Ode to English Muffins
Alright seriously, I don't know what an ode is or how to write one, but English muffins are so freaking amazing that they deserved that blog title. I just finished eating one not 30 seconds ago, delighting in its warm toasty goodness topped with butter that seeped into all of the nooks and crannies. I don't know what a nook is, nor a cranny, but that they are compartments for melted butter on an English muffin is good enough for me. Heck, there are a lot of things that I am unfamiliar with, but perfectly willing to accept. For instance, I hear all this talk about cells (you know, the building blocks of life and all that), and granted my knowledge about cells is slightly greater than that of nooks or crannies (I can identify vacuoles and I made a really nifty flip book of a cell undergoing meiosis in 9th grade (I've since forgotten exactly what meiosis is, but I think the cell splits into four other smaller cells, rather than two, and that they're haploid cells (rather than diploid cells)...um holy cow, I just astounded myself because I remembered the terms "haploid" and "diploid," and even if I used them incorrectly I still knew them, jerk face, so you can't even call me on it because I don't give a care, and anyway I was an expert on meiosis for a brief stint of my high school career, starting with Halloween night after trick-or-treating and ending shortly thereafter), but that's beside the point because I'm simply using a parallel line of thought and a similar lack of knowledge on a certain rather complicated subject to illustrate my point), but for the most part I just figure if somebody wants to believe in organelles (there's another little key word that I managed to remember), that's cool, but I'll just sit here and continue to take it for granted. It's like wireless internet. I don't question wireless internet. I don't know how things are transmitted electronically from one computer to another through thin air. Seriously, if I get a song from another computer and it plays on mine, that's basically like a miracle to me. I need no scientific explanation. If it works, it works. Period. Nooks are nooks, crannies are crannies, and English muffins kick the crap out of most other forms of toasted bread-type food materials. Case closed.
Orange juice is also another amazing food/drink item. It provides me with lots and lots of citric acid. I don't really know what citric acid does, or what its chemical formula is (I probably learned it in AP Chem, but that was many (2) years ago, and I frankly don't remember things that long, with the possible exception of meiosis, diploid, haploid, organelle, and vacuole, which have been permanently lodged in my brain since 9th grade, along with my social security number, RIN (that's Rensselaer Identification Number for the ignorant), home phone number, full name, three rifle serial numbers (3976372 "Tastykakes," "4048411 "Tasty Wheat" and 4113189 (which was never given a formal name; assumed to be the inspection and regulation version of "Tasty Wheat"), General Eric K. Shinseki (Hawaiians=the awesomeness)(I don't even remember who he was, just random inspection information from 9th grade), the entire 55 command armed regulation show:
1. Report In
2. Inspection Arms
3. Ready, Port Arms
4. Order Arms
5.. Dress Right Dress
6. Ready Front
7. Parade Rest
8. Platoon Attention
9. 15 Count Manual Arms
10. Count Off
11. Close Interval March
12. Normal Interval March
13. Open Ranks March
14. Close Ranks March
15. Right Step March
16. Platoon Halt
17. Left Face
18. Left Step March
19. Platoon Halt
20. About Face
21. Right Shoulder Arms
22. Forward March
23. Column Right March
24. Column Right March
25. Right Flank March
26. Left Flank March
27. Column Left March
28. Left Shoulder Arms
29. Rear March
30. Rear March
31. Platoon Halt
32. File From the Right March
33. Platoon Halt
34. Column of Threes to the Left March
35. Port Arms
36. Column Left March
37. Double Time March
38. Quick Time March
39. Column Left March
40. Left Shoulder Arms
41. Platoon Halt
42. Column Half Left March
43. Column Half Left March
44. Rear March
45. Rear March
46. Eyes Right
47. Ready Front
48. Column Left March
49. Port Arms
50. Right Shoulder Arms
51. Column Left March
52. Left Flank March
53. Change Step March
54. Platoon Halt
55. Report Out
and a slew of other random trivia, such as that Charles Guiteau proclaimed "I am a Stalwart of the Stalwarts...and Arthur is now President" before shooting James Garfield in the back twice and attempting to walk away), but again, it's just one of those things I don't really care about. Orange juice is there for me when I need it (unless I just polished it all off, in which case more is waiting for me just inside the little freezer things inside BJ's a ways down Central Ave), and that works for me. I don't need to complicate my life with useless information. I like to keep it simple and streamlined. This is precisely why introductory economics gives me so much trouble; it's all mired down in frivolities that I just don't have time for. I have bigger and bolder things, such as credit card houses, on my agenda.
