lives 3000 miles away, coming up with a suitable selection of appropriate prizes for Sara's dominating slogan contest victory has been difficult, because I can't just make the prize poll consist of nothing but noogies of various durations. So I have had to settle for the following:

Election as Bac-Log's Minister of Defense, Slogans, and Time Management. (Sara has proven that she can handle at least part of that job.)
The subject of an epic poem and/or limerick!
A custom T-shirt that reads "I won a custom t-shirt contest but all I got was this lousy custom t-shirt back".
A ~~one-week~~ ~~5-day~~ 2-day moratorium on making fun of her behind her back.
A seven year old box of stuffing autographed by Heenkenstein, BRG, and I.
A dramatic LEGO reenactment of what life was like when Sara and I were roommates in college.
A poorly-photoshopped sparkly poster of Sara riding a unicorn or a dolphin or a unicorn dolphin or driving a barbie car with Robo-cop.
A Dicks cheeseburger [this also counts as this post's inside joke].

Pretty awesome stuff, right? Now remember, Sara's prize will be determined by YOUR VOTE! VOTE ON THEM NOW AND TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW TO VOTE. It is the only way we can ever hope to make this world a fair place.

CHAPTER LETTUCE:

Tougs and I had some Fun Dip on Saturday. That stuff is awesome! If only there was a way to use this blog to assign homework, the first assignment would be to enjoy some Fun Dip and vote on the prize poll and come over and ride Tinybike with me over some sweet jumps.

TODAY'S HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT:

Enjoy some Fun Dip
Vote on the prize poll
Come over and ride Tinybike with me over some sweet jumps

You do care about your grades, right? Better get on this.

HURRY!

2009-04-15T09:04:00.001-07:00

Ack! I totally forgot about this awesome giveaway contest that my robotic aquatic flightless doctor bird friends over at penguinbot.com are doing! Check out this awesome tote bag that you can win by merely clicking on mouse buttons and possibly occasionally typing some letters:

All you have to do to enter this thrilling contest is become a facebook something something fan something something JUST CLICK HERE AND THEN CLICK STUFF UNTIL YOU WIN. There is also something about commenting on a photo album that will also increase your chances of winning somehow. How about you just read the actual rules and stuff presented in sequential order using complete sentences and inane-babble-less instructions HERE.

If you somehow manage to navigate the dark murky passages of facebook fandom and achieve the high crown of ultimate tote-bag glory, it would be awesome if you could give a little shout-out to Bac-Log in your acceptance speech, right between thanking God and your mom. If you do this, I will either buy you a 24oz Miller Highlife from the AM-PM by my apartment, or let you ride my tiny girl's bike with training wheels over some sweet jumps, or preferably both.

YOU HAVE ONLY TWO AND ONE HALF HOURS TO WIN. GO GO GO GO GOGGOOG OG OGgogo gOgogogogo asfhaskljhlash hasjkdf238 Q#GQW#$%Q#

[ed note: I can't believe this is the first time I've just mashed the keyboard in a blog post!]

TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: port commissioner of death

[Guest Post] Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

2009-04-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post by the esteemed Ian F. King recounting his epic adventures at the Brooklyn Bacon Takedown in Williamsburg illustrated with some select photographs by the esteemed Sara A. Morrisson. I guess they also brought a back-up Sara just in case, which is an excellent example of being prepared. (This is why I always keep around multiple Brians and Kyles.)

“Emergency! Emergency!” squawked an unfamiliar voice on my drawing room windowsill. I spun around in my smoking chair, and there before me perched the frantic visage of Speckles, who was filling in that day for Nugget, my trusty carrier pigeon, taking over his route duties while Nugget was off on a preposterous sojourn to “find himself” along the coastlines of Andalusia, no doubt nibbling at discarded tapas every step of the way. Speckles was a reliable-enough substitute, but he lacked the social graces that Nugget so naturally displayed, being the product of the Philips Exeter Avian Academy.
“Lucifer pinch your cursed beak!” I replied, sending one of my numerous smoothed-alabaster paperweights sailing in his direction, the forcefulness of my reason immediately striking Speckles, compelling him to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before continuing on.

“Apologies good sir, but it’s Mister Laine, I’m afraid worst fortune has befallen him, and he requires your immediate help.”

“Go on…” I leaned forward.

“Well sir, he was on his way this morning to attend the Worlds Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown in Williams’ Burgh, but whilst on his way over in his private zeppelin, he became distracted by a particularly engaging sandwich, and unfortunately his pilot mistook the name of the pub where the Takedown is held for the name of the city they were going to, so that by the time Mister Laine was able to disengage from savoring his lunch, they were already tethering down in an airfield just outside Radegast, Germany.” Speckles was all but entirely out of breath, but I knew exactly where this was going.

“So,” I exclaimed, rising briskly from my chair with a purposeful thumbing of my suspenders, “I shall then go in his stead, and see to it that no faithful Bac-Log subscriber’s screen goes unfilled with the glorious reporting of the Great Bacon Takedown that they should rightfully expect!”

“Oh Mister Laine shall be most appreciative,” Speckles said. Though the estimable Grant V. Laine has never been one with a need to bestow appreciation upon those who merely attend to their destiny, I knew that both Mr. Laine and I would ultimately rest easy knowing that he had not enjoyed that sandwich in vain. This, my handsome friends, is how I briefly came out of retirement, to fill my role as Mr. Laine’s assistant once more.

Understanding what lay before me at the World’s Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown – upwards of nearly three dozen bacon-blessed epicurean masterpieces, and a salt-crazed mob of equally immense size and appetite – I enlisted the help of two willing companions, the conveniently twin-named Sara and Sara. “Assistant’s assistants” I called them (continually throughout the day), if you will allow me a moment of whimsical cleverness. Sara and Sara were as willing to face this challenge as I was, and the three of us made the epic, epic journey from our respective homes just outside the ancient mortared walls of Fort Greene, north as the crow flies to farthest reaches of Williams’ Burgh.

We arrived later that day weathered but un-weary from the long, long journey, only to find ourselves thrust into the teeming cavernous bowels of Radegast Beer Hall, which was swollen with the bacon-scent of promise, and a capacity crowd upwards of three hundred unruly citizens ready to ravage any and all foodstuffs put before their rapacious eyes. It was a thing of wonder, and a thing of terror.

Soon enough after we arrived, the mass began to align itself for the ceremonial dishing-out of God’s own great pork feast, and having been distracted by our attempts to get an early eyeful of the bounty that lay before us, we got a pretty shit place in line. We carried on with our spirits high however, singing rounds of traditional bacon carols with some of the fellow merry-makers, and regaling each other with tales of our fondest memories of Takedown’s past.

As Father Time ticked on and on, our feet remained mostly unmoved, and a growing sense of impatience began to chip away at the demeanor of some of us more than others. Unbeknownst to me at first, one of the Sara’s, though she might not have appeared to be an individual capable of such sinister thoughts [pictured at left], made numerous unsuccessful attempts to barter my recreational services for a more favorable position in line. When this did ultimately come to my attention (let’s not worry about exactly how it did), Sara was very forthcoming with apology, and I insisted we let bygones be bygones. This was the World’s Most Famous and Delightful Great Bacon Takedown after all, an event known to drive man and woman to the edges of reason in the quest to consume one’s heart content with the sizzled fat of nature’s fourth smartest land creature.

I’ll spare you, loyal reader, any more of the tedium that was the endless queue, because what laid at the end of the tunnel, as we all knew, was light – a blinding heavenly light ready to shoot across the dark expanse of our eager tastebuds. Once we finally arrived at the banquet tables, we were administered a small sacrament of bacon bourbon ice cream that threatened to overwhelm our palettes. If a cloud full of trumpeting angels had a taste, this would have surely been its proxy. And it was just the beginning. As Sara and Sara and I slowly wound our way through the orgasmic gauntlet, we reveled in creations like the bacon tomato soup, bacon piroshky, bacon sloppy joe, home-cured ‘electric’ bacon, and even a very odd invention described to me as a “cupped cake”, topped with a shingle of the Good Meat. On first sight, I was a little taken aback by the appearance of these bizarrely small cakes, perturbed by the faulty reasoning that must have led someone to think that you could improve a food by shrinking it. “The very thought is sheer lunacy!” I cried. However, the other Sara [pictured above] – the one who did not attempt to use me as Takedown currency – beseeched me to give it a chance, and upon giving it such a chance, decided that perhaps there was room on the desert table for cakes of a diminutive figure. Wonders never cease.

We feasted and feasted, and our stomachs churned and roiled with new pleasures. The event was unparalleled success, and Grant V. Laine, after spending the day eating his way through every goulash hall in Radegast, Germany, did eventually make his way back to the welcoming shores of America, berating the absent-minded pilot of his zeppelin nearly the entire way back. I was honored to serve in this great man’s assistance once more – and dear reader, in yours.

Friday

2009-04-10T13:15:00.000-07:00

What up, internet?

Okay, so I have been extremely busy for the last few weeks, which is why I have not been blogging with my usual reckless disregard for content, style, or structure. DO NOT BE AFRAID! I will get back to delicately swaddling your brainfruits in wrappings of directionless rambling next week. In the meantime, I guess Ian got tired of waiting for me to write up a thrilling recap of his epic harrowing excursion from Park Slope to Williamsburg to attend the legendary Brooklyn Bacon Takedown, so he will be doing it himself. So be prepared to be gripped in the throes of suspense and wonderment as Ian regales you all with how he probably had to walk all the way to the G train so he wouldn't have to take the F into Manhattan and how he had to wait in line and how his tummy hurt afterward. With pictures!

Here is an exciting story to make this not just another procrastination post: While I was sleeping on Wednesday night I managed to somehow roll onto my stomach with both my arms pinned awkwardly beneath me. I must have slept that way for a while, because when Clocky told me it was time to wake up and start a new day of fresh possibilities and infinite promise, both my arms were asleep. I made to hit the snooze button with my typical unnecessary force and bitter disposition, but I couldn't control either arm. I sort of managed to get my left arm to flop around a bit, but even deep in the fuzzy clutches of morning logic I realized that trying to wail on Clocky with a limp club attached to my shoulder would probably result in a spilled glass of water and a broken lamp long before it made a successful fleshy impact on the snooze button. Finally I managed to sort of squirm my whole body up to where I could hit the snooze button with my chin. I gave up on trying to squirm back down during my precious 9 minutes of snoozcation, so I just kind of curled up enough to lay back down and went back to sleep. When the alarm went off again, both my arms were still asleep, and now my back hurt. It was an awesome morning!

Good story, huh?

Okay, back to work.

TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: Sloncho

Magic!

2009-04-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

I have been to many obscure little villages in Alaska over the last few years, and have gotten used to the sub-optimal conditions associated with going to obscure little Alaskan villages in the middle of winter. Which is why it is so exciting that my low expectations were so easily exceeded by the discovery that I can get internet here in Naknek! Sure, I have to trudge from my room through the icy winds to a little shack to plug my laptop into an ethernet cord that emerges mysteriously from a giant plywood box, but Hey!! Internet! ALSO: usually when I go to Alaska, I get unlimited free food, but only at designated mealtimes. But here, I get unlimited free food available ALL THE TIME! I have eaten at least one entire chicken, if that chicken was made entirely of eight other chicken's fried legs and had ranch dressing for blood, and also I ate his friend made entirely of jalapeno poppers and bacon.

Alaska is truly the land of magic.

However, as proven time and time again by every discipline of science and the greatest minds that history has ever known, unlimited free food and magic internet come at the cosmic price of being really freaking cold while you have to measure stuff. I had to survey this building today that was 8 degrees Fahrenheit inside with a windchill of -5. (The building is missing a wall, which happens to face the icy river along which the wind runs). I brought a cup of coffee from unlimited free breakfast, and I set it down for a bit while I took some measurements, and when I returned it was COMPLETELY FROZEN SOLID. Awesome. So cold.

ANYWAY, as I mentioned before, I have been really really busy with stuff, and when I get really really busy with stuff, I tend to "phone in" this blog, in the way you might, um, "phone in" life when you die. Which has been sad, because I was really very excited by the enormous response that we got for the Bac-Log Review Challenge 2008! As you probably know, the winner of the most awesome and applicable tagline was the esteem Ms. Sara Morrisson, from whose thoughtful and completely relevant review begat the mighty Titan of Slogandom, "Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not." While fascinated that a full third of willing and/or wasted participants are apparently confused as to whether this blog is an inside joke or not, I am a little bit sad that my favorite of the bunch finished second: "Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming". I think I like it so much because I don't really understand it and it uses big words and talks pretty and is full of smarts.

Actually, one thing I find interesting about the majority of people being uncertain as to the inside-jokiness of this crazy Bac-log contraption is that I totally feel the same way sometimes. If this really is an elaborate inside joke, I think I am totally on the outside.

Anyway, my original plan with this contest was to deploy another exciting poll full of various fabulous prizes for the winner. You see, this way the same people who chose the winner would also get to choose their ultimate fate, and you would all get drunk on your God-like power over the destiny of others, and I would be able to take advantage of your fate-controlling intoxication to hit you up for a drink or something. But since Sara won, and she is 3000 miles away, most of the fabulous prizes that I had been collecting or growing or killing would require expensive, and possibly illegal, cross-country shipping! So now I have to start from scratch on generating fabulous prizes which can either be pumped through internet pipes or magically materialized in New York. SIGH. I guess I'll have to work this into my intense unlimited free food eating schedule tomorrow somehow.

ALSO, before you go (right, because that's how blogging works), I thought of something that will be an exciting bonus prize in celebration of Sara's dominating slogan victory, and also make her slogan's uncertain implications come true. Starting today, every char-filtered, mountain-broiled, hand-fresh, cold-crafted Bac-Log single-serving, not-for-individual-resale blog entry will be concluded with-- wait for it-- AN INSIDE JOKE! [pause for gasps of surprise followed by sustained applause and excited laughter]. But wait, there's more: [more gasps followed by eager silence and one dude coughing. Geez, guy, get some cough drops]. Not only will I conclude every blog entry with an inside joke, to keep with the spirit of Sara's now-famous confusion, some of them wont even be real inside jokes! Hahahaha ha hhaa... ha ha... ha... [looks at shoes].

TODAY'S INSIDE JOKE: Cheesebag.

sigh, blogging.

2009-03-31T16:34:00.000-07:00

Hola amigos!

So one of the many really stupid conceptual blog ideas that I have had from time to time has been a blog in which every entry is an apology and excuse for not blogging. I am dangerously close to unintentionally implementing this idea, although as wild chance would have it, Bac-Log also happens to be an applicable title for this concept.

Okay, so because they won't stop bothering me about it, I am pleased to announce that apparently I managed to passively convince my friends Ian and Sara in New York to attend the Brooklyn Bacon Takedown, where they had to wait in line FOREVER and it was CROWDED and HOT and there were WOLVES AFTER THEM and one of them probably RUPTURED THEIR SPLEEN and they were HUNGRY and WHEN WILL WE GET THERE, and then they got stomach aches from eating 27 different bacon dishes. BOO HOO.

Here is a good selection of their text whining:

IAN:
"Hey! We're at the bacon-off. It is hella crowded and there is nowhere to sit. Sara is providing photos. More updates to come."

"This line is soooo long and hasn't moved in twenty minutes! You bastard!"

"We're never gonna get to eat!"

"I am not fucking anyone for food today! Too tired from doing it all those other days."

"I have a tummy ache"

SARA:

"40 minutes early and still standing room only."

"In line for 20 minutes, still no bacon."

"We can see but not eat! You set us up!"

Anyway, they finally made it to the glory that was 27 different bacon dishes, and I will post some of Sara's photos later, when I am not pressed for time in an airport. Also, I promise I will get to the super-exciting prize distribution for Sara's unprecedented slogan contest victory.

Okay, anyway, I have to catch a plane now. I am going to the land of volcanoes:

Apparently that is an actual picture of Mt. Redoubt erupting.

SERVICE DELAY

2009-03-23T07:42:00.000-07:00

Due to STUPID WORK STUFF, I have not had sufficient time to randomly arrange words on a blue screen for you. Bac-Log apologizes for the delay in heaping glory and stuff on Sara, who I guess won the slogan contest. Until time is available for a proper display of well-deserved gratitude, I think everyone should wave a tiny mental flag in celebration of Sara's dominating victory.

Also, I know it's early and all, but in case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas:

I thought I was getting close to being a complete person, but then the internet has to drop HORSE HEAD VASES on me. Now I have to line my entire hallway and probably every wall of my bedroom with alternating white and black horse head vases at tastefully varying heights, and then fill them with seasonal flower arrangements. So close, yet so, so far.

Lobster--> Grant--> Peapods

2009-03-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

Hey gang, check this out:

Few worldly delights are as keen and lofty as being sandwiched on a Cabaret bill between "Lobster" and "Peapods".

Okay, I am starting this story in the late-middle. A little while ago, I was asked by the local theater company that I hammer and saw stuff for, Live Girls! Theater, if I wanted to contribute anything for our Season Kick-off Cabaret on Saturday. I think I was specifically asked for a Top-10 list of some sort that had something to do with the theme of the Cabaret, which was "Slumber Party". Here's basically what I came up with after months of intense work, sequestered in a rustic lakeside cabin with only candlelight to illuminate my furious literary genius:

Top 1 Greatest Things About Slumber Parties:
1. Slow-motion pillow fights.

After I accepted the fact that I would probably be the only person to find a "Top 1" list funny, I gave up and figured that maybe it was time to switch gears from a writing a "Top 10" list to my greater strength, which is running away and hiding. But, having vaguely obligated myself to producing some sort of appropriate and relevant material, I felt guilty about backing out, so I hammered out a little last-minute story a couple of days before and sent it in for approval.

Miraculously, and probably due to a mix of insufficient time to find a replacement and sheer pity, I was informed on Saturday morning, the day of the Cabaret, and right before a super-important and intense fantasy baseball draft, that my story was a go. This gave me precious little time to polish it up and figure out what I was doing, and I wasted most of that on working out the details of my entrance (which, despite some technical difficulty, turned out okay). Fortunately, it also gave me no time to freak out about going on stage and reading something that I threw together at the last minute in front of people.

So anyway, in case you are interested, the story is [here]. It probably helps to imagine it in its natural habitat, which is being solemnly read aloud out of a dusty hardback book by me, reclining in a chair with my pipe and sweater, after being pulled onto the stage on a platform attached to a little girl's bike with training wheels. However, in your imagination, you are allowed to replace the safety goggles that I made the girl who towed me out onto the stage wear with aviator goggles and a scarf, because that would have been even more awesome. Also, maybe next time I will see if I can put a fancy lamp and a hi-ball with scotch on the platform too.

All-in-all everything turned out pretty good, I guess. It's weird being on stage with the bright lights and the hushed crowds and the not-knowing-what-you-are-doings, but I think the Vitamin-R that I kicked back in the AM helped refreshingly calm my nerves. It also helped that I made some of my friends come, and that they were obligated to like it, as a birthday present. In fact, I would like to officially announce on this legally-binding publication that I owe PIPS, Taco, Heenkenstein, Dread Pirate Colins, Booster Seat, Tougs, BRG, the Faux-sin, and Princess Grossman 2 hours of my time doing something that I wouldn't ordinarily do unless guilt-tripped or bribed. You guys are the best!

Also, KEEP VOTING ON THE SUPER-EXCITING BAC-LOG REVIEW CHALLENGE 2008! It's a super-close race between "Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming", "Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not", and "Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences." You have until Wednesday to affect the courses of history!

FINALLY

2009-03-12T10:00:00.000-07:00

What up, gang[?]

Two things: 1.) When used as a greeting, does that actually need a question mark? 2.) I renewed my drivers license yesterday (because I'm old), and counter 6 was piloted by the most awesomely archetypal DOL employee ever. You know, rumpled, beady, bespectacled, completely humorless-- if the DOL ever pulled a Star Wars Episode 2 and hired a weird water dolphin planet to clone bureau-troopers, this guy would be like Boba Fett. Anyway, every time he called someone up to the counter he meticulously deployed the standard, "Firstname Lastname, please come to counter six. Firstname [pause] Lastname," even if the person was already standing there. I watched this machine-like bureaucratic precision for maybe half an hour, when this Indian dude wanders up to counter 6, and the DOL employee just says, "what up," with a little head nod. What? Does this Indian guy come in so often that he and the DOL-bots are on "what up" terms?

Anyway, I meant to post these awesome Bac-Log reviews a couple days ago, but I somehow became really busy. Sorry! [not that sorry]. Okay, so here's how this review contest is going to proceed: I will post either the whole review (if it is of reasonable length *cough* *cough* Courtney *hack* *HACK*), or a representative summary. I will conclude each review with an associated tagline. Also, as in the legendary Cancer-Fighting Haiku Contest, each review will be accompanied by an image generated by entering the tagline into Google Image Search.

Hold on to your butts:

Wait, what movie is that from?

RACHEL'S REVIEW:

I think your friend Sara's friend eats too much paste during passing period. Your blog reminds me of the excellent, albeit defunct, teen magazine called Sassy. Sassy was "fashion" magazine that did not focus on fashion much in the way that Bac-Log does not focus on bacon. But that's what made it great. Keep up the good work. Sara's friend can suck it. End of review.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Like the defunct teen fashion magazine Sassy but for bacon.

* * *

HEIDI'S REVIEW:

Meh, sometimes I read it.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Meh, sometimes something something *bored*

* * *

COURTNEY'S REVIEW (excerpt):

OK, this is not where I thought this blog post was going to go with previously mentioned title, but ok, I'm at work and I don't have anything else to do. Blah, blah, blah.............. blah...Ha.... blah blah blah... hahahaha... that is soo Grant... blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.

Tagline: Bac-Log: blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.

* * *

ADRIAN'S REVIEW:

I would say the best thing about bac-log is that it allows me to maintain an excellent distant tenuous relationship with a brother who lives in the same town as me but whom I never see because he lives farther than a ten minute walk. It is a tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming...in blog format. I like to read it when I pretend to work and recommend it to jewish people. I suck at writing comments! I need to scan the picture I drew of a squirrel going to work-That would more accurately portray my feelings about this blog.

Tagline: Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming.

* * *

TRICIA'S REVIEW:

The bac-log is where I go when I am feeling glum and bored with the thoughts that are floating through my head.
I am consistently surprised by the witty commentary and always amazed at its complete randomness.
I often try to bring up random and exciting topics of conversation with the author of bac-log in hopes that one day it will make it to the all-hallowed walls of the bac-log, but it has yet to happen...
I also use it to prove to co-workers that the stories I bring back from the weekend are true, and that Grant really is off his rocker.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Those stories from the weekend are true!

* * *

RITA'S REVIEW (excerpt):

So you want a review?
[Uses the promise of familiar crisp, satisfying bacon to lure you into the thick smoky outer regions of the blogsphere, some never to return.]

I hate to admit it but Yes, I did drop him on his head when he was very young, that or maybe those scary Lego people.

Tagline: Bac-Log: ...something about scary lego people. What?

