You would think that Jack Black appearing on American Idol would make me hate him... I don't hate him. He was raising awareness for something, and he made Paula Abdul look like an idiot. KG was there too. Watch this.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Chicagofarts
Weddingfarts is in Chicago. I used to live in Chicago. I wanted Weddingfarts to come visit so we could eat Chicago. He's going to have to eat it himself. I hope he eats the right pizza, and I hope he ignores the hot dogs.
Bubbly Soda Fart
I spent this morning fixing a web server issue at the Coca-Cola headquarters in downtown Atlanta. There is a guest parking lot and a shuttle that drives you to the main building. At the shuttle stop is a Coca-Cola vending machine. I was curious how much a bottle of Coke costs in the Coca-Cola parking lot so I walked over to the machine. There was a small scrolling LED display on the vending machine. The words "Enjoy Coca-Cola" scrolled slowly across the screen followed by the word: "FREE" I pressed the button for Dasani water and immediately a fresh, cold bottle rattled out of the machine. Imagine that.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Old Man Patchfarts
I may or may not be going to Chicago today for a conference of lawyers. Why do I not know yet? Because I'm a lawyer. I live on the edge.
That's not the point. The point is what I decided to pack: a sports jacket. It seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. I've never packed a sports jacket before. Granted, I've owned this particular sports jacket since I was 16. But packing it still counts towards my old man patch.
That's not the point. The point is what I decided to pack: a sports jacket. It seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. I've never packed a sports jacket before. Granted, I've owned this particular sports jacket since I was 16. But packing it still counts towards my old man patch.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
A Bathroom Adventure Fart
I use my cell phone when I'm on the toilet. I use it look up sports scores. I read the news. I play Texas Hold'em King 2. I break records in Brick Breaker (last week I beat every single board).
During the clean-up phase, I always place my cell phone on a small metal ledge that is bolted onto the wall a couple of inches above the toilet paper. It is the perfect place to temporarily store my phone. It is dry, level, and out of the way. Sometimes I wonder whether or not the metal ledge was installed just for this purpose.
Today, I did the unthinkable. I left my phone on the metal ledge. I did not realize this until I got all the way back to my desk. I jumped up and walked at an extremely brisk pace back to the bathroom. The stall had already been re-occupied by an unknown co-worker. That's when things got awkward. I stood in the middle of the bathroom and boomed, "Did I leave my Blackberry on the metal shelf above the toilet paper?" After what felt like an eternity, an embarrassed voice responded, "ummm...I don't see it."
I returned to my desk to regroup. I decided to wait a couple of minutes and then return to the stall. It was now empty, but no phone. I checked the sink area. No phone. Flustered, I left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the receptionist.
"Did someone turn in a cell phone?" I asked. She nodded and reached into her drawer. With her thumb and pointer finger, she pinched the phone and dangled it in front of me. Our eyes connected and she made a funny face. We both knew where the phone had been. It was a very embarrassing moment. I delicately removed the phone from her fingers, mumbled "thank you," and quickly walked away.
It felt as if my least favorite team had hit four home runs in a row against my favorite team and then wedding farts took advantage of my weak moment to rub it in....
During the clean-up phase, I always place my cell phone on a small metal ledge that is bolted onto the wall a couple of inches above the toilet paper. It is the perfect place to temporarily store my phone. It is dry, level, and out of the way. Sometimes I wonder whether or not the metal ledge was installed just for this purpose.
Today, I did the unthinkable. I left my phone on the metal ledge. I did not realize this until I got all the way back to my desk. I jumped up and walked at an extremely brisk pace back to the bathroom. The stall had already been re-occupied by an unknown co-worker. That's when things got awkward. I stood in the middle of the bathroom and boomed, "Did I leave my Blackberry on the metal shelf above the toilet paper?" After what felt like an eternity, an embarrassed voice responded, "ummm...I don't see it."
I returned to my desk to regroup. I decided to wait a couple of minutes and then return to the stall. It was now empty, but no phone. I checked the sink area. No phone. Flustered, I left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the receptionist.
"Did someone turn in a cell phone?" I asked. She nodded and reached into her drawer. With her thumb and pointer finger, she pinched the phone and dangled it in front of me. Our eyes connected and she made a funny face. We both knew where the phone had been. It was a very embarrassing moment. I delicately removed the phone from her fingers, mumbled "thank you," and quickly walked away.
