Technology

Well...I'm not sure this can be considered technology, but it certainly involves some sort of rocket science or black magic. I saw this ad on the ol' porn box* today:

* Internet (duh)

Root Beer flavored vodka?!! This is either the best idea in the world or an evil plan to destroy the lives of anyone with a sweet tooth. (i.e. elementary aged children) This is purely a shot in the dark, but I can see this as one of those drinks that goes down pretty, pretty easy and next thing you know you wake up down town on the hood of a cab with your pants around your ankles next to some meter maid named Big Tony.

Special note to MLW: If the following conversation occurs, you may want to call rehab.

MLW: Hey, what are you having for dessert?

The Cheese: Oh, nothing...just a Root Beer Float.

MLW: Again? Isn't this like the 5th one you've had today?

The Cheese: Heh. How bout you triple that number? And after you do the math, get me my driving gloves, racing chaps and indian head dress. I'm heading out.

MLW: ...

The Cheese: What? You need the abacus Will Hunting?

MLW: ...

The Cheese: An abacus. It's that thing that helps slow people count and do math. Also, I was being ironic when I called you Will Hunting. Get it?

MLW: ...

The Cheese: Well thanks for the talk. Got to run. I'm meeting my new friend Big Tony.

END SCENE

**Remember this little vignette some day when I'm accepting my day time Emmy.**

Value Added

I realize I haven't added much value to the lowlightyears blog equation lately. With that in mind, I offer you extreme ironing.

What cheeses The Cheese?

Another new segment alert! (i.e. it will be six months until I remember about this idea)

You know what cheeses me?

(glad you asked)




People running.

Why would people running bother me? Bad question. Asking "How does it NOT bother me?", would garner better results. Too bad you didn't ask that. Loser.

Running sucks. Nothing bores me more. (or gives me shin splints faster) Let me clarify...I'm not talking about kids at play, or sports...I'm talking about adults just going out for a run. Perhaps if I was 110 lbs, and had a proper amount of lubrication in my knees and various other joints it would be better than watching high definition porn reading the bible.

And what cheeses me the most is when it's 98 degrees out with 100% humidity and someone is on the verge of death, with negative body fluid left in their system, stumbling along the side of the road because they thought it would be a "healthy idea" to go for a fun run. Jackasses. You may mistake me with a similar look on these days, but chances are I was just walking out to get the mail.

A close second is when these jerk offs feel it's necessary to get their run on during a monsoon or when it's below freezing outside. You know, one of those days where it hurts your lungs just to breathe outside? When there's 6 inches of slush on the side of the road and they're running in the middle of the plowed road, making you dodge them during already iffy driving conditions?

Oh boy...Dr. T better get me some blood thinner. Just thinking about these Bruce Jenner wannabes makes me want to ram my head through a glass pane and gargle with the broken glass. You may have a different opinion on running. Just know it's wrong and that knowing is half the battle.

Product Spotlight

All this Bo reminiscing has got me thinking of some pretty sweet shoes from back in the day:

The Bo Jackson 91' Trainers

Not sure if Dr. T still has his. If I had a pair, I'd still be wearing them....in the pool, in the shower, riding horses, jazzercising, steadying cheerleading pyramids, shrimping, jello wrestling, scrap booking, etc...I don't think I'd ever take them off. (ironically enough, unless I was cross training) Even if it curled my toes under and stunted my foot growth these puppies would be glued to my feet. Regardless, I think it's pretty safe to say, I'd be the Carrie Bradshaw of Footlocker.

Cut me, Mick.

Coco Crisp almost knew Death too. I'm not sure what happened, but I'm pretty sure James Shields said, "I eat Sh#t like you for breakfast!" Which infuriated Coco Crisp, feeling that, as an adult, Sheilds should be eating a more balanced breakfast than some children's cereal. Fortunately he was fast enough to dodge this haymaker, because I'm guessing he's more of a:

Glass Joe

than a

King Hippo.

Just a hunch.

Bo Knows Death

R.I.P. Bo Diddley

December 30, 1928 – June 2, 2008