Chris K: The Everyday Man

"If Waldo and Carmen San Diego ever hooked up, their offspring would probably be completely invisible." Words to live by.

My precious nephew turns 3 this week, so for the past few weeks I have been looking for the perfect gift to get him. This task quickly turned into an epic quest, and an epic failure, as I have come across some very questionable toys marketed for children. Here are some of the toys I found. "Shoot Me Up Elmo" This gem of a toy teaches your child the joys of heroin addiction and the effects of regular cocaine abuse. Comes complete with dialated pupils and drug paraphernalia. "Franky the Hotdog Head" This toy is not as openly offensive to societal customs as some of the other toys on this list, but there is one particulary simple thing wrong with this toy: It's incredibly stupid. Who would want a Franky the Hotdog Head toy. I mean really. Who? What's the appeal?? Franky Hotdog Henderson jumps into action and saves the day? Not so much. "Limited Edition Dora the Explorer Aquapet" This picture speaks volumes on its own accord. No need to say much about ...

Q: What do you call a Mexican with a rubber toe? A: Roberto! I hope that isn't a racial slur.

Today the song Evenflow played on my Pandora playlist, and as I was listening I realized I have no idea what this song is about. I was going to look up the lyrics, but I decided to find the song and listen to it again first. I thought it might be fun to see if I could figure out what the song is about before reading the lyrics. For anyone familiar with Pearl Jam, you will note that it is rather difficult to decipher anything Eddie Vedder says. You might also note it is even more difficult to decipher anything Eddie Vedder sings. Here is the link if you'd like to try this for yourself. See if you hear what I heard. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SPMfr38fCA Here is the nonsense I heard: Be there, razzed his hat in a pillow made of concrete. Again. Oh, Be there, maybe he’ll see a little better than a daisy. Ah yeah. Oh, hey now, big daddy bees, can a mayonnaise on the mirror. Uh. Oh no crayon, he can’t help when he’s happy. Look at his aim. Yeah? Evenflow, cuz your words are butterf...

A few weeks ago I had some time to kill before work, so I decided to go to Target. I felt compelled to go to Target that day, but I was not sure why. On this particular day, everything had been going smoothly with no surprises or delays. I pulled into the parking lot, locked my doors (after I got out of the car this time) and began my journey towards the entrance of the store. It had been a good day so far, and I noticed that I inadvertantly began to strut: not cocky, mostly just walking with a dash of "I'm rather awesome, so take notice" and, possibly, a hint of sass. I swear, I don't have an ego problem, just F.Y.I. A few moments later I arrived to the entrance and, naturally, I selected to enter the store through the automatic door instead of the regular doors. I mean, when given the choice, who wouldn't go through the automatic doors? It's like choosing to go through a regular door instead of those glass doors that spin in a circle. Who chooses the regular...