We all have our favorite desserts. Perhaps yours is the pumpkin pie your grandmother used to make at Thanksgiving, the cookies they used to have in your high school’s cafeteria, or just straight up Ben and Jerry’s.
Colonel Henry Moak LOVED the pound cake the Army rationed out during the Vietnam War. After forty years of service to our country, Col. Moak is retiring and he wants pound cake at his celebration, which is being held today at the Pentagon. To be specific, he wants Army C-ration pound cake. Even more exact, he wants the one from one of his old ration kits he saved. He’s planning to eat the old pound cake today… if he still can.
I am dying to know what happens. Regardless, I know I’ll be a tad bit grossed out. The thought of moldy pound cake is nasty, but then again so is the thought of perfectly intact cake 40 years later. Eek!
But let him eat cake. And for his sake, I hope it’s still good. He’s definitely earned it.
A month ago, I wrote about Henry Allingham, who celebrated his 113th birthday, and becoming the world’s oldest man, with a glass of champagne. Henry died this morning at the age of 113.
He was Britain’s last surviving veteran of World War I, a preacher of peace and the author of a memoir.
The post is late and it’s Chris’ fault. It’s all his fault. That aside, I am OBSESSED with the Evan and Randi routine. AMAZING!
Hello SWTCTW readers. I’m back – and so is SYTYCD. I was getting a little disappointed with the performances this season. But Wednesday night’s show rocked it. I don’t really have any snarky comments about it.
Randi and Evan – This, for me, is similar to the “bleeding love” number from last season in that I’m going to say that I’m going to learn it – and then I won’t.
So about me not having any snarky comments – you should have known better… Two things:
(1)Seriously, what was the deal with that Russian Folk routine? I think Nigel even recognized that it was a mistake.
(2)Tyce was back as a judge. I don’t know how you all feel, my SWTCTW public, but I think he’s gotten more obnoxious. In addition, his orange juice metaphor may be an early sign that he has contracted PAS. While this is certainly not a confirmed case, the prospect is alarming.
I don’t want to leave you frightened and down – because this week was great. So here’s one more clip:
Kayla and Kupono – Pretty cool. Love Mia Michaels.
Voted off this week: Phillip and Caitlin (I’m shocked too)
Yesterday, I flew home to Denver from DC’s National Airport. Things were looking up, at first: my dad had a voucher for a free flight, so I got to splurge and get a direct flight home (this was HUGE); I had managed to pack for 10 days into a carry on (ladies, I’ll give you a moment to let this sink in. 10 DAYS!!!); and I got to the airport on time, with a smooth trip to security, and with magazines, a Weeds DVD, and a Chuck Klosterman book to occupy myself.
I was pretty thrilled about all of this, but I should have known that it was just a tease. I settled into my seat in the waiting area, inexplicably surrounded by only Chinese people, and munched on some snacks. Then, I casually — innocently — turned to verify my flight time, and it had been bumped back a full three-and-a-half hours from 5:26 p.m. to 9:01 p.m. Now, I’ve had my fair share of flight problems. Except when compared to the people who plunged into the Atlantic Ocean a few weeks ago, you might say that I have some pretty damn bad luck when it comes to flying. And here’s the thing: typically, I stay calm. I sort of like airports, and I like being able to be by myself and read magazines and people-watch guiltlessly. For some reason, however, this flight delay REALLY pissed me off. My BBM fest with my sister indicates this:
Me: Of course things couldn’t go too smoothly…My flight has just been delayed by 3.5 hours Me: Mother fucker Me: I’m so pissed right now Maddy: What?? Are you serious. Is there another flight you can get on?? Me: I don’t know…I can go check but I don’t know how this stuff works since I used dad’s voucher Maddy: I would go ask and just see that is ridiculous. Why? Is it bad weather? Me: Not even a little bit Maddy: It must be from wherever the flight is coming from Maddy: I would go ask Me: I WANT TO KILL SOMEONE [Ed. note: Ah, first-world problems]
More chatting, more chatting, and then I take melodrama to a whole new level:
Me: Ha yeah I just want to cry because this is probably the first direct flight I’ve taken in 5 years and I packed so well and of course something has to go wrong Me: [Four letter word I’m embarrassed to publish] Me: Maybe I will move to Denver and never travel outside of driving distance for the rest of my life Me: And now Sarah Palin is on the cover of Time magazine on the TV in front of me Me: I might explode [Ed. note: At this point I had considered typing something about wanting to bomb the airport, but I figured that the C.I.A. or the F.B.I. or whatever probably, somehow, monitors text messages for mentions of bombing airports]
And later…
Me: Oh snap I’m boozing. I forgot I can drink legally
The rest of our conversation continues similarly. My flight did that fun thing where it got delayed ten minutes at a time until it was at 9:45 p.m., and by that time, I was calmed down, watching Weeds standing up and doing minor yoga poses. I also ate the largest, most delicious sandwich of my life. Thank you, Potbelly (and Camille).
