Fire Meets Desire

Previously I have posted that sex is not an effective marketing tool to sell fast food.  Could it be that fast food can effectively sell sex, though.  Well, the good folks at Burger King must think so.  They have recently released a new fragrance, that's right....a fragrance, called "Flame".  It's described by the marketing gurus at the BK as "the scent of seduction, with a hint of flame broiled meat."  Flame broiled meat?  Not an unpleasant smell, granted, but I'm not sure how well it pairs with seduction.  In the promotional spot, though, it appears to have one woman going crazy for it, so I thought I would test out this new scent myself.  I suppose I could stand to smell more seductive, and if flame broiled meat amplifies the effect, so be it...I've been wrong before (but by my count, only 12 times).   

Having shelled out the $3.99 for the tiny 5ml spritzer, I liberally applied a few spritzes to my neck and headed out, deciding I would wander into the first place I came across.  I came to a strip mall and noticed a Weight Watchers location.  While this isn't the type of place I would normally frequent for dates, I thought what better place to test out the scent.  If anyone could appreciate a hint of flame broiled meat, it would be a dozen or so women who've spent the last six weeks starving themselves.  

Entering the facility, I was welcomed by a rather largish woman.  Hmm...if she was the leader, maybe she was trying to lead by example...of what not to become.  That, or she was a "before" model for the promotional before and after photos.  "Well, hello there," she said in a rather seductive voice.  Was she coming on to me?  Could the scent actually be working?  "Umm, hi" I said nervously, still unsure of where this was going to lead.  "I'm Linda," she said, "Pleased to...meat you."  What?  The way she hung on to the word meet sent a shiver down my spine.  It wasn't lust in her voice, it was hunger.  Suddenly, the other women got up and started to approach me.   They stared at me, their eyes glazed over...not with desire, not with passion, with actual glaze.  From a donut? From a ham?  I wasn't sure, but I in no way wanted to find out.  Crap, looks like the scientists at BK need to tweak the formula...a little less meat, a little more seduction.  I'd definitely be writing them a letter.

The women circled me and started ripping at my clothes.  "Easy ladies" I stammered, "there's plenty of me to go around."  The problem is, there isn't near enough of me to go around.  I'm painfully thin.  So here I was, nothing more than a pixie stick surrounded by oversized marshmallow peeps in an easter basket from hell.  Panic set in and I had flashbacks of nightmarish roller coaster rides...you know, when your car reaches the top of that first hill and suddenly you realize this wasn't such a good idea.  But just like the roller coaster, I had no way off...and no where to go but down.  

I tried reasoning with the women, "look, you wouldn't like me, I'm a vegetarian".  But all to no avail, the scent was too strong.  My eyes darted across the room, looking for some means of escape.  And then I saw it, sitting on the counter.  It was if God had taken the form of Jenny Craig and delivered to me a life saving miracle.  Half covered in cob webs, it shone, like a beacon of salvation...a quart of sugar free, sodium free, cholesterol free, fat free, zero calorie yogurt.  I dove toward it, quickly ripping off the lid and smearing the contents on my neck.  Suddenly the women lurched back, hissing and screaming as if they were vampires and I had just taken a hot garlic and crucifix bath.  Amidst the chaos of the screaming and the purging, I was able to make my escape...vowing to never again carry the scent of "Flame".  

As I ran, my mind wandered back to the Arby's commercial.  I hope for all hope is worth that Arby's never develops a fragrance like this.  If so, I'm not sure how we'll explain to the kids why the Arby's hat is covered in horsey sauce.  

Here's wishing you the very merriest of Christmases!  And until the next post, take care.

My Favorite Things

I've begun preparing my Christmas Wrap-Up post and one of the things I planned on listing were a few of my favorite things.  Seeking inspiration, I decided to turn to the Grande Dame of favorite things, Maria VonTrapp.  Needless to say, I was most disappointed and more confused than I was inspired.  Below, is her list.

