Chips Ahoy Part II

There were a few responses to the list of generic cookie names that I really couldn't let go by unnoticed.

The first is from my mom: "How about Pirates of the Carob Bean? (in health food stores now.)"

From my father: "How 'bout: 'I stepped in Dog Chip' ??"

And finally, a message I received on facebook from my very funny friend Shawn Carlow: "As to the important matter of Chips Ahoy! knockoffs from your blog, I'd go for Chips Annoy! And they would be cookies that defy conventional logic by being at a significantly higher rate of chips to cookie dough than has ever been done before. So much so that eaters would eventually start spitting the cookies out, saying "This is just too much." But I would only do that because I'm running the company, and I got it from my rich ex-wife as part of the divorce settlement, and I'll show her. Probably Treasure Chips would do that just as well."

In addition to coming up with elaborate stories about heartbreak and baked goods, Shawn also does Stand Up around Los Angeles. To see where he'll be performing next, check out his MySpace page here. While you're there, read his blog and watch a few of his short films. I love the Godzilla one.

Health Tips For The Wealthy

I recently came across an article in a popular publication whose headline boasted "secret" health tips from foreign countries. Imagining all kinds of obscure yogic and food-based remedies for common maladies, I proceeded. Unfortunately, the article listed only four, and they were less than earth-shattering.

One suggestion was to drink wine with your pals ala the French. Reasonable, I suppose. Wine's supposed to be rich in some kind of...thing that's good for your ...whatever. Plus, boozin' it up with your buddies endorses mental health. Makes sense, in an "I already knew that" kind of way.

Another pointer was to go out for more sushi. Duh, people- fish is healthy for you and it's instant portion control. It's also rather pricey. As is the next suggestion- Going on vacation! Bombshell: People who go on vacations live longer than those folks who work 51 weeks a year, leaving their desks only to pee and pilfer cheetos from the break room.

And the final foreign health secret? Have health insurance! Wait wait wait. Do you mean to tell me that people who are able go to a doctor for regular nutsack check ups are likely to be healthier than people who just let their nutsacks go unchecked?!

Sure, health insurance is something my employer fortunately provides, and I do think it's a great idea. But the rest of it? A more accurate title for this article would have been "Four Ways That People With Money to Burn Can Have More Radiant Skin." I'd love to discuss my latest proctology appointment while I booze it up over wine and sushi with my friends on a long vacation. But, as is the case with most people, I'll be in my office, talking about a rash I can't get diagnosed while I guzzle diet coke and microwave kettle corn.

There She Is

I spent Saturday night at my parents' house, watching the 2009 Miss America Pageant. It's a tradition my mom and I try to keep alive each year. It's not that we're obsessed with pageants. Tiaras and ballgowns don't make us all googly-eyed. We don't particularly enjoy the parade of bronzed bodies in bikinis and heels. No, the reason my mom and I watch is for the talent portion of the evening. If you've never seen a shellacked, glistening twenty-two-year-old pound out a Chopin nocturne on a Yamaha, well, you just aren't whole.

But this year, the assortment of talent was rather disappointing. When the most interesting act is a tap dance to Fever, things are pretty bleak. (No offense, Miss Iowa- I respect your moxie.) Can't someone pick up a banjo? What about bird calls? Or the lost art of the Geisha? These are all respectable talents, and yet they've been pushed aside in favor of robotic ballet and singing that could easily be confused with yelling.

BUT- the talent competition was redeemed by the addition of "pop up" factoids about each of the performers. As we watched each woman writhe or belt, we were treated to interesting tidbits displayed briefly on the screen. Somehow, though, the information we received seemed out of place. Luckily, my dad had his camera. (Yes! Father Cole watched Miss America- and enjoyed himself, dammit.) Each time a piece of out of place data came up, we paused the show and took a photo.

Here is the first. It's Miss Indiana (Spoiler Alert: She won the crown) singing what I believe was called Via De La Rosa.


Surprise! She shows dairy cattle at her county fair! Which is amusing. But not as amusing as the next contestant, Miss California. And guess what?



