A Mom and Pop Circus is Coming to Town?

Recently, these began popping up all over near where I live.

Woah. What kind of crazy amazing joyful thing is this? I feel like I have gone back to the early 1900’s. For days I have scoured our local newspapers, searching diligently to see if there is going to be some kind of parade or event or something, but so far I have heard no boisterous barkers and read no hyperbolic news print.  There is literally no advertising for this thing other than telephone pole signs that kind of remind me of something out of Something Wicked This Way Comes:

The signs in my town are very basic and plain. There are no phone numbers, no prices, and no information. So, I decided to look these guys up, and this is what I found:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Family-Fun-Circus/198889566797144

That looks cool. I don’t think I have ever actually been in an honest-to-goodness circus tent.

But apparently that is what they plan on erecting.

I am actually really excited to see what will go on under the big top. Will there be lions or tigers? Will there be the human cannonball? Will barkers sell me cotton candy, peanuts and popcorn? Will I see a monkey in a diaper?

In my mind’s eye, it looks something like this:

I am sure that in reality, it will be more like this (only without the talking animals – which would be really cool to see):

Anyhoo, I will plan on attending this event on Saturday evening with my two sons in tow, and bring a full report back. All for you, dear Reader, all for you . . .

Deigh Reviews Herr’s Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Potato Chips

Yeah, so these exist.

About three years ago I was wandering through Luzon – a large island in The Philippines, home to Manilla, Spam restaurants (the meat, not the amazing wealth of internet ads that both titilate and confound me when they show up in my inbox) (darn those crafty internet marketers, I didn’t even know I knew the Emperor of Equador), and more people than Carter has liver pills. If you don’t understand that last comparison, ask your Grandma, she’ll explain it to you.

Anyway, Spam is incredibly popular in the Philippines. This restaurant was in a mall:

In fact, did you know that Spam is one of the most popular meat products in the world, today? In fact, in 2007, the seventh billion can of Spam was sold. That’s 7 with nine zeros, or 7,000,000,000. That’s one can of Spam for every person on the planet. That’s a lot of Spam.

Anyhow . . .

Deigh Visits The Exorcist House

I am an unapologetic movie geek. Ever since I was two, I have loved the movies. One of my earliest memories is seeing  Star Wars in the theater, with my dad, in 1977. Since then, I have found solace, wonder, and magic on the silver screen. I remember the first time I saw Raiders, the first movie I ever went to by myself (Back to the  Future), the first “R” rated movie I ever went to legally (Predator), and the first time I saw Disney’s Peter Pan. Movies have touched my heart, effected my worldview, given me hope that the geek could get the girl, and challenged my thoughts and beliefs. I have strived to be part of the process since I was a kid. I have worked hard, trying to be a part of the biz.

When I was a teenager I would watch at least one movie a day, tearing through everything from Casablanca to The Garbage Pail Kids. Later on, when I worked for a movie theater, I sometimes would go to two or three movies on a lazy Saturday. Some of my best jokes have been directly plagiarized from movies. I have bought movie props, relished movie trivia, and read books on the masters and their craft.

Whenever I get a chance to visit a shootingllocation, I jump at it. There is a strange, almost mystical connection to a film when you stand in the place where it was shot. It changes the attachment to the movie. Plus it is just cool – from a historical perspective.

Recently, I was in Georgetown, at this intersection:

What The What?

So we made two stops this weekend.

Now remember, today is only the 8th of July, so we’re talking about the 5th and 6th.

The first stop was Wal-Mart, where we had to get my son’s glasses adjusted. If you didn’t know, glasses are a horrible invention for an 8 year old. Sure, they help with things like vision and headaches and concentration at school, but really, with all of our amazing technology and the most recent breakthroughs in alloys and engineering, can’t we come up with something a bit more durable?

An eight year old should never be trusted with something that costs upwards of $100 and goes on their face. Have you seen an eight year old? They are walking catastrophes. Mine in particular, thinks that using his head means banging the door open with his cranium. The boy is a walking tornado, and by the time he gets to be a teenager we will own our own wing at the local hospital.

Anyway, we walked into the eyeglass showroom. I turned around to glance back into the store and noticed this:

What’s Summer Without A Night At The Drive-In?

This weekend we went to the Drive-In.

I love the Drive-In. I can remember going as a kid. My parents would load us up in their lime green station wagon with the wood paneling. We would fill the car up with  junk food, blankets, lawn chairs and drinks, and go see movies like: The Black Hole, Howard the Duck, and The Ice Pirates.

I remember sneaking into the back seat and pretending to go to sleep so I could watch Friday the 13th Part 4 through the hatch-back windows of the wagon, peering over the hoods of hundreds of dark cars, ducking as Jason stalked his victims through the rainy forest.

I never realized what went on in the back seats of the other cars around me, or how many teenage boys were using Mr. Vorhees as the perfect excuse for a little cuddle-action. I wasn’t interested in any kind of  voyeurism other than the kind on the screen – well, that’s not entirely true, but this post isn’t about that kind of stuff, now is it?

There was always something magical about the yellow and green lights of the Drive-In, like something out of the world’s most magnificent putt-putt park. Cars line up in rows, with those little silver speakers hanging on poles.

Twinkie Festival in Emporia, Kansas!

You may not know this, but the Hostess brand got its start in Kansas. That’s right, Dorothy probably ate Twinkies.

Emporia, Kansas used to be one of the Mid-West’s main Twinkie producers. Hungry snackers from the great plains, Texas, Missouri, and even a stoner or two from Denver used to sate their munchies, dining on sponge cake and creamy filling that flowed from the Sunflower State.

As you know – if you are any kind of foodie, children of the 80’s, fan of junkfood, or recreational drug user – Twinkies have not been around since November of 2012, due to the bankruptcy of Hostess.

