Things I'm going to buy stock in when I have some damn money again (which will be NEVER):
1. Resolve Carpet Cleaner
2. The Bissell Company (vacuums and carpet steamers)
3. Whoever sells Kroger their milk (we go through, no shit, four gallons a week)
4. Maruchan Ramen (my seven-year-old son Dorian eats a six-pack every thirteen seconds)
5. Bulleit Bourbon
6. Philip Morris (creators of the world's best non-premium cigarette, the Parliament Full-Flavor. To quote Denis Leary: "I love to smoke. I smoke SEVEN THOUSAND PACKS A DAY, OK? And I am NEVER FUCKING QUITTING.")
In case you care, here's why.
1: RESOLVE CARPET CLEANER. My wife, son, and myself live in a bad-ass original ranch house which we are, with heat-death-of-the-universe slowness, trying to restore to its Atomic Ranch grandeur. This house is gifted (cursed?) with deep-pile beige shag carpet everywhere but the kitchen and the indoor privies. We like to drink wine, lots of it, mostly red, plus port, and coffee, and tea. Also we have three cats and one giant dog. More on that momentarily. You can see where this is going? We can either rip up all the carpet and live on baseboard until we can afford the grey stone tile I lust after (which will be sometime in the next millenium) or we can clean the goddamn carpet.
2. THE BISSELL COMPANY: We have one o'them fancy vacuuming machines, Mr. Bissell Liftoff, that is specially designed for households mysteriously infested by hairy parasitic creatures who demand allegiance, food, and the right to shit into (and outside of) a box full of gravel. They like to remove their hair IN FISTFULS and wipe it on the furniture and the carpet and the ceiling and our faces. The aforementioned vacuuming machine LIKES TO EAT HAIR. It likes to eat hair very much. This is disgusting, but useful.
It also has a cousin machine, Mr.Bissell Proheat, which likes to piss steaming soapy fluid into the carpet and then suck it back up, taking the remnants of wine, port, coffee, tea, and epic dogarrhea* with it. Hey, I don't judge. I'm just glad they live here. You should get one or both if you're stupid enough to have carpet, like me.
*Epic dogarrhea (n.)--when your Aussie Shepherd/St. Bernard mix eats something he isn't supposed to (dried squirrel assholes, bacteria-laden styrofoam meat trays from the trash, etc.) and then deposits the PUTRID, REEKING, BESLIMED RESULTS inside your living space rather than in the damn back yard.
3. WHOEVER KROGER GETS THEIR MILK FROM: I used the Google on this one. It turns out that Kroger gets their milk FROM KROGER. I thought you had to make the stuff, or grow it or whatever, but apparently it just spontaneously generates at the back of the dairy case. Occasionally it migrates onto the shelves of the dairy case, but mostly it's just left there unattended while you climb onto the dairy shelves and futilely wave your arms in the hopes that this will cause the milk to come flying toward you. (Please note: the stock crew was watching. And they have never, ever stopped laughing about it.)
4. MARUCHAN RAMEN: Did you know that there is a country called JAPAN? And in Japan, they have entire chains of "restaurants" which sell hand-made, delicious, noodle soups WITH MEAT AND EVERYTHING that are called " ramen". Unfortunately, due to an incident involving radiological materials, a giant lizard, a former-hat-salesman-turned-President and the fact that most Americans would rather eat fried horse turds than real food, this "ramen" is not available in the USA. What we do get, also confusingly called "ramen", is dried paste in the shape of brain convolutions, which you must BOIL FURIOUSLY to remove the radioactivity. "Seasoning" is also provided in a small foil packet. It consists of salt and giant lizard bouillon powder. Stir the "seasoning" into the now de-radiated boiled paste, and stir like a mofo. Now you can either
a: eat it, or
b: throw it into a lead-lined pit marked with the correct biohazard symbols, cover it with a two-foot-thick concrete lid, and inform the government of your actions.
My son prefers option "a". He, though only seven, is a stout trencherman. He ate FOUR CHICKEN LEGS for dinner last night. And two bowls of rice. And a bowl of strawberry ice cream. He is not much fazed by radioactive paste with lizard salt in it. In fact, he eats it as often as he can. He seems to be fine, except for the fact that he is currently running around the house wearing a plastic Thor helmet, waving a battered Nerf sword and screaming "COME IN, TOKYO!!!" at the top of his lungs. I should probably be more concerned about this.
5. BULLEIT BOURBON: See below.
6. PHILIP MORRIS: Look, I'll just put it to you this way: Brown party liquor and delicious, non-habit-forming Parliament cigarettes make Daddy a much, much nicer Daddy. Daddies who do not like brown party liquor and Parliaments probably do not really love their children. They are, in fact, secretly plotting to sell their young for medical experiments and/or to run off with that floozy from Accounting (who has spots on her junk, which the non-drinking non-smoking Daddy will not find out until it is entirely too late). Your choice in these matters is clear, folks.
Next time on Heartfelt Apologies and Other Bullshit: How Old Men Still Get Laid Despite Smelling Like Brylcreem Stirred Into Week-Old Vegetable Soup