She has performed at a Raiders halftime show! In her tutu? Do you think she got hit with any flying beer cans? Discuss.

And finally, nothing is more disconcerting than this:

Uh huh. Miss New York has sung at a PRISON before. A moment of silence for her mental innocence, please.

What were they thinking with these? My mom calls them "Miss America Trading Cards." I'm glad she came up with something to call them, because I couldn't.

It's Tax Time Again

The only thing more exciting than getting your new issue of Gourmet magazine in the mail is opening it up to the page about 30-minute pork loin recipes and finding your W-2 inside!

That's right, kids! It's tax time! Now, back in ought-seven, Turbo Tax held a contest on YouTube: Make a rap about their product! If the YouTube-crazed public liked you, you could win prizes! I can't remember what the prizes were, because I think they were tax software and maybe like... a stuffed monkey or something. Anyway, it wasn't important.

David Malloy and I decided to enter the contest, so we wrote a rap starring MY PARENTS- who are incredibly good sports for participating.

So, in honor of W-2s arriving everywhere, I present to you, The TurboTax Rap:



And remember: Always check your food magazines for important legal paperwork.

Another Plug

FunBox Comedy's back with another delightful video...

It's WASH MY RIDE!!!



I love these guys.

FUN FACT! Rachel Noll, who plays the car owner, and I went to college together- we didn't meet until the day of the shoot! (I was on set for moral support, and also to hold the boom mic)

A Thousand Chips Delicious!

A few months ago, after the kitchen at work had been recently re-stocked, my coworker Gina and I were delighted to find a package of chocolate chip cookies on the shelves! "Chips Ahoy!" we shouted! But, upon further inspection, we found that they were the generic Safeway brand of cookies, called Treasure Chips. The cookies, while delicious, bore a somewhat unappealing name. So Gina and I decided to come up with a list of new names for a generic version of Chips Ahoy. Today, when I was sorting through a pile of dusty post-it notes under my monitor, I found that list:

- Chips Aweigh!
- Chips, Ho!
- 20,000 Chips Under the Sea
- Chip Shape!
- Chipwrecked!
- Chip n' Whales (Whoa. That one was a stretch.)
- The SS Chips
- Shiver Me Chippers!
And my personal, ridiculous favorite:
- There Arrrrrrrr So Many Chips!


I think I'd be inclined to eat these products over Treasure Chips. What does that even mean?

Swimming Dillemma

So, Monday was my first day back to work after a two-week hiatus, and Tuesday was my first day of working out after a two-and-a-half-week hiatus. Now, there are a lot of reasons that I find it difficult to drag myself over to the Rose Bowl to swim. These include (but are not limited to):

* Being tired
* Lady troubles
* Feeling bloated from tacos and/or cupcakes
* It's cold
* It's Tuesday
* Mothra attack

But Tuesday marked the dawn of an entirely new excuse. As I was preparing to leave, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and my hair looked tremendous! I had it back in a bun, but the ends were poking out as if lovingly arranged by six or seven European stylists. Little tendrils were falling around my neck, and my bangs had somehow miraculously retained an impressive level of volume after 12 hours in the office. I admired my hair from all possible angles, an exercise which lasted a good two or three minutes.

Let's see, I thought. Who will I be gracing with my presence tonight? Who will be fortunate enough to gaze upon my fantastic updo?

No one, that's who. In a half hour, I was going to be jamming my entire head, hairs and all, into an off-white silicone swim cap. Let me tell you- this is nowhere near an acceptable look for a person. Since I spend all day at a desk, in a room without any windows, my skin is untouched by the sun. I'm not kidding. I probably have rickets. Under the fluorescent lights of the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center locker room, the swim cap is almost the same color as my skin, which, when I don my bathing suit, makes me look like an old Greco-Roman Wrestler.

Hey- my New Year's Resolution was to look good. I'm sure you can see my dilemma.

Eventually, my better judgment returned, and I ended up in the pool, but not before taking a picture of my hair. Which I will not post here, because it did not turn out well.