Things that I have learned from television this week:
With great mullet, comes great responsibility.
For the record, I don't usually watch Dog the Bounty Hunter. I just happened to be flipping channels and stumbled upon the awesomeness that is Dog.
Never before have I been so mesmerized by a mullet. It's a thing of true beauty. A magical force to be reckoned with.
Did you know that exposed man boobs + super mullet + assault rifles + peeing in the woods + ginormous chick boobs = great television?
Me either! Who knew?!
And, did you know that after you capture a fugitive using the power of your super mullet and your assault rifles, it's okay to hug them? For like a really awkwardly long time? And then apologize for chasing them and give them life coaching tips?
Me either!! But, I'm totally hanging on to that information. For future use.
I may or may not want to be a bounty hunter now.
Zen and the art of policing.
My new favorite show just may be Steven Seagal, Lawman. Yeah, I watched it. Who didn't?
And why wouldn't you? It's super cool.
I've never really understood what it takes to be a cop. I mean, a true cop. A lawman, if you will.
Never did I imagine the bionic mind powers you would have to posess in order to maintain order on the streets. Harmony in the 'jects. Yeah, that's what a true lawman calls the projects.
Cops just look at the surface of the situation. Lawmen see. Like really see.
The lawman sees every move that crackhead hanging on the corner is making. In slow motion. And with special effects. He's like ten steps ahead of his less harmonious counterparts. That's why he is always in control.
And that's why his show is going to be on top.
And, if you are looking for a fun way to forget your day, Lawman can give you that. Drink every time you hear the word 'zen' and you'll forget your day in no time.
Of course, you may end up running naked through the neighborhood showing off your newly aquired martial arts skills. It happened to someone I know.
Unrelated bit of advice - the crane move from Karate Kid is much more effective without fuzzy slippers.
Employees must wash their hands.
As a cupcake loving fat girl, I am sort of shocked to find myself saying this. But, I found a bakery that actually repulsed me. Seriously.
I guess my ocd is much stronger than my sugar addiction. After watching the bakers of the Cake Boss for a half an hour, all I wanted to do was cry. All of these scrumptious desserts. Ruined.
Not one time did I see anyone wash their hands. Or put on gloves. Or a hair net. Or otherwise protect the scrumptiousness from contamination. Hey, assholes, people have to eat that stuff. They don't want your nasty hands rubbing all over their desserts. How do they know where your hands have been?
It's absolutely a violation. Of what, I'm not sure. But, I felt violated. I wanted to be drooling over the cakes and cupcakes and breads and pastries. I wanted to, but I just couldn't.
Not to say that I am a neat little baker. Quite the opposite. When I bake, the whole house ends up covered in flour. It's all over me. The pup. The neighbor's pup. It's chaos. Utter chaos.
But it's sanitary chaos. I'm obsessively washing my hands and the counters and the utensils. I'm like the anal retentive chef. There is absolutely no contamination in my products. And all the trash is neatly packaged for disposal.
Is it too much trouble to make these people glove up? Come on. Just, come on.
Some guy sliced his foot open with a meat slicer. Think about this for a second. A meat slicer, which weighs like a hundred pounds. The kind that sits on a counter top, with the giant rotating blade that you feed meat into and it slices it up. And he sliced his foot open. His foot.
I wish I had seen enough of the show to see exactly how this happened. It's going to haunt me. I just know it.
I'm pretty accident prone. Very accident prone, actually. And if anyone in my household is going to wound themselves with a meat slicer, it's going to be me.
But, his foot. Seriously?
So, given that I missed vital information in this show, I am left to speculate. Here's what I think could have happened:
Man wants a sandwich. Man takes a package of salami out of the fridge (my kind of man, btw). Man then notices that the banana cream pie he made yesterday is gone. Man questions wife about said missing pie. Wife refuses to explain her actions because it's really none of his damn business how much pie she eats jackass. Man again (stupidly) questions wife as to how it's possible to eat an entire pie in one sitting.
You can kind of see where this is going...no need to elaborate. In a fit of fat rage, wife heaves meat slicer at man which lands on his foot, slicing it open.
Don't question the scenario. Because then I will question it. And I really need to let this one go so I can move on with my life. I don't need to be haunted by 'how the hell do you slice open your foot with a meat slicer' type problems. I've got enough on my plate.
Bottom line - don't poke the fat chick. Ever.