I don't suppose I've ever really been a fan of jigsaw puzzles. Aside from my thinking that the word "jigsaw" is highly absurd and an unnecessary addition to the English language, they just aren't that puzzling. For one thing, all of the pieces that go along the border have a nice straight edge that just screams "I GO ON THE EDGE! PUT ME THERE!" For another thing, there's always a picture on the front of the box to go by. Life would be a lot more fun if someone chucked a 3000 piece jigsaw puzzle at you with no box and no picture guide and said "Finish this in ten minutes or I eat up every remaining English muffin in the universe." Now that would be pressure. That would be a challenge. I might gain some respect for jigsaw puzzles then, except even that scenario would not change the overly goofy name or the shrieking, wailing edge pieces.
Of all the different electronic media out there, my favorite definitely has to be the CD. I mean, if you put the things in a microwave and cook them they spark and smoke. How much freaking cooler can you get than that? In times of intense frustration, it always helps me to take one of those AOL free trial disks and hurl it at the wall with absurd force that causes it to shatter on impact. Heck, even when I'm not frustrated it's a barrel of monkeys. Plus, CDs are cheap, they hold a reasonable amount of space, and have a nifty little hole in the center through which you can put a finger, if your finger is small enough. I think only my pinkies of pinky fingers actually fits through that hole these days, but I still remember with fondness the days of my youth when I could put any finger I chose through the center of a CD. What a delight. I only wish that CDs were, say, three feet in diameter, because then they would just totally dominate life. Just imagine, a disc larger than a vinyl record, all shiny and floppy like (a CD that big would certainly be floppy, no?) that could double as a frisbee in a pinch, and if broken down (say, via extremely forceful impact with a wall or maybe a hammer), they would still smoke and spark when put in a microwave. Sometimes I guess size does matter, but whoever invented CDs opted for the less fun, albeit maybe more convenient, size that we are all familiar with.
Note: the above paragraph does not apply to DVDs. They are not fun at all. DVDs are very vain, as is apparent when they get a slight scratch and henceforth refuse to play without skipping at least seven times for every three minutes of playback. Some day DVDs will be less temperamental, and as the superior storage devices that they are (some multiple gigabytes, I'm told, but again I don't bother myself with trifling matters such as that), they will surpass CDs as the most supreme electronic media. Keep trying, DVDs. I almost love you too.
I am in somewhat dire need of a shave. This isn't to say that I have a beard or anything; if that were the case, I would probably just keep it there, because beards are rather nifty until gross stale food starts collecting in them, at which point they become a bio-hazard and should immediately be eliminated with napalm or some other such effective hair removal treatment (like shaving). Instead, I have several to many scraggly little hairs adorning my upper lip, and I'm actually quite disappointed with my unimpressive facial hair growth. Suffice it so say I am nowhere near as rugged as Action Hank, although I daresay some day I will grow a little Tony Almeida-esque soul patch (but only because Tony Almeida had one, and he was one freaking heck of a character. Thanks a lot, people in charge of 24, for killing off the second coolest guy on the show, and David Palmer, and Michelle Dessler (well, actually no one liked her, so that's okay. She screwed Tony over after season 3, remember?), and Curtis Manning, and even George Mason, who turned out to be an okay guy after he got radiation poisoning, and Ryan Chappelle, who I felt sorry for only right before and after he got shot, because I actually think he was a bit of a jerk; still, no one deserves to die because of that, with the possible exception of Charles "Idiot President Turned Bad Guy" Logan, and all those darn terrorists, but they always get their just desserts, which satisfies me just fine. And I swear, if they bring back Kim "A Mountain Lion!" Bauer, I will commit ceremonial suicide (probably Hara Kiri) in front of the television, because her superior ability to cause nitpicky trouble and otherwise just be a plot distracting pest far, far outweighed her level of attractiveness (and yes, Elisha Cuthbert isn't a bad looking chick, but it just wasn't worth it. 24 isn't about the babes; it's about Jack, and if you don't know that by now you ought to turn on a different channel because you are wasting a valuable broadcast on your overly thickened skull)) just below my lower lip. Alas, until then I best just shave off the disappointing clutter that adorns the lower portion of my head, because otherwise I'll just look like a person who never shaves. Ew.
