Monday, September 07, 2009


It occurred to me the other day that I haven't had Fruity Pebbles in years. Possibly decades.
Why did this occur to me? Because the old Fruity Pebbles Christmas commercial popped into my head, as things like that are wont to do.
(The text of said commercial, presented in its entirety as a stream of consciousness: Season's greetings in our souls. Yummy Fruity Pebbles in our bowls. Uh-oh here come's you-know-who. Yaba daba fruiylicious too. Ho-ho-ho I'm hu-hu-hungry. Santa? My Pebbles! Your Pebbles? Tis the season to be sharing, Fred. Merry Crhistmas, pal. Aw, Fred.)
I was always puzzled by the Fruity Pebbles commercials. I mean, was Fred the only person in possession of Fruity Pebbles? Did he make them himself?
After all, if they were available in stores, why did Barney always go to such extremes to try to steal them from Fred? Couldn't he just go to the store and buy some? (Or, given the gender politics of The Flintstones, more likely send Betty to the store to buy them for him.)
And why was Fred such a douche about sharing them with his best friend anyway?
Going back to the theory that Fred produced them himself - or had some animals who would often quip "It's a living" make them for him - given Fred's propensity for get rich quick schemes, why wouldn't he actually sell them? I mean, if they're so desirable that your best friend will try to steal them from you, it seems to me that they'd be under high demand on the open market and would thus fetch a very good price.
I suppose that simple gluttony could explain Fred's actions: he was utterly unwilling to share his precious Pebbles with the world, even if it meant seriously damaging his relationship with his best friend and losing out on banking a lot of clams (which, if I recall correctly, was the currenccy of the time).
Still, it was always puzzling.
And don't even get me started on the weirdness of a culture that existed well before the birth of Christ - and, indeed, even before the establishment of the Abrahamic religion - celebrating Christmas.
Anyway, what is the point of all this, other than that I have way too much time on my hands and spend it thinking about random nonsense like this? I should think it's obvious that there isn't one.
Another long weekend has drawn to a close and I find that, once again, I've pretty much squandered it doing nothing, and I vow that I will never do so again until the next one.
Tomorrow it's back to work. *Sigh*
I honestly don't hate my job, and I actually like it more than pretty much any other job I've ever had - it edges out my Desktop Publishing job in Minnesota simply because it pays a LOT more - but I'm just not a fan of the whole "working for a living" thing. I'm actually pretty tired of that lifestyle, what with the whole not being able to get up whenever I feel like it, having to deal with traffic, and not being able to randomly take naps/watch porn/sit around thinking about Fruity Pebbles commercials whenever I feel like it.
Still, there don't appear to be any alternative lifestyles available to me - none that I'm interested in, at any rate - so I guess I'm stuck with it. Oh well.
The other day I started having problems with the electronic lock on my car. As long as the remote key is somewhere on my person, I should be able to lock and unlock the car by simply pushing the button on the handle. However, pushing the button on the driver's side door was having no effect whatsoever. Taking out the key and pushing the buttons on it would unlock/lock the car, and the button on the handle would start working after that. Initially this only happened first thing in the morning. Then it started happening at random times. Meanwhile, the buttons on the passenger side door and the rear door worked fine. For a while.
After they started failing - and after using the buttons on the key started taking multiple attempts before working - I realized that the problem was most likely with the key itself. I tried my spare key and everything worked fine, so it looks like that's where the trouble was.
We'll see if that proves to be the case once I'm - *sigh* - back to the daily grind.
In any case, that's its for today's randomness quota.


lbugsh2 said...

There is a different lifestyle marry a high society women and live like a rich bastard. Or you could become a bum. Or you could move in with us and live the life of a loud crazy messy house. It would be different. =)

Heimdall said...

Hmm...I could probably deal with the loud messy house bit, but living in Manassas? *Shudder* I'll keep working, thanks.