Unfortunate sequence of burnt out bulbs, right?

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This can’t be a coincidence, right?  I don’t really believe that this is a matter of “IFT’s” bulbs all burning out at exactly the right time, as much as it has to be an attempt at a practical joke by whomever works at this store.

My first guess is that it’s whomever has the unfortunate duty of working the second shift at this place decided to do some passive-aggressive sabotage, by killing off the bulbs.  The owner(s), whom I guess don’t ever really see this place with the sun down, never will notice; everyone else, once the sun sets and the lights come on, are effectively granted permission to predictable exclaim that “they found the G-spot!”

Or, it’s some truly meta tactics employed by the business itself, and utilizing the seemingly innocuously coincidental inconvenience of burnt out bulbs to their advantage, and suckering people into stopping by, based on nothing but perverted curiosity.  Personally, I only pulled off to the side, snapped my picture, and ran off.  But as you can see, there is someone emerging from the place, so it could be that it actually works.

As much as I would loved to have said that I saw this in Alabama, given my last two Sundays spent out there, it’s actually here in Georgia.  The interesting and suspicious thing about it is that this photo was taken on a Sunday night; pretty much, in the God-fearing south, most businesses are closed by this time, if they even bothered to open at all on a Sunday.  Which piques my curiosity that it really might be possibility #2, since they might be trying to capitalize on the draw of a funny name and accommodate possible customers.  Also interesting is the fact that I’m pretty sure they don’t sell anything at all remotely sexual.  I always thought it was just a place for stereotypical black womens’ clothing.

Photos: A day in Montgomery, Alabama

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The pursuit of travel and baseball took me down to Montgomery, Alabama for a day, to take in some local sights, and eventually watch some baseball.  Compared to Birmingham from just a week ago, I have to say that I liked Montgomery more.  Ironically, a lot of it has to do with the historic feel of the area, and walking around what I suppose was a major home of the Confederacy.

The first White House of the Confederacy is what’s pictured above, and it’s kind of interesting to think that I never heard of such a structure even existing in contemporary school, despite the fact that Virginia too was a “southern state.”

As much as I thought I would be looked at with a strange eye for being a Chinaman in Montgomery, Alabama, I was pleasantly surprised to have not really run into such incident.  Well, not openly.  Then again, being a Sunday afternoon, pretty much the entire city was deserted, except for the sparse church-goers and baseball enthusiasts at the park.  I’ll save the park opinions for when I eventually update the baseball site, but as for the rest of the pictures, beyond the jump.

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I Am Legend, southern style

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If you were to tell me that I Am Legend took place in Montgomery, Alabama, I would be inclined to believe you. This is a picture of downtown Montgomery, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and there isn’t a single soul in sight. I am literally standing in the middle of the street, with no fear at all of any oncoming cars. Because there simply are none. I really imagined that this is what Robert Neville felt like when wandering about in Los Angeles in the story, notating any dark and shady crevices in which vampires could be hiding in.

Apparently in the god-fearing south, and then deeper in, in Montgomery, they fear him just a little bit more, to the point where they go into complete hiding altogether on Sundays outright.

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Abby Wambach looks like the guy from Wanted

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Everytime I see this commercial, I can’t help but think this.

I vaguely know the name Abby Wambach, because I look at enough sports websites on a regular basis for osmosis to eventually absorb, or maybe it was during the time when the whole world was fascinated with Hope Solo that some of her teammates names manage to float around or something, but I had no idea of what she actually looked like.  So I really had no idea that the “protagonist” of this Gatorade commercial was Abby Wambach until the descriptors in the YouTube video revealed such information.

But watching this commercial, I’m always thinking that Abby Wambach looks like the main character from Wanted.  That crappy movie which also had Angelina Jolie and Morgan Freeman, where the concept of curving and hooking bullets came from, which I’ll occasionally rage-complain/reference while playing L4D, when I’m picked off around a corner, miraculously.  But I mean, come on – look at the picture; they totally look alike.  The swimmingly-green eyes, the Penguin-like hook nose, and even the furrowing of the brow, in intense agitation.

So now that the comparison is complete, it’s deduced that the guy from Wanted apparently plays professional women’s soccer when not making shitty movies.  Ironically what he does off-screen is reminiscent of the Rodney Dangerfield flick, Ladybugs, which focused around a dude playing soccer on a girls’ team.  And much like the character he played in Wanted was a gigantic pussy, the guy from Wanted waits until his defender is fatigued and feebly weak before exploiting it for the win.  Granted, I’m not above accepting wins no matter how they come, but ideally, nothing is more gratifying than beating an opponent when they’re at their best, not when they’re on their last legs.

But whatever – Wanted was a shitty movie anyway, and I stopped drinking Gatorade for the most part.  Too much fucking sodium.

An example of effective packaging

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As amazing as the thought of rib chips would be, it’s hard to fathom how such would be executed.  But when Jen and I were at the store the other day, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this bag of Ruffles Smokehouse Style BBQ chips.

Pictured on the bag is but a half-rack of the most succulent, meaty, heavily seasoned looking ribs the world has ever seen.  Ruffles has clearly transcended the need to even bother putting potatoes or the actual product on their bags themselves, and instead just gone straight for the jugular by putting a picture of what the chips are supposed to taste like.  The name is kind of there as a formality more or less, but nowhere on the front of the bag is even written the words “potato” or “chips.”

Instead, it’s just the greatest looking ribs in the world screaming “FUCKING BUY ME AND EAT ME YOU GOD DAMN PUSSY.”

The fact that it’s in my snack cupboard says who won that conflict.

Real Men Don’t Wear Small update: Regions Park, Hoover, Alabama

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The first update of the 2012 baseball season takes me to Birmingham/Hoover, Alabama for some minor league action.  Regions Park, home of the Birmingham Barons of the Southern League, the class-AA affiliates of the Chicago White Sox.  Ironically, the minor league parks for both the AA and AAA affiliates of the White Sox are way better than the White Sox’s major league park.