Welcome to my humor blog where I offer my take on: Life - that crazy stuff that happens on the way to your dreams *** Liberty - to Snippet on any subject that pops into my brain *** and the Pursuit of Happiness - both yours and mine.

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Thursday, April 24, 2014

Candy Crush




Forget Black Friday…I’m all about Brown Monday. 


If you’re a candyholic like I am, the day after Easter you’re up at dawn and at the store the minute the doors open. Basket in hand, you make a mad dash—like the kids on a frenzied egg hunt—to be sure you’re first in line when all the seasonal sweets go on sale. I’ll take a bargain on Dove’s dark chocolate eggs over anything Macy’s has to offer, every time. 

The grab-n-go crush is exactly the same for candy as any post-holiday sale. I almost lost a hand trying to get out of the way of a lady clawing through piles of leftover confections on the bargain table. She eyed the bag of edible grass I was holding like Dracula zeroing in on his next victim. Apparently, candy faux grass was her favorite. She swooped every last bag of it off the table quicker than I could read the flavor label. Not that blueberry or green apple edible grass appeals to me anyway. Honest. I was just curious. Really.

I classify that delicacy right up there with cotton candy squished into a plastic tub. When I see it sitting on a shelf, I may as well be looking at Gefilte fish or pig knuckles floating in a jar. My reactions are identical - does anyone really buy that stuff?

In case you were wondering, there were plenty of Peeps on sale. At first glance, one would think they had a thirty year shelf life, like our dearly departed original Twinkies—may they rest in peace—but not so. Last year I bit into a Peep that was about three weeks old and nearly broke a tooth. My girlfriend uses them to make table centerpieces. That should have been my first clue. 

Unfortunately, this year I only had time to forage for leftover candy at my local drugstore, and the pickins’ were rather slim. But I did manage to score a few Pez shooters, several bags of pastel M&Ms, malted milk Robin’s eggs and some Willie Wonka Gobstoppers (I have no idea what they are, but I love that movie, so how bad can they be?).  A twenty-four inch chocolate bunny at half price also made the cut. Not that I’m a huge fan of milk chocolate, but seriously, who could resist a bargain like that?

Next year I’m changing my strategy. No more Brown Monday petty-candy-picking at some tiny drugstore. It’s the major leagues for me. I have an entire year to get ready for the Big Box Store candy scramble madness. I’ll be ready, no problem. I’m salivating just thinking about it. Can you just imagine what I’m going to be able to stockpile until Halloween rolls around and I can re-supply? 

The possibilities are staggering!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

A Little Fit Bit


In the past week, several friends have brought up the topic of fit bits. The sudden interest in horse bridles had me stumped. But when the word “calories” worked its way into the conversation, my light bulb came on.
For those of you who are not up on the latest “gage-rage”, the Fitbit is a gadget that helps you feel guilty about the amount of food you ingest and exercise you don’t get. This innocuous little device calculates everything you do, when you do it, how you do it, how long it took you do it, and why you should have done it more.
From what I understand, there are two styles of Fitbits. The “Zip” and “One” Fitbits dangle from your waist band like a giant key chain fob worn by gang-banger wannabes. Be aware that many Fitbits come in bright colors, so if you’re trying to “go gangsta”, be sure to select the correct color option for your "hood". 
The downside of the dangler style is that it only does three things: tracks the number of steps you’ve taken, the number of calories burned and how far you’ve traveled. I don’t know how it figures out this last calculation, unless it doubles as an odometer when not attached to a part of your body.
For my taste, the “Flex” type of Fitbit is a better choice. First, it disguises itself as a wristwatch so others can’t guess you’re counting calories. Second, this puppy tracks it all: steps taken, calories burned, distance traveled, active minutes, stairs climbed. It even tracks how many hours you’ve slept, if you slept well or not, and how many times you’ve awakened during the night to visit the bathroom (like you couldn’t figure that one out yourself).
The big question is—how does it know what I’m doing in my bed? Maybe it has a built in camera that’s hooked into the NSA system. I think it has something to do with the fact that it syncs automatically when your tracker comes within 20 feet of a dongle.
One model has a built in LED light. That feature must come in handy if you enjoy running in the dark waving your wrist in front of you to see where you’re going.
I think the Fitbit with a vibrating alarm is the most social-conscious option. It helps you to be more considerate—it will wake you in the morning so you don’t disturb your significant other. It helps you to be more calorie conscious—it will remind you when it’s time to eat in case the hunger pangs in your stomach neglected to accomplish that task. It helps you to be a more relaxed person—anything that vibrates can’t be all bad.
This gadget is really appealing to a game oriented person. You can compete with your friends by setting goals, collecting badges and checking the leader-board on your phone to see how your stats stack up against theirs. Note that an online disclaimer mentions that this particular feature can result in a substantial loss of calories … and friends.
If all this wasn’t enough, the Fitbit magically sends all the stats to your computer, phone and Bluetooth. It then forwards them to you in an e-mail to tell you how many times you worked out, what you accomplished each week, and flashes an alert when you miss your goals (like you needed another reminder of that).
Even if it is all about me – I think this Fitbit gives TMI (too much information). I’ll just stick to the old fashioned ways of counting calories in my head, nudging Garth when the alarm goes off and doing sit-ups until my stomach muscles scream for relief.
Or maybe I’ll invent my own gadget and call it an “I don’t give a fit.”
Either way, if the wristband doesn’t match my outfit, there’s no way I’d wear the darn thing anyway.
So, what do you think?  “Fitbit” or “I don’t give a fit”? Tells us why you love it…or not!