With time to spare on my way to a wedding in Shaker Heights, OH, this weekend, I visited the only roadside attraction on the Pennsylvania Turnpike...the world's largest Big Mac (exit 67 off I-76).
Despite having eaten a Big Mac maybe once before, I can still appreciate its intrinsic artistic architecture. It's that whole combination of "two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun" with its 29 grams of fat and 1,040 mg of sodium that make it so American.
Yep, the Big Mac has it's own museum in the middle of Pennsylvania. How glorious!
I see something behind that window...could it be???
Yes! There it is...Fast food's version of Michelangelo's "David."
It was big alright, but I was disappointed to find out it wasn't edible.
Imagine my lactose intolerant self eating these cheese slices!
Bow before the great artery clogger.
The grand unveiling!
Just when this waste of 5 minutes of my life couldn't get any better...there were Playstation 1 games!
Is this really the top video on YouTube for "Big Mac?"
Probably not a good thing to make management into bobbleheads.
Sadly, the Big Mac museum was a much better experience than the Pro Football Hall of Fame a few days later.
Like any good worker in DC, I just had to try and catch a glimpse of Reese Witherspoon doing her thing in another chick flick/romantic comedy that I'll be dragged to; tentatively titled "How Do You Know" and directed by James L. Brooks of "Broadcast News" fame. This time Owen Wilson is a Nationals player who woos Reese (I think). Of course it takes a movie to make the Nationals look like winners and to fill the stadium with cheering Washington fans.
Unfortunately, I spent 15 minutes of my life standing across from the National Gallery to see either actor to no avail. So what follows are my celebrityless shots, mixed in with celebrity pictures taken by others with better lenses and more time to get better angles. Sorry, but I do have to get home to make dinner at a reasonable hour.
Somewhere, behind the tents, staff, and light sheets, Reese was there...I think.
Reese walks with purpose...like DC workers trying to clock in for the day.
Warning, you might be in the movie if you stand here...
...that is unless this bottom of the barrel production assistant has his way. Those shades made him look so Hollywood...his college English professor style and super power trip makes him so much awesomer than everything. At least the other PAs I spoke with were cool.
These extras must have done their walks 15 times while I was there. It isn't so glamorous.
The only acting I saw. Just breathtaking work on my part, I know.
Would Reese dare to wear anything from this rack?
Yesterday, Reese ran on the Mall just like me!
Reese (or her character) shows me that it's okay, even for beautiful people, to (fake) vomit from a tough run on the Mall. Nevermind that the Mall is totally flat.
The latest media frivolity to irk me enough to waste Google's blogging space is how crime & punishment/crime & justice/law & order reporters pose like they're really tough. Making yourself seem like a bully dressed in business casual clothes isn't fooling anyone. How about you just, I don't know, report the story and let it stand on its own? This is found in the dying field that is newspaper reporting as well as news for lazy thinkers that is your local news broadcast.
Is it too much to ask these guys to just have their pictures taken without them trying be all tough? No study has shown a relation between taking an aggressive headshot and better writing. Looking strong doesn't mean you're taking a strong stance on crime. It doesn't validate your reporting or make you any more credible. It just makes you look like other crime & justice reporters who are scared.
Crime and justice reporters have nothing on NKOTB when it comes to being the toughest. Are you tough enough?
For your amusement, I present an assortment of these tough guys and gals on crime who "are working for you," "are on your side," and "are taking on the big guys" so "you're not scammed." I'm not judging what they write (because I haven't read any of their work), but how they're presented.
Peter Hermann (Baltimore Sun) - Just about the most pensive crossed arm stance you can take. This actually makes him look scared instead of tough. Would it have killed him to iron his khakis? How about buying a pair that's the right length for your inseam? I don't iron mine, but for the one day when I'd have my picture taken I would have found one, damnit. Also, the Sun's art department did him no favors shrinking his head.
Amanda Lamb (WRAL-TV (North Carolina)) - An innocent picture because it lacks arm crossing, but a closer look reveals an aggressive facial contortion asking if you wanna fight. "Come on punk, just try me." Resting her head on the bent arm and fist says she means business. Of course she just had to be shot in front of a brick wall as if she's always on the street looking for stories. Excellent makeup foundation work though.
