Happy 7th birthday, Audrey!

Sorry, I don't have an "after" photo. You'll just have to imagine a white plate licked clean.

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I go out of my way to be kind of a dick to people in the hope that they'll leave me alone. I do this even to my own family, especially my Mother's sister, Kelley.

My aunt has a very soft spot in her heart for dumb animals, which is why she has a house full of cats and tolerates a handyman who is literally too stupid to use a shovel effectively. Because I'm so much trouble, Kelley had this handman bury her most recently deceased cat. But the location he selected turned out to be full of tree roots, so he dug only a shallow hole and covered the shoebox coffin with a thin layer of dirt and a paving stone.

Can you guess where this is going?

In the night, another animal detected the decaying corpse's scent and dug it up. But not fully. The excavator didn't have the strength to remove the whole cat from the box. Kelley later discovered the dead cat's head emerging from the ground, like something from Pet Semetery. (And yes, there were maggots involved.)

Desperate for help, she bit the bullet and called me. So my strategy of being a dick ultimately resulted in my having to dig up a dead cat and re-bury it properly. In the rain.

As a reward for my hard work, my aunt gave me this:

Please click for sound.

Lesson learned. From now on, I'll be twice the asshole!

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Despite their utter refusal to take responsibility for all flying insects — for shame! — I still recommend Sunday brunch at Bistro Hilary in Senoia, Georgia.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

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Is there a blizzard coming? Are the cows on strike? Sometimes less is not more.

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October lawn art is a real treat:

I'm a little worried that people will interpret this one to mean that we'll be giving away candy this year, which we absolutely will not. (Mom and I both hide behind curtains whenever anyone rings our doorbell.) I think my solution will be to put an empty bowl on the porch beside a sign that says "Take as many as you like."

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How'd that old commercial go? "You got chocolate in my Batman!"

I didn't know it when I picked this up at my local Fine Foods Store, but this is the third year Hershey's has produced a DC's Super Hero Bar. I think it's a fun idea, even if the candy itself doesn't really seem to understand how sequential art is supposed to work.

This reminds me that back in art school in the 90s, I made a white chocolate candy bar in which each "panel" told a different chapter of my life-up-til-then story. I created a custom wrapper, too. I assure you, it looked better than it tasted.

By the way, don't miss out on International Batman Day 2022, which Warner Bros has decided is tomorrow, September 17. (It used to move around the calendar a lot, but this "holiday" seems to have settled into the third Saturday in September in recent years.) Celebrate it however you like.

Personally, Batman recommends chocolate.

Source: gifer.com

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Earlier this week, General Mills issued a press release promoting Simone Biles appearing on Wheaties boxes. In March, they announced new Sonic the Hedgehog fruit snacks, and in January, they alerted fans that Ice-T loved Honey Nut Cheerios. Cleary, they love telling us about their marketing synergy.

Yet somehow they failed to notify the public that this was coming:

The packaging tells us "Strong Berry" cereal is really Cap'n Crunch. I suppose this tastes the same as Crunch Berries, just with all of the pieces shaped like little diamonds. In other words, you're going to need a Mouth of Steel to survive eating this.

Amusingly, in keeping with the comic book theme, there is also a variant of this cereal with Supergirl on the cover box, all the better to sell the same cereal to little boys and little girls. Sorta makes you wonder why there isn't a female Cap'N Crunch, doesn't it.

We're currently living in a dystopia of infinite inflation, but you can get this at Target for a measly $3.49. Superman is all about helping the little people!

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I feel like the world is just full of bad news today, but that could be because I'm three days into a terrible sleep deficit. We'll see how things look after I wake up sometime next week.

In the meantime, here's Audrey begging for my afternoon snack.

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Note to self: if you order from Papa John's mobile app in the future, remember that "ranch sauce" is not a ranch dressing dipping cup. If you ask for ranch sauce, they replace the tomato sauce on the pizza with ranch.

A. The app could be more clear about this.

B. Why is this even an option? Who has ever had a pizza and thought "this would be better with ranch instead of tomato sauce"? Fuck you, sir.

Ironically, earlier in the day, I had lamented that my own lack of epicurean curiosity may be limiting my enjoyment of life. I wondered aloud if perhaps I was missing out on some of the globe's great dishes by avoiding things like mushrooms and sushi. And the universe answered me by giving me Ranch Pizza. Message received.

Anyway. Pizza night was ruined and my faith in the pillars of American cuisine have been shaken. Life goes on.

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Maybe. But the real question is can I fuck them?

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