Monday, October 09, 2006

Happiness is a Warm Gummi

Everybody loves griping about Corporate America. Hell, I do.* Wells Fargo has a small dustbuster attached to my checking account, my Chuck Taylors, after Nike bought them out, fell apart and crumbled like the Yankees this weekend, and Cingular hands me usurious bills without the ability to properly explain them ("Listen: I promise I didn't sign up for a daily Teen Flirt Horoscope Text Message. Now, the Nelly ringtones, well, that's a whole other thing.) Companies have more power than I do. Their votes count more than mine do. They have a cooler logo than I have. Then list goes on, on, on.

But this weekend, I was not bemoaning the massive bilking machine called Corporate America. No. I was applauding it. Because this weekend, instead of perpetrating horrible product placements in otherwise enjoyable movies---Ahem, Thomas Crowne Affair---Corporate America gave me free Young Frankenstein and free blueglass, both outside, on a weekend where San Francisco dressed up like Santa Barbara and hovered its temperatures in the mid 70s. All was well with the world. Or at least, my world. The world at large is never doing all that well.

When everything you do for an entire weekend is free and outdoors, all you really need is food and drink. Which, when you boil it right down, is all most humans need anyway. (Sometimes though, I kind of wish we were more...reptilian. Like a snake. Then, instead all that bothersome eating three times a day thing, you'd just eat one or two elephantine meals a month and spend the next week layed up on a barcalounger digesting. Added bonus: when driving through Ohio, we'd never have to stop at one of those frightening gas station conglomerations of Burger Kings, S'barros, and Bojangleseses, all sharing one dining room filled with astonishingly pale lardos). So, with sandwiches, chips, and beers that even homeless guys would turn their noses at**, I spent the weekend lounging in the sun, sporting a terribly embarrassing mustache & mutton chop combination that was shaved on the way to full baby face. I looked sort of like the villain in an early 1900s silent movie. Picture me tying some blonde to the train tracks, hair slicked back under a top hat, cackling, looking askance, thoroughly enjoying myself.

And you know what? It's hard to make a weekend that includes free Mel Brooks and free Emmylou Harris any better than it already is. In fact, asking for more would be greed bordering on lunacy. But sometimes, the heavens align. Sometimes, you're in a liquor store, stocking up on the aforementioned swill and snack'ems when you see it. Or rather, your girlfriends sees it. Yes indeed. The mystical, sought-after, hitherto invisible Heidi Gummi Bears. Right there. In front of the milk. I picked up a bag, smelled it through the plastic, shrieked loudly. See, this was the culmination of months of fruitless*** searching, whining both public and private, inferior gummi animals both wormlike and ursine first settled on, then regretted, and finally discarded, three quarters full. And you know what? They were even better than I remembered. Like John Lennon should have said, Happiness is a Warm Gummi.

Why I didn't buy ten or twenty packs is a question I can't answer. For now, it's fine just remembering a grassy hill, a sack of gummis, and Gene Wilder going apescat in black and white. I'm getting all cloudy just thinking about it.

* In fact, I will. Or, just did, depending on when you're reading this.

** I speak, of course, of Busch.

*** Heidi Gummi Bears do in fact contain fruit juice, which makes them even more delicious, and also, come to think of it, makes the asterisked statement a fairly awful pun.

14 comments:

Sabrina said...

It's Monday....
There have been many times that I've stared at our family pet iguana and wanted to switch places. He lays around his tank gorging on organic greens and fruits. grapes & figs are his favorite. He has his entire lighting set up, branches and heaters. All he does is eat, drink,crap and sleep. He is missing a mate though but he'd probably just kill her. It must be nice!

Glad to hear you had a fabulous Free weekend! The weather was Amazing..

birdmonster said...

So: We both woke up early, trudged to work, probably had some burnt coffee, stumbled through endless assignments, and tried not to smell what our neighbor's eating (it smells like pan-fried tires over here). Game. Set. Match. Iguana.

Sabrina said...

Our elevator smells like fish!
Yup woke up early, hey my coffee is not that bad..commuter cup you know. I can't get myself to pay $4 a day for a burnt cup of coffee!
I only have 247 emails left in my inbox.
yes today I wish I were an iguana.

Anonymous said...

Iguanas...

I'm sorry Sabrina, but for some, they are not pets. Very interesting, tough-as-nails creatures, but in some places they are food.