Freeman Klopott and Scott McCabe (Washington Examiner) - I love the dual crossed arms! It's so intense. And the way Freeman (I think he's on the left) rolled up his sleeves shows you how hard he's working...that's right, so hard he had to roll them up! They sure look pissed off and serious about reporting crime. No smiles here. If the Examiner was as serious about reporter posing as these guys show, it could at least increase their picture's resolution.
Carrie Petersen (Albany (Oregon) Democrat Herald) - Proof that not every crime beat reporter has to intimidate readers for visual validity. Oh my gosh, she's actually smiling in her profile picture! And what's that? She's in the newsroom! How will the Democrat Herald ever get people to read her crime reports? Oh that's right, they'll read it because of its quality.
On today’s red line trip toward Silver Spring, I saw the first nominee for Metro’s Dumb Rider of the Year Award. We stopped at Metro Center around 6:45 this morning. After the usual shuffling of people getting off, the wave of riders coming onboard made their way, being reminded to “use all available doors.” Despite that, they kept packing themselves through the middle door of my middle car. Nevermind they were also told repeatedly that a near empty train with available seats would follow a minute later.
I say let's replace doors with saws to teach people not to take their chances when doors are closing. And yes, that's my not-so-handy photoediting.
As I sat comfortably in my front row seat, I heard the warning “doo-doo doo-doo” chime that the doors were about to close. The conductor reminded those on the platform that the doors were closing. Finally, the automated announcement also warned folks that “the doors are about to close.” All of this means that the doors were about to close, got it?
Apparently not everyone did.
Coming to the car door was someone who I can only assume was not a tourist, as she lacked the fanny pack, camera, hat, shorts, and T-shirt that are only worn by tourists on the Metro during rush hour. Despite the closing door warnings, she lurched toward the opening only to have the doors close on her.
At 1:05 of this Metro advice video, you see what happens when your limbs are in the way of the closing doors.
As she leaned in like a sprinter at the finish line, the doors brushed her shoulders and began putting the squeeze on her. With the doors halfway closed (or opened depending on your outlook on life), the conductor reopened them to let her retain some limbs for the ride.
Remember, “Metro doors don’t work like elevator doors,” so says the lady from the speakers.
What makes her different from other stupid Metro riders?
She was pushing a baby in a stroller! The stroller made it on first with ease, meaning this mother was almost separated from her baby!
Come on people.
You know the doors don’t play around, yet you continue to push your luck. It’s stupid. I even sat there calling her stupid for trying. There’s nothing other riders can do to help a squeezed person until they want to risk losing a finger when the doors close quickly.
You deserve to lose that baby, ummm, I mean bag.
I know it’s wrong to criticize another parent, but in this case it’s fair to be wrong…don’t put yourself in a position that may sever you from your baby. After the umbilical cord’s cut, it’s up to you make sure you're together…don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.
Despite my best efforts with Tivo, sometimes I end up watching TV as it airs and catch a commercial or two. The experience is only made worse when I catch one of Pizza Hut's commercials for its line of, most assuredly, craptacular pasta meals. I take issue with its premise, legality, and ability to insult viewers.
Count your blessings if you haven't noticed this ad. Here's the plot: Pizza Hut takes a blindfolded family out to an Italian restaurant only to instead have them return home and eat Pizza Hut pasta meals at at their dining room table. It's so clever! After removing their blindfolds the family members are amazed they're eating Pizza Hut pasta and proceed to feign happiness for the taste.
Come to Pizza Huts in India for Bhangra dancing, not good food.
The entire premise is a hoax. No matter how dumb Americans are, no matter how desperate they are for money (appearance fees), and no matter how hungry they are for fame, nobody would agree to be in a Pizza Hut commercial after being fooled. Actually, those are all reasons why they'd agree to be in the commercial. That is, if they aren't the actors we know they are.