I frankly can't imagine what more I could possibly spend this blog writing about. I daresay tonight has put me into something of a creative frenzy type deal, which effectively made me spin off a rather stupid amount of tangent ideas to the main ones. I think actually this post, if broken down to its elements, would be about three sentences long.
1. English muffins are boss.
2. Orange juice is boss.
3. I need to shave.
Well, if you took nothing else from this entire session of nested parenthetical asides, then at least take the true meanings of this post, which are the above three statements. Have fun being kids, and don't grow up too fast on me.
The End
Orange juice is also another amazing food/drink item. It provides me with lots and lots of citric acid. I don't really know what citric acid does, or what its chemical formula is (I probably learned it in AP Chem, but that was many (2) years ago, and I frankly don't remember things that long, with the possible exception of meiosis, diploid, haploid, organelle, and vacuole, which have been permanently lodged in my brain since 9th grade, along with my social security number, RIN (that's Rensselaer Identification Number for the ignorant), home phone number, full name, three rifle serial numbers (3976372 "Tastykakes," "4048411 "Tasty Wheat" and 4113189 (which was never given a formal name; assumed to be the inspection and regulation version of "Tasty Wheat"), General Eric K. Shinseki (Hawaiians=the awesomeness)(I don't even remember who he was, just random inspection information from 9th grade), the entire 55 command armed regulation show:
1. Report In
2. Inspection Arms
3. Ready, Port Arms
4. Order Arms
5.. Dress Right Dress
6. Ready Front
7. Parade Rest
8. Platoon Attention
9. 15 Count Manual Arms
10. Count Off
11. Close Interval March
12. Normal Interval March
13. Open Ranks March
14. Close Ranks March
15. Right Step March
16. Platoon Halt
17. Left Face
18. Left Step March
19. Platoon Halt
20. About Face
21. Right Shoulder Arms
22. Forward March
23. Column Right March
24. Column Right March
25. Right Flank March
26. Left Flank March
27. Column Left March
28. Left Shoulder Arms
29. Rear March
30. Rear March
31. Platoon Halt
32. File From the Right March
33. Platoon Halt
34. Column of Threes to the Left March
35. Port Arms
36. Column Left March
37. Double Time March
38. Quick Time March
39. Column Left March
40. Left Shoulder Arms
41. Platoon Halt
42. Column Half Left March
43. Column Half Left March
44. Rear March
45. Rear March
46. Eyes Right
47. Ready Front
48. Column Left March
49. Port Arms
50. Right Shoulder Arms
51. Column Left March
52. Left Flank March
53. Change Step March
54. Platoon Halt
55. Report Out
and a slew of other random trivia, such as that Charles Guiteau proclaimed "I am a Stalwart of the Stalwarts...and Arthur is now President" before shooting James Garfield in the back twice and attempting to walk away), but again, it's just one of those things I don't really care about. Orange juice is there for me when I need it (unless I just polished it all off, in which case more is waiting for me just inside the little freezer things inside BJ's a ways down Central Ave), and that works for me. I don't need to complicate my life with useless information. I like to keep it simple and streamlined. This is precisely why introductory economics gives me so much trouble; it's all mired down in frivolities that I just don't have time for. I have bigger and bolder things, such as credit card houses, on my agenda.
I don't suppose I've ever really been a fan of jigsaw puzzles. Aside from my thinking that the word "jigsaw" is highly absurd and an unnecessary addition to the English language, they just aren't that puzzling. For one thing, all of the pieces that go along the border have a nice straight edge that just screams "I GO ON THE EDGE! PUT ME THERE!" For another thing, there's always a picture on the front of the box to go by. Life would be a lot more fun if someone chucked a 3000 piece jigsaw puzzle at you with no box and no picture guide and said "Finish this in ten minutes or I eat up every remaining English muffin in the universe." Now that would be pressure. That would be a challenge. I might gain some respect for jigsaw puzzles then, except even that scenario would not change the overly goofy name or the shrieking, wailing edge pieces.