It felt as if my least favorite team had hit four home runs in a row against my favorite team and then wedding farts took advantage of my weak moment to rub it in....
A Tuesday You Can Feel Good About
You've probably wondered at some point why Tuesdays have felt just so, well, empty, since February. Is it the lack of snow? The long, sunny days?
Wonder no longer. We've simply been missing TMQ. But, luckily, it's back.
UPDATE: Nevermind. It's not very informative or funny this week.
Wonder no longer. We've simply been missing TMQ. But, luckily, it's back.
UPDATE: Nevermind. It's not very informative or funny this week.
My lunches
My lunches have been so boring lately. It's really painful. .Gov's, I'm looking for help here. Help me. Give me ideas of what to have for lunch. If it helps my zip code is 91356. Here are the rules:
Between 7-10 dollars
Not Subway hell
Organic bastards are a possibility, but not their big ass organic supermarket.
Winning lunch picture will be posted soon.
How's that for something to get you through a long lonely Tuesday?
Between 7-10 dollars
Not Subway hell
Organic bastards are a possibility, but not their big ass organic supermarket.
Winning lunch picture will be posted soon.
How's that for something to get you through a long lonely Tuesday?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Nothing to See Here
Don't worry. The Sports Guy just doomed the Red Sox to another crappy season losing to the Yankees.
Not the Baseball Post.
Hello weddingfarters. Do you know how sometimes you have a big thing to do, like clean your entire apartment, but then you also have lots of little things you should probably do too, like the dishes, but you don't do the little things because you say, well, if I'm going to spend my time with the dishes, I really should just clean the whole place, but then you don't do the big things because they're just too big for any moment when you think you should maybe do them (and because you are lazy and tired and hungry), and then the little things turn into big things too?
Do you know about that? Well, that's the way it is with me and the baseball post. It's coming. Don't worry. I'm just sorry that I let it stop me from telling you what I've been eating for lunch. Today I had the good roast beef sandwich, but I ruined it by getting cucumber on it in addition to the normal lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo. Cucumbers are delicious, but they block the mayo from coating the roast beef, threaten to slip out of the sandwich and get mayo on your pants (didn't happen though!), and generally don't belong in a sandwich. Well, now you know that too. Then I had baked lays, which I don't like, but sailor jacket likes, so I thought I'd see if I was wrong about that. I may be. I'll have to try again.
You should also know that on Saturday I went to the fish market for a half-pound of cajun peel n' eats. This place deserves its own post as well.
This is about baseball, but it's not the baseball post: I was very happy that I was watching the Red Sox game last night when they scored four home runs in a row. It's one of those things that you could hear about later but not fully appreciate because you already know what's going to happen. Instead, I watched it unfold and was a bit besides myself. I was also very happy that I was watching it at home so I could play it again and again.
And, for your information, I've been feeling kind of nervous all day. Like stomach-funny nervous. I think it's because of the NFL draft.
Do you know about that? Well, that's the way it is with me and the baseball post. It's coming. Don't worry. I'm just sorry that I let it stop me from telling you what I've been eating for lunch. Today I had the good roast beef sandwich, but I ruined it by getting cucumber on it in addition to the normal lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo. Cucumbers are delicious, but they block the mayo from coating the roast beef, threaten to slip out of the sandwich and get mayo on your pants (didn't happen though!), and generally don't belong in a sandwich. Well, now you know that too. Then I had baked lays, which I don't like, but sailor jacket likes, so I thought I'd see if I was wrong about that. I may be. I'll have to try again.
You should also know that on Saturday I went to the fish market for a half-pound of cajun peel n' eats. This place deserves its own post as well.
This is about baseball, but it's not the baseball post: I was very happy that I was watching the Red Sox game last night when they scored four home runs in a row. It's one of those things that you could hear about later but not fully appreciate because you already know what's going to happen. Instead, I watched it unfold and was a bit besides myself. I was also very happy that I was watching it at home so I could play it again and again.
And, for your information, I've been feeling kind of nervous all day. Like stomach-funny nervous. I think it's because of the NFL draft.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What was left off my Turkey Sandwich
I went to the fancy grocery store to get my sandwich today. I went there for two reasons:
1. Boar's head deli selections
2. The big bags of baked Lays
I ordered my turkey sandwich as usual. Light Mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, and here's where I made my mistake... I said "everything else". I think that at the fancy grocery store, which coincidentally does not even claim to be an organic bastard haven, everything else means nothing.
