No news

So, no news is good news, right? We got nothin' going on, nothin' exciting happening, nothin' new to talk about. But that also means there's nothing bad going on either. So that's good.

So, I'm staring around this room trying to think of something. Anything, I tell myself. Anything at all will do. It kind of reminds me of that one Friends episode where Ross is trying to think of something to say, knows he must say something, is desperate to say the right thing, and what finally comes out of his mouth is, "Vulva." My mind is going "heh heh." Meaning this is funny to me, but it is probably not funny to you. So what? Get your own blog if you don't like mine.

So, I stopped by Burger King today and I really love how their marketting plan is geared toward the 22 year old male. I never want it to, but it always pulls me in, too. I really love their commercials with the big King head like a mascot's that make no sense. I don't want to. But I do. The bag my Whopper came in says this on it:

You always hear sports announcers talk about the "sweet smell of
success." But none of them ever really explains what that smells
like. We'd like to propose it's the scent wafting from this very
bag. Of course, we could be wrong. But we don't think so.

While this is interesting reading while you're eating a hamburger, I really think you have to be careful when you talk about smells and use words like "wafting."

I also don't understand why they are still marketting to me (or my 22 year old inner male) even after I have purchased their product. Like they're Fox13. Hello, duh, I'm already watching. And how they make their news anchors report on Hollywood gossip, what is that? And why is Burger King marketting to the 22 year old male anyway? They know he is going to eat their product. He will stop there to eat one out of every five times he eats out, right?

If you ask me, they should be wooing me. I could feed my kids healthy meals at home, but....I could be enticed to feed them processed lard, too, if the wooing was sweet enough. Like maybe their take out bags could be printed in a scrapbook layout, just add pictures. Maybe they could be printed like wrapping paper so tomorrow when we're late for a birthday party, voila, I've got gift wrap. Maybe the fry boxes double as party hats. Maybe statistics could show kids who develop an affinity for processed lard are more successful in high stress careers. Maybe if I shop Burger King my house will be as clean as that lady's house, or I will look that sexy in my moomoo, too. I'm just saying.

Other things I could talk about today? Hmm... Walking the bottoms off my pants, maybe. You see, I'm short. Baby Brian is even taller than me. When I moved away to college, my mom, Margaret and I moved my stuff into the dorms and then stopped to eat at Burger King. We placed Brian in his carseat on the center of the table and ate while we stared at him.

This is about the time that Burger King got new fries. At the time I didn't think they needed to be changed, but I was wrong, they did and now they are fantastic, maybe the best around. Of course, if you really want good french fries, you have to go to Idaho, where they really know how to do potatoes. Of course, now that I think about it, the french fries in Illinois were pretty good, too. I thought it was because they were fried in the same oil as they fried their fish in, but thinking about it now, I don't know why I thought Illinois was a coastal state.

Oh, alright. So this post is about Burger King. I don't know how it happened.