* * *

SARA'S REVIEW (excerpt):

Bac-log makes no sense to me. I always read it and laugh, but then I wonder if I actually get it, or if its all an inside joke that I would understand if I actually lived in the same state as the author. However, with this contest, sprung from the comment that my completely disconnected friend made, so I feel that I've been brought back in the fold and get the joke.

I probably still don't get it though.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not.

AWESOME! Okay, so now that you've all thoroughly read the reviews and carefully considered the taglines and discussed the elaborate thumbnail images with your colleagues over piping-hot cups of fancy tea, you must vote on your favorite. THAT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO VISIT THE BLOG, GOOGLE READER USERS. Don't worry, I will refund those extra mouse clicks. (The check is already in the mail.) (Please don't cash it until at least the 15th. I don't want to overdraw again.)

Just in case you don't like any of the taglines, I have included the versatile "None of the above/I am incapable of human feeling" option.

Also, you can vote for multiple taglines.

VOTE NOW HURRY GO GO GO GO

ARE YOU READY

2009-03-06T09:26:00.000-08:00

FOR SOME DEMOCRACY?! [hint: yes]

Okay, here's the deal: I need MORE REVIEWS OF BAC-LOG. They do not need to be as elaborate or contain as many "blah"s as Courtney's review. They can also contain more thinly-veiled criticism. They can also contain more suggestions for what you think Bac-Log should be that it is not, and will never be, because it's my stupid blog, okay? They can also contain more reviews of things completely unrelated to Bac-Log, because that would actually be sort of awesome. They can also be a lot shorter and contain more swearing and/or just mashing the keyboard. They could also just be a picture. I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS, PEOPLE. Just be sure to stretch first, and wait at least an hour before you go swimming afterwards.

THEN, after I collect a couple more reviews, I will post the review and an associated blog slogan related to the review, for everyone to point at and laugh. THEN, I will make people vote on which review/slogan should "win". THEN, I will make people vote on what the prizes should be. This is going to be awesome.

How awesome? As awesome as this guy:

Bac-Log Review Contest 2009™: You will buy the whole seat, and you will use the whole seat because you paid for the whole seat. HOWEVER, if you are given the option of only buying the edge at a reduced price, you should do that, because you will ONLY NEED THE EDGE.

technology is awesome!

2009-03-04T07:44:00.000-08:00

When you file your taxes online, this little guy puts on a tiny green visor and adds numbers up on an adorable little adding machine:

Because that's how computers work. (Apparently, paintings of animals in people clothes gets me every time.)

Also, you should check out this awesome blog post Ian wrote about our cross-country adventure last year.

Is this how blogging works? If not, [PUT REAL BLOG STUFF HERE AND THEN ERASE THIS WHEN YOU ARE DONE].

***

I am so out of it today.

More shining reviews of Bac-Log

2009-03-02T16:13:00.000-08:00

Check out this awesome review of Bac-Log by one of my friend Sara's friends:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

How do you have a blog about bacon? What the eff happens with bacon consistently enough to dedicate an entire domain name to it?

Bac-log is an amazing name for a bacon blog, if it made sense to have a blog about bacon.

If he were a chef who only cooked bacon, maybe the above would be feasible (and incredible!!!!).

Bacon blog research? Really? Who are you talking to?

Hahahahaha! In case you missed it, here is the relevant part again, with emphasis added:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

Wait, maybe that is not enough emphasis:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

Fringe blog scientists have long postulated that there existed at the asymptotic limits of infinitely-dimensional blogspace a better slogan than "The most important blog in the history of time." For the most part, these fringe blogologists have been shunned and ridiculed by the mainstream conservative blog science establishment, who are primarily concerned with securing blog research grants and free tickets to fancy black-tie open-bar Blogsonian events, rather than forwarding the frontiers of the most important of all sciences. Well, score one for the underdogs, ladies and gentlemen. The absolute limits of perfection have finally been reached:

Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences.

Awesome! I just can't get over how completely and perfectly Informed Expert (or IE for short) encapsulated all of Bac-Log in one tiny review. IE sure CRASHED my blogging party! (Ignore that sentence; it is just to see if I can get Bac-Log to pop up when people search for Internet Explorer problems).

I think this week should be Bac-Log Review Contest 2009 Week™! Send me a short review of Bac-Log (in the comments or email), and then somehow there will be prizes. Trust me, I might not know how to blog, but I also don't know how to make contests.

Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

2009-02-27T07:18:00.000-08:00

Guys: It is almost time to ride the Bacon Warpig!

Finally!

Seriously, though, it is a 30-bacon-recipe smackdown and something called the Bacon Warpig at a bar called Radegast Hall in Williamsburg. This cannot possibly not be awesome. That sentence is a little awkward because of the double-negative, so you may also think of this event as can't be not impossible to not be awesome. Or maybe, you can't not disagree that this can't not be impossible to not can't be unawesome. Um. JUST GO TO IT, OKAY.

I think all of the Brooklyn-based Bac-Log enthusiasts should go and take pictures and make friends (because networking is an important part of the New York lifestyle.) [Note to Sara: I heard that all of the bacon they used is actually locally-produced artisan vegan bacon, they're just being chill and not advertising it that way.] [Note to IFK and Kevin Bacon: [SARA DON'T READ THIS] Don't worry guys, it's totally meat, probably meat-fed meat stuffed with more meat inside. Probably even the air will be meaty.]

Quote from Skulls and Bacon blog:

And it's in a beer garden which is just like icing on the meat cake.

Yep. March 29. If you guys don't go get hammered and ride the Bacon Warpig I'm going to be pissed.

SNOWPOCALYPSE: Part More

2009-02-26T07:05:00.000-08:00

Chapter [last chapter+1]

I awoke at the crack of the 4th snooze cycle on my trusty sidekick alarm clock, Clocky.

"Gdmornin, Clocky," I grumbled.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, said Clocky.

"What! What's that, Clocky? Timmy is trapped in a well?"

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, Clocky replied, and we both laughed. Or beeped more, depending on which one of us you are talking about. It is our favorite joke.

After patting Clocky lovingly but firmly on the head, I rolled out of bed and noisily stumbled into the bathroom. It seemed like just another ordinary day. OR DID IT? That foreshadowing seemed sort of out of place. OR DID IT? That meta-foreshadowing seemed sort of--

I shaved, showered, and dressed, but some of the half-remembered dialog betwixt Clocky and I still lingered. Is it just me, or was there some subtle inflection and overly-specific word choices on snooze cycle two? What does Clocky know? This thought haunted me as I grabbed my lunch and sweatshirt and left the warm gentle arms of my home to seek my fortune in the hard world.

I opened the door of my building and was immediately blinded by a sudden flash of sparkling white light. I must have just died! Clocky had been trying to tell me to stay in bed! Oh, what a sore trial it must have been that pitted sacred alarm clock duty against Clocky's foreknowledge of its beloved human master's death. I vowed then and there that when my turn comes to haunt common household appliances to annoy and frighten the living, that I would choose Clocky as my home, so that we may be together forever. As my full and extremely interesting life flashed before my eyes, I remembered when Clocky and I first met. It was many years ago, when I took refuge from the pouring rain in a run-down dusty electronic repair shop. The shopkeeper was a stubby grizzled man with a glass eye and an ill temperament. I felt uncomfortable under his penetrating and sneering gaze, so I picked up a dusty alarm clock and inquired about its price. I needed an alarm clock because my excuse about not having an alarm clock was starting to wear thin with my employers. The shopkeeper gave a queer grin, and his glass eye sort of pulsated a little bit. "No charge," he said in a cracked voice. "This clock has chosen you. But I warn you," he added urgently, and lowered his voice to a haunting whisper. "This clock has strange powers. It can tell you strange things about the future, such as what time you will wake up, and strange things about the present, such as what time it is right now. Also, it is haunted." I thanked the creepy pulsating glass-eyed shopkeeper and went on my way, never truly heeding his last words. Funny that only now in death they come back to me. I wonder what other soul has been watching over me in intermittent silence all these years. I steel myself against the cold eternity before me and think, "there will be plenty of time to find out."

Oh wait, that blinding white light is just because it snowed. Again.

*Yawn*

SPECIAL TWIST ENDING:

The day after I met Clocky I returned to where the electronics repair shop had been the day before, but found only a bustling kebab stand instead. I asked Captain Kebab what had happened, but he told me there hadn't been a repair shop on that street for ten years, ever since one had mysteriously burned down, leaving no trace except for a soot-covered glass eye.

Also, who am I kidding-- Snowmaggedon is awesome!

Affirmation that I have the best taste in everything

2009-02-25T07:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday:

Approximately 353,000 people were born.
Approximately 158,000 people died
Grant figured out how to rate movies on Netflix
75-383 species of plants or animals became extinct.
Approximately 1.2 billion pounds of potatoes were consumed

Amazing, right! It turns out you just have to click on one of the five stars below a movie title to rate it!

Okay, so I rated a bunch of movies yesterday because I finally reached the end of my giant Netflix queue of all movies that people recommended to me as "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE YET!?" I needed a recommendation, and Netflix promised to feed my ratings into a giant magical machine which would digest this information with math acid and deposit fresh steaming piles of suggested cinema at my feet. I imagine that the hordes of Netflix elves crank endlessly on recommendation machines that look sort of like this:

But with 50% less pasta.

Anyways, so I rate a bunch of movies, but I am just not that impressed with Netflix's initial suggestions for things I might like. I mean, I'm sure the Justice League animated television series is awesome and all, but I guess I was hoping for something more. So I decide to check out the "friends" section and command the Netflix elves to go crank on a different machine:

In order to find other Netflix members with similar tastes in movies.

Well, it turns out my top match (79% similar!) is someone, well, how about you just look at their profile:

*SIGH*. At least Easily_Entertained demonstrates consistency by literally rating every movies she's ever seen as 5-stars. Well, I suppose I will update my queue to include some of her recommendations, such as Dragonslayer, Spongebob Squarepants: Sea Stories, and Look Who's Talking Too.

*SIGH*

-----

SIDE NOTE: From WikiAnswers.com, which I now recommend should never be used for anything, especially building things like cars or space shuttles, or giant robots with saws for arms but who are only programmed for good:

Q. How many babies are born in the world daily?
A. "approximately 4 babies"

Hmm, that is unexpected but very interesting! But what about just in the US?

Q. How many people are born in the US every day?
A. "well, i would say that there are about 1 million people born each day in the US."

??!???

POSSIBLE REASONS FOR ENORMOUS DISCREPANCY:

fundamental difference in definition of "baby" vs "person"
improper metric or unit conversion
The US is 250,000 times bigger than the world in which it is contained, possibly by projecting the bulk of its size into some other dimension, like Awesome-Dimension, or Frito-Dimension.
INTERNET!

IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

2009-02-24T13:11:00.000-08:00

Hey, does anyone have a bear-shaped honey container that is empty, or almost empty, or contains unsuitable honey for your honey needs? If so, can I have it? It's for a homework assignment in my bear-shaped honey container class in container school.

Please? If I fail this class I'll have to go back to my unpaid salt mining internship. I'll trade you some size-4 coffee filters, or a potato.

GRATITUDE: mysterious poker night gremlins

2009-02-23T16:00:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know me well would probably describe me as "a shining example of non-stop refinement and class", or maybe "humble". I am sad to have to burst this bubble and tarnish my pristine image, but it is necessary for me to relate an embarrassing epilogue chapter of my super-exciting Monday update in order to distribute proper gratitude and credit for an amazing poker night miracle.

To preface: Some of the gang and I deployed the highly sought-after and legendary EPIC HAPPY HOUR on Friday, which lived up to its name. Indeed, we accomplished the one concrete goal that we had set for ourselves (because setting goals is an important part of personal development), which was to get kicked out of The Sloop. Victory! Afterward, I decided that I desperately needed a victory hot dog from a street vendor, so I made the choice to undertake the long and dangerous journey back toward my home, which would take me past the hot dog dude on Ballard Ave, instead of crashing at Heenkenstein's pad which was nigh at hand. Victory Hot Dog was a huge personal success, but it also put me home extremely late.

The next day, Dread Pirate Colins calls and wakes me up because his car battery is dead and he needs a jump so he can make it to basketball. Under ordinary circumstances this would not be a problem, but I had abandoned my car in Fremont at the outset of EPIC HAPPY HOUR the day before. My rough plan, originally, was to somehow get to basketball and afterward bum a ride to my car. Anyway, taking pity on Dread Pirate Colins' situation, I decide to get my car beforehand instead, and since it was sunny out, I decide that I should jog to my car. Well, where I had parked in Fremont ended up being a lot further away than I envisioned, so I ended up being pretty beat by the time I got to my trusty steed and galloped triumphantly to DPC's aid. And then we played basketball.

Between the lack of sleep, running, sunshine, and basketball, I started to fade at 5ish or so, but a bunch of dudes were coming over to play poker at 7, so I powered through (because I'm a superstar) (no). ANYWAY, the point is, I was sleepy, and then poker night happened.

Okay, so poker night was fun and awesome and filled with pizza and beer, as poker nights are want to do, but at some point around midnight I noticed that I was no longer making decisions based on what cards I was dealt. Every once in a while, I would realize people were looking at me, and this was my cue to do something with my chips. I think I went all-in against Apollo, like, eight times, for no reason other than it didn't seem like anyone else was going to go all-in against Apollo randomly that hand. I was truly a poker god on Saturday.

I eventually decided to retire my god-like poker skillz to give the others a fighting chance at glory, and also because I was out of money. I left the game and sat down on my couch to converse with Taco about the finer points of something (maybe food? whatever it was, I USED MY WORDS GOOD). Probably mid-conversation I decided to rest my eyes.

[SCENE MISSING]

I awoke sitting up in the middle seat of my couch, still clutching a half-finished beer, mouth agape as if with an unfinished word. It was dark. My stereo was turned off. The poker chips were all put away. Most of the empties were consolidated by the sink. The pizza boxes were gone. The table was cleared off. The front door was closed. In other words, A MIRACLE HAD HAPPENED.

Okay, so Heenkenstein and Jason had left before I had fallen asleep, but PIPS, Taco, Apollo, Borujewkksiehcisoew, Dread Pirate Colins, Hobo, and Steueueueck were all still around the last time I was conscious. DPC and Hobo are probably the loudest people I know, and there was music playing, and all of the lights were on, and I still just don't see any way someone could fall asleep while sitting up in those conditions.

Regardless, it seems clear that the dudes must have eaten something after midnight and transformed into adorable and courteous little cleaning gremlins, who silently swarmed over my apartment with their magic wands of cleaning and restoration. I have to give it to you guys: You are the awesomest poker night gremlins EVER. I totally owe you all a late-night tidying-up while you're asleep.

Also, someone left a food bank challenge cookbook. (?)

UPDATE: Hahaha, I just remembered that in addition to everything being clean and turned off, someone also left a slice of pizza on a plate in front of me, and a $1 bill next to me on the couch, perhaps as a tip for being such a great poker host. You're welcome. Also, YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST.

Monday

2009-02-23T07:32:00.000-08:00

Chapter I

Okay, so last week as we were barronking at the divey sports bar by Heenkenstein's apartment for Taco Tuesday, the conversation completely devolved at one point into uncontrollable laughter fueled by $10 buckets of Session and the following gems of visual composition:

I think this is because Star Wars perfectly mirrors the human condition.

Also, huge props to Vik, Bac-log's Permanently-Interim Patron Saint (henchforth known as "PIPS") for having the Sad Vader picture readily available for handy reference on his phone. Technology gets an A+ in Sad Vader portability.

Chapter II

Check out these fan bacos by intrepid baconaut Alan:

These fan bacos are AWESOME AND DELICIOUS-LOOKING. More people should make fan bacos, and invite me over for quality control purposes.

Chapter III

A long time ago, I wrote a little blurb about bacon to serve as rich and important backstory to some other "story" I was "writing". [It is available here for your reference]. The very bestest part amongst all of the other best parts of this bacon tale was this note that I appended on the end:

[its a good thing you wrote this at work because this is easily the most pointless thing ever written]

It is amazing to think how narrow and small my scope was way back then, in 2006 or something. I was young and naive, and saw the world as both limitless and overwhelming. I thought that my feeble efforts were on the cutting edge of pointlessness, but I had no idea how deep that rabbit hole was, or, um, how far the rabbit tunnel went, or something about rabbits. It is humbling to think that what I thought was the peak of my pointlessness is probably more relevant and structured than anything I have since gracefully pounded into the bac-log tubes.

Sometimes looking back and seeing how far you've come is inspiring. It makes me wonder how much farther I can ride this out-of-control apple cart blog train thing that is plummeting down the steep slopes of nonsense.

We will see...

the LOST update you've been waiting for your whole life, or at least since yesterday.

2009-02-19T11:58:00.000-08:00

In case you guys missed yesterday's new exciting episode of the popular television program Lost, here is what happened:

Some of the people, who I guess left the island but now want to go back for some reason, go visit Grandma in a church, and she shows them a giant magical pendulum and some science stuff written on a chalkboard, and this one dude is like, "this doesn't make any sense and I am not going back to the island and you are all CRAZY, especially Grandma here", and he almost kicks the pendulum as he stalks off. Then Jack, who I guess is the "skeptic" of the show, is like, "okay, I totally buy Grandma's story about this pendulum being able to predict the location of the time-traveling island I just escaped from, when do we leave?" Then Jack and Kate have some going-back-to-the-island sex, and then next morning Jack makes himself some coffee and Kate comes out of the bedroom, and Jack is like, "oh Kate, I, uh, totally made you some coffee", which turns out to be a masterful bluff because then she just sort of awkwardly leaves.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's inflated ego.

Okay, so now Jack has to go pick up JOHN LOCKE (who I thought was named Jim. Oops!) who is DEAD (when did that happen?) and being refrigerated in a meat locker. Then he puts some of his dad's shoes on JOHN LOCKE which he stole from Grandpa, who looks like he is maybe two years older than Jack, after Grandpa tried to escape his nursing home.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's willing suspension of disbelief.

Anyway, ALSO, there is this woman named Joon, or something, who is married to a dude named Jin, or something, who is convinced Jin is dead because she was there when they dropped his body from a flaming helicopter onto an exploding oil tanker, or something. HOWEVER, this other guy, let's call him Johnson, convinces Joon to tag along with their crazy scheme to go back to the island because he can prove that Jin is not dead! What a miracle!

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's appreciation of true love miracles.

Okay, so the gang gets on the an airplane that Grandma's sciencey chalkboard and pendulum tell her will fly through a window to the island. And guess what? THE WHOLE GANG IS THERE! Not just Jack, and Kate, and Joon, and Johnson, but also Jerry and Jimbo. FATE. Also, Jack reads a special letter that JOHN LOCKE left with Grandma, which is very passive-aggressive and not much help. I guess that's what endless toil at the Donkey Wheel of life will do to a person.

And then Jerry wakes up in a waterfall clutching a guitar case.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK TO FIND OUT WHAT IS IN THAT GUITAR CASE.

Midget Finger Dream

2009-02-17T12:06:00.000-08:00

Okay, so usually every week or so I hang out with my friend Laura to absorb some delicious TV rays with my eyeballs and and to absorb some delicious beer and pizza rays with my tummy. Usually we focus our TV absorbing capacity on soaking up Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because it has so many great fashion tips, and is an amazingly realistic portrayal of high school life in a high school in which five or six students mysteriously die every day. The other day, however, when I was doing my usual digging through her stuff when she's not looking, I discovered that she had a couple of Netflix movies. One was called "The Number 23", and the plot blurb on the back sounded reasonably interesting, so we decided to temporary suspend our Buffy consumption for an evening and watch that instead.

Um, I don't actually remember much about the movie after beer #5 or so (5 = 2+3, TWENTY THREE! IT IS EVERYWHERE AND IS A CURSE! [That is an inside joke for those who have seen the movie]). But after the movie Laura was like, "man, that movie reminded me of this intense lucid dream that I had the other day. I haven't had a dream like that since the Midget Finger Dream. So that scene where--"

I think she was going to say something about her Number 23 Fan Fiction Dream, or whatever it was she was talking about, but at this point I demanded instant clarification as to this mysterious Midget Finger Dream. "Is Midget Finger Dream a dream in which you explore a reality similar to our own except you have midget fingers?" I asked.

"No, in Midget Finger Dream I am captured by midgets in a cave and escape by biting the fingers off of my captors. But anyway, so in this other dream--"

"Why are you in a cave? Did the midgets take you there?" I ask.

"No, we go into the cave seeking some sort of treasure, which is guarded by the midgets," she replies.

"We? Who are you with?"

"Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones and I are looking for some sort of treasure and get captured by midgets and to escape I bite the fingers off of a midget. Anyway--"

"How did you get captured?"

"I don't remember."

"Was it your fault? I bet it was your fault."

"Listen, I don't remember, okay? Somehow we get captured by midgets, because it there was a trap or something. It's not important. What's important is--"

"How does Indiana Jones escape? Does he also munch on some midget fingers, or does he escape in a much more clever and badass way?"

"Actually, um, I don't think Indiana Jones escapes," Laura admits somewhat reluctantly. "I think the midgets get him."

"What?! Do you try to save him, or send help or something?"

"Uh, no, but it's not that simple, like, I'm busy escaping and I think he would probably understand."

"Okay, so you get Indiana Jones captured by midgets and then you just run away without ever trying to save him?"

"Hey, this dream is about ME escaping from midgets, okay? Indiana Jones just happens to be in it. How about you just forget about the Indiana Jones thing."

"After you escape, do you at least feel bad about leaving Indiana Jones to get eaten by midgets?"

"Um, well, usually I don't make it too far before I wake up. Once, though, I almost made it out of the cave and could actually feel the sun on my face before I woke up."

"Usually? This is a recurring dream? How many times have you had it?"

"Maybe once a week or so since I was 10."

"I bet you have it when you regret something," I theorize.

"Like inviting you over?" She replies.

MIDGET FINGER DREAM: A recurring dream in which you and Indiana Jones are captured by midgets while treasure hunting and you escape by biting the fingers off of your captors, and as you are running away maybe you will turn toward Indiana Jones and see his outstretched hand asking for help, but you just ignore it and keep running. It is also now the gold standard by which all other recurring Indiana Jones guilt dreams will be measured.

'Lost' is appropriately titled. Also: awesome.

2009-02-13T12:02:00.000-08:00

SPOILER ALERT: This blog post contains vague and possibly accurate plot and character information about the popular television program Lost.

Okay: A long time ago, in ancient times, when the television series Lost had just begun, I decided that it looked stupid and that I would not watch it. My impulsive reaction was probably influenced by what seemed to be an inexplicable glut of deserted island movies, such as Cast Away, and, um, that Beach movie with Titanic DiCaprio in it*.

*When we were in college and had all sorts of endless time on our hands (because why study and do your homework today when you can do it NEVER), BRG and the 'Ster and Big D and maybe some other people and I camped out at the movie theater to watch the first Matrix movie at midnight on opening day. The theater was totally packed, and everyone was noisy and excited and generally unruly right through the previews up to when they showed a preview for The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, still fresh off his Titanic success. At that point the entire theater just totally froze out of complete and utter shock. The smell of fresh popcorn became mixed with the smoke of hundreds of snark fuses blowing at once. When the preview was over, there was complete awkward silence, so BRG and I yelled, "SINK HIM AGAIN" from the balcony, after which everyone got rowdy again.

