My pal Dan Yates is awesome. He had a nightmare show in Saskatoon last night, which I learned about through text messages where he gave live updates on the bumper car ride of racist nonsense he had to endure. He wrote about the experience on his blog and handled his business like Gotham City Marc Maron. I’m a big fan of his work.
(Note: Even though the way I’m writing about Yates makes it sound like he was killed in hail of gunfire, he is in fact alive and well.)
Every Monday at 8 o’clock, my otherwise wonderful boyfriend participates in a WWE live blog with our friends Joel and Yates. I didn’t understand wrestling back in the 90s when my sister watched it, and I sure as hell don’t understand it now.
Today, I attended a vegan bake off. Vegan bake offs (as well as Raw Food Fuck n’ Suck Battles To The Death) aren’t really my thing. Not because I have any ill will towards vegans (I don’t), but because that kind of get-together just exposes how fucked up my palate is. I eat a diet of candy, malt liquor, meat products and things made out of 58% salt. At a vegan bake off, I’m eating food that I’m not smart enough to enjoy and I’m doing it in front of people that take that genre of food very seriously.
I went with my girlfriend to the event. She was jazzed because they had loads (not the semen kind) of gluten free options. She wasn’t the only one excited about the bake off. The lineup spilled out of the venue and down the block. It was a happening place for people that enjoy vegan baking and for people that like wearing VERY IMPORTANT buttons about supporting school libraries. The place was also swarming with product reps that crowded the floor while I ate my collection of cakes, pastries and assorted treats. At one point I had my photograph taken, which I’m guessing will be used for a “fat guys like vegan food, what’s your problem” ad campaign.
One perk of going to the bake off (aside from all the pussy, am I right?), was being given score cards to rate what I was eating. This made me one of the hundreds of judges and for a Saturday afternoon I could be a kingmaker. Tremble before my dull golf pencil of doom! It can circle any number from 1 to 5, so don’t fuck with me. I could control destinies with my sloppy pencilmanship. As is my style, I was a pussy and just gave everything a “3” because I didn’t know what I was talking about. Still, power! It’s the most delicious treat of all.
Additional Note: White supremacists would love vegan bake offs. Holy shit, it’s just wall to wall crackers up in that piece. Even whiter than pet expos and Wilco concerts.
Drew Magary is a hero of mine for a variety of reasons. This piece in his most recent mailbag, sent me into a full on powerswoon. Take it away, copy n’ paste.
I am convinced the pretzel people have some dirt on the party mix people. How are pretzels still in party mix? They suck and are always the last thing finished. I usually end up throwing away a bag of pretzels once everything with cheese and bbq powder is gone.
My wife occasionally buys Munchies, which is a Frito Lay party mix that includes Doritos, Cheetos, Sun Chips, and Rold Gold pretzels. Now, this would be the greatest snack mix in the history of everything if only the fucking Rold Golds weren’t crowding up the bag. They’re a complete waste of time and RUIN the experience, because I have to make sure that I don’t grab any of them when I jam my hand in there. I don’t know why they feel the need to overcrowd the thing with boring-ass pretzels. The profit margin on pretzels must be inexplicably huge. For the Super Bowl, I’m just dumping a bag of Cheetos and a bag of Doritos together and letting them make magic.
AN IT’S DAN MACRAE UPDATE POST COPY N’ PASTING: Design warlock CreelmanKid notes something important about the Munchies bag contents.
Hey man, whoa. Don’t forget to add Sun Chips. They’re underrated.