Sunday, January 31, 2010

nothing is sexier than a scented candle

Hear me out, I can see you making faces at your computer screen. Picture this though; you've just come home from a long day at work. You draw a nice warm bath and throw on some smooth jazz. You feel like you are in heaven, but something feels off... like something is missing. You suddenly remember the lavender scented candles you stashed away for days like these. Soon they lit and you seem to literally melt once you hit the water.

This is the power of the scented candle my friend.

If this little scenario is not enough to convince you then maybe you'll want to hear about my friend Charles. Now Charles wasn't ever much to look at, but he always was surrounded by the fairer sex. The reason, he hit on women exclusively using the names of scented candles. He'd approach and you would act polite as he complimented your shoes, once he figured he had lured into a false sense of safety he'd say something like, "Veronica, your eyes are like a tranquil escape, I can't seem to get them out of my head". Naturally you would swoon, maybe wonder how he could come up with something so romantic, and you would exchange numbers with him. Nothing seems to happen straight after that.

Fast forward to Sunday two weeks from now, you're at the grocery store and it's packed. You need to get to the frozen dessert section to get your weekly Haagen-Daz fix, but some country-fried piece of trailer trash is blocking the only entryway open to you. You decide to cut through No Man's Land, also known as the birthday/candle isle. You keep on your toes; those Jesus candles have always given you the creeps. You try to avert your eyes from the rows of over-powering wax and unfunny cards when your eyes are immediately drawn to one candle, Tranquil Escape. Charles did his studying. You call him up and agree to meet him for fondue, it works out great and you are together with him in bliss for a long time.

There are countless reasons to why scented candles are sexy, but I believe I have given enough to make my point. The moral of this story is, scented candles are just plain sexy and always will be; no explanation needed.

Monday, January 18, 2010

i love you magical mustache machine

I love you magical mustache machine.

No, I really do. Love isn't a word we just like to throw around here at Taco Party we really mean it. Now I suppose you're wondering why I called you in here. You seem to be working fine and you are completely full... but that's exactly it magical mustache machine.

You haven't sold one mustache.

Now I know times are hard and you've been here since the very beginning! Yes I know you have a wife and kids, but you've been milking your stay here for years. Don't raise your voice to me please magical mustache machine. Especially since I've asked around and there's a new cafe in Bountiful Terrace that's looking for a machine that's just like you.

How dare you of all people call me ungrateful! When I let you stay at my house when things between you and Laura got sour, did I hear one word of thanks? The answer is no magical mustache machine, you didn’t even bother to read the house rules I typed out for you. I am still trying to get that red wine stain out of my carpet, by the way.

Don’t smoke in my office, you know I have serious asthma. You know what, that’s another reason I’m letting you off. Every time I turn my back you try to sneak a smoke. You don’t even bother to leave the store! Do you know how many complaints I get about that? No magical mustache machine, more than one every so often, it is more like fifteen a day. It casts a very bad light on Taco Party, and we need to keep any and all customers we get seeing as that new Del Taco opened across the street.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry or you’ll get me started too, and trust me I don’t look good crying. It’ll be okay man, everything will be alright. No I don’t think you made a bad choice dropping out of college to be a magical mustache machine... In fact, I think you were made for this job. Your services just didn’t fit here, we are a glitter tattoo kind of joint. You are just ahead of your time is all.

I really enjoyed your time here magical mustache machine, but all good things must come to an end. You need to get back on the saddle, put yourself out there. I know you can do it buddy. I know.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

well i have a hack saw...

nope, i'm an axe murderer.
we aren't dead here, just slow.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

A Love Letter to Jason Schwartzman

Dear Mr. Schwartzman,

Sorry to start so formal, but I feel as though I should be just to brace you for the rest of this letter. Now I’m sure you get hundreds of these, seeing as you are a big time movie man, but I want you to know that I am a step above the rest. I’m going to be blunt, you are extremely attractive and I would like to get to know you. I know you have a wife, and I’m sure you are happy together seeing as I haven’t heard anything about a falling out, but that doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Here’s my big picture Mr. Schwartzman: You, me and the wide open sea.

Yes, we will be adventurers! We will loot and pillage and make the world a worse off place for those who cross our paths! As you can see sir, I have thought this plan through many times. I know secretly, in your heart of hearts, you have thought about it too.

Have you ever noticed the young girl in the track suit who always seems to be walking her dog? That’s not me, Jason (I feel we’ve gotten close enough through the course of this note for me to call you Jason), I’m classier than that. I’m the kind of person who sits in front of their computer screen, trying to sort the facts from the lies. In truth, I know all. Like I know you some what fancy yourself a musician. That’s good; music will be an important part of our voyages.

We’ll start off with the funds you’ll make off of a couple of small gigs, only enough to buy a small rig perfect for the two of us. After we gain notoriety on all of the seven seas, we’ll turn to the lucrative spice trade. Yes, we’ll trade muskets and young women for fresh cinnamon and other exotic flavors, only to trade them again for the finest of silks and gold.

I certainly hope this is all sinking in Jason. If I did my job right, you’ll currently have the rustling of the sails and the faint smell of saltwater stuck in your head. You’ll go to bed and you’ll lie awake, thinking of what could happen if you took up my offer. Your wife will look at you from across the dining table and say, “Honey... What’s wrong?” but you’ll be thinking of the adventures you could be having. The distant hum of the television will take you back to a simpler time, back to your childhood dream of being a pirate and you’ll slowly realize that you’ve started to cry. Why make yourself suffer like that Jason?

A Friend