Okay, so maybe my reasons for not watching Lost were not exactly airtight (Cast Away came out in 2000, and Lost didn't come out until 2004, and I'm not even exactly sure what The Beach is about.) But anyway, the point is, I didn't watch Lost or have any interest in Lost. Then, many years later, I discovered that EVERYONE I KNOW watches Lost, and if the subject of Lost is breached in conversation everything instantly devolves into ferverous Lost gossiping. I resigned myself to catching up on this whole Lost bandwagon thing because I can't stand being outside a heated gossip circle. I started by watching the pilot episode on my computer.

Here is what I knew about Lost prior to watching the pilot:

Trapped on an island!
There's a hobbit on the show!

Here is what I knew about Lost after watching the pilot:

Trapped on an island!
There's a hobbit on the show but it is normal-human-sized.
Some dude is really into tracheotomies, and another dude gets sucked into a jet engine!

But then I got bored of watching the show and didn't watch any more episodes. [FAST FORWARD ABOUT A YEAR]. On Wednesday, Patron Saint graciously invited me over to his pad to partake in the ancient and sacred ritual of Lost Night with some of the gang. I reminded him that I had only ever watched the pilot, and that was a long time ago, but he was not concerned by these details. In fact, the gang was confident that they could get me up to speed, and volunteered to answer any questions that I had while watching it. Awesome!

Here is something interesting that I learned about the Lost experience: Prior to every new episode, they play the previous episode but with Pop-Up Video-style fact bubbles that reinforce and clarify important plot points. I imagine this would be extremely handy, except that I was too busy drinking to actually pay attention, so I can't personally attest to their effectiveness. One thing that I did notice about the bubbles is that they seem very inconsistent as far as narrative depth. One might be something like, "Jack is confused because he doesn't know that Julie knows that he knows about Julius, who is Jack's unborn father from the future", and then the next bubble will be like, "They are trapped on an island."

ANYWAY, so the gang gets me as much up-to-speed as they can in 15 minutes, and we dive into the latest exciting episode.

Here is what I know about Lost now:

Trapped on an island!
I didn't see the hobbit so he must have died.
There is a monster called Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke.
THE ISLAND IS A TIME TRAVELING ISLAND.
Some people got off the island and now have to get back on the island because they miss the good times.
Part of what makes the island time travel is a wheel called Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys.
Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys has also been, at various other parts of the Lost timeline, Polar Bear Wheel, Wheel of Polar Bears, and Jim Wheel, Wheel of Jim.

Heenkypants: They use polar bears because it's so cold.
Grant: Why is it so cold?
Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
Grant: Where do they get the polar bears?
Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
Grant: Where do they get the donkeys?
Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
Grant: Why are there no donkeys there now?
Heenkypants: We don't know yet.

If the donkeys are broken or not there, apparently people get bloody noses because of ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELDS.
This one dude, who I think is named Jim, falls in a well which closes and finds the ghost of the father of some other dude, who I think is named Jack, who tells him to spin Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys, even though he just fell down a well and has a broken leg AND it's really cold AND nobody knows that time it is.
Heenkypants, Patron Saint, Taco and I got into a really great heated argument about the paradoxes of time travel as they relate to this one chick who tells this one dude that he told her in the past that she will die in the future but this dude doesn't remember because he will do this in his future which is also her past even though they are both in the present sort of too. The argument was resolved when we discovered we were all saying the same thing, just loud.
There is this rich dude, let's call him Colonel Fancypants, who sends a ship to destroy the island because he was there in the past and something blows up, I think, and there is a helicopter and some French people.
Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke, really lives up to his name.
ALL six people who left the island MUST get back the island to make some crazy scheme work, but, oh, you only got 4 of them to agree? That's pretty good I guess.
Everyone's name starts with a 'J', except for Kate, who Heenkypants wishes was back on the island so she could wear dirty tank tops again.
There is an important lesson about when life starts in an unborn child, as it pertains to the 6 people who left the island who now have to get back to the island, because one of them is pregnant and/or already had a child! Does the fetus have to go back too?

Um, there is probably other stuff that I learned too, but it may require pop-up bubble refreshment before it really sinks in.

I am now totally hooked on this show!

baco is why you're fat

2009-02-10T06:42:00.000-08:00

This is why you're fat.

I'm fat because of all of the ENDLESS GLORY AND FAME the baco is garnering all of a sudden for some reason. And by "fat" I mean "chiseled and toned in a god-like statuesque form and reclining in piles of riches".

You can get a pretty good idea of how I feel about this by taking the exact opposite of this randomly generated adolescent angsty poem:

when ppl
laugh at
something
sorrowful; just
look away and die.

i know it is what they
like, i wear teeny shoes, on
tiny feet, but
nothing about me,
is quite as small, as a
season of warmth has
come to the next
degree. maybe what's next will be
when we took the stain from
the day
i told her i see it
every day, taught it every day i
wished that this is starting
to get in. it is cold,
yet
soothing.

Hahahaha, if this poetry generator would have been around when I was 14 it could have saved me HOURS that I could have reinvested into slouching around and sulking.

past A-Rod just ruined future Christmas for everyone

2009-02-09T10:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, so apparently Alex Rodriguez, a baseball player for the New York Yankees baseball squadron of Major League Baseball, took illegal baseball steroids in 2003 and is now RUINING THE ENTIRE 2009 BASEBALL SEASON FOR EVERYONE. Amazing! In addition to being an elite baseball player, A-Roid also invented time travel, and then used his new and limitless power for evil! If only the press would have been nicer to him, and people would have loved him more, maybe he would not have had to do this to us. We dug our own graves when we accidentally called him "ass-rod" six years ago, and then accidentally kept calling him "ass-rod". And by "dug our own graves" I mean "dug graves for our childlike wonder and enjoyment for watching baseball for the entire 2009 baseball season".

Alex Rodriguez is now batting 1.000/1.000/4.000 with RISP in situations where he can RUIN THE FUTURE, which is why he is "Mr. Clutch".

RELATED:
Here is a sample 2-year curriculum for becoming a baseball writer:
Year 1 Q1:
5cr: Overreacting 101
5cr: Exaggerating 101
5cr: Nostaglia applications 110
15 credits total

Year 1 Q2:
5cr: Overreacting 102
5cr: Exaggerating 102
5cr: Hating statistics 200
15 credits total

Year 1 Q3:
5cr: Overreacting 103
5cr: Exaggerating 103
5cr: Substituting "grittiness" for talent when evaluating baseball players that you like but who suck at the game of baseball 101
15 credits total

Year 2 Q1:
5cr: Sucking up 101
4cr: Sucking 300
3cr: Chemistry 101
3cr: Team chemistry 300
15 credits total

Year 2 Q2:
5cr: Overreacting and Exaggerating 401
3cr: Loving Sammy Sosa then Hating Sammy Sosa then Forgetting About Sammy Sosa 200
3cr: Baseball as a metaphor for Life 301
4cr: Choosing unflattering photos to accompany slanderous articles 101
15 credits total

Year 2 Q3:
5cr: Memorizing old baseball players other people seem to like 300
5cr: Quantum Mechanics 407
3cr: Baseball as a metaphor for Life 302
2cr: Smugness 101
15 credits total

90 total credits required for graduation

New year's resolutions

2009-02-06T12:14:00.000-08:00

Okay gang, here are Bac-log's official New Year's Resolutions:

1. Set reasonable goals that will give a sense of accomplishment when fulfilled.
2. Pretend February 6th is New Years.
[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED]
3. Post shorter posts but more regularly. Include more posts of unicorns and/or Neverending Story references.

[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED]
4. Reward yourself for posting with ramen and cupcakes.
[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED].
5. Accomplish exactly 3 goals today.
[GOAL ACCOMPL... crap.. wait!... crap. ugh.]
6. Convince Live Girls! Theater to have a unicorn and/or Neverending Story-themed cabaret like I keep suggesting in meetings but everyone just thinks I'm joking. COME ON IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS AND I WOULD TOTALLY GO!
[pending]

Forklift Tony

2009-01-30T17:11:00.000-08:00

I am fascinated by graffiti tagger lifestyle. As a tagger, you must work quickly and in secret to apply compelling and often stunning art to the public visual domain after which you have no controlling power or interest in its ultimate fate. You are an elusive phantom whose greatest success is reaching as many eyes as possible without anyone ever seeing you, and with no hope of personal profit or acclaim. Your work is but the fleeting physical manifestation of your intrinsically intangible shadow life, like the unfollowable footprints of your cultivated mystique. Your alias signature gives form to this legendary character you have unleashed into the world. You adorn your dark otherworldly creations with dark otherworldly names, "Gohst", "Fixt", "Swayn", "$tar", "Zombee", glimpses and hints of haunting depths below the surface of the world of light.

Or you could be Forklift Tony.

Forklift Tony doesn't care about mystique, or crafting a cloak of anonymity, or misspelling stuff. Forklift Tony is not an urban ghost. Forklift Tony is just a guy who likes forklifts with big engines and spotlights (for high-speed night forklifting). That's enough for Forklift Tony.

the importance of diversification

2009-01-30T10:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, everyone keeps sending this link to me, so I guess I will put it here on my blog where it will stare back at all who sent it as if they were looking in a weird link mirror: The Bacon Explosion:

Here's what the Skulls & Bacon blog had to say about it in a post entitled "The Goddamn Bacon Explosion":

Ok people, I am putting up a link to the BBQ Bacon Explosion because every one and their mothers have been sending me the link, posting it on Facebook and Reddit, it's EVERYWHERE. I guess that's what happens when the esteemed New York Times decides to dip a toe into Bacon Territory.

I totally second the underlying sentiment of mingled appreciation and exasperation. I can only speak for myself here, but even merely half-assing a loosely bacon-themed blog is sometimes a blessing AND a curse (disclaimer: no). But there is also another force at work here. There are always mixed feelings when your favorite indie band, of which you've seen every show and purchased every home-printed CD and whose stickers you would have plastered over all your stuff if only you had better stuff and your love of the band is 4EVR, goes mainstream. On one hand, you're happy that your musical taste has been validated, and that your favorite band can now finally sleep on new mattresses stuffed with shredded $100 bills every night and can gold-plate every surface of the drummer's dad's van and drink their pre-show PBR out of ruby-studded chalices carved out of woolly mammoth tusks and print their tour posters on saffron paper and replace the guitarist's old JCM-900 amp with a new JCM-900 amp made out of caviar. But on the other hand, your #1 Fan status is now openly questioned by a bunch of annoying teenagers who only like the later stuff anyway even though the earlier stuff had a more genuine raw feel and these stupid kids can't possibly love them like you love them because you had to be there from the beginning. Also, their concerts are now $200 for upper-deck seating at Wal*mart Rock Arena.

I just realized that bacon is not anything like this metaphor, except that I have the same unjustified curmudgeonly attitude about the overwhelming mainstream coverage of stuff made out of bacon. [important note: I just spelled "curmudgeonly" right on the first try! Who is the best? THIS GUY! (Pretend you are looking at me and I am pointing at myself)].

But anyway, if I was actually a serious bacon blogger, like ol' S&B or ol' BT or ol' TOB, I might find my considerable bacon-blogging livelihood threatened by these giant media titans. If you try really hard to pretend my bacon-as-indie-band metaphor sort of works for a second, now that Bacon the Band is mainstream they play at New York Times Rock Area instead of the mom-and-pop rock arenas of their past. I guess I'm trying to say that the New York Times Rock Arena is like Wal*mart which is like the New York Times covering bacon, and mom-and-pop rock arenas are like mom-and-pop general stores which are like bacon blogs. Somehow. (I hope someone brought a map this time.)

FACT: Two bad metaphors don't make a good metaphor. Or even a bad metaphor. Two bad metaphors only make nonsense and tears.

FACT: I am the best at metaphors. If metaphors were a game, and we were all players, and something something, I am the best at metaphors.

ANYWAY, there is a lesson here about diversification. If I was a bacon blogger who put all of his eggs in a bacon basket (IDEA ALERT: egg-filled bacon basket coming soon), I would be screwed if all of my bacon-blogging money channels suddenly dried up (in a non-crispy-and-delicious way). Which is why I offer a very special Bac-log Brand Hat Tip™ to the Skulls and Bacon blog for recognizing that diversification is important. Once bacon-blogging completely jumps the shark and becomes awkwardly passe, metalchick666 has skulls to fall back on without going through all of the SUPER HARD work of making a new blog. Also, another hat tip for recognizing two of the three most permanent and stable things in the history of time and the universe; people will always find bacon delicious, and people will always think that skulls are awesome. (The third is the universal appeal of baby animals who think they're people).

Also, hat tip to Bacon Today for posting the Baco. I think everyone should go click on the article so that it makes the "most popular" list. Every time you don't click on the link an angel kitten who has the cure for cancer loses its wings and plummets into a lake of lava and angel-eating termites.

So anyway, I got bored of making bacon links a while back and started thinking about what other important things to blog about to make my blogging millions. What is the next bacon? (If anyone has an idea, please let me know. I will split the profits of my "___ is the new bacon" t-shirts with you.) My friends and I discussed this very issue many moons ago, and Admiral Heenkypants actually had a pretty good idea: Pancakes. Everyone likes pancakes, right? Pancakes. Awesome. PLUS, unlike the singularity of bacon, pancakes have a built-in diversification. You can make hilarious stuff out of pancakes AND hilariously make stuff in to pancakes. The obvious first thing to make into pancakes is meat, but I guess the ancient hamburger architects just barely beat me to it. In protest, I am now only referring to hamburgers as "meat pancake sandwiches", and encourage all 4 of my stunningly attractive and brilliant readers to do the same, as an early birthday present. Thanks!

Also, what do you think of this idea for a new loosely pancake-themed blog: Pan-log! The New Most Important Blog In The History Of Time Not Including Those Times As Previously Covered By Bac-Log. Or maybe I should call it Pan-dora's Box, and there can be a picture of a pancake dude peeking out of a box?

Nature's gold

2009-01-28T17:43:00.000-08:00

Check out what Admiral Heenkypants and I found while we were treasure hunting the other day:

IT IS A SWEEPY WITTLE BUMBLEBEE! Awww! It kept trying to fly off but it was so sleepy that it would only make it about 6 inches or so at a time. Then it would just kind of hang out for a few minutes as if to say, "I totally meant to fly into the ground, guys." It was the best! In fact, I think that we can all agree that sleepy bumblebees would be nature's gold if actual gold wasn't already nature's gold.

Speaking of gold, check out this treasure we ~~buried several years ago~~ totally discovered with our amazing treasure huntin' skillz:

I think the best part of treasure hunting for the endless riches and glory that is the box of shiny and/or expendable stuff that we buried for some reason in college is rediscovering all of the stuff we forgot about, like a bottle cap good for a free 20oz Coke, and a mysterious black button, and a weird broken butterfly thing, and about $2.00 in pennies. And then we completed the sacred treasure cycle by burying some Victory Thai Food treasure in our tummies.

There are some more pictures of our surprising success here.

"a very good video done on a train.. "

2009-01-27T21:22:00.000-08:00

So check out this email from Vik, the Permanently Interim Patron Saint of Bac-log:

Speaking of being filled with song, if any of you have wondered what my wedding will be like:

V

PLEASE DON'T BE KIDDING, VIK! I will practice the dance moves every day just in case you are serious, even the weird headbanging one that just gave me a headache. No pain no gain.

Thursday is THRILLING MYSTERY DAY

2009-01-15T13:35:00.000-08:00

Okay detectives:

A mystery is afoot! Time to open your detective closets and dust off your detective magnifying glasses and your detective tobacco pipes and your skeptical portly detective sidekicks and your detective brandy and your detective hats, for your refined skills and keen, penetrating intellect are desperately needed in Harwich, Massachusetts:

Mystery piano in woods perplexes police.

The real mystery, of course, is how a 12 year old reporter accidentally dropped his homework into the CNN tubes. JUST KIDDING JOSH LEVS! It is a very well written article with no spelling mistakes. A+. In fact, if you were to ask what my favorite part of the article is, I would have to say THE WHOLE THING.

Here is a good representative excerpt:

Sgt. Adam Hutton of the Harwich Police Department said information has been broadcast to all the other police departments in the Cape Cod area in hopes of drumming up a clue, however minor it may be.
But so far, the investigation is flat.

BA-DUM-CHING! Bam! You can tell that Josh Levs was in the zone with this article (I bet his friends call it "totally Levs-itating").

Does anyone remember when Norm MacDonald used to do the Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live? There was this one news clip about some sort of small-town parade overlaid with the commentary, "at 2:30 the parade will include a drill performance featuring the entire Middleton police squad." After the clip, MacDonald just stared at the camera for a beat before turning 90 degrees in his chair and reporting into a fake tape recorder, "Note to self: Go on a crime spree in Middleton at 2:30". I'm pretty sure that bit was the peak of Norm MacDonald's Weekend Update career. Hilarious.

I bring this up because I totally peaked at Scrabble a couple of days ago. The intensity of my Scrabble hatred is equaled only by the intensity of my Scrabble incompetence. Here is a conversation that happens EVERY SCRABBLE GAME:

OPPONENT: My word is "ZAS" over a triple letter score and a quadruple word score and the instant win square for 6000000 points.
GRANT: What? "ZAS" is not a word.
OPPONENT: Yes it is.
GRANT: No way, what does it mean?
OPPONENT: It is the plural form of "ZA".
GRANT: What? "ZA" is not a word.
OPPONENT: Yes it is. It is in the magical Scrabble Dictionary.
GRANT: What? I'm going to look it up in my normal dictionary.
OPPONENT: It won't be in the normal dictionary. You have to look it up in the magical Scrabble Dictionary.
GRANT: Well then I am going to spell "KQIIIZAS" with my turn. It is the plural form of "KQIIIZA". It is in the authoritative I Cheat At Scrabble Dictionary that I just wrote.
OPPONENT: You are just sad because you suck at Scrabble. It's your turn for real.
...
[10 minutes later]
...
GRANT: So is KQIIIZAS a word?
...
[10 minutes later]
...
GRANT: I am going to add an "S" to "CAT" to spell "CATS". 6 points.

Those few who were awake at noon or so this last Saturday probably felt the earth twist and grind for several tense moments, and perhaps felt a charged tingle in the air, and perhaps witnessed televisions suddenly going to static and toilet water flushing the opposite direction and clouds of locusts bursting into flames of blood. The cycle of every celestial orbit synced for a brief universal moment, sending a concentrated beam of transcendental energy directly into my mouth (which was in the process of accepting enchilada) as I was pondering my next groundbreaking Scrabble move. My eyes went completely white and rolled back in my head and strings of lightning shot out of my fingers and my body started convulsing and I chewed my enchilada twice as fast as a normal person could. The sun flickered and dimmed, and all of the napkins on the adjacent restaurant tables blew away, and I was wrapped in a little travel-size personal tornado of sparks and fire and lightning and glitter and leaves and little miniature barns and cows and stuff.

Much like a mother will suddenly find herself with the strength to lift a vehicle off of a pinned child, I was suddenly filled with superhuman Scrabble strength. When I came out of my hurricane power trance, I was stunned to find that my turn was over! I had used every letter in my tray (which is a Scrabble move called a "bingo", which is odd because usually Scrabble players are really good at making up new words). It was easy to find my letters because they were still smoking from the intense Scrabble fury I had unleashed upon the landscape of the game board. I had spelled "RIGHTEOUS" intersecting two existing words and crossing two triple word scores. Game, set, match. Victory. Checkmate. XOOJOQW (I bet that means "checkmate" in the magical Scrabble Dictionary).

My next turn I added a "Y" to "WIND" to spell "WINDY".

Anyway, I bet that's the kind of zone Josh Levs was in when he wrote about the mystery piano. How else could you explain this:

Asked whether Harwich police will be holding a holiday party in the storage bay -- tickling the ivories, pouring eggnog -- while they await word of the piano's origin and fate, Hutton laughed. No such plans.

That is totally the Scrabble Hurricane Power Trance applied to journalism.

The End.

IMPORTANT UNRELATED UPDATE:

Okay, my friend Heidi just shared this and I am actually still crying from laughing so hard:

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

Now for real The End.

A taste of what is to come

2009-01-14T11:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm back from Peru. I am excited to regale everyone with harrowing tales of wonderment and intrigue, and will probably be whipping up a fancy new blog to document the adventures in the next couple of days. In the meantime, check out this dramatic suckling llama picture:

I feel that dramatic suckling llama is a good opportunity to use this hilarious and awesome Obamicon tool:

More pictures here: http://picasaweb.google.com/grant.laine/Peru# and here: http://picasaweb.google.com/tomorrowsbreakfast/Peru#

Okay, more later.

[ghost post] the future is awesome

2009-01-11T13:00:00.000-08:00

Hey gang,

I bet the future is awesome. (By future, I mean the present, when this ghost post is published). Are there flying cars yet?

In theory, I am going to be coming home from Peru tomorrow. But maybe, in the future, which is now the present, things have changed. Perhaps I have already been deported back to the states to await trial. Either way, HEY LAURA, DID YOU WATER MY PLANTS?

Actually, I just realized that maybe Laura doesn't even read this blog. Can someone ask Laura if she watered my plants? If not, she owes me 30 beers for every plant she didn't water (180 total beers).

The first person to ask Laura if she watered my plants and reports back wins not having to sit around and act interested while I flip through the 1000 pictures I took on my trip.

See you all soon!

[ghost post] so, what's up?

2009-01-08T13:32:00.000-08:00

Hey gang! This is Grant from the past trying to communicate through the amazing power of Ghost Posting technology. Grant from the present is probably sand-boarding, surfing, or hiking through the rainforest. Grant from the future is ruling you all with an iron fist. Especially you, Laura. Water my plants.

I think everyone should make up an awesome New Year's Resolution and post it in the comments.

UPDATE: Peru is still awesome

2009-01-06T17:48:00.001-08:00

Quick update:

I just got back from the Amazon jungle, where I swam in the river with dolphins, caught and ate piranha with some chicken on a stick, camped in the jungle, caught and held an adorable little sloth (as the name suggests, they are very easy to catch once you get them out of the tree), saw some tarantulas, ate some weird caterpillars and termites, and swam across a piranha infested river. It was the best! Now we are trying to figure out how to get to Mancora or Ica without staying in Lima again.

Also, Iquitos (the town we flew into to get to the jungle) is hilariously awesome. I can`t wait to upload some pictures! The town is totally infested with these vehicles called moto-taxis, which are like carts attached to motorcycles, and driven by maniacs. So awesome.

End update.

[ghost post] Ghost posting is awesome.

2009-01-02T17:00:00.000-08:00

I think one day I am going to start a blog called ghostlog.blogspot.com (um, I did not actually verify if that is available or not. DON'T SUE ME, GHOSTLOG.BLOGSPOT.COM!) where the entire blog is written ahead of time with posts scheduled at regular intervals so that it appears to be actively maintained. Free from the heavy burden of active blogging, I will finally be able to just lie on a beach all day playing cribbage or scrabble with my friend Sara, which is what I am probably doing right now in Peru. Also, I need someone to figure out how to get "ghost paid" from "ghost work".

