Who is Barry Popkin? You mean you don’t know! He’s the director of the obesity center at the University of Carolina (which means he probably looks like the offspring of Roseanne Barr and a skyscraper). Papa Popkin recently preformed a study (no, not breakfast) that yielded startling results. Hold onto your hats kids, because the Chach-nooka and he who loves it when you call him big Popkin are about to rock your world.

I’m not convinced. Here’s a picture of my breakfast. – DJ

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I get a ton of subscription emails from AdAge.com. I was told it would help in my Advertising Campaign Management class this semester, and gee whiz it has. It’s also opened my eyes to a world of marketing I’ve never known – that of test marketing. Today I opened up an email and quickly read something about a new McDonald’s Big Mac. Now, I don’t know about you, but to me the Mac is one of those rare sandwiches for which I will occasionally actually get an attack. Coincidentally, Roy linked me to the following picture about five days ago:

Take a good long look, my friends. You’re laying eyes not a Big Mac, but Japan’s MEGA MAC.

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I was reading some Bill Faulkner today and was thinking about how terrible it would be to be someone else’s slave. I already have trouble doing things for myself. If my job was to fulfill the demands of someone else as well, I would have to file for unemployment. Except, too bad, I can’t because I’m a slave.

Now the idea that being a slave is not the best has been said again and again. It’s an idea that has been pounded into the social-consciousness since, I would say, at least 1989. As I continued to read this Faulkner novel (I should note that the people in Faulkner’s book were servants, not slaves, but I would still not be jumping at the opportunity to be a servant), I tried to think of things that could make being a slave even worse. Why I decided to think this, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I saw Saw IV last night and my mind has just been turning everything more tortuous. I came up with a couple options. One: you get impregnated by someone who is not a slave, but is a total dick, preferably the town sheriff. That would make matters much worse, but I can’t get pregnant, at least not with the technology available in slave-times. (Side-note: A really terrible themed restaurant would be one that follows the basic format of Medieval Times but is called Slave Times). Two: If I were a slave, but I also had a very developed case of alcoholism.

Someone is dying for a Margarita.

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In my previous “post” (I put post in quotation marks because I was inebriated when I wrote, hence it doesn’t make much sense and, honestly, the topic was pretty piss-poor to begin with) I wrote about my dislike for long division. To sum it up (pun intended), I have some trouble tackling the abstract reasoning that the process innately represents. Also, I find the idea of owning over five dozen apples at any one time to be inconceivable, juvenile and, frankly, obscene. Not surprisingly, my viewpoints have ignited a firestorm of controversy. DJ somehow cracked into the mainframe of my funny-box (re: laptop) and proceeded to rant and rave in favor of mass fruit consumption, then my ex-friend Megan chimed in and exacerbated the whole thing even further. How did she exacerbate the whole thing even further? Well, she called me a douche. Also, (and this is really where the exacerbation happens, because I already knew I was at least marginally douche-a-lious) Meg insulted my natural distaste for the taste of chocolate. Well, you know what? In the end (not that it’s the end, because it’s not), not liking chocolate was the best (debatable)  decision (wasn’t a decision) of my life (if that’s what you want to call what I do with my time).

Pssh, like that would ever work.

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I’m very angry about the fact I have to pay to wash my clothes. It’s an expense I do NOT need and the laundromat is only three steps away from “in front of a gun operated by John Rambo” on my list of places I never want to be. So, I decided if I was going to be a miserable douche for an hour I would write while I did it. Capturing for the world and, more importantly, myself the thoughts of a self-important lunatic.

I fucking HATE the John Tesh radio show. I don’t know or care if this shitbag is in syndication because he blows so hard and I’ve had to endure his show so often that I think everyone should hear what I have to say, regardless of whether you can tune into him in your hometown. (I just did some quick research – according to Wikipedia, he’s on 360 stations AND 250 stations.) Also he looks like a pedophile Greg Hughes, the actor who plays Opie on the Opie and Anthony Show.

Guess which one is my hero.

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