Of all the different electronic media out there, my favorite definitely has to be the CD. I mean, if you put the things in a microwave and cook them they spark and smoke. How much freaking cooler can you get than that? In times of intense frustration, it always helps me to take one of those AOL free trial disks and hurl it at the wall with absurd force that causes it to shatter on impact. Heck, even when I'm not frustrated it's a barrel of monkeys. Plus, CDs are cheap, they hold a reasonable amount of space, and have a nifty little hole in the center through which you can put a finger, if your finger is small enough. I think only my pinkies of pinky fingers actually fits through that hole these days, but I still remember with fondness the days of my youth when I could put any finger I chose through the center of a CD. What a delight. I only wish that CDs were, say, three feet in diameter, because then they would just totally dominate life. Just imagine, a disc larger than a vinyl record, all shiny and floppy like (a CD that big would certainly be floppy, no?) that could double as a frisbee in a pinch, and if broken down (say, via extremely forceful impact with a wall or maybe a hammer), they would still smoke and spark when put in a microwave. Sometimes I guess size does matter, but whoever invented CDs opted for the less fun, albeit maybe more convenient, size that we are all familiar with.
Note: the above paragraph does not apply to DVDs. They are not fun at all. DVDs are very vain, as is apparent when they get a slight scratch and henceforth refuse to play without skipping at least seven times for every three minutes of playback. Some day DVDs will be less temperamental, and as the superior storage devices that they are (some multiple gigabytes, I'm told, but again I don't bother myself with trifling matters such as that), they will surpass CDs as the most supreme electronic media. Keep trying, DVDs. I almost love you too.
I am in somewhat dire need of a shave. This isn't to say that I have a beard or anything; if that were the case, I would probably just keep it there, because beards are rather nifty until gross stale food starts collecting in them, at which point they become a bio-hazard and should immediately be eliminated with napalm or some other such effective hair removal treatment (like shaving). Instead, I have several to many scraggly little hairs adorning my upper lip, and I'm actually quite disappointed with my unimpressive facial hair growth. Suffice it so say I am nowhere near as rugged as Action Hank, although I daresay some day I will grow a little Tony Almeida-esque soul patch (but only because Tony Almeida had one, and he was one freaking heck of a character. Thanks a lot, people in charge of 24, for killing off the second coolest guy on the show, and David Palmer, and Michelle Dessler (well, actually no one liked her, so that's okay. She screwed Tony over after season 3, remember?), and Curtis Manning, and even George Mason, who turned out to be an okay guy after he got radiation poisoning, and Ryan Chappelle, who I felt sorry for only right before and after he got shot, because I actually think he was a bit of a jerk; still, no one deserves to die because of that, with the possible exception of Charles "Idiot President Turned Bad Guy" Logan, and all those darn terrorists, but they always get their just desserts, which satisfies me just fine. And I swear, if they bring back Kim "A Mountain Lion!" Bauer, I will commit ceremonial suicide (probably Hara Kiri) in front of the television, because her superior ability to cause nitpicky trouble and otherwise just be a plot distracting pest far, far outweighed her level of attractiveness (and yes, Elisha Cuthbert isn't a bad looking chick, but it just wasn't worth it. 24 isn't about the babes; it's about Jack, and if you don't know that by now you ought to turn on a different channel because you are wasting a valuable broadcast on your overly thickened skull)) just below my lower lip. Alas, until then I best just shave off the disappointing clutter that adorns the lower portion of my head, because otherwise I'll just look like a person who never shaves. Ew.
I frankly can't imagine what more I could possibly spend this blog writing about. I daresay tonight has put me into something of a creative frenzy type deal, which effectively made me spin off a rather stupid amount of tangent ideas to the main ones. I think actually this post, if broken down to its elements, would be about three sentences long.
1. English muffins are boss.
2. Orange juice is boss.
3. I need to shave.
Well, if you took nothing else from this entire session of nested parenthetical asides, then at least take the true meanings of this post, which are the above three statements. Have fun being kids, and don't grow up too fast on me.
The End
posted by The Chris at 9:47 PM
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