ALSO: Hey Laura, did you water my plants again? They like it if you put a squirt of the plant food in the can before adding the water.

ALSO: Happy New Years, people!

Peru is awesome

2008-12-31T08:05:00.001-08:00

Okay, so I knew Peru was going to be fun, but so far it has completely decimated my previous definition of fun and replaced it with a more extreme, exciting, and shiny version of fun.

Pros:

CRAZY CABLE CAR! We crossed a class 5 river in a ricketty basket on a cable by pulling ourselves along with ropes. We were told by the trek company that we wouldn´t be doing this because I guess people die on it (not that surprised), but our trek guide, Juan Carlos, was THE BEST.
4 hours of (mostly) downhill mountain biking in the pouring rain.
Hiking up to Maccu Picchu, hiking up the mountain next to Maccu Picchu to get an ariel view, and then hiking down the back-side to visit some totally off-the-radar ruins in the jungle.
I broke every rule at Maccu Picchu except the No Smoking rule.
There was this one bathroom that had a lightswitch with exposed wires in the shower!
Groundscore mangos, avocados, and tangerines.
WE SAW A LITTLE MONKEY IN A BUSH!
Way too much other awesome stuff to tell now without pictures (no SD reader at this computer).
Also, internet is about $.30/hour. ¡Awesome!
Also, check out all of these awesome characters on this keyboard: ñçª¿¬º. They are where I expect other buttons to be. It is fun.

Cons:

Hundreds and hundreds of bug bites.
I totally messed up my knee in the jungle, and then hiked for about 10 hours on a wonky knee yesterday, and now can barely walk. One of our new friends has some codeine, though, so that should be awesome.

Sara and I are back in Cusco. We hope to meet up with some new friends this afternoon, or maybe see if we can catch a flight to the Amazon tonight.

Laters!

[ghost post] WATER MY PLANTS

2008-12-28T17:16:00.000-08:00

I'm probably enjoying myself in Peru right now. Suckers.

ALSO: Hey Laura, did you remember to water my plants?

Also, I hope everyone is having a wonderful day.

NEW FEATURE: Ghost Posts

2008-12-23T21:52:00.000-08:00

Hey gang,

Tomorrow I am going to Peru. It is going to be awesome.

In the next three weeks, you may occasionally see special Bac-Log "Ghost Posts", which are posts that I have prepared ahead of time and scheduled for publishing at certain dates. I like to think that I'll have time and opportunity to make some real posts that document my awesome adventures, but I'll probably be too busy laying on the beach or eating cerviche like I promised the UW Travel Health clinic I wouldn't. So don't hold your breath (unless you are going underwater).

See you later, suckers.

Taking justice into my own hands

2008-12-11T20:49:00.000-08:00

For those of you who were concerned about the outcome of my epic mail situation, perhaps this will comfort you:

It turns out the power was in me this whole time. I can't believe I didn't think of this obvious solution right away.

My cordless drill will henceforth be known as Expedited Work Order, oKay? (I included the "oKay" so the abbreviation would be EWOK). (I think I need to get some more sleep).

Work Order

2008-12-11T07:19:00.000-08:00

OK, so last week I broke my mailbox key off in the lock. I should have seen this coming since every time I check my mail it becomes an epic contest of strength and will to get the key in and out of the stupid lock. So when it snapped off last Monday I was like, "pfft, whatever. I'll deal with this later." Also, I decided to keep the broken bit on my keychain because it makes a surprisingly excellent bottle opener, and also serves as a good warning to my other keys.

Fast forward, um, a week (I might need to repeat a couple of grades in mail-checking school). I felt the tiny wand-tap of the mail fairy indicating that it was once again time to ceremoniously relocate supermarket circulars and credit card offers from my mailbox to the recycle bin. But then I remembered that my stupid key was still broken, and the bit in the mailbox was still there, and the mail-relocate ritual has been interrupted! The recycle bin will look longingly to the mailbox, but no word will ever come. Heartbreak.

So I went and bothered our homeowner's association president to see if she had a copy of the master key, but she was like, "master key? What?" And then I explained that there is a master key that opens the whole mailbox at once so that the mailman can bless us all with supermarket circulars without opening each individual box, but she just stared at me blankly, so I left. Prez 1, Grant 0.

So then, um, a couple of days later, when I remembered about my mailbox and my captive supermarket circulars and my sad recycle bin again, I decided to call the post office.

Okay, so here is a really important note for this really important story: I have this very intense rivalry with the postal delivery person. We are two foes, equally matched in skill and determination, fighting for a cause that is yet unknown. I will strategically not check my mail for a week or so, and he will cunningly counter by bending the magazine offer from the Smithsonian that clearly says Do Not Bend. You dog! I'm pretty sure he (or she) takes great pride in wadding up my mail and stuffing it as deep into my tiny box as possible (anything to say about this, Kyle?) Also, and I haven't confirmed this, but I'm reasonably certain they just take my ceremoniously discarded supermarket circulars out of the recycle bin and give them back to me as if to say, "I don't think you thoroughly read this the last time I gave it to you. Have you even considered this excellent deal on eggs?" Anyway, the point is that the postal delivery person clearly hates me, and I am passionately indifferent toward them. It is an epic battle for the ages that will be remembered long after our bones, locked together in a strangling death grip, become dust, and that dust fertilizes the soil, and in that soil grows trees, and those trees become paper, at that paper becomes supermarket circulars.

So I call the post office and get transferred around a few times until I finally reach the Interbay Postal Annex (woooo Interbay! [cue sound of one guy clapping in an empty auditorium]). I inform the dude that my battle with the postal carrier has been put on hold by key/lock mechanical failure and that if he wants to witness the next exciting round we should put differences aside and he should fix my mailbox. So he says, "alright, I will put in a Work Order for you," to which I reply, "awesome. So how long will that take?" And he replies, "I don't know, that's not my department." And thus is the end of our phone conversation. Sweet! I haz a Work Order!

So a couple more days go by, and the post-Work-Order honeymoon glow fades, and then I start considering the information exchanged with the Interbay Postal Annex Department Of Dudes Who Are Not In Whatever Department I Need:

Information given:

I broke my key
My address

Information NOT given:

My name
My phone number
Any sort of confirmation

I don't put it past the post office to have complete mastery of the complex sorcery required to magically reconstitute my mail key out of the two separate parts, and perhaps when I draw the broken Shards of Keysil (this is what I call my mail key now) out of my pocket it will be made whole again [UPDATE: not yet], but you'd think they'd at least have given me an indication of what to expect. You know, the spell only works within a five-mile radius, or make sure I don't have my key in my pocket when the spell hits, or be sure to wait an hour before swimming. Also, "Work Order" is a pretty boring name for a magic long-distance metal reconstitution spell.

But really, what the hell just happened? What is this "Work Order" even going to do? How will they contact me? Mail? I think I just got swindled by USPS.

Maybe "Work Order" is a special advanced mail-delivery move the postal carriers do where they insert pictures of my friends with their eyes X-ed out into supermarket circulars and then urinate into my over-stuffed mailbox. Looks like this rivalry just moved up a notch. Those of you who live in the Interbay area should be on the lookout for my next move: a postal delivery person who looks like a normal postal delivery person with the subtle exception that they will be on fire and pursued by bees. I call this move "The Invoice".

Seriously, though, I should probably call them again.

Re: the title of your latest blog post

2008-11-25T13:20:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure Admiral Heenkypants is better at the "Your Mom" joke than I will be at anything ever. Or at least more dedicated.

justice is hilarious and wet

2008-11-24T14:28:00.000-08:00

Behold another installment of the timeless tale of Pet vs Kid, in which the hapless child seeks unjust revenge upon a superior feline foe and passersby are treated to an epic battle for the ages:

Here is the inner dialog associated with this shining moment of history:

KID: [constant buzzing sound]
CAT:
KID: [constant buzzing sound]
CAT:
KID: [constant buzzing sound]
CAT: nope
KID: [constant muted gurgling sound]

IMPORTANT UPDATE

2008-11-24T13:03:00.001-08:00

People:

I am eating Pop Rocks. Has anyone else eaten these recently (I mean actually using them as intended, not by making explosions with root beer)? Anyway, they are the best. THE BEST! Pop Rocks just filled thousands of tiny explosion-shaped holes in my life that I was not even aware that I had.

So, how is everyone's day going?

that one time we broke into a brewery last weekend

2008-11-13T08:48:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah, so I meant to regale you all with exciting tales of some recent adventures of mine, but then I sort of forgot, and also I am really busy. But guess what? It turns out that sometimes if you don't do something someone else will end up doing it for you! For example, you can check out one of my recent adventures by reading Admiral Heenkypants' recount of this one time we broke into an abandoned brewery last Sunday (to protect those involved, I will refer to my companions as "Admiral Heenkypants", "Echo 3-7", and "Jason"). Also, you can look at his pictures here because the link on his blog is broken.

It was pretty great. We snuck around through some woods. We almost got caught! We crawled through a tiny hole. I threw some stuff as hard as I could in an abandoned warehouse. Jason got bored on watch duty and started complaining. I scored an awesome giant "4" sign. Apparently Jason climbed this crazy wood thing when I was on watch duty. Due to a crazy misunderstanding, I made Admiral Heenkypants and Echo 3-7 run through some mud for no reason (oops! I would be sorry if I wasn't so busy laughing at you). Afterwards we had victory burritos and victory Tecate. Success!

The end.

either gasoline or clothing for thought, your choice

2008-11-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

I was going to title this post "food for thought" for some reason (I hadn't gotten that far yet), but then I started thinking about what that phrase actually meant, and then I sort of lost my train of thought to a tragic thought derailment accident. This is pretty much the story of my life.

Okay, so does "food" refer to fuel for some sort of thought engine, or does "food" refer to actual food, presumably for some sort of thought animal? Am I the only one that is concerned with this ambiguity? The fuel idea represents a non-essential but presumably industrious and desirable function, whereas the food idea represents a necessary function for survival. Do I need thought food every day to keep my thought animal alive, or do I just need thought food whenever I want to fuel my thought car? DO YOU SEE WHY I'M HAVING TROUBLE WITH THIS? [note to readers: it's okay to say "no". But only once per month, so use it wisely. Okay, I guess you can say "no" twice in December, because it is the season of giving, but only one can be used in response to me asking you to buy me something. Also you will have to fill out a rebate form.]

Anyway, I forgot what my original point was, but I just decided that today is the Official Bac-Log Half-Opposite Day, wherein half of what I say will be opposite, but I will not tell you which is which, and also this whole idea could fall in the opposite category. Don't choke and/or flood your thought carburetor with all of that thought food/fuel!

Oh yeah, I just remembered that I was going to post this to regale you all with scintillating tales of adventure and delight regarding what I did and stuff I ate last week, but maybe I should do that tomorrow instead (to avoid Half-Opposite complete clarity).

I hope you have a neutral evening.

UPDATE: I just remembered that another thing I meant to post about was to get addresses to send reward haiku/recipe postcards to the brave participants of Bac-log Novel Idea Contest CHALLENGE 2008™. Teg, Tiny, Kevin Bacon, and Stueueuueek need to email me their addresses. KEEP THE IDEAS COMING, PEOPLE.

Also, if I suddenly ask for your address for no obvious reason, it is because you unintentionally gave me an idea for my novel, probably by tripping or spilling something. No good deed goes unrewarded.

Apparently we are getting a new president

2008-11-03T18:40:00.000-08:00

When in the deeps of time I took upon myself the ancient and powerful mantle of "lazy and directionless blogger", I made a personal pledge to keep my bloggy tome free of certain subjects. It's not that I don't have strong feelings about these subjects; rather it is a reflection of my personal belief that my greatest instrument of change is through example (be the change you want to see in the world). There are very few people who have the charisma and sheer depth and scope of absolute knowledge to force their views onto someone who is not ready or willing to change their minds. I am certainly not one of these people. I like to think that my personal philosophical platform is extremely rational and non-threatening, and that I can affect change in my own way, but rationality has little effect against the walls of stubborness that spring up when certain subjects are broached. Plus, I feel that the most important blog in the history of time should be an open and safe environment for all visitors. Bac-log is all about inclusionism. These subjects that I swore to banish forever from the hallowed pages of the great and ancient Bac-Logia are, of course, Politics, Religion, and Celebrity Gossip.

All that being said, In case you haven't heard, we are finally getting a new president! Whichever candidacy wins the general election tomorrow, be it either the refreshing and pride-inducing voice of change and reason or the ticket that may as well have been cast for a reality TV show, the real winners will be the American people. Of course, there are different levels of winning, and I would personally prefer to win the $1,000,000 instead of the free 20oz Coke, but I'll be happier with either than nothing, which is what we have now. (To maintain my unbiased reporting of this political event, I will not tell you which candidate is the 20oz coke and which is the million bucks.)

Okay, so how is it that, as far as I can tell, nobody has artistically rendered GObama as that one GoBot that was made of the 6 other GoBots, except in this case it would be a super badass presidential candidate made out of 6 other super badass presidential candidates, each one of which is powerful in their own way but an unstoppable force for good when combined? I mean that in an unbiased way, of course.

Anyway, the reason that I bring this up is because I just found out a couple of hours ago that I will be witnessing the unfolding of this epic historical turning point from Alaska. You probably know Alaska as that state what can see Russia, but you may be STUNNED to hear that it is also governed by a certain VP candidate! (Let's call her Sarah P. No, that's too obvious. We will call her S. Palin.) As you may imagine, most polls are predicting that this state will selflessly offer its 3 small but courageous electoral votes to the iron will of SP's ticket.

I'm bummed that I am going to miss what I'm sure will be a boozy haze followed by SCENE MISSING at Perrywinkle and Stueck's election party tomorrow, but I have obviously been chosen for a task of far greater importance than converting half-racks of PBR into urine (I'll have to make it up by working harder on the weekends I guess). Why do I think this? Well, take this short summary of JRR Tolkien's classic The Lord of the Rings:

At the turn of the tide of history, a quiet but brave hero undertakes a desperate journey into the heart of the Enemy's realm to destroy an object of power with which the Enemy will enslave the world. Also, some other dude becomes king and restores a fading world to its former glory.

What I think this is telling me is that I must travel alone with only my trusty servant (iPod) to the Land of the Enemy (Alaska) to destroy some sort of object of power by casting it in the Cracks of Doom (Gulf of Alaska). Only by defeating the Dark Lord (Palin) of the Dark Tower (Wasilla) can the king (Obama) return to restore the fading world to its former glory (pre-Bush). [In case you are interested in extending this metaphor, please note that Morgoth represents McCain, Gollum represents my self-doubt, and that Gandalf is not present for my quest represents the fact that I will not get iPhone reception in the Aleutians]. I mean this all in an unbiased way, of course.

I'm not sure what the evil object of power is yet, so my current plan is to save the world by hurling an onion ring into the Gulf of Alaska unless someone can suggest something better. Also, the homoerotic bed reunion scene from the movie version will have to wait to be played out until I return [which is to say, SLO-MO PILLOW FIGHT GRANT'S PLACE THURSDAY YOU ARE ALL INVITED].

Anyway, you should all vote tomorrow.

[also: if you are a California voter and are undecided about the proposition to change the state constitution to actively remove legal rights, protections, and freedoms from California citizens, please consider that a mistake that causes harm is worse than a mistake that fails to do good. Please just choose to leave people with their freedom and rights until you decide one way or the other.]

In case you were wondering about my gender

2008-11-03T16:06:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, this was on BoingBoing today:

This far-reaching and world-changing web tool analyzes a website to determine if it is written by a dude or a chick. I have no idea why this is important, but that's probably because I am but a pawn in the game of life. This web tool is probably curing cancer as we speak.

Anyway:

Internet! I give you so much, and this is how you repay me?

I do have a pretty sweet figure, though. And I dig the pants. Okay, internet, you are forgiven.

Anyway, this just makes me wonder how this tool actually works. Does it analyze word choices for gender patterns? Do I have a preponderance of "womanly" content in my blog? Am I that out of touch with my own gender? I guess I better post more man stuff:

Speaking of man stuff, if you type "chick with " into the Google toolbar thingy on Firefox, here is what Google offers as suggested searches:

chick with guns
chick with the braids lyrics
chick with the altoids
chick with ambition
chick with the gun jeans
chick with antlers

This is an example of how technology has the power to improve our lives. Google increased my quality of life drastically today by allowing me to save precious time by not having to type out "antlers". I was then able to ~~waste~~ invest that time in Sudoku and funny cat pictures.

Thanks to the internet, my life can has more Sudoku, and apparently less Y chromosome.

Prepare for the awesoming

2008-10-31T13:57:00.001-07:00

Okay gang,

This is now my 6th attempt at deploying Bac-log Novel Idea Contest CHALLENGE 2008™. The other 5 attempts ended up not making any sense. THIS BODES WELL FOR MY NOVEL.

Here's the deal: NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. I am going to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. This is going to be hard, but you've all seen my top-notch pointless rambling skillz. I think I can do this.

The primary reason that I am invoking the Bac-log Novel Idea Contest CHALLENGE 2008™ is because I am a junkie for reader participation and encouragement. However, I think the reason that I have had trouble getting it set up is that I'm not actually sure how Bac-log Novel Idea Contest CHALLENGE 2008™ should work. If I bribe you all for ideas with fabulous prizes, would you actually want to wade through 175 pages of crap to see me butcher your innocent and well-meaning gem of inspiration? Probably not. And what's the point of carefully crafting an amazing story idea when you don't get to see it implemented, and all you get from your effort is endless glory or ice cream or jumping high-fives?

So I think it's going to work like this: Throughout the entire month, If you have an idea that you think I would like, please leave it in the comments of this post and I will reward you with a homemade postcard featuring either a recipe or a haiku or a recipe in haiku form. (You may also email or tell me in person, but you will not get the postcard. SPECIAL OFFER: the postcard may also be used as a coupon for one free game of Monopoly with me and Kyle. You will be the banker. Kyle and I will be drunk. Starcraft may be substituted for Monopoly. If Kyle is not available, Vik may be substituted for Kyle. We could also play Yahtzee. You will provide the Yahtzee. Scrabble will not be tolerated).

Anyway, IF I decide to use your little pearl of idea-ness in some way in my story, I will also reward you with a Bac-Log Brand™ Original Recipe fabulous prize. Prize will be determined by a poll of Bac-Log readers. (With the exception of constantly subjecting you all to my inflexible and uncontested point of view, Bac-Log is all about democracy). IN ADDITION to the aforementioned fabulous prize, I will also post an excerpt or description of how your idea was used so that you may cuddle with the resulting glory.

What qualifies as an idea, you might ask? Well, check out this sparkling gem that Kevin Bacon just selflessly offered to the cause:

I once told someone to write me a story based around a guy who works in a photo place and develops photos all day long. You can have that one if you want.

Hahaha, I seriously have no idea why I find this so funny. THESE ARE HOW LOW MY STANDARDS ARE. Here are some more ideas that I am going to make up on the spot to make you feel better about your own:

Time traveling coffee cup finds love
Time traveling toaster finds love
Title: Dr Awesome's False Advertising Lawsuit
Time traveling Barry Manilow finds Mani-love
Somebody trips a lot
Everyone is a robot except for one guy!!!!
Can your story have unicorns or ferrets pls? thanx
Every character is a mystery-solving butler
Sexy international super-spies have a wacky house party and someone dies and they have to pretend they are still alive to win a large inheritance and also there is a talking dog.
Jane Austin fan fiction
Jane Austin fan fiction but everyone is a robot except for one guy!!!
Sexy lazy blogger reveals himself as a superhero and fights crime and solves mysteries and throws crazy house parties.
Time traveling food processor finds love.
A list of the last 50,000 things I ate.
Maintenance program engineer for major aerospace and defense corporation that rhymes exactly with "Boeing" uses his knowledge of airplane maintenance programs and fancy tea to solve mysteries.
It is the 80s and the story takes place entirely on yachts.

You guys can do better than that! (And you will, or I will keep bugging you). GET TO IT.

Please?

Premium Quality Cornhole Bags.

2008-10-30T06:52:00.001-07:00

Hey, it's been a while since I've had a good Gmail sponsored link. Gmail's ad engines must be getting more efficient.

Cornhole Bags $19.99/Set. - www.CornHoleShop.com - Premium Quality Cornhole Bags. Ready to Ship. Low price year round

Am I the only person who knows exactly one definition of "cornhole"? I don't think I am going to click on this link at work.

UPDATE: Here is some new information:

My friend Laurel of Penguinbot fame (GO BUY STUFF THERE) informs me that in addition to cornhole bags, you can also get cornhole caddies.
Courtney says cornholing is fun.
Kyle says they cornhole on the streets in Chicago.

Bac-log: the novel

2008-10-20T15:30:00.000-07:00

Hey, guess what month it is? [NO CHEATING, OK]

If you said "October", you get partial credit for being technically correct. If you said "whatever month is before November", you also get partial credit. If you said "August", you get partial credit for guessing what month I thought it was when I filled out my time card this morning. If you said "I'm hungry", you get partial credit for correctly identifying a basic human survival need. If you tried to figure out the answer by looking at the sun's relative position in the sky and arrived at "either Spring or early afternoon", you get partial credit for probably being either Jason or Kyle. If you said "almost NANOWRIMO, why?", you get full credit for the NaNoWriMo part, extra credit for identifying it as "almost", but then you lose the extra credit by being cocky. Nobody likes a showoff.

So anyways, National Novel Writing Month approacheth, and surfing on the crest of this incoming wave of destructively bad writing rides some of my very own Bac-Log Brand Extra-Strength Inane Babble™. That's right: 50,000 words of incomprehensible and poorly structured "writing" is haphazardously carving a swath of destruction from the future toward the present.

I first heard about this whole NaNoWriMo thing last year and made a quarter-ass effort to jump into the fray a week or two late [hint: not a good plan]. I seem to recall making it to about 2,000 words before realizing that my no-plot approach was, um, not getting anywhere (GO FIGURE). 2,000 words out of 50,000 is like defiantly throwing rocks at an approaching tank, except that I'm pretty sure there actually was no tank (I should check the FAQs again to make sure). So anyway, in retrospect I guess I just threw some rocks around and they are probably still lying around somewhere if someone wants to do some landscaping or something. POINT IS: I don't think I did it right.

At this point you are probably experiencing a creeping dread and nervously thinking, "oh geez, I knew this day would come eventually; Grant is going to make me proofread his novel." DO NOT WORRY-- before you try to tell me there was static in the internet or your cat ate the blog just think about one thing: if I really wanted to subject you to 50,000 words of pointless gibberish I would just start a blog called "Bac-log!" and you would be reading it right now.

Oh no, I do not expect anyone to actually consume the gelatinous word sausage that will be squeezed out of my braintubes into casings of literary intestine any more than I would expect someone to ride a roller coaster built by some guy who is "90% sure" he knows what a hammer is. Unless, of course, you actually want to (really? Eww). My purpose in pestering you today is to merely ask for a little bit of encouragement. Encouragement, and, um, maybe some novel ideas.