My sandwich has lettuce, tomato, turkey, mayo, and mustard. No avocado, pickles, or sprouts. Including those items would have been "everything else".
It's entirely possible that fancy grocery store was schooled in sandwich making by Subway Hell today.
1. Boar's head deli selections
2. The big bags of baked Lays
I ordered my turkey sandwich as usual. Light Mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, and here's where I made my mistake... I said "everything else". I think that at the fancy grocery store, which coincidentally does not even claim to be an organic bastard haven, everything else means nothing.
My sandwich has lettuce, tomato, turkey, mayo, and mustard. No avocado, pickles, or sprouts. Including those items would have been "everything else".
It's entirely possible that fancy grocery store was schooled in sandwich making by Subway Hell today.
videofarts?
There is little to no chance that this video will work. If it does it's pretty funny. Little kids cursing is probably one of the funnier things. I used to make my brother say asshole when he was 2.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
On a Happier Note
I was recently informed by the Canadian that there was a special fact about the Folklorist that I did not previously know: the Folklorist had, at some point in the past, comprehensively researched the offerings of wings in the DC metro area, including Maryland and Virginia.
Understand: this was no small undertaking. This involved lots of driving. This involved eating wings several times a week. This involved eating some very, very mediocre wings. At the end of the day, the Folklorist had visited upwards of 33 wing establishments.
We talked, the Folklorist and I, about all of this on Sunday. She tends towards the crispy in wings as well, and also values a good vaspy sauce. I was informed that mumbo wings are delicious. I regaled her with stories of country sweet. Apparently the best wings are in Reston, although she mentioned that there were very serviceable take out wings available in Georgetown as well. I was excited, Folklorist was excited, and Canadian was concerned.
Well, what could you do after a conversation like that? Only one thing: eat wings. The Folklorist knew her stuff. The take out place not only let you order online, but they clearly knew their wings. You could specify in your online order that you want drumsticks only (no!), flats only (imagine!), extra crispy (good), or extra "wet" (facilitates easy eating of flats, it turns out). Understand what I'm saying: the site actually used the word "flats." Check it out yerself.
They had a full range of sauce options-- including mumbo, but that's for another day-- and dipping options. Excellent steak fries as well, although I have yet to encounter a wing place outside the homeland that also serves the traditional doughy pizza accompaniment. Canadian and I dug in, and then we all learned about temple wing farts, which are a whole other story.
Understand: this was no small undertaking. This involved lots of driving. This involved eating wings several times a week. This involved eating some very, very mediocre wings. At the end of the day, the Folklorist had visited upwards of 33 wing establishments.
We talked, the Folklorist and I, about all of this on Sunday. She tends towards the crispy in wings as well, and also values a good vaspy sauce. I was informed that mumbo wings are delicious. I regaled her with stories of country sweet. Apparently the best wings are in Reston, although she mentioned that there were very serviceable take out wings available in Georgetown as well. I was excited, Folklorist was excited, and Canadian was concerned.
Well, what could you do after a conversation like that? Only one thing: eat wings. The Folklorist knew her stuff. The take out place not only let you order online, but they clearly knew their wings. You could specify in your online order that you want drumsticks only (no!), flats only (imagine!), extra crispy (good), or extra "wet" (facilitates easy eating of flats, it turns out). Understand what I'm saying: the site actually used the word "flats." Check it out yerself.
They had a full range of sauce options-- including mumbo, but that's for another day-- and dipping options. Excellent steak fries as well, although I have yet to encounter a wing place outside the homeland that also serves the traditional doughy pizza accompaniment. Canadian and I dug in, and then we all learned about temple wing farts, which are a whole other story.
I Don't Want to Talk About It Farts
There are some things that need to be shared, and then never again mentioned.
Last night, the Canadian and I were walking to the train. A rat ran over both of our feet. We both agreed that there was a distinct, indelible feeling to the experience. It's not worth describing. It's nothing you need to really know about.
And we all must never, ever talk about this again.
Last night, the Canadian and I were walking to the train. A rat ran over both of our feet. We both agreed that there was a distinct, indelible feeling to the experience. It's not worth describing. It's nothing you need to really know about.
And we all must never, ever talk about this again.
Monday, April 16, 2007
pocketcallfarts
That's never really happened to me before. I took my phone out of my pocket and it had magically called weddingfarts. Sorry weddingfarts.