But now, all the snackers of the world can unite to celebrate because the Hostess plant in Emporia is back up and about to go online. The investment group who purchased Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and other assorted snack cakes with naughty names have assured the good people of the State of Kansas that Emporia is their flagship bakery. Emporia will be one of the main (and as far as I can ascertain: first) breadbaskets of the humble Twinkie for the entire nation.

In celebration of this momentous occasion, Emporia decided to do the coolest thing ever.

Behold!:

Oh yeah. Man I wish I could go to this event. Can you imagine anything more cool than a guy in a Twinkie costume, who just won the Twinkie eating contest, singing an original “Welcome Back Twinkie” ditty, strumming on his Twinkie-shaped ukulele?

What could the Twinkies Shake Dance possibly be? I want to learn it, doggon it!

If any of you out there are in Kansas, and going to this thing, you gotta send me some pics and a complete report.

I love Twinkies, and have sorely missed them. Let’s be honest, Uncle Julio’s Creamy Spongecake just isn’t the real thing, folks.

I already know what costume I would wear.

Sigh.

Celebrating the 4th of July

So yesterday was the fourth.

I had meant to post this little ditty last night, but we didn’t get home until midnight and I had a really important meeting this morning, so I had to go straight to bed – after all, Deigh without his beauty sleep is an ugly sight to behold.

Unfortunately, my neighbors must not have realized that I wanted seven hours of good shuteye, because those jackwagons decided to shoot huge booming artillery shells off until about two in the morning. I tried putting a pillow over my head, sleeping in the closet, and finally shooting a warning shot out my back sliding door with my 12 gauge, but none of it worked. Finally, after I began pelting them with frozen balls of dog feces (don’t ask, don’t tell)  I fell into an irritated, restless sleep that led to dreams of Bea Arthur, some Nutella, and a collie named Beau.

But back to yesterday . . .

As per usual, the Misses and I hauled our little family over to my cousin’s house by the lake. There was boating, tubing, swimming, eating, drinking, and my cousin, Tommy. Let me tell you, after a few Midori melon bombs, that guy is really a hoot to be around, just keep him away from the sister-in-laws.

But the real attraction, and the reason we continue to go year after year is actually quite simple. You see, I like fireworks, but I hate spending $200 – $300 on something I am going to blow up. Luckily, my cousin is an attorney and most of his friends have money – money to burn – money to blow stuff up with. I swear these guys save up all year, and are literally dying to blow up $100 bills if given half the chance.

They come like pilgrims, bringing their offerings for the gods of BOOM!

Behold, the shrine of wonder.

Fourth of July Shopping Only To Find . . . Halloween?

Yesterday I had to go into Hobby Lobby in order to pick up some 4th of July decorations for a float for our town’s local parade tomorrow.

I love Hobby Lobby, Michael’s, Party City, and JoAnn Fabric; any place that has holiday decorations. Usually they can be counted on for a nice dose of nostalgia and an injection of holiday cheer.

Today I was walking in, minding my own business, trying to find the patriotic stuff.

Luckily, it was all on sale.

They had two clearance rows of Independence Day. I quickly grabbed some garland, a few ribbons, and some poster banner.

Horribly Expired Strawberry Wafers

The other day we stopped at a gas station. My wife and I were a bit hungry and so we decided to to grab a snack. My wife loves those wafer cookies, you know the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry kind. They used to come in a variety pack that had all three flavors. Unfortunately, all I seem to be able to find are the individual packs.

Anyhow, the gas station had these in stock and they sounded good, so after much debate we settled on the strawberry wafers which were only 75 ¢ which was quite the bargain.

We bought the wafers and a Frozen Run and a Cherrikee Red, and headed out the door. When we got to the car, my darling wife opened the package. A strong smell of pungent artificial strawberry filled the car (and our nostrils) with its delectable odor.

My wife pulled one out.

New Soda From Pennsylvania – Frozen Run Review Along With An Accidental Candy Cigarette Retrospective

The last time I was in a play was at a local community theater, in a small suburb of the town that I lived in and we had rehearsals three nights a week. Nearby was a local mom and pop gas station that sold the original Necco candy cigarettes.

I loved these things! I would run over there before rehearsals and stock up. Then I would sit around like a cool kid and suck on the white stick with the pink tip, and my lungs had absolutely no damage. I must have cleared out their entire stock of goods during the three weeks of rehearsals and the four week run of the show.

Now there are many brands of candy cigarettes – more than you might realize unless you are a true candy cigarette aficionado like myself.

Unfortunately, most of these taste like you went to an old, abandoned elementary school, broke out a ground floor window, climbed through, made your way through all the mice and spiderwebs to one of the chalkboards on the far wall of the classroom, and found an old broken piece of Dixon Waltham chalk and stuck it in your mouth.

Oh, but not  Necco candy cigarettes. It’s not the shape, or the idea of edible cigarettes. I don’t like to pretend like I am Nick Nolte from Cape Fear, puffing away at hard sugar like a hefty kid with a Pixie Stick.

To me, it doesn’t really matter if you call them candy stix, candy cigarettes, or candy heroin pipettes. I just like the taste. It’s a kind of a mellow peppermint that is both simple, yet luxurious, and as a bonus, there was always that little pink dot on the end to break up the monotony. Yes, I realize that the dot was there to symbolize the cherry, but it just kind of made  the sticks seem . . . I don’t know . . . cooler . . .

If that wasn’t awesome enough, Necco also perfected the smooth texture. These sticks did not have the crumbly, chalky instability of the “other” brands. These were firm candy sticks with just the right crunchiness to them.

The original Necco Stix or Cigarettes, or whatever had cool names like: Dinosaur, Supersonic, and Hawk and looked like this: