Hard as a Rock

  • by Drew

I’ve been watching a lot of shows about Pawn Stars and police stings lately. I’m not sure why – aybe because they hearken back to a simpler time before ubiquitous breast implants and popularity contests that charge their “judges” top dollar to vote by phone, disguises these money makers as talent seeking enterprises.

Among the commercials I see while watching my fake-u-mentary-but-I0can-pretend-it-ain’t-reality-TV-television is one for a Hard Rock Cafe party rehab place. I don’t know if this is one of those famous or infamous los angeles detox rehabs or if it is just a stunt, but I can’t for the life of me figure it out. Is this really a rehab? With all those bartenders and bikinis? Is this about the “guests” or the staff. But wait…please don’t answer. I really don’t think I want to know. I’m just going to go and see if I can find out if those pawn shop guys ever unloaded that Civil War cannon. I hope they were able to make a few bucks!

Did I say huck or yuck?

  • by Drew

Following on my Kubrick-ian review of blue huck towels, I submit this, my sequel, for your approval. All huckles and chuckles aside, this is a more or less true story of backseat cleanup a couple weeks ago. And lest you think this is all a big joke, let me emphasize that never before has a kitchen towel performed so well in the backseat.

Yeah, I’m going to just walk away from that one.

 I understand that my video offers a trifecta of difficulties for the viewer, namely:

1. Crappy battery life cuts off the last sentence.
2. Not much in the way of a pretty spokesperson.
3. It’s a story about a kid throwing up!

Still, I want to make sure that my feelings about these towels are clear and true – they are tough and sturdy and they clean up the yuke as good as any paper towel I’ve ever used.

Rock and roll.

Huck it Up Blue

  • by Drew

This is not the first time I have agreed to review products here, just the most recent. In this case I was given some cleaning products to test, and today I got to work with my blue huck towel. These are more or less shop towels, except they’re not the standard red I am used to. They feel a little coarse, though not particularly scratchy, and I thought that I would explore a unique alternative use for such a towel (as in, not kitchen use).

That said, I apologize for the darkness of my video. I am struggling with an old-school battery-gobbling camera in a dark garage with not the best acting talent… but I think you’ll get the point. And just think – if these towels can rubout most of a deep key scratch in black automotive paint, how effective will it be applying stainless steel appliance polish to your stainless steel appliances.

Sheesh, maybe that should have been my video. Much better light in the kitchen.

Sand between my toes

  • by Drew

So I was up at 4:30 am with the baby again, and couldn’t help but revel in early morning television. Man, do they sell a lot of crap in the wee hours or what? I have to admit, though, there was this new weight loss plan that had me listening for a while. It has a focus on individual metabolism and targeted exercise to help get your body where you want it to be. I am a big fan of this approach because the diets and such are all a mess. Sure, there are some generic guidelines that work for everyone:  Carrots > Doritos and Grilled Chicken > Liver fried in bacon fat. But a lot of the generic diet plan stuff won’t work the same for different people.

How do I know metabolism differs? I know a guy who is a lot older than me who routinely eats two bagels with cream cheese for breakfast. I’ve seen this guy, on more than one occasion, eat an entire pizza for lunch. Like, a pizza intended for 2 people and a toddler. All by himself. For lunch. And he’s maybe 5 pounds underweight. And I’ve never seen him touch a vegetable. Yeah, that’s fair.

Maybe read some phentermine reviews and you’ll find that the pills work in a more generic fashion, who knows? But I am pretty sure that your South Beach is not my South Beach.

Of course, my South Beach has that topless section for hot chicks only, I don’t know if you’ve got that. And if I’m lucky, they occasionally turn over in the sun and I can get a glimpse through my binoculars from the far away other end of the beach next to the hot dog cart.

Ride ’em Cowboy!

  • by Drew

All this talk about birthdays has me remembering a couple years ago when the family took me to Texas Roadhouse for my birthday. I love this place, and they’d just opened up in Kingston. We presented a free appetizer birthday couple and one thing led to another. Ultimately, I had to ride the birthday bull.  don’t know if that’s what they call the thing, but I like how it sounds so I’m going to call it that: Birthday Bull. (Now it’s a proper noun…who says there’s no such thing as evolution.)

Anyway, the bull is a sawhorse of sorts with a big saddle on it. And judging by some of the other victims…I mean birthday revelers… I have seen over the years, it is now surely sticky and half-price margarita encrusted with a thick layer of margi-salt and peanut dust. Still, it was fun. I sat on the saddle with burning cheeks and the whole staff yee-hawed for me.

In retrospect, though, it would have been cooler if the thing had a motor. Or maybe a little track and a mini cow like that calf-roping practice machine on Pawn Stars. Then I could load up on hgh supplements and protein powder shakes and rock that buckin’ bronco till the cows come home. Or until the calf gets roped. Really, either would be fine with me.

Area 51

  • by Drew

I know, I know…I post aout my dear wife’s birthday and everything goes to poop. Literally. Some men will start thinking about candy, luxury sheets, flowers and Axe body spray. Me? I go the douche route. I talk more about the human hindquarters than a bunch of aliens at an autopsy convention – ButtCon 2011 at the Javits…perhaps you’ve heard of it?

Anyway, waste of space that I may seem to be, I do know my wife finds me occasionally funny and might even appreciate this foray into comic cavity cleansing. Well, maybe appreciate is not the right word. How about…tolerate?

Birthday Girl

  • by Drew

It’s my lady’s birthday today, so you know what that means…

Yup, I went on a shopping spree. Body spray, candy flavored lip gloss and natural colon cleanser for everybody! Woo-hoo! Pass the coffee enema, baby. As always, when I think of cleaning the body fantastic, I recall the Super Stop and Shop in Hadley when I was in college. Right near the exit was a bunch of health and hygiene related items. My favorite was the box that contained a combination douche and enema kit.

Really? I mean, I don’t know everything, but  do know those are two personal services I would prefer to keep isolated. And since the package price was something like twelve bucks, I think I would just rather lay out an extra dime and two than blow serious cash on gallon after gallon of bleach cleaning my combo apparatus.

Oh, and by the way, Happy Birthday Carol!

Cutting the fat

  • by Drew

I just saw a piece on MSNBC about reality shows that focus on overweight people. The story was addressing concerns that these shows exploit overweight people to get ratings. Well…duh. Of course they do. Who wants to watch skinny people work out? Or skinny nobodies dancing? I for one will watch no dance competition that does not feature one of the following:

1. Washed up former child actors
2. 80s glam metal has-beens
3. Really really fat people

Defenders of the programs claim the viewing audience is identifying with “people like me.” A representative of an organization whose name I didn’t totally get but was something like Organization for the protection of fat people (and yes, the word fat was in the name of the org) said she believes these people are being exploited. The overweight people I mean. She believes these shows are allowing or even encouraging the audience to make fun of these overweight folks.

I agree. As she pointed out, it is not realistic for everyday overweight people to exercise 8 hours a day with personal trainers barking at them the whole time. Private dietitians are not available to your average person. Then again, you probably wouldn’t have much of an audience if you were just handing out rapid weight loss pills. I mean, maybe you have two or three episodes.

Of course, you could probably have a holiday follow up at the methadone clinic…

God Sues Sheep Dogs

  • by Drew

Yep. You heard it here first. Unless you were flipping channels a couple minutes ago like me and the wife were. Then you might have flipped past a TV preacher getting his evangelical on. I don’t know if vehement preaching will help you burn belly fat, hit the lotto, or get into that uber SUV you’ve been eyeing, but I know this – God sues sheep dogs.

Correct. The preacher said it on TV so it must be true. I mean, not only was it stated by a “man of God” but it was on television. We know that television never lies and men of God are above reproach, so…it’s true.

No, I’m not sure what it means. Nor do I know what it had to do with the shadow in the valley where the devil backs you up and backs you up and backs you up but he can only back you up so far before you hit mercy. Go sues sheep dogs.

Crafting Grannies vs. Comic Geeks

  • by Drew

No, I’m not suggesting a superstar Family Feud grudge match…though it could be fun. Actually, I am reacting to my recent Sheep and Wool Festival visit. The S and W Festival has been going on in Rhinebeck for ages, but in recent years it has become a kind of frou frou chi chi event. Among other things, that means lots of douche bag blowhards from Manhattan.

And other places too. People travel from far away, and many of them are quite pleasant. Unfortunately, enough of the people in attendance are douche-y that it can ruin it for everyone.

The biggest problem? The number of nasty looks and behind-my-back comments about the fact that I was pushing a stroller. My little girl is seriously cute. You have to be a freaking martian bent on the destruction of Earth not to smile at her, let alone actually scowling at her. Yeah, these crafty middle aged women are nasty. So are the 20-somethings. And to boot, at least 30% of these women are themselves wider then the stroller I was pushing. Seriously.

The event setup added to the problem. There are several barn outbuildings where they had vendors and such, and these had little photocopied signs that said No strollers in barn. Next to this message was a sign that said Stroller parking. And under every stroller parking sign was 1 to 3 trash cans. And often, next to these trash cans was 1 to 3 people smoking.

Look, if you’re going to have an event that is not kid-friendly, don’t subtitle it the Family Fun Festival and advertise that it is fun for the whole family. Instead, charge admission for children rather than having it free for kids under 12. We would have just left them home and it would have been fine. Instead, we were irritated and frustrated and felt like we didn’t belong.

Now, back to the reason for my title. See, last week at Comic Con at the Javits, there were probably 3 times as many people in a much tighter and much smaller, entirely indoor space, and it was so much more pleasant. Yeah, the crowd got old and after our multiple successes in getting free comics and key autographs, we were ready to leave. We didn’t feel unwelcome or chased out…we were just ready to go. At the Sheep and Wool/Family Fun Festival, however, we felt like second class citizens smeared in non-sheep poop.

So what should you take away from this? In my opinion it is this: If given the choice between attending a massive public event primarily attended by either middle aged women who do arts and crafts or 20-somethings who live to play xbox 360 waiting for the next Jackass movie to hit DVD, go with the gamers. Every time. Every single time.

© 2026 Drew Bancroft. All rights reserved. Totally.