Thursday, January 10, 2008

Karla eats a little crow, and chases it with a swig of Pickle Juice Sport.

I imagine that, for the average person, it can be a bit uncomfortable to have to admit when you're wrong. But for someone like me, who is recognized worldwide for being right nearly every second of every day since birth, it's incredibly difficult and humbling to have to admit a mistake. An average citizen like you probably can't imagine.

And yet, here I am, sheepishly confessing my one mistake in my entire lifetime.

Recently I made some very harsh statements about a certain sports drink. I made these statements without actually trying said sports drink, so certain was I that it couldn't possibly taste good. The bottle sat in my refrigerator, untouched for months even before I wrote that blog post, and each time I opened my refrigerator to get something, I smirked at the ridiculousness of a pickle juice-flavored sports drink. It's true; I mocked that bottle several times a day.

I never really intended to ever try the drink, but instead to merely keep it around for the express purpose of snickering at it each time I saw it. Then, last week, after several weeks without a trip to the grocery store, I eventually opened my refrigerator to find there was nothing left in it except that lonely, proud little bottle. So, much in the same way Dyckerson made both of his sexual conquests by finally settling for the lone, passed out female left in the bar at closing time, I decided to try the one item left in my otherwise bare refrigerator.

So I took a sip. At first I thought, "Hmm. That's interesting. Not as bad as I thought." I re-capped it and put it back. A few minutes later, I was back for another sip. Several minutes later, I was back again. Then again. (Replace "sip" with "snort" and this could be the same story I told at my first NA meeting a few years ago.)

To make a long story short, I am now a fan of this fine product. I found that the drink's greatest strength lies not in its thirst-quenching quality or even in its pickle-y taste, but in its ability to mask an odor. To explain: For about a month now, I've been taking an herbal supplement called Sleep N' Restore, in the hopes that it will improve my ability to fall asleep and stay asleep. I suffer from a kind of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of a past incident in which a creepy, unwelcome pervert forced himself into my home even as my family and I slept. Consequently, I sleep lightly and fearfully, and am trying this supplement out in the hopes that I can avoid having to resort to real, doctor-prescribed sleeping pills--which you and I both know I would undoubtedly abuse, eventually winding up like Courtney Love without the flesh-eating yeast infections.

Have you ever tried an herbal supplement? If so, you know that most of them smell and taste like an unchanged kitty litter box. Why is this? I think herbal supplement makers secretly laugh at us, first because we actually buy this crap that doesn't fulfill any of the claims on its packaging and advertisements, and second because we do it no matter how hard they work to make each pill smell and taste worse than the next. There have been several different supplements that I've taken in the past and had to eventually stop taking because, over time, I got to the point where I'd inadvertently start to wretch as soon as I opened my cabinet and caught sight of the bottle.

This particular product, Sleep N' Restore, has managed to pack an unprecedented amount of stink into a relatively small pill. When you first pop the foil on one of these pills, the yellowy haze of the stench envelopes you, and you become immediately disoriented, wondering how a decomposing camel could possibly have wound up strapped to your back. You want to swallow the pill as quickly as possible just to get it over with, but it takes enormous dedication to go through with something so undesirable. (Insert your own sex-with-Dyckerson joke here.) I have discovered that Pickle Juice Sport, with its own very strong smell and taste, quickly overpowers the smell and taste of this horrible, horrible little pill, replacing the objectionable rotting carcass odor with the lovely scent of pickles. Why didn't I think of this before? I've been drinking pickle juice for years, and choking down supplements that smell like diseased feet, and never thought to mix the two.

I should know better than to rush to judgement about a product. I have to remind myself that my criticisms are taken so seriously by the masses that a single negative comment from me can cripple a new product and bring a company to its knees. I can only hope it's not too late for me to now heartily endorse this fine beverage, and hopefully bring Pickle Juice Sport's parent company back from the brink of bankruptcy. So I offer my humble apology to Pickle Juice Sport, and likewise to Jason Whitten, the face of Pickle Juice Sport, who I hastily labeled a shithead. You, sir, are no shithead.

In a final irony, I tried to restock my supply of this fabulous product yesterday by stopping at the same 7-11 where I had purchased the original bottle, only to find they apparently no longer carry it. Clearly, the CEO of 7-11 is a fan of and took my negative review to heart. So I am pleading with you now, Mr. CEO, please fill your coolers once again with Pickle Juice Sport, so will I can once again, without retching, be able to swallow any yucky-smelling supplement/food/narcotic/insert-your-oral-sex-joke-here.

Thank you.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Partially nude and totally hot--it's why the terrorists hate us.

I understand a lot about people. For instance, I know that 90% of you keep dragging yourselves out of bed each day, day after day, for one reason and one reason only--the desperate hope that, before the day ends, you'll come into come in contact, in some way, with boobs (for the other 10% of us, just replace that last "bs" with "ze).

I know what makes you tick.

Which is why I'm pleased to provide you with a link, and an errand, that I feel confident will make your drab, sad life a little brighter.

My friend Kendra is super hot. Big deal, you may be saying--lots of girls are hot. But Kendra has a special, extra quality that not all hot girls have--she's willing to get on stage and shake it. She performs in burlesque shows...which is just plain hot, not matter how you slice it. Well, it's hot if you happen to look like Kendra. If you look like you, don't even consider it.

She has entered something called the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Burlesque Competition, in which only the six entrants who get the most online votes will get the chance to actually compete. Thank God for me, then! Because, thanks to, I have access to thousands and thousands (okay, pairs and pair) of stalkers, creeps and unemployed weirdos who, while they may lack the refinement and class to appreciate Kendra's amazing talent in burlesque dancing, will nonetheless do absolutely anything asked of them in the name of partial nudity.

So please, go one and all to this site and vote for Kendra. She's the 10th one down on the left, Dizzy Von Damn. It's one vote per IP address, so if you have more than one computer, or can break into more than one house with a computer, feel free to vote as many times as you're able. You can also check her out on Myspace.

Then you can get back to carving up squirrels and arranging the body parts into your ex-girlfriend's name on the lawn. I don't want to take up your whole day.