Sometimes I try to share thoughts that get stuck kicking around in my head. I call these little thought exercises Deep Thoughts, but I’m hardly a Stuart Smalley. I know it’s not normal that I spend so much time thinking about how to fix society’s perceived problems.
I’m sure some people read them and actually wonder how I get through the day without putting a bucket on my head and running head first into a wall. Truth be told, just typing those thoughts out really clears my head and allows me to not walk through the North Park Blocks here in PDX screaming at people to get off of my lawn.
You know, the sad fact is that I used to process these frustrations I observe in our less and less polite society while running. There’s something about the ballistic impact of running that just damn near shakes frustrations out of my head. Alas. Weak bones had to go and ruin that.
So, now WordPress has become the outlet for processing those questionably Deep Thoughts of mine.
I hear people prefer to read more the comedic tragedies of my existence versus my self proclaimed Deep Thoughts. People like the funny stuff, I can dig it.
For that, there’s those little curiosities of mine that are probably better as status updates on The Facebook, what some collectively call Shower Thoughts.
Y’know, like does anyone use shampoo and conditioner at the same rate? I doubt it…so then why aren’t conditioner bottles smaller?
Or as I like to call them: Derp Thoughts.
Things that aren’t worthy of the deep dive exploration that an entire blog entry would give them.
I might be able to call to mind a couple for instances:
Are all dogs with average length legs really just the result of Great Danes cross breeding with Daschunds and Corgis? Maybe a Creationist can explain it to me. Regardless, other than personal preference, is there a cultural or evolutionary benefit to those “original” breeds still existing?
I sat alone in a coffee shop a while back, The Silver Fox was gallivanting around Cuba so I was left to my own devices. I put some seriously derp effort into how hazelnut syrup is made, Iced Hazelnut Latte was the drink du jour in case you were curious. This versus caramel and butterscotch, which I know how to make: sugar, butter, milk and heat, you get caramel. Some people think it’s brown sugar, butter, milk and heat…but in my mind, I remember that producing butterscotch not caramel. But what do I know, after all, I’m wondering how to make hazelnut syrup and realizing those caramel and butterscotch recipes are actually friggin’ sauces. Maybe it’s best that I usually have The Fox looking out for me until I’m properly caffeinated.
While we’re on the topic – which is a rare moment of consistency for me – why doesn’t the whole car-MEL/CARE-a-mel pronunciation issue get the same respect as the toe-MAY-toe/toe-MAH-toe issue?
Who was the first guy to say “Pull my finger!”? Seriously, there’s no doubt is was a guy, right? Uncle or Frat Boy. You decide.
Look at how big Brazil is compared to the entirety of South America. Seriously, it’s huge. I’ll find out while I search for a visual aid.
Wow. Look at that…it’s half the continent, y’know, like how Manhattan is half the size of Donald Trump’s ego.
Brazil is approximately 3.3 million square miles while all of South America is just under 6.8 million square miles. Same holds true for population, though, Brazil has 191 million of the 385 million South Americans living within its borders. I’ll never remember those statistics, I have more trivial trivia to clog my neural pathways with. Plus, me remembering those facts could only result in a meteor devastating Brazil, rendering my knowledge moot.
Anyway, I reckon it’s fairly relative. But still…why is it so big? All those much smaller countries each get a president and Brazil – huge Brazil – has a president that has to do so much more work, comparatively. It’s not fair.
I have a candle that I bought at Restoration Hardware back in 2005-ish. Those jerks used a paper wick instead of the higher quality paper and zinc wicks, so it pretty much snuffed itself out within the first hour I had it lit.
Helpful tip: in addition to trimming your wick to 1/4″ before burning, let it burn for at least two hours the first time you light it. That will prevent the above mentioned tragedy from happening regardless of wick quality. This tip excludes tea lights, which only burn for three hours, any way. Tops.
One day, I’ll forget how to tie my shoes because that information is clogging up my system.
Of course, I thought I would return that crappy candle. I was sick of candles that didn’t burn right because of paper wicks. I was also tired of digging around said cheap wicks to try and solve the problem. Yeah, I’ve been E.O.G. since before anyone knew it was actually a funny affliction. So, returns-ville for this so-called-candle.
Then I remembered that I worked in retail and hated people returning things. Exchanges, fine…but I didn’t plan on replacing one shit candle with another.
So I kept it. But me being stubborn and grumpy, I never allowed myself to dig out the wick, either. Yeah, it’s really something living inside my particular crazy.
And, yeah…I do still have that candle. It’s an objet d’art now that I have displayed with my Pope-blessed rosaries from the Vatican. Just to really be a crazy person, I’ve moved this defective candle three times in 11 years.