Things ended up being oookay, and around 9:45 they moved our gate and were RUSHING us to line up and have our boarding passes, like, totally ready, and out, and also definitely don’t use your cell phone or talk because we are getting on this plane NOW. We’re all eager and ready, and then they drop the bomb: “By the way, we are waiting on this one flight attendant, and if she doesn’t show, your flight will be canceled. But don’t worry! You guys have been great!”
This is when minor anarchy breaks out and people start getting really pissed. There’s that classic loudly chatty lady who’s all “What is this, the twilight zone??” and everyone chuckles appreciatively. I find myself surrounded by drunk adults (and I was sober — Weeds and Chuck K. won out over wine, oddly enough). I felt strangely awkward around these drunk adults. Being around drunk people my age while sober is one thing, but drunk adults? I felt like I was observing a different species. There was flirting (gasp!) among people with spouses, drunk businessmen, and a really obnoxious lady who seemed to fancy herself a modern day version of Kathy Bates in Titanic. I observed and smiled and laughed and made sympathetic comments where appropriate.
Luckily, we did end up boarding, and that rogue flight attendant was found. They didn’t let us get too calm, though; they hurried us on the plane, saying, “Seriously people, if you don’t sit down in the next six minutes, our pilots will become illegal.” Um, awesome.
Aaaand then I passed out for four hours and woke up, alive, in Denver. Good story, right?
The thing about miserable flying stories is that they’re a lot like wacky dream stories. Chuck Klosterman (it should be clear by now that I’m totally and completely in love with him, or at least his writing) talks about the strange truth about dream stories in Killing Yourself to Live. Every singleone of your friends has a bizarre, or hilarious, or terrifying, or physic dream story at some point, and they always want to share it with you. The problem is that most dream stories are only truly interesting to the person who dreamed them. But when someone says, “Oh man, let me tell you about this insane dream I had last night,” you can’t stop them. You have to listen, and be amazed, and maybe counter with your own only-interesting-to-you dream story.
It’s the same with flying stories. Everyone has miserable flying stories, because airlines these days (with a few notable exceptions) suck. And you guys didn’t really care to hear that whole story, but I told you anyway. This is what happens when you have a blog, and three hours to kill, and a glass of wine. You’re welcome!
P.S. Last night, I had this crazy dream…my teeth fell out, and I had to fight Michael Jackson for the insurance check to get them replaced, and…yeah. You get the point.
UPDATE: The comments indicate that I am sooo not alone in my hatred of United. Loyal reader Beth F shared this wonderful video, which puts our collective anger to music:
I don’t know what it is about babies and animals talking or doing uncharacteristic things that makes them so successful in television commercials, but apparently it doesn’t get old.
This is the number one viral video on the interwebs right now. Watch it, and then tell me why. Pleeeeeeeease.