1. Raindrops on roses- really?  Raindrops?  I thought people were supposed to hate the rain?  Everyone except for Ernest P. Warrell, that is, and that's only because it masked his tears.  And just because they are on roses doesn't make it any better.  I could put a whole host of sad items on a rose and all I would be left with was the lousy item and a weighed down rose.  Come on, Maria, surely you can do better than that.
2. Whiskers on kittens- whiskers? You've got to be kidding me!  Not a kitten, not a kitten with whiskers, but the whiskers themselves (provided they are still on the kitten)? I don't particularly care for cats.  Kittens are cute, though, I suppose.  But I didn't know that anyone would be particularly drawn to just their whiskers.  I'm thinking Captain Georg better start growing a beard.  Things aren't looking good Maria, we're 0 for 2.
3. Bright copper kettles- well, Williams Sonoma will at least be happy with this one.  I wish she told us exactly what it was she liked, but at least it's a step in the right direction.  Things are looking up!
4. Warm woolen mittens- perfect for a mountainous escape out of Austria I guess.
5. Brown paper packages tied up with strings- what strikes me as odd it that she is apparently indifferent to the contents of these packages.  They could be empty for all she cares.  Just make sure they are wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with strings.  If you use ribbon and wrapping paper she's likely to throw a fit.  Or worse, get Mother Superior to launch into the chorus of "Climb Every Mountain"!
6. Cream colored ponies- ummm.  Maria, now that's just being racist!  What about the black and brown ponies?  Is there no place on your list for them?  Surely one of them could replace the whiskers.  I bet they have to have blue eyes and swastika brands as well.  Oh well, you know what they say, "When in occupied Austria, do as the nazis do".
7. Crisp Apple Strudels- finally, one i might would actually put on my list.  Thank you Maria, I knew you wouldn't let me down.
8. Doorbells- ummmm
9. Sleighbells- you've made your point, you like bells.  Move on!
10. Schnitzel with noodles- gross.  Maybe she should have continued listing various types of bells.  That one's on me guys, my bad.
11. Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings- geese are scary.  I can only imagine wild ones are even scarier (especially if you tease them with the schnitzel).  And while I'm no astronomer, the moon is pretty big.  In order for a goose (wild or domestic for that matter) to support the weight of the moon on its wings, it would have to be terrifyingly huge.  That's not a goose, Maria, it's called a dragon.  And nobody likes dragons (except for Pete, I guess).
12. Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes- Maria...dear sweet Maria...you make your clothes from curtains.  Do you really think you should be dispensing fashion advice?  
13. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes- wouldn't that feel annoying?  Like something is dangling right at your eye?  I don't like it when an eyelash gets loose and dangles on the other eyelashes.  It would be even worse if it were wet and cold.  And wouldn't snow on your nose start to sting after a while? How long do you want it to stay on there?  Maria, wake up.  You're asking for a severe case of facial frostbite. 
14. Silver white winters that melt into springs- wait, now I'm confused.  If the winter melts into spring, that's going to get rid of that snowflake you wanted permanently affixed to various parts of your face.  Make up your mind Maria.  You can't have your snowflakes and melt them too.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings...go to the doctor.  Taking time to enjoy some schnitzel with noodles is only going to make the swelling worse and give the rabies time to spread.  And by all means, on your way watch out for that moon carrying goose.  You only thought the bee sting was bad.

Christmas Eve at the Waffle House

I knew of a family that had a strange tradition of spending each Christmas Eve at the Waffle House.  I, of course, found this a bit strange; but being one not to judge something that I have no experience with, I decided I would spend an evening this holiday season there to see what might have struck this family's fancy in such a way as to develop this bizarre tradition.  And so, one evening I loaded up into the car and headed out, ready for what new surprises might be awaiting me.  Besides, I suppose there is no better way to celebrate the birth of our savior than by partaking of a meal that could actually bring us that much closer to meeting him.  