Anyway. Let's say they're ordinary people. Why would you agree to be blindfolded and taken out of your house to a restaurant? How would you know to trust the people to take you as promised? Hello! You're agreeing to be kidnapped out of your home for a free meal! WTF? Oh sure, just make sure you lock up when we leave into your unmarked van at night and don't forget to walk the dog.
This is how a real taste test of Pizza Hut's awful pasta would go.
Let's say the blindfoldees locked their house and then had their blindfolds placed over their eyes. The van they're taken in drives around the block only to return them to their home. In the ad they're taken back to their dining room table with blindfolds still on. Does this mean they let themselves back inside? That destroys the premise of any natural surprise of eating at home instead of the restaurant because they'd, well, know their at home. If they went to a restaurant, wouldn't they hear lots of people talking and noise from plates and silverware clanging?
Don't tell me they trusted their kidnappers with their keys. If you agree to be kidnapped to a restaurant you'd have no need to give them the keys because you're just taking the blindfold off before you leave the restaurant. Call me crazy (or pathetic for overthinking this commercial), but whenever I agree to be kidnapped for a restaurant taste test, I'm holding onto my keys and wallet, but I'm losing plenty of dignity. Pizza Hut crime #1: Kidnapping an entire group of actors middle class family.
It's better if you suppose the "family" held onto its keys. This means the only way for Pizza Hut to get the family back inside with blindfolds on was to break into the house. It doesn't take being married to a second-year law student to know that this is breaking and entering (crime #2). I suppose Pizza Hut broke into the house while they family was in the van. Plausible? Not really, but let's go with it.
The family is then directed back up its walkway, something they'd recognize for sure. What restaurant has a generic suburbia stone path from a driveway? The family is now back at home at their dining room table. You'd think they'd recognize the chairs they're sitting on, maybe the table they're leaning on. How about the smell of the house and familiar floor creaks? Of course not, that would make too much sense.
Why order a meatlovers pizza when you can't identify the meat?
They sit down and try the processed pasta and what do you know, but they manage not to instantly regurgitate it back on their plates. It's a miracle! They say things like it tastes better than manure, has less flies in it than roadkill, and smells like milk left in the sun for a week. I can't wait to order.
Of course there's the big reveal when the blindfolds are raised and they're all shocked it's from Pizza Hut yet they're at home. I'd be pissed off that Pizza Hut kidnapped my family only to break and enter into my house and serve me "pasta" from a company whose pizza tastes like cardboard. How about instead of being "wowed" by the taste, you get angry that these strangers are you in your house and have placed several hidden cameras everywhere. Have you checked your bathrooms for video outputs?
Just perfect.
The commercial's entire premise is awful. Who are the advertising wizards who thought of this one? Who would even buy their pasta from Pizza Hut? A company competing in the pizza-tastes-like-cardboard category against the likes of Dominoes, Papa Johns, and Cici's (the best of the lame choices). Making your own pasta is cheaper, healthier, and an easy way to decrease criminal activity in your neighborhood.
I'd like to thank the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NAADC) for waking me up this morning at 4:30. Sure, my alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour and 15 minutes, but it was soooooo cool to be awoken by the thunder of F-16s flying 5,000 feet above my bed!
The NAADC's newest lineup of alarm clocks come in one shape, one color, and plenty of bone rattling afterburners to wake you up out of fear.
Anybody can use a dinky little alarm or radio to get themselves out of bed, but I got two F-16s! And best of all, I had no idea it was going to happen...what a great surprise! I planned to rise at 4:30, but somehow the NAADC just knew I was better off without the extra sleep to start my day. The government sure knows me better than I know myself.
I'm gonna guess that the two Cessna Civil Air Patrol planes and single Coast Guard helicopter were a little overmatched flying with the F-16.
When I awoke I heard this great rumbling, but in my stupor I remembered it wasn't supposed to rain for a few more days so it wasn't thunder. Yet it kept getting louder. I thought it could have been practice F-16 flights, but didn't think they'd do them early enough to wake everyone along I-270. Alas, I was right and wrong. Best of all they're doing it again during the same midnight to 6 AM window tomorrow morning!