The encouragement part should be easy: Next time you see me, simply ask, "Hey Bac-log! How's that novel coming?" And I will be like, "it's going awesome, thank you for your asking-ness," and then we will exchange jumping high-fives and I will try to get you to buy me a beer. You see, in addition to being a valuable addition to our standard Fonzie-thumbs-up-gesture-followed-by-exploding-fist-jab greeting, the constant clamoring for updates will also give me reason to actually write the stupid novel.

The idea part is exactly like the encouragement part except with slightly less passive questioning and slightly more high-fiving, and also a lot more ideas. Now, I'm not asking for a full plot synopsis or a well-organized outline or anything so comprehensive (I can do that part, since, you know, I am the one writing the novel.) I am merely hoping to dig through some post-brainstorm debris, or riffle through scraps of characters or settings or inconsequential anecdotes or throw-away conversations to see if I can score anything valuable enough to sell back to the idea pawn shop for some idea booze money.

To grease the wheels (BREAKING NEWS: Bac-log's knock-off version of "grease the wheels" will now be called "wease the greels", because it sounds hilarious when you accidentally say it out loud at work).

Anyway, to wease the greels, brace yourselves for the incoming Bac-log Novel Idea Contest CHALLENGE 2008™! You know the drill: Prizes will be fabulous. Contest judging will be openly questioned. Tempers will flare. Friends will be made into enemies. Enemies will be made into friends. Friends will be made into slightly better friends. Bystanders will be made into loose acquaintances. Dogs and cats will live together. Problems will be solved. Problems might not be solved and we'll just agree to ignore them. Deadlines will be missed. Tears. Heroes will be made. Hands will be clapped. Rainbows will lead to magical unicorns instead of pots of gold and you guys will probably complain. Maybe the unicorns took it, OK? Geez. Nonsense will be made. However, this does not necessarily mean no nonsense will not be made. Metaphors will get lost in. Prepositions will be used to end sentences with. Sentence fragments. Ice cream.

(You know, standard Bac-log operating procedure.)

Thank you for your time and encouragement in advance! Stay tuned!

Kevin Bacon correspondence report

2008-10-16T08:18:00.000-07:00

Check out this card I got from Kevin Bacon:

Ba-dum-CHING! But seriously, why would the "good ones" be bacon? In this hypothetical society in which pigs are able to enjoy fine dining and afford prescription eyewear, why would having your fatty underside become strips of delicious meat to be eaten by others be seen as a desireable attribute in a partner? Also: why are the male pigs naked? I am going to go ahead and click "unsubscribe" on this society's newsletter.

The human equivalent of this card would be pretty funny though: Two ladies are sitting at a tiny table in a very spacious and gaudy restaurant, surrounded by naked men. One lady complains to her friend, "I just can't find a man." Her friend replies, "yeah, all the good ones harvested for food. I don't have much hope for the continuance of our civilization."

Anyway, suppose you are taking a literal interpretation of this tome of knowledge and suddenly feel insecure about your qualifications as a mate. DO NOT WORRY! Kevin Bacon has included a blueprint of a practical solution to your horrible "I am not bacon" problem (you will probably need to click on the picture to enlarge):

Of course!!! By wearing this stylish garb you essentially become bacon! Also, please note Kevin Bacon's excellent attention to detail and nod your head approvingly.

By introducing a problem that no one knew they had and then offering a solution that involves making a bacon suit, I feel Kevin Bacon deserves some points. Here is a breakdown of the point distribution:

Olive buttons: .25 points
Bacon Fedora: .5 points
Apollo 13: .5 points
"elegant yet breathable summer-weight suit": .5 points
Vest to compensate for the inherent lack of precision of the material: .75 points

TOTAL: 2.5 points

You might think 2.5 points seems cheap, but I prefer to think of my miserly point distributions as "frugal and responsible". In case you are interested, here are the updated scores:

BRG: 1225 points
Chester Copperpot: 5 points
Kevin Bacon: 2.5 points
[other people]: 0-10 points
Kyle: -5 points

Good job, everyone! Keep up the good work.

DQ Dead Zone™

2008-10-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Okay, remember that part in the legendary cinematic masterpiece Tomb Raider in which the gang is journeying to the arctic circle for some reason, and they enter a mysterious "dead zone" which inexplicably makes their vehicles and cellphones and handheld gaming devices cease to work, and also makes that one geeky dude whose sole purpose was that he had a laptop completely superfluous?

Either way, check out this map of Dairy Queen locations around Seattle:

If you and your rag-tag team of scantily-clad, death-defying adventurers were thinking about hunting for mysterious Illuminati relics in Ballard, be warned that entering the DQ Dead Zone™ will render your Blizzards and Peanut Buster Parfaits inoperable.

I first witnessed this stunning natural phenomenon several years ago when Admiral Heenkypants, BRG, and I undertook a long and dangerous mission to achieve $1 Blizzards. Despite our universal belief that we'd seen various Dairy Queens around town, we ended up all the way out in Woodinville before we could finally enjoy our invertible cups of frosty delight at special promotional prices.

This knowledge came in handy after Jason and I achieved ultimate revenge upon McClellan Butte a month or so ago, when on our way home Jason decided that he had a Blizzard-shaped hole in his tummy that needed to be appropriately and immediately filled. Fortunately, we had not yet breached the DQ Seattle Perimeter, an ancient defense designed to distract advancing invaders with delicous frozen treats, thus buying time for Seattle residents to escape to Bainbridge Island by riding on the backs of seals (city planning used to be much more comprehensive than it is now).

Anyway, I bring this up to let you all know that I finally distributed Taco's haiku prize ice cream the other day, so you can all finally sleep at night. However, if you are jumping to the conclusion that I must have taken him to Dairy Queen, you're wrong (the riveting Dairy Queen tale was just a diversion). We went to Molly Moons in Wallingford and got ourselves some delicious waffle cones. Taco tried to get them to put a sundae in the cone, but this was just too much to ask of the poor high schoolers toiling away in the middle-class salt mines of the service industry. I got salted caramel. It was delicious.

The end.

oh yeah... blogging

2008-10-08T16:41:00.001-07:00

If you are wondering why I haven't posted anything since last Wednesday it is probably because of something you did. Way to ruin it for everyone.

Also I forgot.

But don't worry-- here is the exhaustive list of what happened in the last week:

I ate a whole bunch of borscht.

Blogging is hard*.

You know what I think Bac-log needs right now (besides content)? Another contest! Everyone put your thinking hats and thinking scarves and thinking fingerless gloves on, because I feel a Contest Idea Contest coming on!

*super hard

Wednesday

2008-10-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

This is where I thoughtfully rub my chin and nod with pretend understanding, then go home and cry in shame for not comprehending these important high-brow questions. Could I at least get the answers as multiple choice? I fear that I have no hope of ever entering this particular intellectual caste.

Also, urbandictionary's translation of "rugs on carpet" only creates more questions.

today's scores

2008-09-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

Grape Jolly Rancher 1, Grant's teeth 0

As a premeditated example of delicious misplaced revenge, I am planning to take my humiliation out on some poor, unsuspecting Pho later.

UPDATE: I heard once that it takes around 20 minutes to recognize that you are full. It's only been 5 minutes, but I'm going to guess that the victory licorice I had after the giant bowl of Pho was probably unnecessary.

Baco 2.0

2008-09-25T12:16:00.000-07:00

Here is a list of things you were wrong about today:

Thinking there is nothing better than the original baco.
Thinking, "I bet nobody is going to call me out on a blog for being wrong about something today."

But don't feel bad; we're all wrong sometimes. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you THE BACO 2.0 EXPERIENCE:

Those bacon rays that your eyes just hungrily slurped off of your computer screen are but a tiny slice of the glory that is the Baco 2.0 Experience.

Okay, so these bacos were actually made, like, years ago [ed note: 2 months ago]. I posted about the "haco " a day or two later with the intention of creating a heaving sea of baco demand into which I would hurl these salty morsels of awesomeness to be devoured in a frenzy of orgasmic delight, but in a spectacular display of Dramatic Buildup FAIL, I totally forgot. [INSERT SAD EMOTICON OF YOUR CHOICE HERE]. This is the baco-blogging equivalent of waiting behind a couch to jump out and scare your roommate when they get home, but then accidentally falling asleep, and then freaking out when they wake you up to ask why you are sleeping behind the couch and if you intend on paying rent at some point. Sort of.

Anyway, here is a note on baco pronunciation:

baco ba·co [bah-koh]
noun
Success embodied and carved into a convenient hand-sized package of glory.

See, it's not "bake-o", it is "bah-koh", got it? You know, like a taco. A taco BUT WITH A BACON SHELL! Here is a rhyme you may use to help you with this pronounciation: "Crumble crumble little taco, don't you wish you were a baco?" Also you may use this classic: "One, two, buckle my taco/ three, four, give me a baco."

Anyway, as you probably all know, Baco 1.0 was an exciting journey into the wide and uncharted frontiers of baconspace, and resulted in unexpected but well-deserved success. Team Baco 2.0 applied the knowledge and experience gleaned from this adventure and sought to refine and improve the baco, specifically by putting other kinds of awesome crap in it.

Baco 1.0 was a simple affair: Iceberg lettuce, crumbled blue cheese, and more bacon. A logical next step was some sort of Breakfast Baco-- a hat-tip, if you will, to the traditional morning role of bacon. But beyond that was a limitless expanse of possibility, like an untouched field of fresh snow, just asking for you to mess it up by running through it. I was a little overwhelmed, so I asked my friend Hillary of haiku judging fame for advice. You will meet the gifted and well-behaved children of our brainstorms below, but first I suppose I should offer a quick primer of the baco process:

Step 1: Gather bacon and other ingredients:

Step 2: Weave a mat of bacon and dreams:

Step 3: Cut the mat into a circle (this is an optional but recommended step for larger bacos):

Step 4: Drape the bacon mat (the "Proto-Baco") over stainless steel baco mold:

Step 5: Bake. Remove from oven. Let cool. You are an artist, and this is your canvas:

But what do you put in the baco? Here are some Baco 2.0 Experience recipe suggestions, carefully engineered and tested for your enjoyment:

The Breakfast Baco (pictured above, but here it is again):

Ingredients:
Maple-bacon Baco shell
Creamy scrambled egg
Basil
Sun-dried tomato
Mozzerella
Bacon

The Greek Baco (with blur-tastic photo! Bacos make even light greasy):

Ingredients:
Baco shell
Seasoned ground lamb
cucumber
Assorted olives
Feta cheese
Sun-dried tomato
Greek yogurt

The Caprese Baco (with unfortunate baco shell structural failure):

Ingredients:
Baco shell
Mozzerella
Tomato
Olive oil
Basil

Rosemary Baco (not pictured. GASP!):
Ingredients:
Baco shell
Chorizo sausage
Rosemary sprigs
Brie

Can I get a drumroll, please? It needs to be the most epic of all drumrolls. The prophesy speaks of a Chosen Drumroll: A lone drumroll born amidst a galestorm of anticipation and raised by a pack of lightning bolts, who will one day come forth blazing across a snare carved from the inaccessible peaks of excitement, heralding the coming of all excellence. It is time for the prophesy to be fulfulled:

THE ULTIMATE BACO:

Ingredients:
Pepper-bacon Baco shell
Lettuce
Scrambled egg
Seasoned ground lamb
Greek yogurt
Basil
Feta cheese
Sun-dried tomato
Mozzarella
Watermelon (yes, for reals. We pull no punches.)
Cucumber
Crumbled blue cheese
Pepperoncini
Grilled onion
Rosemary
Olives
Brie
Blue cheese salad dressing
Chorizo sausage
More bacon

PRODUCT: Ultimate Baco.
REVIEW: Ultimate Awesome.

If you thirst for more photos of Bacosploitation, here are some more: [link to Baco 2.0 Album]. If you are still thirsty after you have viewed the photos it is probably because of all of the salt your eyes just absorbed, and you should probably grab a drink.

You are welcome.

is it really only wednesday?

2008-09-24T07:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, so a haggard and foul-smelling homogeneous chemical mixture stumbles into a bar and tries to order a drink. The bartender, sensing that this homogeneous chemical mixture is obviously already intoxicated, throws it out so as to not offend the other patrons. After witnessing this incident, an attractive and well-dressed homogeneous chemical mixture who has been sitting at the bar leans over to her friend and says, "Whew, I'd sure rather be part of the problem than part of that solution!"

You see, it's funny because solution can mean two different things.

[awkward silence] [uncomfortable fidgeting] [looks at watch]

No? Well, how about this instead:

Look! It's a pair of adorable little toasties! With little pats of butter! AWWW! And the product placement makes the box look like it says "butt".

Is that better?

DO NOT BE ALARMED

2008-09-23T09:32:00.001-07:00

Okay, take a deep breath and, if possible, tightly hold the hand of someone you love.

Are you ready?

Guys, it turns out there were five mistakes in the movie Back To The Future!

But don't worry- these mistakes do not undermine this sacred movie's fundamental pillars of truth that we have built our entire society upon, namely TIME TRAVEL BY GOING 88MPH IN A DELOREAN and SLOWLY DISSOLVING HANDS and CRISPIN GLOVER and TIME TRAVEL BY GOING 88MPH IN A DELOREAN.

Plus I already have a plan for how to explain these minor flaws in my Miss Congeniality/Back To The Future cross-over fan fiction:

1. Darth Vader's hairdryer disappears because it is actually a hairdryer from 1988 that Doc Brown left in the DeLorean for some reason (read: shameless vanity), and since Marty's unrepentant and irresponsible meddling with the space-time continuum is threatening that future, the hairdryer dissolves (off camera) just like his brother's head in the photograph. Maybe Marty, in addition to screwing up his future family by being all hunky in front of his mom, also somehow screws up the lives of those eventually responsible for manufacturing this important future hairdryer.

2. The speaker vanishes because it is actually a speaker from 1988... [okay, you know how this part goes now]... and the sign rotates because it cleverly conceals a spy periscope used by the drivers of the car, who happen to be the Iranian terrorists from 1988 who are hunting down Marty in the past after ramming their VW van into the time-traveling shack. Intrigue!

3. Candy jar empties because the candy is actually from the past, and that past is threatened by the fact that Marty will soon be visiting it, and so it dissolves, and also Crispin Glover (who will be named "Crisper Glovin" in my fiction) was probably responsible for filling the candy vessel, and that dude is weird. I bet that candy had all sorts of creepy Crispin magic.

4. The gauges and needles on the dashboard changed because past Doc Brown works part time for an automotive accessories store called Olde Automobile Zone to support his mad sciencing and he gets a sweet discount on aftermarket needles and gauges.

5. The subtle change in appearance of Doc Brown while he is driving the time-traveling DeLorean is due to the fact that in addition to being an ageless, time-traveling mad scientist, he is also a shape-shifter. He uses this skill to fight crime. This is really not that big of stretch, relatively.

Bonus. This one is pretty obvious, but I guess I'll spell it out for the sake of completeness. Doc Brown's dog Einstein is actually zombie Einstein in a dog suit which he uses to avoid detection as he runs from tax collectors and a tenacious small-town sheriff who keeps foiling his zombie scientist plots, and also to bide his him until he can use the time-traveling DeLorean to travel to a distant future era in which zombie scientists are more like zombie gods, worshiped and adored by the descendants of man, their robots, and their robot's man-like bio-bots.

See! It turns out everything is okay after all. You are welcome.

[via]

NEW FEATURE: misuse of blog

2008-09-22T09:20:00.001-07:00

People:

Anyone want to go see tonight's Mariners game against the hated division rivals, the Los Angeles California Angels of Anaheim California, a game that has absolutely zero impact or importance? I have an extra ticket because Patron Saint has to work late or something.

Pros:

getting to hang out with Me, BRG, and Rachel
awesome seats right behind the visitor's dugout, so we can yell stuff at the opposing players
you will get to learn all about our fantasy baseball league (exciting!!) because BRG and I are duking it out for the top spot, and also the starting pitcher for the Angels is on my team.
Because of this you will probably learn all sorts of new words and phrases that you can feel free to use at home and work.
free!

Cons:

how about you read the Pros again. THERE ARE NO CONS HERE

Let me know! Game starts at 7. We will be pre-drinking at Hooverville. YOU DON'T WANT TO MISS THIS!! [hint: this is true]

UPDATE: File this under "Pros": I will also regale you with the scintillating tale of the real-life hobo that I met on Saturday while he was looking for the trainyard! [disclaimer: Vik, Kyle S, and Lisa were not nearly as impressed by this tale as I thought they should be, but maybe it's because they were just jealous]

I was getting more bacon

2008-09-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

Guess what, gang! [dramatic pause for answer] It's Monday! [awkward silence]

Okay, so this:

What? Is this a reference from a movie or a TV show or a video game or the back of a cereal box or something? I am torn between a desire for understanding at the cost of potential disappointment and the desire to stubbornly remain blissfully confused by such immaculate randomness.

Also, here is a haiku by my friend Laura Kate (with official Bac-Log haiku formatting):

XVIII

my heart hurts so much
but my belly is smiling
bacon forever

Laura: does this glory come in the mail? Will I be receiving it in an envelope?
Me: glory comes in an envelope sealed with magnificence
Laura: meaning bacon?
Me: if it is bacon-related glory, then yes
Laura: so when I receive my bacon-sealed envelope in the mail, I will know that it is my glory
Me: yes
but also glory can be distributed straight to your heart
Laura: through more bacon?
Me: hahahaha, yes
Laura: I love bacon

miracles are all around us, and also the positive effects of pirates

2008-09-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

Jason: what the name of the ice sport with ninjas and pirates?
Me: broomball

(What was the world like in the dark days before gmail recorded our conversations for posterity?)

Okay, so if you have been on or around the internet today, or knows someone who has, or even knows what the internet is, or is human, or even casually knows a human, or exists at least partially in three dimensions, you have heard that today is Talk Like A Pirate Day. For many people this is a cause of great celebration and mirth and excitement, apparently because they need this as an excuse to talk like a pirate. If you have to find time to talk like a pirate, and this only happens once a year, maybe you need to rethink your priorities.

A much better day would be Act Like A Pirate Day (With Pirate Speech And Dress Optional), provided that this day came with some sort of liability protection. As in, maybe you get two free pillages without legal repercussion.

Anyway, regardless of your thoughts about perceived relevance and specific application of Talk Like A Pirate Day, I think it's important to remember what Talk Like A Pirate Day is really all about, and that's family. Family, and also buried treasure. Also it is about being able to recognize Talk Like A Pirate Day miracles, and use these miracles to strengthen your Talk Like A Pirate Day faith.

Talk Like A Pirate Day miracles are all around us! For example, if your breakfast did not suddenly dissolve into space like it was in the transporter on Star Trek, that was no coincidence! That was a Talk Like A Pirate Day miracle! And if your computer at work didn't burst spontaneously into bright green flames, that was also a Talk Like A Pirate Day miracle! And if you saw an extra little twinkle in the eye of your adorable barista today as they served you your half-caf double-tall 190° vanilla soy latte with extra foam, that was a Talk Like A Pirate Day miracle and also burgeoning love! Talk Like A Pirate Day miracles often lead to love, but unfortunately they also occasionally lead to cancer.

My Talk Like A Pirate Day miracle was truly incredible. You see, my Mom sent me an email on Tuesday to remind me of Talk Like A Pirate Day, which was very courteous as it allowed me plenty of time for last-minute Talk Like A Pirate Day gifts and to hide Talk Like A Pirate Day colored eggs and to make reservations for a romantic dinner for my Talk Like A Pirate Day-tine and to carve my Talk Like A Pirate Day-O-Lantern and to prepare a turkey for the Talk Like A Pirate Day ceremonious dinner which celebrates the historic feast between the newcome and ill-prepared pirates and the merchant sailors whose wares they would eventually steal.

I opened my calendar to enter this important date when I discovered that it was already there! Somehow the divine influence of Talk Like A Pirate Day saw fit to include Talk Like A Pirate Day in my calendar as an "all-day event" with reminders set to both 1 and 2 days before! This is truly the 2nd greatest Talk Like A Pirate Day miracle off all time, behind only the bearded and reindeer-drawn Talk Like A Pirate Day diety rising from death three days after discovering fireworks and the American continent just in time to remember the veterans of past wars!

Talk Like A Pirate Day also affords us an opportunity to consider how important yet unsung is the role of the pirate, who makes sure that not too much gold stays above ground for too long, so it wont become a tripping hazard. I will leave you now with the symbolic Talk Like A Pirate Day Rune of Responsible Recycling:

[guest post] OUTDONEREDER

2008-09-18T09:10:00.001-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen (but mostly ladies), be herein entreated to the long-anticipated followup guest post by Ian F. King, who makes the rest of my blog look like crap (THANKS FOR NOTHING, DUDE*).

*actually, thanks for letting me crash with you in New York so often.

UPDATE: Ian: "you can discuss in an intro how much I badgered you into running my post!"

also:

Ian: "I want to collect all the glory that awaits me"

also:

Ian: "why are you stalling?"

also:

Ian: "I want glory"

also:

Ian: "No one reads the internet on the weekend!"

Not too long after my recent entreaty to the Bac-Log faithful to join me in reliving one of the innumerable highlights in its rich and storied history, the letters began to trickle in, and then that trickle grew into a light pour, which has in the last half of a fortnight threatened to turn into a slightly heavier pour. These letters all say the exact same thing:

"Good Sir," they begin, "I hesitate to bring pause to the various important comings and goings of your busy days, but in my enrapt engagement with your recent guest post on what is indubitably the most important blog in the history of time, I couldn't help but be persnickety enough to notice one incredibly minor and completely irrelevant discrepancy between your recounting of the 20th century, and what certain highly questionable scholars might call 'the truth.' To wit, the ill-conceived butter substitute known as margarine was first brought to the general public quite some time before the 1940's, and not afterwards as you suggested. Please forgive my impulsive decision to encroach upon you with this concern, but I believed it to be something that needed to be brought to your attention. Yours sincerely, So & So."

It continued like this until my whimsical yet dutiful carrier pigeon Nugget spoke up one morning as he was making his delivery rounds. "Surely you must settle this matter once and for all, lest my letter satchel continue to overflow," he reasoned. Nugget was toeing the line of insubordination, but he did have a valid point, though I didn't hear him complaining about all the seeds he was collecting from me in fees - so much so that I decided it would be easier to simply leave a small dish of his fees suspended from a low branch on the oak tree outside my window, in a container shaped like a small house, as I knew that was his favorite shape.

"If you would only enlighten the people, they will greatly appreciate it," Nugget said, flapping his way off my windowsill, and it is in the hopes of forging an understanding in your minds that I will now make an admission I have heretofore been loathe to make: margarine was indeed available in the 1940's, and long before, but I have in the past refused to acknowledge its existence, as I will continue to do so, until Saint Peter drags me to my watery grave in the sky.

