jack daniels, oligarchies, and mustard

i was at the grocery store and threw some veggie burgers in my cart; which naturally led me to the mustard aisle. my first instinct was to buy the 99¢ plain-jane variety when something caught my eye; jack daniels brand mustard. always a sucker for food items infused with booze; i bought two.

although incredibly tasty, it didn't quite deliver the buzz i had initially expected; so i began experimenting. frosted flakes with a couple squirts of jack? surprisingly scrumptious! eggos with a little jack drizzled on top? who knew!

it has now gotten to the point where i am waking up in the middle of the night and methodically rubbing it on my gums for the numbing effect.

bottom line? go to the store. load it up.

the day before the oscars, local AMC theaters were doing a special promotion; all five 'best picture' nominees played back to back for $30. i was indifferent towards the whole affair, until they said these magical words: free popcorn and drinks...all day.

within mere seconds, a credit card was whipped out and a ticket was purchased online.

having only a vague memory from my world religion class regarding the concept of nirvana; complete peace, transcendence, and utter bliss would now be re-defined as endless bags of popcorn, bottomless sprite, and twelve hours of incredible filmmaking.

at the door, i was issued an 'official' laminated collectors pass which was to be worn around the neck; like the back-stage passes at a rock concert. with the introduction of the official pass, a caste system was immediately formed within the building - a social hierarchy. those with passes? the elite. an oligarchy of film fanatics.

commoners had to actually wait in line to have their flimsy 'paper' tickets torn and clumsily told which theater their movie was located in. i would stride past, refuse them eye-contact, nod crisply to the guard, and proceed to my room.

when it was break time, long lines at the concession stand were of no concern to me. straight to the front. some jerk would eventually mouth off.

"hey pal! there's a line here!"

i don't even dignify his existence. locking eyes with the employee, i knowingly tap the laminated pass twice with my index finger and place my order.

"you have to wait in line, asshole!"

the employee looks to me apologetically, then turns to the scum behind me.

"sir, do you have a pass?" the clerk loftily inquires.

"what the hell are you talking about? we all have 'passes'"

the employee and i have a private chuckle to ourselves.

"sir, clearly you don't understand what you're talking about. this will all be over in a minute."

the employee silently mouths 'sorry' to me and slides a large popcorn across the counter.

"carry on" i reply.

once seated in my plush chair, i casually glance at those around me. everyone in the room is punching in around 270 lbs. all of the men have tiny-rimmed glasses, T-shirts referencing computer programming, and are sporting some form of pony-tail.

and women to match.

i tried to engage my seatmate in conversation, but couldn't understand her through the thick klingon accent.

twelve hours, five movies, excruciating butter-induced stomach cramps. i did it. and i'd do it again.

wikaddiction, millard fillmore, and the naga jolokia

some people find themselves addicted to methamphetamine, while others select speed balls as their addiction of choice. my deepest, darkest, nerdiest secret is that i'm addicted to wikipedia.

a healthy "oh, i wonder who our 13th president was?" quickly transforms into reading Millard Fillmore's entire biography (along with those of his two wives) - eventually ushering me into a glossy-eyed, six hour marathon of pond-jumping from topic to topic.

Millard Fillmore leads me to the Bathtub Hoax,
which leads me to H.L. Mencken,
which leads me to the Bolsheviks,
which leads me to Tuberculosis,
which leads me to Lacto Vegetarianism...

...and on into perpetuity. anytime i hear or see something i know nothing about, it's time for a wiki fix.

founder of Carl's Jr.?
medical uses of the zebrafish?
recipients of the medal of honor?
largest freshwater lake?
1962 world's fair?
scoville units and the naga jolokia?

i drink it all up like sweet nectar.

for instance, my dear dear friend Tyler Rhoades mentioned Muammar al-Gaddafi in his blog. within four seconds i had Gaddafi's face up on my screen and was pouring over every aspect of his childhood and eventual overthrow of the Lybian goverment (singlehandedly done at the age of 9 with a rusty switchblade and a camel named Jack).

thanks to wikipedia's icy grip on my life i haven't written a new blog in awhile. truth be told; i haven't been to work in eight weeks, my fingernails are Howard Hughesian, and i've taken to peeing into mason jars so as not to venture too far from my computer screen.

a nice pair of gloves, a little beard trim, and i'll be ready for my debut on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.

ps. for those of you wondering, Regis' middle name is Francis Xavier.