Living close to DC means the occasional 700 MPH F-16 flyby wakeup thunder.
I missed a lot of things about MoCo, but this was not one of them. So a big thank you goes out to the NAADC for giving me an involuntary wakeup call with fighter jets. It's so much awseomer than sleeping the entire night and waking up when I want to with my dinky alarm clock. I can't wait for it to happen again tomorrow.
I can't let down my sister because she's gonna fly in to run the marathon too.
I must now hold myself to a training schedule with increasing weekly and long-run mileage counts. I'll have to make sure my body's not ingesting too much sugar and make it a point to hydrate until it comes out clear (too much information?). My post-work and weekend availability is determined by off-days. I've started to become that guy and it'll only get worse.
Discipline lesson #1, courtesy Karate Kid.
My sister has run 4 marathons (soon to be 5) and 3 half marathons with ease, smiling and giving a thumbs up in every picture when you're supposed to be hitting the wall. I don't know how she can handle herself so well despite the discomfort that marathons are supposed to provide. So yes, some of my marathon running desire stems from sibling rivalry that if she can do it, so can I! Not better, but still finish. Her running prowess eliminates any excuse I have to blame my struggle on bad genes.
To complete both races I must do that thing that I've battled with for far too long. That thing that I lacked, resulting in an easy B+ student when just a little more time, energy, and concentration would have made me an A- student. That thing that drives people to do things they didn't think they could do.
That thing is discipline.
Discipline to stick to a schedule, run when I don't want to, ignore drizzling rain because I may have to run in the rain on race day anyway, and waking up for an early morning run to beat the summer heat. Discipline to make up for the times I couldn't hold myself to cleaning up my room, mowing the lawn on schedule, and quitting karate in 3rd grade after 3 weeks because it interfered with the Cosby show.
Damn you for being funny enough to stop my karate career.
I am not phased (yet) by the seemingly insurmountable distance that a marathon requires. I'm not looking at that distance now, just each week's demands. I'm taking this in baby steps, adding a mile each week. While the double-digit weekend runs around the corner seem immense, the training's discipline will get me there. Eventually. Slowly but surely. I think. I hope.
Time for cheapo depot to invest in legit running shorts...every ounce less counts.
I'm three weeks into my training and so far it has been going well. I made my beginner marathon schedule by combining the many offered to me and I guess it has worked; offering enough freedom should I need to delay a run or the weekend weather doesn't comply. The schedule is not for speed, but distance. My goal is to finish what I started, not qualify for the Boston Marathon.
I'm not competing with this guy (or my sister), I just want to finish.
As I delve deeper into this world of running beyond 5K charity weekend runners, I've learned about the importance of materials that wick away sweat, properly fitted shoes, and Body Glide. I've come to realize it's not the best to go on long runs in heavy basketball shorts, even if the Maryland terrapin is emblazoned all over. Fitted shoes and arch insoles from a running store have been a godsend.
Out with the embarrassingly amateur stuff...
By far, the best advice received has been from my sister when she said I'd never chafe again if I used Body Glide, a roll-on stick that makes sure places that rub during long runs don't leave you waddling like a penguin. It works fantastically, even for my measly athletic level. It sure beats my old combination of baby powder and Monistat chafing relief powder gel (it was the only anti-chafing option I saw in Target, I swear!).
...in with what the pros use.
Both races are in October, leaving 5 months to get ready, 5 months for moments of lower body pain, and 5 months to see how far discipline gets me. It doesn't sound so stupid after all.
Yep, the Big Mac has it's own museum in the middle of Pennsylvania. How glorious!
I see something behind that window...could it be???
Yes! There it is...Fast food's version of Michelangelo's "David."
It was big alright, but I was disappointed to find out it wasn't edible.
Imagine my lactose intolerant self eating these cheese slices!
Bow before the great artery clogger.
Just when this waste of 5 minutes of my life couldn't get any better...there were Playstation 1 games!
Probably not a good thing to make management into bobbleheads.
Sadly, the Big Mac museum was a much better experience than the Pro Football Hall of Fame a few days later.