Opening the door I was immediately greeted with a cornucopia of odors- grease, cheap cleaners, cigarette smoke, and what a painful scream from the kitchen would confirm was burning flesh.  Aside from the smells and the billowing smoke, the first thing I noticed was the quaint holiday decor.  Cheap silver garland adorned the walls and in the corner stood (or leaned precariously) the saddest, limpest, most bare Christmas tree I have ever laid eyes on.  Apparently, Charlie Brown was commissioned as their holiday interior designer.  But without the strange dancing kids, and the moving monologue from Linus, it didn't have the same effect.  I was greeted at the door by a rather gruff waitress.  Her nametag indicated her name was Jo.  I at first assumed it stood for JoAnne, but upon closer inspection her musculature and facial hair led me to believe it could have just as easily been an abbreviation for Joseph.  

She curtly asked if I would like to be seated in smoking or chain smoking. Non smoking at the Waffle House, it would seem, is as taboo as white work boots before easter.  I settled into my seat and perused the menu- which featured photos for each of the items.  Since the quality of the photographs, and the appearance of the food itself was less than desirable, I was left to assume this was more out of necessity than a clever marketing gimmick- perhaps speaking to the literacy of the average Waffle House customer...or employee.  If I ran a restaurant whose food appeared as did the food in the photographs before me, I would take more of a shock and awe approach, concealing the food until it was placed on the table squarely in front of the customer.

Nevertheless, I placed my order with Jo and then, deciding I wanted the full experience, wandered over to the juke box to punch up some tunes.  It being the holidays, I was in the mood for some Christmas music.  Surprisingly, the "Hallelujah Chorus" was nowhere to be seen on the playlist.  In fact, the only Christmas song available was "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer".   So, $.25 poorer, I headed back to my table as the song kicked in.  As it reached the chorus, I noticed a man in the booth behind me tearing up.  I was taken back by this.  Granted, this is a lousy song, but to cry everytime a song comes on you don't like...well, it just seems childish.  I was preparing to address this with the man when two things hit me (well, three actually, but one was just a piece of plaster falling from the water damaged ceiling).  1. I didn't have my pepper spray and this guy could kick my ass. And 2. it was entirely possible this guy was crying because his grandmother actually was struck by a reindeer.  Feeling for the man, I remained in my seat, tearing up a bit myself- but more from the dust in the room than any emotional attachment to this guy's situation.  

As the song continued, I turned my attention to the cook who was dancing in front of the griddle with the flair and speed of an artist practicing his craft--pausing only occasionally to pick at what appeared to be a large scab on his elbow.  Calling over Jo to cancel my side order of bacon, we began to discuss our respective Christmas traditions.  We quickly reached a stalemate, however.  I refused to move from my belief that Santa rode across the sky in a tricked out Benz delivering puppies and designer handbags to all the good boys and girls.  Jo, meanwhile, held stedfast to her belief that Santa traveled from trailer to trailer by way of a big rig carrying rifles and coon dogs (perceivably to replace the ones that died from the hydrophoby) to guys and gals across the globe.  Admittedly, her theory provided for more cargo space, but I had her! "How does he cross the ocean to other continents", I asked.  Her response was flat and to the point, "His shrimp boat".  Well, at least she had thought this through before. 

Finally, the moment arrived and my food was plated and delivered to my table.  Unfortunately, it appeared just as the photo had predicted- eggs, ham, and sausage all melded into an amalgam of holiday goo.  As I moved a portion toward my mouth, I paused as a string of some of it slowly descended back toward my plate.  Sensing my hesitation, Jo quickly came over.  "Don't worry, honey.  That's just a little Christmas cheer."  It's funny how closely Christmas cheer resembles grease droppings and undercooked lard.  

I finished the meal to the best of my abilities, paid, and headed on my way.  I'm not sure what lessons I learned from my Christmas at the Waffle House.  I only know that if it filled me with Christmas Spirit, then Christmas spirit causes massive indigestion.  And as for Christmas Eve next year...despite my previous posting, I'm thinking Arby's.