Go to a Mexican market day, and you will see lots of them just laying there with their hands tied behind their backs (so that they can't scuttle away), waiting to be taken home for the pot. I always wanted to buy them, and set them free. One day I did buy one, and released it. Of course, my Mexican friends thought I was a damned fool.

A Mexican friend - Ildeberto - took me out hunting iguanas (on the Oaxaca coast) once. He picked off a 6 foot iguana with his ancient .22 calibre rifle, and I had the dubious pleasure of carrying it back to his home (I am over 6 feet). I carried it by it's tail, and thought that it was dead until after about ten minutes, it started to hiss in a frightening way. That freaked me out.

When we got back to Ildeberto's shack, his wife cooked it up, and my gf and I were offered to sample it. We did - with some trepidation - and discovered it to be much like chicken, but more rubbery.

birdmonster said...

Solipsist: Informative comments make me giddy. Plus, they done learn me things. For the record, Ildeberto is the best iguana-hunter name of all time.

Actually, sounds like iguana taste rather like alligator, which tastes, well, like rubbery chicken. I wonder if that's true for all reptiles. Someone cook me a Gila Monster. Stat.

Sabrina said...

Our Iguana is about 4ft now but will more than likely reach 6 ft or more with tail included by the time he's done growing. He's no blue bellied lizard that's for sure. We rescued him since his previous owners were neglectful and dropped him off at a local pet store. He had a very agressive personailty and was going to be put down, hence we named him Damien-Angel. He has a split personality. Sometimes he's docile and sometimes he wants to wip you to death. I use thick gloves to handle him and a drimmel sander to make sure his nails are not razer sharp. I'm sure he'd taste somewhat like rubbery chicken but for now he's just a part of the family. AKA Sherman Clan.
One man's pet is another man's dinner.

*I'm surprised the tail didn't fall off when you carried him, especially from the weight of a 6ft Iguana? they can release their entire tail in sections as an escape mechanism.
My daughter made the mistake of startling Damien one day and when he tried to get away from her about 2 feet of his tail snapped off and the worse part is the detached tail continued to jump about a foot off of the floor spattering blood all over maybe 10 times and continued to wiggle around for at least an hour on it's own. Super Gross! My daughter was traumatized and I had to rush the Iguana to the Vet for antibiotics and a bandage. A year later and the tail is longer than ever.
I have an uncle named Ildeberto in Oaxaca. No Lie!
It's a common name but I wonder if he's a relative???

brok3n po3t said...

5 reasons to kill yourself

1. shameless self promotion
http://suicid3hotlin3.blogspot.com/
2. people who dont recognize your brilliance
3. things that smell like grandma
4. receding hairlines
5. writers block

Cynthia Bostwick said...

This is great stuff--like the raspberry candies my grandmother used to carry in her purse--you'd eat one if she was having a martini and would let you, but it always tasted like her face powder. Keep writing, keep drinking. Folks in my age group can't drink like that anymore, but we can learn stuff from you guys. You're way past us, actually, but don't admit it.

darkman said...

In Ozlaid house no one can hear you think.

birdmonster said...

Broken Post: Writer's block is your bitch. And by bitch, I do not mean ho, but instead your female border collie. Take her for a walk. Pet her. Stroke her muzzle. Then, when her guard's down: headlock. That's my plan.

Cynthia: Thanks. Will do. I got some brand new gin yesterday. Hendricks be thy name. It's delicious. It tastes like walking through a garden of intoxicating flowers. Quite literally actually.

Darkman: You've confused me. That movie ruled though. All that gauze, you know.

kasi said...

BM: I can't believe you didn't pick up more than one bag of Gummi's. I suppose I can understand that you were just enjoying the moment, but I will have you know; if you can't find them ever again, you have no one to blame but yourself!
(free days ARE the best)

birdmonster said...

Kasi: I bought two bags, actually. I ate them both before the Monster was singing "Putting on the Ritz"

The good part is I didn't overdo it. Mere weeks from now I'll have the craving again but I know where they live. If I don't make it there, the thrill of the chase begins again. This time, with less whining.

Anonymous said...

*I'm surprised the tail didn't fall off when you carried him, especially from the weight of a 6ft Iguana?*
I think that perhaps the bullet severed his spine. Maybe that is why he couldnot discharge his tail.

I have an uncle named Ildeberto in Oaxaca. No Lie!
It's a common name but I wonder if he's a relative????
*

This Ildeberto lives in Zipolite on the coast - a few kilometres west of Puerto Angel. Same-same guy?

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