Unintentional Funny Farts
We here at weddingfarts have little to add to the Imus fiasco of last week. It is best, instead, to let Peter King have the last word:
Even if he personally cured cancer, the fact is you can't have people on public airwaves calling fine black woman prostitutes. That is intolerable.We agree: those calls have no place on the radio.
Wegmans, 1-0
I just watched Wegmans beat Whole Foods and Trader Joes in this dumb competition on national TV.
Which is just to say, now everyone else knows too.
Which is just to say, now everyone else knows too.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Ghetto Burger
--------------------------------------------------------
WARNING: gentle .gov's and vegetarians - this blog is
a graphic re-creation of a cheese burger experience. If
you do not eat meat, cheese, bacon, or any combination
there of, please read this post at your own risk:
--------------------------------------------------------
Every so often you experience something so big, so different, so stunning, that it changes the way you look at cheese burgers forever. Yesterday, I had one of those experiences. Yesterday, I met Ms. Ann.
To preface this story, we have been hearing rumors about Ms. Ann and her burgers since March when The Wall Street Journal published this article on the best burgers in America. Ms. Ann's Ghetto Burger topped the list. It was Y2K's birthday and we wanted an experience. We took the afternoon off work and called up a couple of our most adventurous friends. Thus our journey began...
Ms. Ann is a grumpy old grandmother. She owns and runs Ann's Snack Bar, a dive located on a run-down street just East of Atlanta. The snack bar has been open for decades. It consists of 8 stools on one side of a counter and Ms. Ann on the other. Only 8 people at a time are allowed into the restaurant, including people who have to-go orders. Ms. Ann does not start cooking your meal until you order. The burgers are slow cooked, the bacon is deep fried, the buns are toasted, and the tomatoes are sliced right before your eyes. The entire process takes about 30 minutes. The burgers are massive and take approximately 15 minutes to eat.
We arrived at 1:15 and there were 15 people in front of us. We were told that the people inside had been in there for about 20 minutes. That meant a total estimated wait time of one hour and 55 minutes. So we waited.
The crowd outside the snack bar was amazing. There was a guy who said he played for the Colts and for the Falcons and couldn't stop talking about how bad African American athletes had it. "When Vick gets a felony," he explained, "little Johnnie's parents throw away his jersey. But when Rodriguez gets in trouble, it's a whole 'nother story." There was a couple from Buckhead with fancy watches and designer sun-glasses who had obviously heard about Ms. Ann from the same source as us. My favorites, however, were the locals that have been coming to experience Ms. Ann long before the Wall Street Journal article. They kept us entertained with rich stories of the restaurant. They laughed about how strict Ms. Ann was and the rules that you needed to follow within her establishment. She has thrown people out of the restaurant for small offences such as "cussin'", for talking on their cell phone, and for being indecisive. They reminisced about the good old days and laughed about the variety of people that are coming to the restaurant now, including the rich Buckhead couple.
Two hours later, a couple of seats opened up and we walked into the restaurant. We quietly took our seats and waited for Ms. Ann to take our order. We each ordered a Hood Burger which is a Ghetto Burger (double bacon chili cheese) topped with a huge scoop of coleslaw. Ms. Ann liked us and gave us french fries and sweet tea to consume while we were waiting. She gives everyone french fries and sweet tea to consume while they are waiting, but she smiled at us, which is how I know that she liked us. This is what Ms. Ann looks like:
It was very calm inside the restaurant. Ms. Ann does not tolerate loud speakers, and she moves slowly and deliberately through her kitchen. It is as if yours is the only burger that she is making for the afternoon. After 30 minutes of great smells and sights, were were served this:
The 2 pounds of seasoned meat was littered with grilled onions. The crispy deep fried bacon added a nice crunch and the creamy coleslaw was the perfect contrast to the spicy chili. Very few people can finish this beast of a burger, and only myself and Y2K (the other Rochesterian in the group) were up for the task. Rochester is #1. Then Y2K bet me $50 to finish Michigan's burger, which I made look easy.
Here is my secret - I take a big bite and then sip sweat tea. As I chew, the tea helps turn the burger and bun into a smooth mush. The mush flows easily down my throat and quickly through my stomach. Once it has made it's way through, my stomach is ready for the next big bite. Also, the faster you can stuff the food into your mouth the better - it takes your body a little bit of time to tell your brain that you are full.