Until the next post, take care!

I'm Thinking Arby's...I'm Thinking Not

Well, I still haven't finalized my full plans for the blog, but I saw something on TV today that I had to comment on.  Not sure if you've seen it or not, but if you have, I'm sorry.  If you haven't, I found a clip of it and posted it below.  Apparently, Arby's has lost their mind in their latest advertisement for their chicken cordon bleu sandwich.  It opens with a slightly overweight, slightly less than average looking guy lying on his bed in sweats and white socks.  From outside the room we hear who I assume to be his girlfriend or wife exclaim that she is "only doing this for your birthday".  At this point, I have no idea this is an Arby's commercial so all I can think is 1. this could get a tad bit racy, and 2. that maybe this guy is a little overdressed.  As the door slowly opens and the porn style music kicks in, the girl (also average looking at best) saunters into the room....in an Arby's uniform carrying a tray of fast food.  He takes a look (I'm not sure whether at the girl or the food) and the Arby's logo "springs to life" above his head...complete with "sproing" sound.  So what was my reaction--confused?  A little.  Turned on?  Not hardly.  Hungry?  Not at all.



There are so many things wrong with this commercial.  First, I know they say that sex sells.  I'm not sure it sells fast food, however.  The thought of naked bodies pressed against each other while consuming greasy, deep fried food just doesn't do it for me.  Maybe I'm in the minority there.  Second, while I'll agree that a person in uniform can have a sexy appeal, I generally leave that to firefighters, police, military, nurses, etc...not fast food workers.  I've not once walked into an Arby's, seen the person behind the counter, and thought "Forget the curly fries, I want you!"  Third, and perhaps worst of all, the commercial called to my attention something that has somehow escaped me all these years.  The Arby's logo is eerily phallic shaped.  I hadn't noticed it before, but as it "sproinged" to life above the guy I thought "Oh my God! Arby's has a penis logo!"  Finally, in case the subtle innuendos of the girl's sauntering gait, the porn music, and the cartoon penis springing to life weren't enough, the guy proclaims "Me likey" in a way that is more creepy than sensual or hungry.  Thanks Arby's!  I'm not sure I would have gotten what your were getting at if you hadn't helped me crack the code with that last piece of dialog.  Again, I'm not sure what did it for Mr. Sproingo, the food or the girl.  All I know is that I only thought I was suspicious of the horsey sauce before!

Until the next post, take care...and enjoy some Arby's.  

One More Blog To Read!

Since I've suddenly found myself with an abundance of spare time on my hands, I have decided to make poor use of that time and create a blog.  I'm still fleshing out the details, but what I have in mind is sort of a entertainment/newsweekly combo blog of sorts.  Each day will feature a specific category of varying interests.  Along with the topic itself, each post will hopefully also feature my always insightful insight into the particular topic of note.  Tomorrow I plan on posting the weekly format- outlining what will be discussed on each day of the week.  For some of the topic categories, I hope to enlist the aid of some guest bloggers, so if your up to the task, let me know!

One of the things I have been doing to pass the time the past few days is developing an addiction to youtube.  There, I came across a show called The X Factor.  It's very much like American Idol (so, of course, I was instantly hooked), even featuring Simon Cowell as one of the judges.  Maybe it's just because I was watching the last few episodes, but it seems the show puts a little more weight on the production value of a performance (lots of dancing, props, and backup vocalists) than just the straight up performance itself (like AI tends to do) so in a way I kinda liked it a little better--blasphemy, I know!  Anyway, one of the groups I really liked was called JLS.  They had a fabulous performance of the song "Hallelujah" (the same one Jason Castro sang on the last season of AI).  

Hopefully watching clips of that show will tie me over until AI starts back up on Jan. 13.  

Until the next post, take care!

Nathan