Shit I Likes #1 - The Pancakes Edition with Bonus Haiku

This will be another one of those things that I pretend to update you on every now and then. First things first. Pancakes are some badass shit. Love me some pancakes. Take some butter and smack it up, flip it, rub it down all over them golden brown 'cakes and pour syrup all over it like it was water on a buxom 20 year old co-eds white t-shirt. Yeah, that's the ticket. I will also accept some powdered sugar sprinkled on top for added effect or cinnamon sprinkled into the batter. Hot damn, I'm hungry.

Some people call them flapjacks, some call them hotcakes, but it's all the same to me. The perfect pancake can be the greatest breakfast treat known to mankind. They're even great for "brinner", though, I skip all the sides at night. I go straight pancakes at that point. As long as them badboys ain't overcooked or burnt, you've got money. No wonder they sell like...uh...hotcakes at the wafflehouse.

In fact, I love me some pancakes so much, I wrote a haiku about them. Anyone who knows me knows that anything that's worth being written about or loved can be condensed into a haiku; the Japanese poem consisting of three lines with the first and third line containing five syllables and the second having seven.

Anyway, here's a little haiku I wrote for you my beloved pancakes:

Warm, golden, tasty.
Breakfast, dinner, whenever.
Need pancake love now.

Hell yeah. Pancakes.

How Silver Spoons Ruined My Life

So, I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about arcade video game cabinets, slot machines, etc. and somehow it made me think of the old 80's show, Silver Spoons starring (then) Ricky Schroeder as the spoiled rich kid, Alfonso Ribeiro as the token black friend and Erin Gray as the hot future step-mom. Anyway, if you're not familiar with the show, I'll try to jiggle your memory. It was about a rich kid and his dad, who ran some toy company and thusly had all kinds of badass toys and gadgetry in their home. One of their badass toys was this miniature train that ran through their house that they would ride from one room to the next, if that doesn't tip you off then you just have no clue what I'm talking about. (Here's some Youtube clips) It had an awesome theme song. Anyway, they had this kickass layout in their family room with arcade cabinets and pinball machines along the wall, he had a fucking racecar bed before they were made out of plastic and available at retailers everywhere, and of course the icing on the cake was that damn train.

So, how did that ruin my life you ask? Well, shit imagine a five or six year old me, or any boy for that matter. Who didn't want any of that stuff. Hell, I'm 31 now and I would give your left testicle for the stuff that kid had. So, now I still aspire to have this stuff and it's just not happening. The worst part was that they never (or rarely) even used those things on the show. If you're not going to use them, why even bother having them? Give them to some poor, young, deserving boy whose parents can't afford to buy him a decent pair of pants; someone like me.

So, yeah that show ruined my life because it set up all these false hopes and aspirations that could only be fulfilled by a handful of people. By default, if you ever watched that show and envied little Ricky Schroeder's spoiled lifestyle, you were destined for failure. Maybe it's the reason I am the way I am today. Refusing to grow up, videogame collection in the hundreds, toys all up in the den (in complete packaging mind you to preserve their minty freshness), and the overall maturity of an eleven year old. I mean, I still laugh when I hear people discussing history and how before paper it was all passed down orally. Or how about this inappropriate time, when I used to sit in my Administration of Justice class and they would discuss the penal code. Yeah, eleven year old, might be giving myself too much credit.

Guys and Straws

So, I've got this theory that works two-fold. It involves men and straws.

First off, you can't be a tough guy and keep that tough look while you're sucking down Diet Pepsi through a straw. It's nigh impossible, nay, it is impossible. Imagine the toughest looking guy you know from TV or movies whether that's Mr. T, Charles Bronson, Chuck Norris, or whoever. Now imagine them drinking a soda through a straw. That's pure goofiness, I tell you! No, the tough guy always pops the lid off and drinks straight from the mouth of the cup. Not only that, but when he's done he chews on the ice just to let you know who is the boss. That's manly.

Part two of the theory is that the absolute hunkiest dude you've ever seen looks like a complete dork sucking down a tasty beverage through a straw. I mean, really how cool can a guy look when he's trying to get that last bit of Fanta out of the cup and he's making that slurping sound. Let alone if he's drinking a thick milkshake and he's struggling? Face turning slightly blue, cheeks sunken in, eyes crossing from the suction. Oh, yeah David Beckham, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney would all look like the kids from high school that had classes in an isolated wing at school so they wouldn't mix in with the general population. You know they would, don't you dare deny it.

So, that's the theory. Just think about it, picture it in your minds eye, and get back to me. I'll be waiting drinking a juice box and eating animal crackers.

Wait...Why Am I Apologizing Again?

Maybe I'm a really bitter guy, or maybe I'm just jaded. Hell, maybe I've just been listening to too much Adam Carolla, but why is it that I've got to apologize for every little piece of crap even when it's not my fault. Or how about when I've got to say that whatever you did that might have offended me is "cool" or I say "don't worry about it". Look, if I didn't do anything wrong I ain't gonna apologize. For some reason I think this happens a bunch with significant others. One person gets all butt-hurt because they took something the wrong way and the other person then has to say that they're sorry because they misconstrued whatever it was they said. Why? Screw that, if you didn't understand what I meant when I said it, why should I be sorry? You're the one who should be apologizing to me for flying off the handle and making me go way in depth into what I actually meant and you still didn't get it, until finally half an hour later it took hold. By which time that person had been yelling their head off for quite some time. And oh, by the way, they don't apologize because they don't need to. They did nothing wrong...Well, except for asking for an apology 46 times in twelve minutes.

I Hate Your Phones Ringtone

I do. I really do. No, seriously. I truly do. It's not even for effect or for satire, but because I just think that your ringtone sucks sweaty gorilla sack after he's just mated and smothered feces on it. Yeah, that much. I guess I should explain, I mean, I could technically just leave it at that and in and of itself I guess it would probably be funnier that way, but then what would be the point in it? Look, the truth is that if you're just too lazy to change your factory set ringtone then by extension, I can't stand it. When a phone rings and three or four people have to look down and see whether it's their phone or not then you're not doing a good enough job to distinguish yourself from the other sheep. Look, at the very least change it to one of the other six retarded ringtones that your phone came with. Now, contrary to that if you've got one of those custom ringtones that you clearly paid $2.99 for from your retarded cell phone company then you're annoying me equally. You know, whatever it is that is the rap/pop/country/ranchero hit of the moment. That shit sucks, too. You've clearly not progressed far enough technologically to figure out how to custom make your own ringtones.

I know, this leaves a very fine line for you to select a ringtone, but that's ok. Your shit sucks anyway, you need to realize this, you need to be told the truth. Justin Timberlake's "Bringing Sexy Back" as a ringtone isn't going to do anything, but embarrass you when you're around a group of strangers. I swear it will. So, how about your just put your phone on vibrate and call it a day.

The weird thing is that it's always the crappy free phones and the really high end phones that offend the most. The rest of us fall in between. Now, if you'd excuse me I've got to go make myself some more custom ringtones and no I won't tell you what ringtones I have, I'm way too embarrassed. *sigh* Actually, it's custom for everyone who calls me. Everyone of my contacts who calls me on any sort of consistent basis has their own ringtone, so that I can differentiate who is calling me and whether I even want to pick it up to begin with.

Oh, and I'll almost excuse you if you've got video game music in there, as long as when I look at you I see cool nerd and not just total dumbass douche. The more 8-bit the better. At this point, though, that excludes the Super Mario Bros. theme song because everyone and their mom has used that one up like penicillin after hooking up with Colin Ferrell.

Ok, I'll admit this ain't my best work, but I'll pretend to update this every now and again.