Almost 24 hours since my last bite, I can still smell, taste, and feel the burger. It was everything I have ever dreamt of in a burger and some things that I have never dreamt possible. Today I feel slightly dizzy and nausious, and I don't expect my body to be back to normal for another day or two. But I don't regret anything. This was the best overall burger experience of my entire life.
I leave you with this final image of pure heaven on a bun:
WARNING: gentle .gov's and vegetarians - this blog is
a graphic re-creation of a cheese burger experience. If
you do not eat meat, cheese, bacon, or any combination
there of, please read this post at your own risk:
--------------------------------------------------------
Every so often you experience something so big, so different, so stunning, that it changes the way you look at cheese burgers forever. Yesterday, I had one of those experiences. Yesterday, I met Ms. Ann.
To preface this story, we have been hearing rumors about Ms. Ann and her burgers since March when The Wall Street Journal published this article on the best burgers in America. Ms. Ann's Ghetto Burger topped the list. It was Y2K's birthday and we wanted an experience. We took the afternoon off work and called up a couple of our most adventurous friends. Thus our journey began...
Ms. Ann is a grumpy old grandmother. She owns and runs Ann's Snack Bar, a dive located on a run-down street just East of Atlanta. The snack bar has been open for decades. It consists of 8 stools on one side of a counter and Ms. Ann on the other. Only 8 people at a time are allowed into the restaurant, including people who have to-go orders. Ms. Ann does not start cooking your meal until you order. The burgers are slow cooked, the bacon is deep fried, the buns are toasted, and the tomatoes are sliced right before your eyes. The entire process takes about 30 minutes. The burgers are massive and take approximately 15 minutes to eat.
We arrived at 1:15 and there were 15 people in front of us. We were told that the people inside had been in there for about 20 minutes. That meant a total estimated wait time of one hour and 55 minutes. So we waited.
The crowd outside the snack bar was amazing. There was a guy who said he played for the Colts and for the Falcons and couldn't stop talking about how bad African American athletes had it. "When Vick gets a felony," he explained, "little Johnnie's parents throw away his jersey. But when Rodriguez gets in trouble, it's a whole 'nother story." There was a couple from Buckhead with fancy watches and designer sun-glasses who had obviously heard about Ms. Ann from the same source as us. My favorites, however, were the locals that have been coming to experience Ms. Ann long before the Wall Street Journal article. They kept us entertained with rich stories of the restaurant. They laughed about how strict Ms. Ann was and the rules that you needed to follow within her establishment. She has thrown people out of the restaurant for small offences such as "cussin'", for talking on their cell phone, and for being indecisive. They reminisced about the good old days and laughed about the variety of people that are coming to the restaurant now, including the rich Buckhead couple.
Two hours later, a couple of seats opened up and we walked into the restaurant. We quietly took our seats and waited for Ms. Ann to take our order. We each ordered a Hood Burger which is a Ghetto Burger (double bacon chili cheese) topped with a huge scoop of coleslaw. Ms. Ann liked us and gave us french fries and sweet tea to consume while we were waiting. She gives everyone french fries and sweet tea to consume while they are waiting, but she smiled at us, which is how I know that she liked us. This is what Ms. Ann looks like:
It was very calm inside the restaurant. Ms. Ann does not tolerate loud speakers, and she moves slowly and deliberately through her kitchen. It is as if yours is the only burger that she is making for the afternoon. After 30 minutes of great smells and sights, were were served this:
The 2 pounds of seasoned meat was littered with grilled onions. The crispy deep fried bacon added a nice crunch and the creamy coleslaw was the perfect contrast to the spicy chili. Very few people can finish this beast of a burger, and only myself and Y2K (the other Rochesterian in the group) were up for the task. Rochester is #1. Then Y2K bet me $50 to finish Michigan's burger, which I made look easy.
Here is my secret - I take a big bite and then sip sweat tea. As I chew, the tea helps turn the burger and bun into a smooth mush. The mush flows easily down my throat and quickly through my stomach. Once it has made it's way through, my stomach is ready for the next big bite. Also, the faster you can stuff the food into your mouth the better - it takes your body a little bit of time to tell your brain that you are full.
Almost 24 hours since my last bite, I can still smell, taste, and feel the burger. It was everything I have ever dreamt of in a burger and some things that I have never dreamt possible. Today I feel slightly dizzy and nausious, and I don't expect my body to be back to normal for another day or two. But I don't regret anything. This was the best overall burger experience of my entire life.
I leave you with this final image of pure heaven on a bun:
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