What I'm writing here is of course no revelation, as anyone with more than a fourth grade education is well aware that in 1869, Emperor Louis Napoleon III of France offered a prize to anyone who could make a satisfactory substitute for butter, suitable for use by the armed forces and lower classes. French chemist Hippolyte Mège-Mouriés invented a substance he called oleomargarine, and, as they say, the rest is terrible, terrible history. What monsieur Mege-Mouries didn't know was that his "prize" would be a permanent shackling in the foulest dungeon available in Paris at the time, where he spent the remainder of his days with his head clamped in an iron mask, having ample time to think about the abomination he had so wittingly wrought on the world.

How it came to pass that margarine has since stood the test of time and advances of civilization is quite beyond comprehension, and I've tried to give it no thought, as has Bac-Log's benevolent founder, Mr. Grant V. Laine. Indeed, the guiding force behind margarine stands diametrically opposed to one of the very principles that we formed this blog on, as certainly no foodstuff that was brought forth at the behest of a leader whose very name is synonymous with the inferiority complex is fit to take space on the refrigerator shelves of true and valorous men.

I beseech you, why would one slather their morning toast in an oil-based substitute for insecurity? Would you fill your delicious Sunday pie with apples that clearly lacked an inner strength and confidence? Would you cram your holiday turkey so full of cowardly stuffing that by the time you were able to coax it out of the oven it would be far too dry to savor? As one of the original battle-cries from the very mission statement that Bac-Log was founded on states: "Spread not the unnamable and insecure butter substitute on your daily bread, but the bold and brazen brazenberry jam. If brazenberry jam is not available, use boysenberry."

Though the much sought-after brazenberry went extinct in the late 50's, along with the equally delicious belching-fish, every other word on that original Bac-Log charter is as relevant today as it was when it was drafted on a series of now-historical napkins in the backroom of an alehouse in Hoboken that both Grant and I lived above, in an old tenement apartment that we would re-christen that very next morning as Bac-Log Gustatory and Ingestatory Documentation Partners LLC, turning a fine and upstanding young gentlemen bachelor's residence into an even finer and even more upstanding blogeteria.

Doing one better than even that other most glorious and empowering of documents, the Magna Carta Liberatum, in a single spirited sitting the two of us drew up our own call to arms, a series of laws to love and rules to live by, principles that would guide us all through the moral, philosophical, and actual wildernesses of the modern world. The Mangia Charta Degustatum, as it was later dubbed by the leading culinary scholars of the late 1970's, now rests behind inches of weather-proof glass, in one of the most prominent storage rooms in the vast Smithsonian institute.

Fueled by our own reciprocal largesse of inspiration, and bowl after bowl of peanuts that were as salty as Lot's wife, we compiled a list of commandments that numbered into the dozens. After reluctantly striking through all of the newly-minted lines that were highly amusing descriptions of the innkeeper's buxom daughter, we were left with nothing less than the eight principles that have seen me through my darkest hours and proudest moments, and, much more importantly, have helped to make Grant V. Laine the statuesque demi-god of the blogosphere that he is.

For those who have yet to lay their virgin eyes upon the glorious sunburst of knowledge that is the Mangia Charta, which is located on the "About Us" page (link here), I'll now reprint that entire document here from memory, as it is as fresh in my mind today as it was that wondrous night:

The Fifteenth of August, in the Annum Nineteen Hundred and Forty Three, Brings About To The Attention Of The General Public Of These United States This Order of Business Of The Utmost Importance: A new blog (tentative title: "Captain Eats-A-Bunch's Plenty O' Thoughts")

STATEMENT OF INTENT:

In Our Wholly Justified and Unquestionable Wisdom, We Hereby Declare That,

1. To eat is human, to devour is divine,

2. To improve the condition of any single object, wrap in a layer of bacon,

3. (note to self: look into a way of possibly combining breakfast and lunch, with an emphasis on egg-based dishes)

4. Red meat is the other white meat,

5. He who forgets the past is doomed to relive it, so make sure to write down even the stuff you ate that you didn't like to eat,

6. Spread not the unnamable and insecure butter substitute on your daily bread, but the bold and brazen brazenberry jam. If brazenberry jam is not available, use boysenberry.

7. Of all the world's vegetables, nothing beats a ripe and firm tomato, one as plump and comely as Bess, the innkeeper's daughter,

8. (TK)

Witnesseth On This Glorious Day, Signed,

Grant V. Laine

His Humble Assistant

Learning things about myself

2008-09-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

A big part of life is personal growth and exploration. Discovering new interests and feelings and perspectives can be a fulfilling and exciting journey. For example, a recent personal discovery of my own is that I need to make more space in my life for what makes me happy, namely pictures of birds dressed in people clothes.

For me, this adorable little guy represents all that is good in the world. His slightly-lifted chin represents strength and optimism. His dapper little bowtie represents unity. His patterned shirt represents careful frugality, economy, and the benefits of vertical stripes. That his portrait is in profile represents how weird it is that his eyes are on opposite sides of his head. Maybe I can apply this to my life somehow; perhaps my inner eyes are on the opposite sides of my inner head, so if it appears that I am not paying attention sometimes, maybe it is just that I am trying to look at you with one of my inner eyes, okay? Geez.

That the portrait is incomplete represents that I should go get another coffee refill.

MORE good ideas

2008-09-16T11:28:00.000-07:00

Ho ho ho, dear readers-- it looks like today is your lucky day*. Here are MORE delightfully cozy ideas in which to swaddle your delicate fancies whilst idly reclining within your contemplative moods of deliberate and thoughtful consideration:

1. Another new slogan idea: "Bac-log: All Lies, Including This Slogan"

2. When I start my knock-off generic beverage company (after I generate some start-up capital with my meat-engine company), I think I will have a line of knock-off Rockstar energy drinks called "Roadie™", and the slogan for "Roadie™ Juiced Guava-like Fruit Energy Drink" will be "70% Fake Juice/30% savings over name-brand product". Also the 16oz can will advertise "Double Size/Double The Amount Of Generic Juice Product Inside". DISCLAIMER: there will be no 8oz size, because I'm trying to streamline my production process. Bac-Log, in addition to being the most important blog in the history of time and/or all lies, is also all about beverage manufacturing and bottling efficiency.

Speaking of efficiency, I should probably get back to work.

*[DISCLAIMER: may not actually be your lucky day. Lucky day chances of winning are 1/29,200 for individuals with 80-year expected lifespan. Some purchase may be necessary to play. Are you still reading this? Goonies: Great movie, or Greatest movie?]

UPDATE: Roadie™ Juiced Guava-like Fruit Energy Drink: "70% Fake Juice/87% of all statistics are made up on the spot/12% that joke is so old/Meat% Delicious/110% effort".

UPDATE: Another slogan idea: "Bac-Log: Meat% Delicious/(1-Meat)% Blog". Yes or No?

UPDATE: Previous updates available under "stupid ideas upgrade service pack release v1.01", and may not be compatible with reason or purpose.

some non-1 number of things

2008-09-16T10:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, one more thing (besides that lie. ZING! Crap, that "zing" does not count toward my Thing Count either, okay).

New slogan for Bac-Log: "5% punchline, 85% boring setup, 12% not good with percentages."

Oh man, this reminds me that I meant to do a product review of Rockstar Juiced Guava Energy Drink that I had at a picnic a few weeks ago:

PRODUCT: Rockstar Juiced Guava Energy Drink
REVIEW: Tastes like 3 packages of grape Kool-aid powder mixed with 16oz of Sprite and 4 pounds of sugar. Evidently this particular product example contains 4 times the strength of the "single size/single strength" product.

Dear Rockstar,

I am writing to inform you that your "70% Juice/100% Energy" beverage appears to be 70% too big for the supplied three spacial dimensions of our universe. This may be a safety hazard, and I am worried about the possible detrimental affects on my houseplants and future children. Please find a bigger reality for your product. Also, could you please send me a new stomach lining to replace the one that your product vaporized? I take men's size 4 or 4½ stomach linings.

Love,
Grant V Laine, Concerned Citizen.

Oooh, can someone make me a pie-chart of the advertised contents of Rockstar Juiced Guava Energy Drink? I wonder if that will melt Microsoft Excel.

Speaking of pie chart:

That is all. For accounting purposes I am going to consider this all to be one thing.

this is going to be one of those days, I can feel it

2008-09-16T07:58:00.001-07:00

I think another glaring omission on the horrible blog post list thing is posts that reference inside jokes. Because really, who would want to read about someone's inside joke?

If you just predicted that I would now describe to you an inside joke, you just won Bac-Log's 2008 X-Treme Future-Prediction Contest™! Your prize is getting to keep reading! [All taxes on prizes and expenses relating to acceptance and use of prizes and not specified are the sole responsibility of winners. By participating, entrants (and entrants's parent/legal guardian/handler if winner is a tiger or bear) agree a) to these rules and decisions of Bac-Log which shall be final and binding in all respects and in all matters relating to this promotion; b) to release, discharge, indemnify and agree to hold harmless Bac-Log, its advertising and promotion agencies and all of their respective parents, affiliates, subsidiaries, agencies, homies, agents, and representatives and all of their respective employees, officers and iron-fisted lords of darkness (individually and collectively "Releasees") from any liability or responsibility whatsoever for any claims, costs, injuries, sandwiches, losses or damages (whether due to negligence or otherwise) of any kind (including, without limitation, claims, costs, injuries, sandwiches, losses and damages related to personal injuries, death, damage to, loss of or destruction of property, or rights of publicity or privacy), arising out of or in connection with the promotion or from their acceptance, possession, use or misuse of any prize, or participation in the promotion or any promotion related activity or travel related activity; and c) if a winner, by acceptance of prize, to the announcement/use of name, voice, image and/or likeness, at any time or times, for trade, advertising, publicity and promotional purposes without compensation (unless prohibited by law) by Bac-Log and those acting pursuant to Bac-Log's direction, in all media now known or hereafter discovered, worldwide, including but not limited to the World Wide Web and also that crazy dude at the bus stop, without notice, review or approval and agrees to execute specific consent to such use if asked to do so. In no event will Releasees be responsible or liable for any damages or losses of any kind, whether direct, indirect, incidental, consequential, punitive or other damages. Winner (and winner's parent/legal guardian/spider-god) will be required to complete an affidavit of eligibility, liability and (where legal) publicity release, which must be returned within time period specified by Bac-Log or prize may be forfeited. If any prizes or documents are returned as non-deliverable, or if a winner is found to be ineligible or not in compliance with these Official Rules, winner will be disqualified and prize forfeited and an alternate victim selected. If winner is not of the age of majority in his/her state of residence, prize may be awarded in the name of or to parent, legal guardian, or alien overlords (as solely determined by Bac-Log) who must execute all documents and agree to all undertakings of winner set forth in these Official Rules or prize may be forfeited. Releasees are not responsible and shall not be liable for: a) telephone, electronic, dolphin, hardware or software or program, network, or Internet or cabbage malfunction, or any communications accessibility, availability or lines, or technical errors of any kind or by any human error which may occur in the processing of entries, or the incorrect or inaccurate capture of entry or other information, or the failure to capture, or loss of, any such or similar information; b) failed, incomplete, run-on, poorly-formed, metaphorical, garbled, corrupted or delayed computer transmissions; c) lost, late, disheveled, misdirected, mutilated, incomplete, hungover, illegible entries or postage-due mail, entries or email; or d) any condition caused by events that may cause the promotion to be disrupted or corrupted. Bac-Log reserves the right in its sole discretion to cancel or suspend the promotion or any portion thereof should computer hardware or software malfunctions (such as but not limited to virus, bugs, worms, cat pictures, checking fantasy baseball scores instead of working, tampering, unauthorized intervention, fraud, technical failures) or any other causes corrupt the administration, security or proper play of the promotion, and select the winners from entries received prior to the action taken or in such other manner as deemed fair and appropriate by Bac-Log.. Cash value of prize is 1/16th of a frozen pizza, but only if it's still on sale at QFC.]

Okay, so the reason that I bring this up is that I just thought of something vaguely amusing (let's call it 0.2 Amusement Units) but which requires a complicated inside-joke backstory (65.8 Required Explanation Units.) You might be tempted to add these numbers together to create some sort of "where the hell is he going with this" sum, but you would be wrong because those units are not compatible (AU is metric). Geez, take some math, people.

ANYWAY: Here is the abridged minimum body of knowledge required for my forthcoming 0.2AU idea to make sense:

Fact: you have a band called 12-Point Font Crayon.
Fact: the band's slogan is "fuck the past. have some glitter"
Fact: Before 12-Point Font Crayon was a band it was TV documentary miniseries about kids with OCD who were also really into typography.
Fact: 12-Point Font Crayon's roadie can tell the future [Please notice that I already referenced future-telling above and include this in your notebook, "OBSERVATIONS OF BAC-LOG'S SUPERIOR SELF-REFERENTIAL EXCELLENCE AND ALSO SHOPPING LISTS, VOLUME 2"]
Fact: In addition to tuning your standard guitars, banjos, and solar-powered theremins, my job as roadie also includes tuning the glitter cannons and bubble machines.
Fact: Oh yeah, I forgot to say before that I am the roadie.
Fact: That might be enough facts.
Fact: Ok, so I guess the slogan and TV show facts above are not actually necessary for the advancement of the story, but I am going to include them as working examples of the "illusion of depth" literary device.
Fact: I guess I just lied two facts ago.
Fact: This is how you will introduce the band: "Hello Bristol! We are 12-Point Font Crayon! Have some glitter!" [pause for glitter cannoning] "Our roadie can tell the future!"
Fact: You may substitute Bristol for another town if you decide to branch out from the local Bristol scene.

So anyway, now that you are up to speed, how awesome would it be if your band just wrapped up a set and exited the stage, and your future-telling roadie came out to start breaking down your equipment, and everyone started cheering wildly for your amazing future-telling roadie, but you thought they were cheering for you to play an encore, so you come back out your highly-competent roadie turns the bubble machine back on and exits the stage as per the Roadie Code, and then the crowd goes quiet because hey! Why did you make the future-telling roadie go away? And by "how awesome would it be", I mean for me, not for you.

Good thing I already know the answer. ZING!

That is all.

Bac-Log is not quite the worst blog ever... yet

2008-09-16T07:15:00.001-07:00

My friend Heidi shared this lovely list from BoingBoing Gadgets of the Top 10 Worst Types of Blog Posts, with a simple note, "Grant, please review." If Bac-Log was not all about optimism and blind stubbornness, I might take this as a slight instead of a challenge. So far I think I have only really nailed the Image Macro example, although maybe if I change one of the lists of things that I ate to "top 10 things that I ate today" I can go ahead and cross that one off too. Do you think the beer hat quiz might count as "The Snark"? If so, hey! I'm up to 2½!

I am a little disappointed that "long and directionless rambling" is not one of the top-10, because I have that one nailed like a really nailed thing. Also I am a little disappointed that "lazy or pointless metaphor" didn't make it either. Bac-Log is clearly not optimized for this list.

Okay, so speaking of "nailed", does anyone else find it odd/awesome (oddsome) that we use such productive verbs for getting drunk? "Oh man, I got hammered yesterday" or "Did you see Kyle? He was plastered!" [this is also true, in case you are wondering]. I guess "trashed" isn't super-productive, but as any etymologist who happens to also be a habitual liar will tell you, "getting trashed" evolved linguistically from "getting trash-removed as part of a productive cleaning process." Strange but true [ed note: no]. Also, I imagine this will further evolve into "getting dump-runned", starting with me, probably immediately after work.

Anyway, if plastered and hammered are so universally accepted, perhaps it's not a stretch to think that one day crazy birthday celebrations will include "getting drywalled", or "getting laser-guided compound miter-sawed". Those will be the days we will be proud to tell our past selves about when we discover time travel.

Wait, does this post fit somewhere on the list? If not:

TOP 2 THINGS I HAVE EATEN TODAY:
1. coffee
2. more coffee

[desperate clawing] Bacon Links! [silence]

2008-09-11T12:44:00.000-07:00

more animals

Peeps: My friend Colin pointed me towards this fascinating article on Salon about bacon jumping the shark [link]. It sums up my recent attitude about the explosion of bacon-related references in pop-culture, bacon-related products, and yes, crazy foods made with bacon. As a matter of fact, according to some statistical research that I just totally made up and will now lie to you about, the inflation of bacon references is of roughly the same magnitude as the Zimbabwean Dollar. Crazy, right? I know. Anyway, I guess my point is that there is just so much bacon-related stuff out there that wouldn't it be great if there were some dedicated blogs to this concept? Oh wait, there totally are. I found these blogs with 0% effort, leading me to think that there are probably infinite other bacon blogs too:

Skulls and Bacon
Theories of Bacon
Bacon Today
Teh SiBlog

Since they are obviously more dedicated to the aggregation of important and breaking bacon news, I will probably not be bombarding you with lists like this as much anymore:

Make your own bacon soap (yes, out of bacon fat!)
Another meat sneaker (Mmm hmm, here's the other)
garlic bacon green chili cheeseburger
Bacon-wrapped breakfast dog
In order to increase renown,
add “bacon” to most any noun.
Bacon flash drive with typical awesome BoingBoing Gadgets commentary
Chocolate-covered bacon (and another chocolate-covered bacon)
Hahahaha, Bacon vs Salt roller-derby FINALLY
Tastes of the portions of the swine
Bacon font for resumes and stuff
"Bacon is sex in a skillet"
Interpreting your bacon dreams
Every Monday All U Can Eat Bacon
Pig-shaped earbuds
Bacon tattoos
Baconhenge

HOWEVER, if I find something or somebody tells me about something that is awesome, I might do an actual dedicated post to it. Also, instead of completely killing the Bacon Links feature forever, I might randomly just do lists of other things instead.

Also: recent Bac-Log inactivity and lack of even Bac-Log levels of cohesion (~.001 cohesive units) is due to me working waaay too much. I appreciate your patience.

Thursday is WTF day

2008-09-11T07:33:00.000-07:00

POP QUIZ:

Question:

a) No
b) No
c) ~~At the hypothetical asymptotic limits of the Irony function f _i(x) as x-->∞ there may exist an infinitesimally small interval for which (X_a, X_b) = (X_a < "maybe" < X_b) is true~~ No
d) I give up

But don't sweat the quiz too much, guys. Everything will be okay because you can upload an MP3 and this website will add Christopher Walken samples and cowbell to it. Here is Bookends by Simon & Garfunkel with 21% Cowbell factor and 72% Walken factor:


	Make your own at MoreCowbell.dj

Answer: wait, I hadn't finished answering the question yet

Dreams do come true.

2008-09-08T08:54:00.000-07:00

This completes me.

QUIZ TIME

2008-09-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

This week's quiz is a special survival skillz essay quiz. Bac-Log is all about being prepared.

Responses should be 100-250 words. NO CHEATING, OK!

Uh oh, FOOD LIST

2008-09-04T14:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I found this list of 100 things that every omnivore should try, and usually I find these sort of lists vaguely entertaining but not really that applicable or exciting, but then I thought that I'd actually see how many of these I'd actually tried, and then I realized that I sort of wanted to try ALL of them, and so I got kind of excited about it. Also, being that it is a list of stuff I ate, it has a place here at Bac-Log.

Anyway, I think the rules are that I should bold the ones I've done and strike the ones I refuse to do, but this ends up looking sort of confusing in my opinion, so I think I'll just strike the ones I've already done so it will be like a checklist! Also, I am about 95% I've had maybe 20 more of these, but since I can't recall for sure I better play it safe and have them again!

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. ~~Huevos rancheros~~
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. ~~Black pudding~~
7. ~~Cheese fondue~~
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. ~~Baba ghanoush~~
11. ~~Calamari~~
12. ~~Pho~~
13. ~~PB&J sandwich~~
14. Aloo gobi
15. ~~Hot dog from a street cart~~
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. ~~Pistachio ice cream~~
21. ~~Heirloom tomatoes~~
22. ~~Fresh wild berries~~
23. Foie gras
24. ~~Rice and beans~~
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. ~~Dulce de leche~~
28. ~~Oysters~~
29. ~~Baklava~~
30. Bagna cauda
31. ~~Wasabi peas~~
32. ~~Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl~~
33. Salted lassi
34. ~~Sauerkraut~~
35. ~~Root beer float~~
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. ~~Clotted~~ ~~cream tea~~
38. ~~Vodka jelly/Jell-O~~
39. ~~Gumbo~~
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. ~~Whole insects~~
43. Phaal
44. ~~Goat’s milk~~
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. ~~Chicken tikka masala~~
48. Eel
49. ~~Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut~~
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. ~~Paneer~~
55. ~~McDonald’s Big Mac Meal~~
56. Spaetzle
57. ~~Dirty gin~~ ~~martini~~
58. ~~Beer above 8% ABV~~
59. Poutine
60. ~~Carob~~ ~~chips~~
61. ~~S’mores~~
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. ~~Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake~~
68. Haggis
69. ~~Fried~~ ~~plantain~~
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. ~~Gazpacho~~
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. ~~Hostess Fruit Pie~~
78. ~~Snail~~
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. ~~Eggs Benedict~~
83. ~~Pocky~~
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. ~~Flowers~~
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. ~~Spam~~
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. ~~Catfish~~
95. ~~Mole~~ ~~poblano~~
96. ~~Bagel and~~ ~~lox~~
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. ~~Polenta~~
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Looks like I have a long way to go, but I think I'm up for this exciting journey.

choices

2008-09-04T12:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, so in college I worked in the tiny "warehouse" of an upscale kitchen store. During the slow summer months, essentially our only responsibility was just to be there in case the store called and needed us to deliver some sort of expensive kitchen crap. Ordinarily I shared this rigorous duty with my coworker Jim, but for some reason Jim wasn't there one day, and so I was left to wait by the phone and read the Stranger and cut the roll of "laboratory glass" tape into "ass lab" sections on my own.

The warehouse was essentially a basement suite in an old retail building, so everything about it was sort of run-down and sketchy. For example, the flush linkage in the toilet kept breaking, and when we tried to fix it we ended up snapping off a couple links of the chain before we got it reattached, and the resulting extra tension on the float occasionally caused it to not seat properly, and the toilet would just run continuously. We got annoyed having to constantly fix this, so we tied some string to the chain so we could fiddle with it without removing the tank lid.

So during this rare solo-warehouse-operating day, I had to use the bathroom. (YES THIS IS IMPORTANT OR I WOULDN'T BRING IT UP, OK). I was just finishing up when I realized that we were out of toilet paper! I knew we had some more somewhere, but I didn't want to go exploring for it with my pants around my ankles, so I just decided to use some of the really thick industrial paper towels that we had in the pile of cleaning supplies. These worked great, and the thick, cloth-like texture was very pleasant, but these industrial-strength, heavy-duty cleaning towels do not dissolve at all in water! At that point I didn't have much choice, so I just went ahead and flushed and kept my fingers crossed.

Approximately half a second after flushing, two things happened simultaneously: 1.) toilet clogged. 2.) phone started ringing, signaling a call to my sole employee duty.

