Dear Cheerios: I Am So Disappointed With You

What. The. Hell.

You've been feeding America for what, like a hundred years?* And in all that time you’ve made the simple awesome that is Cheerios.

Then you introduced the “honey of an O”. I was ok with that, actually. Honey Nut Cheerios are pretty good.

And decades went by. You continued to make good food. I continued to eat it.

So. What happened? I’ll admit that I don’t know your company all that well, but what I’m imagining here is a Howard E. Butt or Sam Walton scenario. The old guy dies… and then a new hip young crew takes over and BAM shit goes down.

Cheerios don’t do just wholesome and healthy anymore! Aw hell NO!

I seriously thought your business plan was flawed with the frosted stuff. But those seemed to have disappeared. I hope. They were terrible.

And then it happened.

Suddenly you got all:

Yogurt Bursty

Fruity

Oat Clustery

Banana Nutty (WHAT was up with this one?)

Chocolate. Seriously. You went chocolate on us? My kids will NEVER be introduced to these. It was here that I had determined you people didn’t give a flying F*** about kids anymore. Were you totally bummed about losing market share to Cocoa Puffs, Pebbles and Krispies? Seriously?

Cinnamon Burst. This one made me scratch my head. Didn’t you do an Apple Jacks kind like 25 years ago? So this one is just Cinnamon? Right.

But now. Now. NOW. I’m totally sure the General is dead. You know… General Mills? He died and now the Cheerios people are like, “It was about time. We’ve been wanting to corrupt Cheerios for decades. And today is the day! Children will beg, yes beg their parents for Cheerios! And their parents will think ‘well, how-di-do. It’s Cheerios so they must be good. Hey look! This one says multi-grain’. AND THEY WILL BUY THE SHIT OUT OF IT! Bwah ha ha HA HA HA!”

I confess, I may have exaggerated on the bwah ha-ing.

Check this out. It’s picture time.

They're new. Sorry... NEW!

That’s right. Peanut Butter Cheerios and (kick me in the nuts) Dulce de Leche Cheerios. They have caramel now.

Hey kids! Don’t have enough opportunity to fatten yourself up? Your teeth too white and strong? Well, you wanna stay healthy right? Why not have the best of BOTH worlds! That’s right! Step right up and have yourself a bowl of Cheerios! A couple ounces of this with a drop or two of milk are an important part of a complete breakfast.**

Not sure… have I come across as bitter, resentful and maybe a bit critical? No? Hmf.

*72

**Yes, a complete breakfast without this shit would still be a complete breakfast. Have you seen the serving size? ¾ cup. That’s it. With a ½ cup of skim milk. Hell, my 5 year old gets more nutrition eating her own snot.

Hello Kitty is EVERYWHERE

A stripped AR-15... and yes, it's real.

She is! 

Check it out.

What little angel wouldn't want one?

Guess which parade he's been to.

She’s on a Ferrari! She’s on wedding dresses, car exhaust pipes, chainsaws and Darth Vader. She’s even on vibrators. (Sorry ladies, I’ve heard you like to use clever euphemisms for these things. Like “plastic boy-friend”, “personal massager”, and “glass of wine”.)

Told ya.

She’s missing in at least one area.

Helicopters.

I’ve checked.

Today on the way home from changing a tire in a random shopping center in Sugar Land, TX the girls were talking about Hello Kitty. They yammered on and on about Hello Kitty. They pretended she was running alongside us. They pretended she was riding on the roof and could hear her walking around.

Zoey: “Daddy? Do you like Hello Kitty?”

Me: “Sure.”

Zoey: “What kind of Hello Kitty do you like?”

Me: “Hello Kitty Helicopter!”

Zoey: “Really? Why?”

Me: “Helicopters are cool! Haven’t you ever seen Airwolf?”

Zoey: “Airplanes are better.”

Me: “Oh really. Why is that?”

Zoey: “Airplanes have bathrooms.”

Me: “I can’t argue with that.”

She wins this round.

What's In A Word?

Of course it's not.

Well, I’ll tell ya.

A lot.

I know what you’re thinkin’. I’m about to go off on profanity laced rant about profanity. Well, I’m not. I think. I’m kinda just typing as I go.

All while watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Thank you USA!

The network. Not the country. Although it was made in the US. I think. Oh hell, I don’t care.

All franchise films need a Temple of Doom. Terminator: And The Temple of Doom. Lord of the Rings: And the Temple of Doom. Diary of a Wimpy Kid: And the Temple of Doom. It all makes sense.

Back to the point. What’s in a word?

I have two words I’d like to talk about right now.

#1: THE

That’s right. The word “the”. Here’s why it’s so important.

You meet somebody at a party. You’re getting drunk. No, wait, you’re getting hammered. You meet Jay Leno. Hold on… Jay Leno? THE Jay Leno? No? Just Jay Eustace Leno. Yes, he is Jay Leno. Just not THE Jay Leno.

See how “the” works? Even when hammered, you know the difference between Jay Leno and THE Jay Leno. I am SO sorry THE Jay Leno.

Actually… no I’m not. If I met you at a party, I’d probably be getting hammered and asking you if you were “the” Jay Leno. Over and over. My memory ain’t so good when I’ve been drinking. Actually, it ain’t so good when I haven’t which may account for why I yammer on constantly about things I’ve already talked about when I’ve been drinking. Or so I’m told.

Let’s involve profanity now. I’m going to use the word “shit”. Not really a bad word. Really.