I love indie films (and indie anything, really — for the Fourth of July, iTunes gave away 20 free indie songs and by God, it felt like Christmas!), but I am a little bit self-conscious of the fact that everyone loves indie films. Remember when Garden State first came out and it was like THE movie to be obsessed with? I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t listen to that soundtrack on repeat for most of the beginning of college. I’m thinking back about it, and pretty much every song gives me some sort of overwhelming feeling of nostaliga. “New Slang”? Laying out on a boat off the coast of Italy and just cold lovin’ my life. “I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You”? Emo nights falling asleep with my iPod (in, yep, a bunk bed) sophomore year of college. “Let Go”? Away messages before drunken college nights. I’d often make my AIM away message “drink up baby doll,” and I’m embarrassed because now I know that the lyrics are actually “drink up baby down.” What does that even mean, anyway?!
The point is, I like indie films and the music in indie films and the people in indie films. (John Krasinski, Zach Braff…I’m looking at you.) But I also love this video. It’s spot on:
This just in from the Department Of Things That Are Unsurprising: Ex-competitive speed eaters report weight gain, chest pain and clogged arteries. Oh my!
“Any way you look at it, it’s not healthy,” Dave “Coondog” O’Karma, a retired competitive eater, said of his former hobby. “You do it once in a while, and it’s fun. I don’t think loading your body with fat and salt is healthy.”
After 35 years of gobbling hamburger, oysters, eggs, corn on the cob and even bull testicles, O’Karma listened to his family and retired from the competition.
Maybe his family was just upset that he gobbled bull testicles. Moving on!
According to the article, the effects of speed eating hadn’t been tested before. If I had to venture as to why, I think because everyone would know that it’s bad for you. That’s common sense. But someone just HAD to do a test on it.
n 2007, four University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine doctors who specialize in gastroenterology and radiology conducted an experiment on the stomach activities of a competitive eater and an average eater. The average eater ate seven hot dogs before he felt sick. Champion speed eater Tim Janus ate 36 hot dogs in 10 minutes before doctors intervened.
The doctors had to intervene!
If you want to watch people clog their arteries just for funsies, Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest airs tomorrow on ESPN. Happy hot dog gobbling this weekend, folks!
Here’s a silly news piece about booby girls in bikinis selling fireworks, but the best part is the news reporter. Filled with double meanings, there is one classic part where he… well. I don’t want to give it all away. But it is HILARIOUS.
I’ve been trying to embed this video for 25 minutes, but it won’t let me. So just click this link. Make me happy. Do it.
And in case I’m too lazy to post tomorrow (quite likely), HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!
Here is a Youtube gem! Brought to my attention by our Seoul correspondent, it is sure to impress. The clips come from a 1992 documentary about Wildwood, NJ. Just watch. You won’t be disappointed.
Kevin Jonas, the “Ike Hanson” of the Jonas Brothers, is engaged. His fiancee is 22-year-old Danielle Deleasa. The two met while their families were vacationing in the Bahamas, and according to People:
When Deleasa, a former hairdresser, first met Jonas two years ago, she admits, “I didn’t know who the Jonas Brothers were.” It was Kevin who eagerly pursued her after meeting her and then spotting her walking on the beach with a flower in her hair.
How romantic. She is a former hairdresser? I suppose her job now is being Kevin Jonas’ fiancee and fighting off tweens.
“She said yes, yes, yes like 500 times super fast in a row,” the oldest of the Jonas Brothers tells PEOPLE exclusively.
Oh. Emm. Gee.
Kevin Jonas is just 21. At least he’ll be able to drink at his wedding? Are there pregnancy whispers yet?
A month ago, I wrote about Henry Allingham, who celebrated his 113th birthday, and becoming the world’s oldest man, with a glass of champagne. Henry died this morning at the age of 113.
Yesterday, I flew home to Denver from DC’s National Airport. Things were looking up, at first: my dad had a voucher for a free flight, so I got to splurge and get a direct flight home (this was HUGE); I had managed to pack for 10 days into a carry on (ladies, I’ll give you a moment to let this sink in. 10 DAYS!!!); and I got to the airport on time, with a smooth trip to security, and with magazines, a Weeds DVD, and a Chuck Klosterman book to occupy myself.
six words to change the world. 