I was pretty sure as long as I didn't flush it again I was safe from overflow, but then I worried about the float getting stuck and the toilet just continuing to run, so I made the choice to preemptively jiggle the string before running to the phone. In retrospect, this action maybe did not make any mechanical sense, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. However, the pervasive sense of urgency due to the ringing and the rising water and all the caffeine I had consumed caused me to yank on the string a little harder than I should have. I felt it go slack on the first pull, indicating that I had actually pulled the chain off of the linkage, thereby ensuring that toilet would not stop running.

At this point I could either try to fix the linkage and hope that the toilet bowl would contain everything until I could take care of the clog later, or I could try to take care of the clog now and fix the linkage later. I opted for the clog angle because it seemed more rational, so I grabbed the plunger and was about to submerge it into the swelling mess when I noticed that I had dropped the stupid string into the toilet. In hindsight perhaps this was not actually a problem, but at the time it seemed super important to get the string out prior to plunging. I pulled it out but somehow ended up getting toilet water on my hands, so it was really gross in addition to wasting valuable de-clogging time. So I started plunging, but at this point the bowl was already really full and I couldn't get very good strokes in without splashing it everywhere. I worked at it for a few seconds before I had to accept the possibility that I would not solve this thing before overflow, and that maybe I should switch gears to focus on stopping it from filling.

I didn't want to set the tank cover on the ground in case of overflow, so I thought I'd try to balance it on top of the sink. I had no reason to ever notice this before, but the sink was set in a bracket on the wall, but was not actually attached to the bracket. The weight of the tank on the front of the sink caused the sink body to pop off of the bracket and was now supported precariously by only its own drain pipe and my body.

Oh, and in case you are interested, the phone had rung 7 or 8 times, then there was a pause, and then it had started ringing again.

So the toilet water was just about to crest, I hadn't yet figured out why the sink had fallen off into my arms, the phone kept ringing, I noticed that my afternoon reading material was right in front of the toilet, and at that moment I couldn't help but realize how much I missed Jim, and I wondered what he was up to, and if maybe he would want to come hang out sometime.

I shook myself back into action, figured out how to pop the sink back on the bracket, leaned the tank lid against the far wall away from the incoming toilet water, kicked the latest issue of the Stranger out of harm's way, fished for the loose chain in the tank, and miraculously managed to halt the incoming flow about a millimeter from the edge of the bowl. Temporary Victory!! I then heard the phone stop ringing and a long tone heralding an incoming fax, no doubt the next level of desperate persistence for my attention.

The fax was a hastily scrawled note from the store, which I will paraphrase as "GRANT: WHERE ARE YOU??? CALL THE STORE IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!". (In actuality there may have been more "!"s. I'm not kidding). So I called the store. One of the ladies at the store answered, "Oh good, it's finally you! [boss lady] wants to talk to you!" Then she gave the phone to [boss lady]. "GRANT! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, WHY DIDN'T YOU PICK UP?!"

I thought for a second about how I would explain why I didn't pick up the phone, but then I decided that it was all too complicated and so I just said "I was in the bathroom".

[boss lady] did not sound satisfied, but she huffily gave me to the other lady again who asked "how many boxes of melon ballers do we have there?" I replied, "um, two, I think," then the store lady replied, "oh good! That is enough," then I asked, "um, do you need any?". The store lady answered, "no, that's ok," then she paused for a second and asked, "so why didn't you answer the phone?" I sighed and replied, "I was in the bathroom." Then the store lady chuckled knowingly and gave the phone equivalent of a knowing wink, and I'm still not exactly sure what she meant by that.

ANYWAY: I bet you are wondering why I told you that story, huh? Well, today I was idly fiddling with a binder clip I had removed from a stack of important work documents, and this inevitably led to me attaching the binder clip to my soul patch hair. When I needed to re-clip my documents, I tried to remove the binder clip from its stylish location but realized that somehow some of my soul patch hair had gotten pinched in the inner workings. I tugged gently at it for a while, but it became clear that I would either need to just yank it off or go look in a mirror to see if I could figure out what was going on. I chose not to walk to the bathroom past my coworkers with a binder clip on my soul patch, so I sucked it up and ripped it of my chin. There must have been several hairs stuck, because MAN DID IT HURT SO BAD! So bad, in fact, that I yelped out loud.

"Are you okay?" My coworker asked.

"Um, yeah," I replied.

"What happened?"

So, much like my riveting tale of bathroom woes, I had a choice to make; do I try to explain the binder clip thing, or do I come up with something simpler? "I stubbed my toe," I replied.

"While sitting at your desk?"

"Um, yeah."

"How did you do that?"

"I, uh, I just, uh, I don't know."

"Suuure," he replied. Then he produced the EXACT same knowing chuckle and wink that the store lady had several years ago.

But seriously, though-- what did he think I was talking about?

Thursday is WTF day

2008-09-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

In addition to needing gentle, soothing comfort for the What's The Baby Using thing, can someone help me out with this one:

I have been driving past this sign by my work for over a month now. I keep thinking that at some point I will figure it out, but maybe it is time to give up and admit I might just not be capable of basic billboard comprehension.

HEY GOLDFISH: Maybe you shouldn't worry so much about aggressive baserunning in this metaphorical baseball game and worry more about WHY YOU DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Also, so if the third base coach is the aquarium, what is the first base coach in this metaphor? Or, um, the manager. Or, um, scoring.

Maybe I could work for the Aquarium as a billboard consultant. Here is my resume:

Dear Seattle Aquarium:

Please send my checks ASAP. My student loans from University of YouMakeMyBrainSore are not cheap.

Love you always, Grant.

What's the baby using?

2008-09-04T06:54:00.001-07:00

25? What? Who can tell me what the hell is going on with this:

http://whatsthebabyusing.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xz3iDmJ6JQs
http://www.funadvice.com/q/what_s_the_baby_using
http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulandstorm/2785542859/in/photostream/
http://churchfun.com/2008/08/21/whats-the-baby-using-25/
http://apelad.blogspot.com/2008/09/laugh-out-loud-cats-25.html

Seriously, it is too early in the day for me to be freaking out. Usually I wait until there are more people around.

This is Bac-Log

2008-08-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

People:

Instead of typing the 1007 words it would take to describe how pleased and grateful I am for all of the precious dollops of Guest Blogginess that Bac-Log poured carefully into the 'tubes over this last week, I took a picture (worth 1000 words) and added 7 more words out of pocket to cover the balance:

Guest Bloggers, you are Glory. You are Bac-Log.

Also, I think Guest Blogging will become a semi-regular feature, so do not let those harrowing tales of mystery and suspense and unexpected romance die trapped within you! Set them free to roam in the wide fields of Bac-Log.

Thank you, and good morning.

[ed note: Wait, good morning does not really work as a sign-off, does it?]

Thank you, and good fake-evening.

[guest post] Solo Midori

2008-08-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post by Vikram, the continuously interim patron saint of Bac-Log! My supercomputers at work are still busy churning out the exact total, but my guess is that Vik tries to get me to go to Midori 17 or 18 times per week. And I totally would, if I didn't have to take a long lunch, drive across town, and pay to park, all for the $7 spicy chicken lunch special, supreme awesomeness aside.

So most of our (Seattle-based) friends have no doubt heard the Kyles, Grant, and I talk about going to Midori Teriyaki for lunch many times. I would say that Heenkypants and I probably go there 1-2 times a week, Steuck and Grant meeting up with us when they can. It's always nice to get away from work for a little bit, and the teriyaki is really really good. So last Friday I found myself on the sharp end of an especially brutal day (week, actually) at the Hutch and needed Midori. Seriously, I NEEDED it. I tried to rally the troops, but unfortunately everyone else was in similarly precarious situations. I don't know what came over me, but I did it. Solo Midori was had. As I dug in, something was immediately a little off. Can of Coke? Check. Extra glass of water? Check. Extra teriyaki sauce? Check. Sriracha? Check. Everything seemed to be in order. I put it out of my mind and plowed through. And it was good. Not as good as normal, though. The weird thing was that I couldn't quite put my finger on what was off. It should have been another stellar lunch at Midori. But it wasn't. I chalked it up to my stressful week at work and trekked back to the Hutch. But halfway there, my stomach staged a mini-revolt. I toughed it out, but by the time I got back to my desk the revolt had made it's way up to my chest. It felt like there were a bunch of tiny little men trying to stab their way out of my chest. Not good times. BAD TIMES. My co-worker Becky (you might remember her from some of her awesome posts on the There Will Be Bacon blog as the Beckster) immediately started checking for signs that I was having a heart attack. Unfortunately, she got some of the symptoms wrong and started freaking out because she thought I was having a heart attack. I had to practically tackle her to keep her from running out into the hall and grabbing a portable defibrillator (a machine that she didn't know how to use). On my way home, I pondered the events of the day. Why had Midori betrayed me so? As I was cursing the gods (Poseidon knows what he did), it finally dawned on me. Midori hadn't betrayed me. I had betrayed it! And my friends. And this was Midori's way of letting me know what I had done. It was as if Midori was the physical manifestation of our love and mutual admiration for each other, and when I went there alone I was eating myself. Or something like that. In any event, I learned a valuable lesson about myself and the world in general. I will never take my friends for granted again. I will leave you with the words of some of our generation's greatest wordsmiths:

Don't you forget about me
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Going to take you apart
I'll put us back together at heart, baby

Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me

[guest post] Kevin Bacon finally answers my prayers

2008-08-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post from Kevin Bacon of abstinence-only sweatpants fame and also movie star fame! Kevin Bacon is probably pretty busy, so it is not surprising that it took so long for my prayers to get answered, and why I'm not too upset that Kevin Bacon forgot the unicorn pony part of my prayer. Also I started a new poll on the sidebar relating to "punctuationtarded" vs my suggestion of "punc'tiontarded". Doesn't punc'tiontarded just have better rhythm? (NOT TO SWAY YOU IN YOUR VOTE OR ANYTHING!!)

to: grant laine
from: molly@kevinbacon.email
subject: Baclog: your content prayers are answered

Per Ian's suggestion, I am sending you this link for the baclog:

http://www.photobasement.com/the-hottest-knitted-cheeseburger-dress-you-will-see-today/

Sadly for you, though. I won't be bothering to guest-blog it, as I am ripping off to Maine today (What I Ate: Lobster pancakes with lobster syrup, Lobster salad with lobster-blueberry vinagrette, Boiled lobster with lobster mashed potatoes) and can't be arsed.

Unless you just want to post this e-mail verbatim. Which would be totally PoMo of you.

*molly

-----

to: grant laine
from: molly@kevinbacon.email
subject: RE: Baclog: your content prayers are answered

Ugh. When you do, can you change the period after "though" to a comma? I'm punctuationtarded today.

-----

to: molly@kevinbacon.email
from: grant laine
subject: RE: Baclog: your content prayers are answered

You do understand that this is also going in the post, right?

-----

to: grant laine
from: molly@kevinbacon.email
subject: RE: Baclog: your content prayers are answered

Yeah. I'm over it.

[guest post] Man-aphors

2008-08-27T13:02:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post by Jason, whose exciting adventures you can follow by reading his blog! Jason and I recently achieved revenge on McClellan Butte, which was an insanely hard hike to choose as our first hiking expedition of the year.

Dear Grant's Diary:

A big part of being a man now (which I am, and you should know this if you studied my chronicles like I "axed" you to) is being willing to explore new interests and hobbies, even if your stupid friends make fun of them and make you want to punch them all the time, especially Kyle. You never know what you might learn from these hobbies and interests!

For example, I was recently riveted and engaged by an exciting match of my favorite elitist sport, English Premier League Football. After the exciting bout of elegance, skill, and grace the likes of which are rarely found in mainstream American sports, I further enriched my appreciation of the match by watching the post game interviews and commentary! Being a man now means that I thirst for a deeper understanding and appreciation of things, even things I just watched.

During the interview with the coach who unfortunately failed to lead his team to victory but still managed to be refined and classy, I was treated to a spectacular metaphor! Wow! I expected to experience thoughtful commentary regarding the strategies and inner workings of that day's delightful sporting, but this intellectual discourse was an exciting bonus! The metaphor for the loser team was that victory was like a blanket, and that the blanket wasn't quite big enough to cover your feet, and so that if you were cold or something you might have to curl up, and somehow this had to do with the football match and the losing.

Being a man now means I have more important things to think about than remembering the exact metaphor, okay.

I was excited to apply this new type of metaphorical thinking to my life! Later that day I invited my homies over to enjoy some intellectual discourse and fancy microbrew beer. I tried to explain my eye-opening experience with the metaphor about the victory blanket, but they did not seem to grasp why I was so interested in this and also why I had spent all day watching "soccer". Being a man now is difficult sometimes when you have to deal with non-mans.

Then one of my friends found my caulking gun that I had been using to apply sealant around my bathtub (being a man now means I am occasionally involved in home-maintenance). He said, "hey guys, look! I am squeezing Jason's caulk.....ing gun!" Then another of my homies said, "hey, quit hogging Jason's caulk.....ing gun!" And then, "hey Jason, how do you like it when we hold your caulk.....ing gun?" and then, "not too hard, or white stuff will come out of Jason's caulk.....ing gun!"

Several hours later I tried to explain the victory blanket metaphor again but my friends told me that they were bored with all of my metaphor rambling and went back to playing with my caulking gun.

I think this is a pretty good metaphor of the life of Jason the Man.

This is Jason the Man, signing off.

[guest post] confessions of an omnivore

2008-08-27T07:12:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post from Admiral Kyle A. Heenk, who sometimes we call Heenkypants, Special K, or the Flying Dutchman, all of which he really likes and he wishes people would call him those more. He is also the author of the best license plate frame ever, which will be available soon for your purchase. (All proceeds will go directly to purchasing scotch whiskey and pipe tobacco.)

As the title suggests, I've been keeping a secret for a while that I can't keep to myself any longer. I might not have ever shared it with anyone had it not been for this guest blogging opportunity. A food themed blog seems like the best place to air this particular laundry, as it is edible laundry in a way. In the metaphorical way. Not in the edible panties way. Anyway, a little background for those less familiar with my eating habits…

There are few things on this earth that I enjoy more than eating me some pie. Pies of all varieties and qualities, I'm a happy camper. If I had a car, I would have a license plate, and if I had a license plate I would have a license plate frame and if I had a license plate frame it would read: I'D RATHER BE EATING PIE or perhaps instead it would read: MY WORST DAY EATING PIE STILL BEATS MY BEST DAY FISHING.

I am a lover of all kinds of pie: Sweet Potato, Apple, Peach, Lemon Meringue… I could go on and on. There is something about a buttery tender crust wrapped lovingly around a puddle of sweet delicious goop that makes my heart go a-flutter. Or maybe that's the cholesterol? It matters not. For breakfast, there is no better way to kick start a day than heading out the door with nice cup of coffee and a couple slices of Pecan, Pumpkin, or any of the countless other portable pies suitable for eating "pizza style".

Goodness, I'm out of breath. What was my point again? Ah yes, the ugly secret. There is one variety of pie that I can not and will not eat. A pie that seems to have ALL the qualities I love about pie plus it has MEAT. INSIDE. THE PIE. Alas, the result is indeed less than the sum of it's parts, for…

Chicken Pot Pie might be the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten in my life.

I don't even know where to start with this. Sure, meat + pie is a good start. But oh the execution! What is all that liquidy stuff in there that burns my mouth EVERY TIME? What is a PIE doing burning my mouth anyway? Is the crust supposed to be all soggy like that? Why are there so many peas? I like peas, but COME ON. The essence of pie is to be packed to the effing gills with goodness… filled with delicious until it is on the verge of literally bursting. PEAS DO NOT CUT IT. Peas are the Seattle Mariners of food. A shocking number of people claim to enjoy them and spend money on them, but you are shocked to find later that they can't name more than 3 players and one of them wasn't even a player he was the manager like 5 YEARS AGO, another is a player who left the team like 8 YEARS AGO and all you know about him is that you are required to dislike him intensely, and OH MY GOD DID YOU JUST SAY WILLIE BLOOMQUIST IS YOUR FAVORITE PLAYER?! DID YOU NOT NOTICE THAT BESIDES BEING FROM BREMERTON HIS ONLY OTHER QUALITY IS THAT HE IS THE WORST PLAYER IN THE HISTORY OF BASEBALL?

I'm not really sure where I was going with this, but I feel better now. Thanks for reading.

[guest post] book report

2008-08-26T08:10:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post by the esteemed ~~Taco~~ Satty! You may remember Satty as the winner of the first submission award of X-TREME HAIKU CHARITY CHALLENGE 2008™! I was going to distribute his prize of ice cream on Sunday, but we got rained out! (I'm sorry, but prize ice cream has to be applied under perfect conditions. It is the Bac-Log way.)

I read Grant's “heart felt” “plea” for “guest bloggers” and I “felt” a “need” to “jump in” and “help out”.

Over the last month and a half an amazing thing has happened. I don't really know why and I don't know how but I've been reading... a lot. In the last month or so I've read three books. That's right. THREE F'ING BOOKS! That is definitely a Satty record. I've never, for no reason at all, just started reading. So, here is a little Book Report for you Bac-Loggers. It's actually three book reports. I hope you all enjoy it.

FIRST BOOK
Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell

Thoughts before reading:
I have some time and I have the book. I've heard good things about it. Why not? I'm into thinking about why things become popular and it would be interesting to think more about how trends happen. For example: I remember in like fifth or sixth grade all the younger kids, the third and fourth graders, really got into trolls. Seriously, little troll figures with neon colored hair. It didn't seem to make sense to me then and it still doesn't exactly make sense now. I mean these kids had all sorts of different trolls. Happy trolls, Sad trolls, Goofy trolls, Soccer Trolls, Scientist Trolls. Truth be told, when I am not really part of “The Big Trend” it doesn't bother me. If you're into trolls... that's cool... whatever. Be into trolls. I'm more fascinated by what exactly I'm not getting that the masses seem to be getting. I remember the trolls, then it was pogs, then it was Poke-mon cards. What the heck was going on?

Thoughts after reading:
Really fascinating stuff here. I didn't learn anything about trolls, but at least I can kind of piece it together. Were the right kind of people involved? Was the trend “sticky”? Was it cultivated in the right kind of enviroment? I guess so. The book started talking about the mid-1990's Hush Puppies trend and gradually moved on to bigger issues like teen smoking and the really nasty trend of school shootings. With no real concrete solutions, the book still offered good suggestions and covered an interesting topic. All in all I felt like there was plenty of this book that I could apply to my work life. I could also probably apply these methods to that “Jump to Conclusions” matt I've been trying to make a million dollars off of. We'll see how that goes.

SECOND BOOK
Blink by Malcolm Gladwell

Thoughts before reading:
That other book was good. Some dude in Richland told me that this book was even better. Blink is basicaly about snap decissions and gut reactions. For the past couple of years I've really been trying to trust my feelings and follow my instintcs. Not as a Jedi Mind Trick sort of thing, more as a Can I Become a Professional Sports Gambler? sort of thing.

Thoughts after reading: I suddenly have the urge to play poker. I don't have any desire; however, to lead the police in a high speed chase... err, not that I've ever thought about that before. Two things I learned for the future: When forced to make quick snap decissions, gather as much information as possible and calmly choose the best option. When given a lot time and space to make a choice, go with the “gut reaction”. Examples: If I'm a deli line in Boston, go with the club sandwich seconds before they decide to throw a knife at me. If I'm at the Roxy in Freemont, tell them I'm having the club sandwich before they even hand me a menu. I do like me a club sandwich. This was a good book. Gladwell's next book comes out sometime in October... oh, I'm totally going to read the crap out of that book.

THIRD BOOK
Killing Yourself to Live by Chuck Klosterman

Thoughts before reading: I've heard an interview with the Author... he seems interesting. I like the idea of a “road trip” book and I'd like to hear what he has to say about the sites of famous “rock'n roll” deaths.

Thoughts after reading: It took me two days to read the whole book!! It didn't even have any pictures in it. What a damn good book. I literally LOL'd at several points. Funny story. Funny guy this Chuck Klosterman.

Good Times! Reading is totally FUNdamental!

[guest post] Maple Bacon Cupcakes!

2008-08-25T08:32:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post from my friend Laurel! She makes all kinds of awesome stuff, like purses, and tote bags, and a kid, and cupcakes and stuff. Currently Laurel and Dr. Lorneypants are busy getting Penguinbot.com up and running so you will be able to purchase her fantastic wares!

Two worlds collided. And they will never tear us apart.

When I first saw this recipe, I was kind of repulsed. Bacon cupcakes? Ew. But I do love bacon. And I do love cupcakes. And, being half-Canadian, I am required by law to love maple syrup. The more I thought about it, the more it intrigued me. Maybe it would be yummy. If only there were some way to find out if it would actually be delicious.

But wait! I noticed that the recipe only yielded six cupcakes, which is good. If they were disgusting, I wouldn't feel bad about throwing them all out. If they were delicious, I would not gain 300 pounds by eating the entire batch. So I stopped by the grocery store tonight and got some bacon, the only ingredient we were missing.

Me, sampling some bacon cupcake batter on a strip of bacon.

Upon seeing that I didn't vomit all over the place after taking a bite of bacon cupcake batter, Lorne agreed to try it as well.

This is called "baking."

They look good...

Aerial view of unfrosted cupcakes.

I put the frosting on when they were still a bit warm, partly because I made these rather late at night and I was impatient to get them finished so I could...well, so I could take pictures and blog about them. But I also liked the idea of more of a glazey frosting instead of a thick buttercream, so the frosting melted a bit.

Are they breakfast? Are they dessert? I don't know, but I can assure you that they are delicious, whenever you decide to eat them. I wonder what other sort of pig products would be delicious in dessert form. Porkchop pudding? Canadian Bacon lollipops?

Update: sadly, bacon cupcakes were NOT delicious the next morning. The bacon soggified in the cake overnight. It was like someone had stuck salty rubber in the middle of my delicious maple cupcake. If you decide to make the bacon cupcakes, they are best eaten IMMEDIATELY.

[real post] mobile blogging: on the top of a freaking mountain

2008-08-24T12:22:00.000-07:00

well, Jason and I defeated McClellan Butte today! forgive crappy
iPhone picture, mount rainier... you are beautiful.

dude, McClellan Butte = HARD.

[guest post] Outdone!

2008-08-22T14:31:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post by the esteemed Ian F. King, who totally manages to out-Bac-Log me! Seriously, how is it that I have never used "clod-hop"? Ian is just better at this game, much like the Emo-CD-naming game. I-Beam, I salute you, then curse your name behind your back.

When word reached me that Grant was in desperate need of guest bloggers in order to insure the successful reaching of his fourth quarter profit estimates, I shared a knowing wink with Nugget, my trusty carrier pigeon and occasional backgammon opponent. "Surely that Mr. Laine will never change," Nugget said as he collected his standard fee of 10 seeds and flapped his way out the window, releasing his bowels on my azaleas below. I sighed heartily, for Grant, and for Nugget. No indeed, surely some things never do change.

Few of you may know this, but back when Grant started this blog in the late 1940's, I began my career working as Grant's assistant, and the world was a much different, and far more trying place back then. Hot pants weren't nearly as hot as they are today, one had to believe that it was butter because there was no alternative, and the perceived sensibility of the stovepipe hat appeared just that much larger in the rearview mirror of history. Oh Mr. Lincoln, what were you drinkin'?