“Wow, Honey. Your cooking is shit.” Not a nice thing to say.

“Wow, Honey. Your cooking is the shit.” Nice thing to say.

I have seen exactly two movies with Kate Capshaw in it. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and Space Camp. That’s it.

I get distracted easily.

Heh. Her character’s name in Doom is Wille. Heh.

#2: DRINKING (I know what you’re thinking and shut up.)

Talk about a powerful word. More powerful than “the”. Seriously.

If I said, “I’ve been drinking a lot lately.” The implication is that I’ve been hitting the bottle. And those of you who know me might assume that I’m becoming an alcoholic. I’m a homebrewer, so it’s pretty rare that I’m out of beer. And I likes the whisky. Mmmm, whiskey.

The simple truth is I’m drinking a lot of Crystal Light. Stephanie bought 900 single packets and I’m going through them like Halloween candy. So, I’m drinking a lot lately. Of water. Lotsa water. Flavored with Crystal Light. I think the marketing term is “enhanced”.

Someone says: “I quit drinking.” Obviously they mean they quit drinking alcohol. If they quit drinking EVERYTHING they’d die. Even if it was Crystal Light. Why would anyone quit drinking Crystal Light? I ask you.

How many roller coasters were based on the mine car chase in Doom? I wonder. Probably a bunch. Six Flags had a ride, as I recall. It was better if you had been drinking.

Then it was the shit.

She quit drinking. Obviously.

2012 Bitch

"Philosophy is the shit, dude." - Socrates

That’s right! In case you didn’t know.

Last Thursday we had our park day with one of the homeschool groups we belong too. This is a good group because it is small, and for the most part all girls my girls’ age.

One of the moms there, Andrea, bought a neat lesson course. It’s philosophy for young elementary aged kids. She wanted to give it a try in a small group and since we met once a week for the park day anyway, it was worth a shot.

We met up at the top of the hill, very scenic, in a large wooden gazebo. The weather was perfect. The ladies and I sat quietly after gathering the children onto a red blanket. Of course the kids are used to running around and generally going nuts on park day, so a took a while to settle them down.

When they finally stopped jumping around like electrons Andrea started the lesson.

Andrea: “Ok. Did your mom or dad tell you what we are doing today?”

Zoey: “No.”

Me: “Yes I did!”

Andrea: “Well, we’re going to read a short story and then talk about it. Is that ok?”

Zoey: “2012 bitch!”

And she said it like she had just dunked over Shaquille O’Neal. Of course all eyes are on me.

My first instinct was to pretend she wasn’t my kid. My second was to shrug and say, “Well… it is.” Instead I said, “I have no idea…”

But one of the other moms came to my rescue. She pointed out it was written in heavy black marker all over the wooden top beams of the gazebo. I hadn’t seen it because I was wearing sunglasses.

All I can say is she knows how to sound out new words. My girls can read.

I believe we've already answered this question.

Why Do Car Dealers Do This?

Come... look inside... yeah... that's it... just a little closer...

They've got a dozen or so cars out front with their hoods wide open like hippos yawning.

As a child I had always assumed that was so that browsing men could observe and assess the engine because all men were supposed to know what a fine looking engine looked like.

But now that I am a full grown man, and one that has spent more than a few passing moments pulling apart engine parts and putting them back together, if I were to look inside a gaping Camero I quite honestly would't get anything out of it.

I'd be like... so.... that's how the hood opens. Huh.

So, the only conclusion I can think of is that it gives the rookie salesmen something to do at the beginning and end of the day. It's sure to be extremely important. Particularly on rainy days.

And Just Where Have I Been?

It's not like I've been ignoring you. I just haven't felt like blogging.

The fact that I broke my computer really didn't help either.

Sad face is sad.

In either case here I am back at the keyboard.

Today there really isn't much on my mind. Except Santa Claus.

He is such a whore.

Seriously. Have you seen him around? The man sells everything. I see him outside the Citgo everyday now twirling a sign for whatever the hell he sells there.

He's on TV selling Mercedes. And Chevy trucks. And jewelry. And toys and beer and signature blend coffees. He's on the streets selling massages, payday advances, furniture and puppies.

He's been selling Coca-Cola for what? 70+ years now?

Who me? Judge? I saw you selling puppies.

And it all started before Halloween. I started getting mad when retailers thought they needed to start selling Christmas before Thanksgiving. Who wants to hear Dolly Parton crow on mercilessly about a hard candy Christmas while picking up endless supplies for their Thanksgiving dinner?

And now, while yer out shopping for a giant bag of Tootsie rolls, you can purchase fake snow, garden gnome elves, and prancing reindeer frozen in their frolicked state. They are across the aisle from zombie babies, giant wiggly spiders, and other random gimmicky crap.

It still surprises me when somebody says they don't understand how people get so depressed during the holidays.

I'm sure the docs prescribing Zoloft know.

It was this or zombie babies.

Whu...? Bacon?!

Mere moments ago my wife was on the phone with her mother. Still is as a matter of fact.

And here is what I heard.

"What?"

"No. Keep the bacon. We don't want it."

I about had a heart attack. We don't want bacon? Exactly when did this happen?

So I made a slightly disapproving sound to communicate my disagreement.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! WHHHAAAATTT?! WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO!!!?"

Slightly.

"It's turkey bacon. And my mom."

Oh. Ok.

Never mind.

Not what they were talking about