I don't know how the hell I managed to forget to include this in last week's column, but I have a new order at Cheesepockets to report. On the way to Reno we stopped at the Cheesepockets in Davis (exciting Davis, which also features trains, cows, and an ever-so-suspicious "Taqueria Davis"). I was in the mood to check something new out, and I recalled reading on some "secret menu tell all" site something about a burger that was simply meat and cheese. Was it called "The Flying Dutchman?" I called Mike from the parking lot to ask him if he remembered what the meat-and-cheese extravaganza was called. He couldn’t remember. I was pretty sure it was The Flying Dutchman. So I sauntered (yeah, that's right) up to the counter and asked the counter-lady if a Flying Dutchman was 2 pieces of meat and 2 pieces of cheese (no bun). She said yes. I said, I want a Flying Dutchman with grilled onions and a cheeseburger (animal style, no lettuce, add regular onions and extra cheese). And let me tell you, The Flying Dutchman is the shit. They serve it to you on a flat burger wrapper so you can pick it up by the wrapper and slide it off the edge of said wrapper (per bite). And it is so fucking good. Peep game (and if you looked at the Reno pics on the site and didn’t know what that meaty-cheesy glob of goodness was that made me smile in that post-coital-don't-care-if-the-world-is-about-to-end-cuz-life-is-good-right-now way, now you know).

2 weeks ago I went out and bought the kitchen item of my fantasies. I bought a sandwich maker thingy. You know, like an at-home sandwich-pocket-press. It fucking rules too. So far I have made some egg and cheese breakfast sangy pockets and some seriously badass turkey-jarlsberg-and-pesto sangy pockets. And I can't tell you how invaluable a side of mayo for dirty dipping is. The biggest conundrum I faced early on in the sangy pocket game was how to deal with the fact that I wanted more than 1 but less than 2 sangies. And I figured it out. You can make the blessed extra half sangy, no problem, by cutting a slice of bread diagonally instead of vertically/horizontally. And it seals up real nice. I rule.

As I continue to explore pocket ingredients and techniques, I will keep you abreast.

You know what is the greatest, handy-dandy invention of all time? The kitchen scissors. So simple; so pragmatic. Fucking genius. Except, of course, for the sangy-pocket-press.

How hard would it have been to be a teenager in the 80s named Claire? Wouldn’t people always, upon meeting you, say "Claire. That's a fat girl's name"--I don’t know if I could deal with that. I still think that when I meet someone named Claire.

You never know exactly how stale that last bag of Cheesy Poofs got until you open that next bag.

YOU GOTTA DUNK THAT SHIT.

(yes, all caps=yelling)

OK, I will admit it may not be the best way to start the answer to the "What kind of drugs have you done question," but I started my answer with, "Well, I've never smoked crack."

Do so many people name their kids Chris because of that whole Jesus thing?

I was talking with the RR, and he had an answer for my "why does thicker milk have more staying power than watery milk when watery milk has more water and water doesn’t go bad" question. He pointed out that fat is a preservative. And usually he is so full of shit, too...

WARNING--Inappropriate follow-up commentary coming: so does that mean that fat chicks never go bad? Shouldn’t fat people live forever if fat is a preservative?

It's not easy being the one who always goes too far (inappropriate). It is fucking exhausting.

If you can only eat 5 eggs a week, seems like a no-brainer to buy the biggest eggs you can find (not like ostrich eggs). That's how I beat the system... Wicked schmart.

Brainwashing. I don’t love my bed. And I don’t sleep all that well anyways. So here's the thing: I have been watching those fucking Nautilus Sleep Number Bed System commercials constantly for the last 4 years or so, and I think that that shit is starting to have an effect on me. No tossing and turning. No sore back in the morning. No waking up every hour (what about if I have to pee though?). Wake feeling rested. You'll never know how poorly you’ve been sleeping until you get that first good night's sleep on your Nautilus Sleep Number... Fuck all, I want all that (it's like being a hypochondriac watching the newest pharmaceutical infomercials). I don’t know how much longer I can hold the urge at bay. And aren’t we all at least a little bit curious about what our actual Sleep Number is? The people on the commercials seem to have quite a range of preference. I try to guess, based on whom I most identify with on the commercials, what Sleep Number I would be. My guess is somewhere in the 55-65 range, but I have no idea. And the best part? I could be a 65 and fall in love with a girl who was a 25 and we could still get along swell.

One stylistic thing I don’t understand: people who wear jackets, jeans, sweatshirts, etc with patches on them of all the NBA teams. I mean, can they not pick a favorite team? How is that cool? Dude, you have a Washington Wizards patch on your pants. And what happens now that the League is in expansion to 30 teams? Will Official NBA Licensed Apparel vendors be selling supplemental Charlotte Bobcats patches? Who is going to sew all these patches on? NBA-patch jackets are still better than those M and M NASCAR varsity letterman-style jackets that I see kids wearing--kids that I'm pretty sure don’t watch NASCAR.

The biggest melon isn’t always the best.

You know what sucks balls? Drying lettuce sans salad spinner. Hey look, it's the retarded guy who is freaking waving lettuce around in the air trying to shake the excess water off it. Hard to feel cool when you are doing that.

And to anybody who thinks, "Why don’t you just use paper towels": (wow, is that legitimate punctuation? probably not) Paper towels are not toys. They are so overabused by the masses.

Speaking of overabused by the masses: zip-loc baggies too. Even more so, in fact. People will just throw anything in a zip-loc baggie. Hello, a handful of grapes=whip out the saran wrap, you lazy putz.

Argh

You know what else freaks me out? Overaggressive sunblock lotion appliers. Some people just squeeze a bunch into their hands and then just wipe it all over their face. Ew. When that shit gets in my eyes (even the paba-free kind), it burns like a mofo. I'm a slow and methodical sunblock applier (ma, you proud of me?).

For me, a roadtrip=airplane flight. I like to kick off my shoes to maximize my kickit. I just thought I'd share.

My new theory for why Shaq (Snaq) can't make a free throw: you know how hard it is to locate a target from 15 feet away when you are cross-eyed?

What beats coming up on a random fireworks show? Not much (maybe oral sex--but if you combined the 2, it would definitely be a double). A few notes though: odd timing to have one on July 2nd(it was at the ballpark formerly known as Pac Bell Park). One of my favorite parts of the fireworks show--ever since I was a little kid--has been the part where the fireworks are falling back toward the ground and are still burning and look like they could get the people. Does it make me a bad person that some large part of me thinks: "Get 'em" when I see this happen? I was dismayed to see that they had happy face fireworks. Oy gevalt. Comic value that the happy faces were all upside down though. They shot one up that exploded like a planet with a ring around it and I said, "Look, it's Uranus (BEST WORD)." And my friend said, "Dude, Saturn is the one with the ring around it." I then informed him that Uranus has a ring around it too. The O-ring. Good times...

Would you think it was weird if I told you that that conversation my "friend" and I had about Uranus was made up in my head while I was watching the firework-that-looked-like-Uranus portion of the fireworks? Would that make it more or less funny?

by Justin