It was in that decade's darkest hour that Grant first found himself in need of a guest blogger to continue posting his dietary habits while he went on what would be the first of several long retreats to the Galapagos islands, in order to commune with the giant sea turtles, one of which he believed at the time to be the reincarnated soul of Johann Georghehner, inventor of the hot dog. While I saw this opportunity as my first chance to really shine in the realm of letters, Grant quickly shot down the idea, attributing his denial of my dreams to lack of fortitude, though I suspected the truth to be that his decision was an admonishment of my questionable level of pulchritude. "Only the finest men alive today are fit to clod-hop the blogosphere in my magnanimous shoes," I remember him yelling at me from the bathroom.

Thus, it fell on my shoulders to lobby for the guest blogging services of the greatest, larger-than-life figures of that era, and I did so dutifully. The catch, of course, was that in order to solicit the services of these robust men, I had to pretend to be one of their kind as well, as no one of their stature would dream of reading a letter from simplefolk. I was crafty in my ways, and ingenious in my approach, and like the crafty and ingenious fox that fools the moronic and gaseous hound, I was able to convince everyone I wrote to send me a list of stuff they ate. They blogged like giants, they blogged like gentlemen, but most of all, they ignorantly accepted forged checks for their work, checks which somehow all managed to clear with the bank, thanks no doubt to the loose accounting practices of a one Mr. Howard Hughes.

Reminiscing about this forgotten moment in interweb history led me to take a stroll down memory lane in the direction of my filing cabinet, where for decades now I have kept copies of all my correspondence through and with Bac-Log. Among the letters I found, there was one that particularly struck a chord of nostalgia that rang like dinner bell throughout my ventricles. While I was unable to photocopy it, lest the too-fragile paper disintegrate upon its exposure to heat and light, I will dictate it here now for your enlightenment, in hopes that it will give you a greater understanding of Bac-Log, and the grandiose man behind it, the same man that Time Magazine called in its 1973 year-in-review issue, "the person who has shared more about the things that he has consumed in his life, through the medium of itemized lists, than any man, woman, or child now living or dead." It goes thusly:

February 12, 1945

Mr. Winston Churchill
10 Downing Street
London, UK

Winnie, my man,

Some conference yesterday, eh? Yalta? More like Yawn-ta! And what was the deal with Frankie's cape-jacket thingy? Perhaps this is some manner of Western hemisphere cloakery that hasn't quite made it into the ration warehouses of my vast and magnificent nation yet. I loved your hat, by the way, very "now." We really should get together like that more often, but next time, how about Cabo?

So while I'm crushing your attention in my cold iron fist, I thought I would humbly ask for a favor. One of my best friends, Grant V. Laine, is in dire need of the services of a guest blogger while he is temporarily away from his most noblest of posts. This would require no more effort of you than to draw up an itemized list of all of the things that you have eaten on any particular recent day, and send that list to the following address (Bac-Log!, Attn: I. King, 88 8th St, Hoboken, NJ) where it will then be transmitted into the homes of millions for their awe and delight. You would be granting an honorable favor to me, and to the world.

Anywho, I gotta run. My wife, she is like the great Siberian bear, and grows more beautiful and ravenous by the moment, so I must now attend to her.

Your Comrade and Pal,
Joseph Stalin

PS – Don't forget to include any desserts!

[guest post] Banned Ikea Commercials

2008-08-22T09:02:00.000-07:00

This is a guest post from Courtney! I embedded my favorite of her attached banned IKEA commercials, and left the others as links:

Hey, Me again! I'm bored! Just kidding! I was watching TV and the normal really weird Swedish commercials, so I thought I would do a special bac-log blog on the funny stuff I was watching (kind of like your retroactive stuff I ate segment, but without all the calories). But when I googled Swedish commercials, all I got was banned IKEA commercials, which I found equally amusing. Who knew IKEA was so inappropriate! So, in short, here are some links that you can chose to post or not post.

and:

Banned IKEA Boner Commercial
IKEA Nanny Banned Commercial
Banned Ikea Commercial - Tidy Up

[real post] real post

2008-08-22T08:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, so the only reason that I am posting this is that I just thought of how awesome it would be to always preface all future posts with [real post], and then one day have a post that isn't prefaced with [real post] and see if this confuses people (more than normal). I thought of this because I am planning on prefacing the forthcoming Guest Posts with [guest post], hence requiring the [real post] distinction so as to not confuse you all.

Speaking of which, I am pleased to announce that hundreds* of clever and alluring Bac-Log readers have already volunteered to pick up my slack and write some insightful Guest Blog posts. So far I have only actually seen one of these phantom guest nuggets, but I am sure that the rest will eventually show up and paralyze me with their brilliance.

[Tip to guest bloggers: don't think about it too hard. If I actually thought about what I was going to post before I started typing, this blog probably wouldn't even exist.]

Also, I should announce that I will probably begin referring to guest bloggers as "Bac-Jacks". I would explain why I came up with this but I am trying to do my part to conserve cyber-paper. As you know, Bac-Log is all about brevity.

Anyway, let's get some freaking Guest Blogs, people!

*(six)

NEW FEATURE: how about YOU write the freaking blog

2008-08-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon:

Here is a graph of Bac-Log posts per month, with August prorated for the full month:

The right side of the graph is completely unacceptable. Please compare to this graph of target posts per month:

This volume increase may seem drastic, but I have determined by using, um, REALLY HARD MATH OKAY, that such aggressive growth is necessary to produce this schedule of projected income:

I think a good rule of thumb for burgeoning financial behemoths such as Bac-Log is to identify and focus on target customers to maximize profits. For example, I plan on generating the aforementioned income by focusing intently on the demographic of people who might have some extra change who are waiting at the stoplight to turn left on NW Dravus St. from 15th Ave NW, and who are easily discomfited by uncomfortable staring and inane babble. (Also I will have a kick-ass cardboard sign that reads "GOOBLES?")

ANYWAY, I guess what I'm trying to say here is that OH MAN AM I WAAAY BEHIND. I have actually been under a great deal of stress lately, both work related and of personal matters, and also I have been fighting a tenacious case of gastroenteritis for a week and a half now (hint: DON'T GET IT, IT SUCKS). This is why I have not been posting a whole lot. And probably why I will not be posting a whole lot in the near future.

I can hear your tears falling like tiny sad little catprints from a tiny sad little kitten that is sadly slouching away, who occasionally pauses and looks back, sadly, before turning and trudging on once more.

But seriously, people. It seems like the last few days have been me just walking down the street, minding my own business, and someone will come strutin' by, snapping their fingers and singing to themselves, and they'll stop me and be like, "Hey Bac-Log, what's shakin' bacon? Why haven't you posted recently", and I'll be like, "I have an infection in my intestines", and they'll be like, "but I'm bored, baby-- you need to give me more of that good stuff", and I'll be like, "but I'm in a great deal of pain", and they'll be like, "you know what's awesome? PIE", and then they will strut off, snapping and singing to themselves, into a psychedelic rainbow fur-lined sunset.

You are all that guy. ESPECIALLY YOU, COURTNEY.

Actually, to be completely honest for a split second, it always warms my heart when people mention that they are starved for the kind of non-FDA-approved brainfood that Bac-Log is always pleased to serve long past its expiration date. I am indeed extremely grateful for all of my loyal readers who enjoy this blog for some reason. So grateful in fact, that I am pleased to offer you all an AMAZING PRIZE!! And that prize is...

[drumroll]

GETTING TO WRITE THE BLOG FOR ME!

Okay, not exactly, but close. For a limited time, I invite EVERYONE WHO CAN READ THIS to participate in the Bac-Log blogging experience as a guest blogger or open-topic creator! For serious, guys! If you would like to have a prestigious Guest Blog post, please send me an email with whatever it is you wish to be read by my clamoring fan base of at least 12 people. If your post requires pictures or formatting, we can discuss how to do this. Also, if you are not really keen on producing an entire post, why not suggest a topic of discussion or an idea for a poll or a link list or something in the comments? If it's awesome, I will implement your idea!

Come on, do it! Help me... help you. (By doing the work for me.)

Thank you, and have a wonderful day.

who's with me?

2008-08-13T15:03:00.000-07:00

Hey, remember when I used to write nice, short, neatly-structured posts? (If so, that means that was not just a dream I had! Unless, of course, we had the same dream... CREEPY!)

Speaking of creepy, what do people think of this picture that I modded up:

Personally, I just can't stop laughing. Is this wrong? Maybe I should lay off the candy canes and coffee for a while.

Anyway, I made an exciting NEW POLL on the sidebar that you should vote on (yes, that means you actually have to visit the blog, all you Google Reader users).

uh oh, baseball post

2008-08-13T11:38:00.001-07:00

Okay, so as you may have noticed, I have been slacking a bit recently on my mission of dispensing glistening rubies of wit and thoughtful debate through the diamond-encrusted pipeline of the Bac-Log bloggy blogblog machine. This is because the diamond-encrusted pipeline has become clogged with a couple of over-ambitious, um, giant rubies. Or maybe the diamond-encrusted pipeline is suffering from dangerously high emerald cholesterol, so that even normal-sized rubies are putting unhealthy strain on the silver-with-tasteful-gold-inlay idea pump.

One day I am going to write an epic story about a dude who gets hopelessly lost in his own metaphors. I am going to call it "Bac-Log", and it will be disguised as a blog. The story ends with a self-referential aside in the middle of a baseball post. And everyone lives happily ever after. Also, there will be a list of all of the food that I ate this morning. And it will cleverly set up a franchise of successful sequels, including Miss Congeniality/Back to the Future cross-over fan fiction.

Anyway, here's a list of what I've eaten so far today:
10 candy canes
3 cups of coffee

Okay, BASEBALL!

The best baseball blog of all time was BatGirl, which is tragically now defunct due to the author popping out a kid. Probally the greatest contribution to society that Bat Girl made during her shining blogging years was introducing the concept of Nonsexual Man-Crushes (see here for ultimate NSMC victory) to the baseball-loving population. At long last, my confusing feelings for Danny Haren were legitimized!

Unfortunately, Danny Haren is now my estranged ex-mancrush because my friend Neil owns him in our super-intense fantasy baseball league, and I have diligently trained myself to hate all opposing players (with the exception of James Shields, who I find worthy of forbidden mancrush wuv, and also he looks sort of like Abe Lincoln. Hating James Shields is like hating America.) Every once in a while, Neil will rub it in that Danny Haren is with him now, and that really he has had his best years with him, and aren't I jealous? [ed note: I hate you, Neil]. The worst part of this whole thing is that Neil is totally mancrush cheating on Danny Haren by having a mancrush affair with Little Timmy Lincecum! You dog! This face is at least 10 years away from being able to grow the kind of rugged, untamed facial hair that Danny Haren was probably born with:

You are a sick old man, Neil.

Unlike some people (NEIL), I am mancrush-monogamous (well, with the exception of Abe Shields, but he's on Dr. Lorneypant's team, so it's like having a harmless crush on a movie star. DOESN'T COUNT.) My current mancrush is the studly closer for the KC Royals, Joakim Soria. In addition to being the badass-est pitcher EVER, with a pitch Kyle and I named "crazy loopy pitch", he also has the best nickname of all time, The Mexicutioner. Here is a poster for The Mexicutioner:

He is the best mancrush of all time. I wuv you, Joakim Soria. The Mexicutioner is totally repaying my wuv by propelling BattlestarGrantica to a tenuous perch atop the Northwest Drunken Fan League standings.

Take THAT, Neil.

Also, your dangerous mancrush love-triangle will probably be a major plot point in my forthcoming Miss Congeniality/Back to the Future cross-over fan fiction. I don't want to spoil the ending before I have a chance to actually write it, but you can expect to die pinned between a fashion runway and a steaming DeLorean in the year 2085 somewhere around page 3. Also, it will explore the alternate timeline in which I don't expose Danny Haren to the waiver-wire early in the 2006 season.

[ed note: that was some good blog trash-talking. reward yourself with another candy cane.]

[ed note: thanks, I will!]

UPDATE: also, my fan fiction will explore the possibility that Doc Brown and Captain Kirk's character in Miss Congeniality are long lost siblings!! Prepare for the Awesoming!

the "haco"

2008-08-08T09:48:00.000-07:00

Historically, when a person is impatiently waiting for bacon taco shells to cook in the oven, and has a glorious array of delicious ingredients laid before them, and has had a few beers and Odwalla pomegranate limeades, there is about a 75% chance that that person is going to invent some sort of new food. I would venture to guess that roughly 80% of the foods we commonly eat were developed under these conditions (including 100% of all Taco Bell products). Since we are talking statistics here, I should point out that these foods are awesomely ridiculous ONE MILLION PERCENT of the time (up from 95% prior to Wednesday).

Dear sirs, please find enclosed (1) photograph documenting the creation of the new food known as the "hand taco" [or haco].

It cannot be doubted that millions of people have thought, "this taco is pretty great, but what would make it EVEN BETTER is if all of this crap was directly in my hand instead." Thanks to the legendary visionaries Vikram and BRG, the Architects Of Haco Greatness, the world can finally shed the restrictive shackles of shelldom and freely explore exciting new wells of untapped potential hitherto closed to those without bits of lettuce, feta, and chorizo on their hands, who then go and touch all my stuff.

In case you are interested, here is a closeup shot of BRG's haco containing lettuce, scrambled egg, basil, seasoned ground lamb, sundried tomato and grilled onion immediately prior to the installation of greek yogurt, feta, and olives:

ALSO, we made bacos, and they kicked ass. More about that later, but as a teaser behold these select reaction shots:

That is the post-baco glow everyone talks about and tries vainly to replicate with expensive personal care products. That is contentment.

regret

2008-08-05T16:43:00.000-07:00

From the brilliant xkcd:

This comic reminded me of this amazing video which documents google search query results for "biggest regret":

This video is a perfect representation of the class of ideas I like to call "Well, Crap, I'm Never Going To Top THAT One" Ideas. (Much like this t-shirt.) *Sigh*. Because the idea is regret-themed, my regret at not thinking of this first might seem sort of like a meta-regret, but I think meta-regret would require me to regret regretting something, which is not exactly the case. I think what we are looking at here is a pseudo-meta-regret, which is awesome because it fills a square in my latest match of Abstract Construct Solitaire BINGO. (The next square I need involves inventing a situation that would contextualize the concept of "post-handedness").

In case you are wondering, my biggest regret is not realizing that I accidentally stayed late at work today because I had to reset my computer clock in order to illegally extend the license on some expired software. Whoops! [ed note: Zing! I still can't believe that worked! Mwahaha!]

UPDATE: I just realized that the reason I was one hour late by resetting my computer date to 6 months ago is because of daylight savings time! This means that I finally get to reuse my "daylight savings time can suck it" label! Didn't really see that one coming!

awkward bacon

2008-08-01T07:54:00.000-07:00

My friend Faye just sent me this awesome story [tastefully subtle emphasis mine]:

I was going to break my blog-virginity and post my bacon news as a comment of the greatest blog EVER, but you are slacking a bit on the bacon-themed blogs as of late, and I didn't want to get lost in the oblivion that is past comments on past blogs. So anyways, to my point. While I was in Boston on Sunday night (I wasn't even supposed to be in Boston - I ended up there after a broken down car, towage, irish friend with a horrific sun burn, leaving vacation early, car accident, failed attempt at flea marketing, crashing on a couch to catch a bus from boston... so it was a long series of coincidences that led me to learning this). Anyways... I ramble and am still drinking my coffee. So, my friend's roommate and I somehow got on the discussion of bacon/sex/sign language, and I learned how to say both 'awkward' and 'bacon' in sign language. As you would think, the word awkward in really awkward to sign, but when you sign the phrase Awkward Bacon - well it's amazing. Here: Awkward Bacon. So after he and his friends figured out the amazingness of signing awkward bacon they decided it needed to be a meaningful phrase. They then determined that awkward bacon refers to that horrible hour or so after you wake up next to a one night stand or some other kind of drunken sex, and all you really want to do is go home and shower a few times but instead you are forced to pull through for a 'let's go out to breakfast before you leave' outing. that breakfast is awkward bacon.

This story is great-- the prodigious use of "anyways", the rambling tone, leaving the reader wanting more...so good. Also, the signs truly are amazing, especially back-to-back. I don't have any video editing software at work, but I'm thinking that at some point putting these videos back-to-back, looping them, and adding an awkward soundtrack will be awesome. Here is an AVI file of the two videos spliced, but it needs some serious polish before we can begin using it to train for Awkward Bacon Dance Party 2008.

Haikus > Cancer

2008-07-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

Good morning:

I really can't thank everyone enough who generously donated money and poetic gems of wonder and majesty to support my Swedish Summerun cancer-fighting superhero team. It is a constant source of delight that my guest book is, to the outside observer, inexplicably signed with only haikus, many of which are inexplicably bacon-related.

While every entry is a winner of a piece of my heart, unfortunately history only has room for two glorious winnerz of the highly sought-after X-TREME HAIKU CHARITY CHALLENGE 2008™ fabulous prizes.

The first winner is easy: The first haiku was submitted by the esteemed "satty", which is an alias used to disguise the identity of my buddy Taco (Zing! I just scandalously outed you on my blog!) When presented with his choice of the fabulous prizes earmarked for the first entry award...

I'll take some Ice cream and is it possible to get a double order of the "Uncomfortably frank and unqualified opinions about your clothing".

1.) Dress your age.
2.) You live in Seattle now, not Michigan. Geez.
BONUS.) Pull your pants up.

Herein lies a good lesson for us all: When you make fun of Taco's clothes, you are making fun of yourself. If you dress like him. Which I do. [ed note: pull your pants up.]

The Ultimate Winner of Bestest Haiku award was not nearly so easy. As I stared searchingly at the glorious array of haikus before me, I realized that this was like choosing a favorite child, but harder, and also there are 17, which is 5 more children than I plan on having. Since there was no one haiku that really jumped out of a dark alley and mugged my heart more effectively than the rest, it became clear that I was going to have to approach this selection with some sort of objective system. I stole what I gather from the commercials is the idea behind my favorite mainstream matchmaking site that I have never actually used and probably never will, eHarmony, and decided to score the haikus based on "dimensions of haiku compatibility and awesomeness".

I whipped up a few appropriate scoring "dimensions" (Misery, Truth, Factual Accuracy, Shameless Pandering, Self-Referential/Meta, Absurdity, Needless Over-dramatization, Imagery, and of course, Alcohol References) and got right to work tabulating the final scores. My thinking was that when I summed everything up at the very end the Ultimate Winner of Bestest Haiku would emerge triumphantly from the shadows to claim the throne of ultimate victory.

Unfortunately, when I finally finished tweaking the checklist for each haiku and hit "calculate" I had, I kid you not, an 8-way tie for 1st. Hmm, well, I guess I should remove "objectivity" from my list of the 2 things I am good at.

List of things I am good at:

~~objectivity~~
pepperoni

So you know that classic superhero situation where the supervillain has captured the hero's mom and also the love interest, and they are both suspended in cages above a heaving lake of fiery zombie alligators with lice and herpes, and the hero must choose only one to save, but then he (or she) somehow manages to save them both and also put the supervillain behind bars? My haiku scoring is exactly like that except that they both fall into the lake, and also my friends that aren't even there somehow fall into the lake, and the supervillain becomes Evil Mayor of the Universe, and my cat runs away (I am assuming I will have a sassy sidekick cat in this situation). Failure!

Fortunately, whereas my objectivity skillz pulled a 2007 Mets (Zing! Grant 1, New York 0), my bribing skillz are still hovering around "passing". I offered my friend Hillary an irresistible bribe platter consisting of booze, boundless fame, and any leftover fabulous prizes in exchange for use of her completely unbiased judgment skillz. Not only did she add her own awesome categories and thinly-veiled but good-natured derision, she also completely blew my world away by including negative points! Hahaha! Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that? [ed note: next time, think of that]

Anyway, I hope you've been pacing your down arrow key jabbing, for what follows is the highly anticipated unveiling of the X-TREME HAIKU CHARITY CHALLENGE 2008™ haikus followed by score! Full scoring details available here. Note also that each haiku will be accompanied by a thumbnail image derived from entering the entire haiku into Google Image Search.

I

How I miss bacon
Not that I cant get it here
Its no Baco though
Score: 2

II

Cow tipping is mean
but bird hypnosis is sweet!
Oh life on the farm
Score: 3

III

Du kan vet inte
Vad är jag skriva till du
Jättebra är mig
Score: 3

IV

Being in Japan
makes my brain hurt all the time
I miss you English.
Score: 3

V

add one dumb kitten
mix in some laser pointer
mmm, that's delicious!
Score: 3

VI

Haiku, I hate you
You make my brain hurt so hard
No last line for me
Score: 3

VII

Skipped spring this year
now it's a stormy summer still
drown my pain in beer
Score: 3

VIII

money to bac-log
prizes follow afterwards
also, cancer sucks
Score: 4

IX

a haiku flatter
than the abs i wish i had
is all i can write
Score: 5

X

There are times I wish
that all communication
was in haiku-form.
Score: 6

XI

crisp pink how perfect
the noble pig's sacrifice
as the chicken smiles
Score: 6

XII

I tried to Haiku
pondered counted racked my brain
formatting failure
Score: 6

XIII

The smell of the rain
Is made of spores breath-ed in
how is this healthy
Score: 6

XIV

Is there a surface
I did not vomit upon?
No, no there is not.
Score: 7

XV

kid and finger trap
once hilarity ensues...
I was never there
Score: 7

XVI

Run, kids, run! Cancer
shall hear your quickened footfalls,
and, knowing, cower.
Score: 10

AND...

XVII

There in tears and sweat
desiccating shriveling
salt cures the bacon
Score: 11
ULTIMATE WINNER of BESTEST HAIKU
Author: Grant's mom

Okay, so I have to admit that I cheated on the image search for XVII, but it is only because there is seriously nothing else that's good. Also, I love me the 1th Place meat trophy so hard.

The best part about sourcing out the haiku scoring to ~~an unfortunate victim~~ a lucky volunteer is that I can totally wash my hands of any and all possible grievances and disputes. If you have any complaints or would like to request an appeal, please send 10 emails to hillary@justkiddingiwouldprobablyneverdothat.org.

I'm pretty sure I know what my mom is going to want, even though it wasn't even on the right list (geez, mom, you are so embarrassing), but I should probably ask again, and I still have to pay off my haiku-scoring hitwoman, so stay tuned for the anticipated distribution of the fabulous prizes! I guess this means Vik gets to extend his ruthless domination as Bac-Log's patron saint for a little longer...

Again, if you've made it this far, thank you all SO much for making this such an awesome and fun success. Also, you are probably hungry.

Ok, I think I've molested your scroll bar enough for the next hour or so.

UPDATE: Courtney just made me realize that fielding complaints is actually a totally fun idea. If you have any complaints or disputes, please leave them in the comments. It's like a food fight with 15% less cottage cheese in my hair!