Maybe that’s not really a derp-worthy thought.
Then there’s the whole hot dog to bun packaging ratio. We’ve all heard this observation before. For the longest time, you got 10 hot dogs in a package and only 8 buns in a package. Humans, being so forward-focused and results oriented obviously fixed that, right? Just get the carb people to sit down with the scrap-protein people and let’s talk this out. The simple solution is to have the carb people put 10 buns in a package and charge 30% more. Retail math. You can even make each bun less bun-ny, to ostensibly let the eater taste the dog and you aren’t using any more ingredients – thereby increasing your cost – or increasing the footprint of your package. Happy consumer and you’re suddenly making 30% more revenue. Win-fucking-win!
Instead of doing that, some renegades decided to fix the scrap-protein issue and make nitrate free, high quality meat dogs. How does that fix anything? Aside from affording us the opportunity to not eat refuse.
It doesn’t, god-damned hipsters.
But, the folks who made these quality comfort food options were looking at $12 packages of 10 dogs. Realizing that people creating the demand for these better options were very likely also those retired youth of Oregon’s hipster generation – see also: broke ass whiny bitches – they decided to package their dogs in 5-packs and charged a more palatable $7. See how that retail math works?
How did this help?
Well, it didn’t, obviously. But it sure drew the fire from the initial frustration. And, no. They don’t taste the same as Ball Park Franks when you cut them up and put them into a pot of Mac & Cheese. It’s just not the same.
Seriously. Creepy, right? Please, lurk in doorways. My grandmother – who’s middle name is the part-inspiration for Myrtle – would certainly not put up with those manners. Nosiree.
Personally, I think she’s plotting to kill me and eat my face.
Those who believe in nature versus nurture, here’s a little Derp Thought homework.
A) There’s a comic called How to Tell If Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You.
B) Myrtle likes to shred cardboard boxes and paper bags. It’s all normal kitty cuteness when you put either down for her to play with. Or don’t. She’s not bashful about getting on the counter and climbing into a bag with the groceries still in it. That pizza box? Sits right on it if I turn my back. I wanted the toppings stuck to the lid anyway, so she’s doing me a solid. Magazines? She’s like Iron Mountain. But…leave those seemingly innocuous kitty playthings out overnight and you’re gonna wake up to the sound of her completely destroying them. She bites into cardboard and rips chunks out with her teeth. Then rips those chunks into smaller pieces.
Ergo, she’s a psychopath.
However! Let’s consider for a moment that her shredding tendencies are an inherited trait.
And that her mother’s owner had the book.
Now take another look at that face she makes at me and ask if there’s a plausible argument for nurture in her psychotic behavior. Regardless, I should not let her sleep with me…
Heck, psychosis aside why is my cat such a basic all-around weirdo?
While we’re on the topic of weird animals, any of you Creationists still reading? I don’t see any lips moving, so perhaps not. Well, there goes any hope of getting an explanation for animals whose kneecaps and legs work backward. Seriously…flamingos. Anyone?
Since Creationists have had to take a little hit or two earlier, let’s spread the love and balance out the special mathletes in the group.
Who really hasn’t acknowledged that yes, they do actually need to know the algebra that they swore they would never use back when they were learning it in high school?
Whatever, no judgments.
Speaking of which, I just opened a bottle of wine. Don’t judge me for Hemingway-ing, I’m not judging your algebra skills.
Anyway. Algebra…I use that shit every day.
Q: If I have 39 bottles of wine, how long will my supply last if I have a date over for dinner on Friday nights and we drink two bottles of wine each Friday?
A: Trick question. I’m not wasting two $30 bottles of wine on the dudes I date.
Anyway, I think people who think they don’t use algebra just don’t even know that they use it even when they are having their phone do the math for them. If you can ask the phone a question, that’s basic algebra. You can’t even ask your phone-slash-calculator to do the math for you if you don’t know what X you need to solve for.
If you can’t even ask the question, then that’s another problem altogether. So is the English at the end of the last paragraph.
So, yeah…I used to run to bounce the serious frustrations and thoughts around my head and eventually out onto the pavement where they couldn’t frustrate me any more. Now I type them out into the blogosphere where I never have to see them again.
The crap I just exposed you to? My Derp Thoughts? Yeah, it’s probably safer to save those thoughts up and then try to discuss them at a Slipknot concert so that no normal people end up getting hurt by banging their head against the wall when they hear them.
At least, not without a bucket on their head.
Also, why does Slipknot have “concerts” anyway? I’ve heard what they do…it’s not music.