CALABRESE- Lust For Sacrilege Promo Photos

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

 

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Ashes Wednesday

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Hi Res Calabrese Promo Photo — Photo Credit- Andy Hartmark

Reverend Guitars

Reverend Guitars is now a part of the family! Bobby Calabrese officially shreds on a Reverend Sensei RA, a great addition to his arsenal.

Check out Reverend Guitars: www.ReverendGuitars.com

This thing is weird and I like it.

My luck is strong. My luck is unique. I believe that everything I've worked towards has led me up to this day in time. Everything I've strived for has subconsciously guided me to this beautiful entity, this shrine to human awe and wonder, this terrifying thing:

Picked this little fucker up in Dallas, TX at a super-mega-toy-store. One of those stores that sells everything that was once covered in kid boogers and drool or certainly will be in the near future. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it lying there, pink and grinning. Between the Star Wars junk and the mess of forty-thousand loose MOTU figures was this thing just waiting for me. JUST BEGGING.

Four dollars later, I'm now the proud papa of a flesh colored, dildo with a face.

Turns out it's an alien from "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." I vaguely remember a shitty bored game based off the film, but if you're anything like me, not only are you shocked that this even exists, but that they even bothered to base toys geared for children on a movie that showed little more than Richard Dreyfuss playing with mashed potatoes and a few freaky fucking aliens for a split second near the end. Which, now that I've talked myself through it, makes total and appropriate sense. 

Do they have a Richard Dreyfuss bendy, too? EBAY EBAY EBAY

And it bends! Did I mention it bends? Dear God, it bends. Completely ageless and timeless, this is the bendy toy of the most nightmarish space creep to ever grace cinema. Let me explain:

YES. You can argue the idea that there are, technically, scarier and more grotesque looking aliens in film. But what this provides is an even more delicate terror than, say, the forever-perspiring alien from "Alien."

This guy doesn't wear clothes. He has zero body hair. The limbs are longer than normal and it's head is the size of a watermelon, which sits on a thin and smooth neck. And behind it all lies a pair of HUMAN EYES. Even in toy form, they gave him doll eyes that, when prompted, twinkle in the sunlight.

He's even more fucked up looking in the bag. I guarantee you this is the ugliest sumbitch alien you've ever done see. And, coincendetally, the funniest fucking thing, too. Seriously, does this not make you giggle? Like, every time you look at it?

It's an unnecessary question, but it begs to be asked:

What does it all mean? How can this thing be so awful and amusing at the same time? (well, it does look like a dick, I mean, c'mon)

Where does life begin and end? Is this one of those ying and yang thing? Why does this toy alien make me...feel this way?

Why?

:/

"GIMME WAR" [OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO]

Bobby: “Gimme War’ is all out, loud and heavy. Very bare bones, but that’s the way I like it. This is the song that wakes you up in the morning when all you have to drink is decaf. We filmed in a junkyard during one of the hottest days of the summer, which I think helped the intensity of the video. We even did it in a single take. How can ya beat that? Crank your speakers to 11 and get fucking wild!”

What's the deal with In-N-Out Burger?

What's the fuss about? What's the big deal? What's up?

I've never eaten at an In-N-Out. The last time I stepped foot into one was ten years ago after a Strokes concert, and that was only because I wanted to impress my friends with worldly knowledge. "Sure, I love this stuff! Been eatin' it for years!"

Everyone talks about it like it's a burger smothered in edible gold. They act like the fries don't taste like any other fries from any other fryer. THEY ACT SO HIGH AND MIGHTY.

I figure that's why I've steered clear. Because, don't get me wrong, I can always get down with a good burger. As soon as hype starts creepin' in, I'm instantly turned off. Or maybe it's my inherent nature to disagree with anything anyone has to say. Just 'cause it's fun and I'm bored tee-hee.

This is my first time trying In-N-Out Burger. I can't wait and wonder any longer! Curiosity has a firm grip on my bony shoulders. And it's shaking me hard and my neck hurts. "Eat it! Eat the food! Eat the Goddamn In-N-Out!" (that was curiosity speaking, btw)

I never realized everyone dressed like old-school burger flippers. I like that. Because if I had to work at an In-N-Out, I'd much rather be dressed as a retro-dork than an actual dork-dork.

There's a certain calmness to it all. The bright lights, the color scheme. It feels (and looks) like a McDonald's but way less hepatitis-y.

I'm already thrown off by the menu. Look at the prices! Look at the minimal selections!

I always remember a specific episode of Kitchen Nightmares, where  Gordon Ramsey was berating a restaurant owner about their menu. Apparently, they had way too many choices and options, causing the customer to become confused and flustered. "There's too many items! Keep it simple!" (that was G. Ramsey speaking, btw)

In-N-Out Burger totally must have seen that episode, too!

BECUZ THEY BARELY HAVE ANYTHING

And that's...good. It's actually good. It's legitimately smart. That episode of KN sooo paid off. 

Sure, they sell more than just hamburgers and fries. They sell shakes. And a choice of cheese on your hamburger. But when you're a fast food joint that mainly sells hamburgers and fries, you might as well just sell some damn good motherfucking hamburgers and fries. 

So the ante is up. The bar has been raised. Will they make the grade?

...but wait!

Along with ketchup, you can load up on peppers! Little, juicy peppers. Everyone knows them as peporoncinis, but I hate writing that word out because blogger always demands that it's spelled wrong.

I also wonder if the owner is such a big fan of the things that they specifically cut out mustard to only offer ketchup and peppers. "Who needs mustard when you have peporoncinis? I'll change the way the world thinks!" (that was the owner speaking, btw)

Well, it looks pretty good. I'm not a stickler, nor am I a snob when it comes to cooked meat, so I'm pretty sure I'm gonna like it. That and because I'm a pig. A dirty, rotten pig.

Overall, really good. I'd take another photo of it but I fear getting hamburger-juice on the phone more than the Devil himself. I already hate how my fingers smell like secret sauce and I swear one of those peppers dripped on me.

It's good, though. Trust me.

I'm gonna take a shower now.

The Story of Elvis Busts and Saved by the Bell.

Do you remember the episode of Saved by the Bell where Screech's mom is leaving town so the gang decides to have a party at his house? And his mom is really into Elvis? And has an Elvis bust? And they end up dancing and going crazy and knocking the Elvis bust into a million pieces? Of course you do!

All actual details aside, I've always wanted an Elvis bust because of that episode. Because of that show. Because of Screech's mom.

It's odd. But I know I'm not alone in this, either. A quick Google search and you can tell other people obsess about this weird, minute detail in television history, too. Hell, where do you think I stole this screen cap from?

So, there it is. Singing, smiling Elvis Presley. I think what I like more about it this is that it's placed on a really nice, golden pedestal. Screech's mom has a golden shrine dedicated to Elvis in their grape colored living room. How cool is that?

I've kept my eyes open for an Elvis bust (and a golden pedestal) throughout the years because of Screech's unusual ability to influence and dictate. Sure, I love Elvis as much as the next guy, but that scene really sealed the deal. I want that statue. I need that statue.

Fortunately, I've seen 'em come and I've seen 'em go. There are dozens of incarnations of this specific Elvis entity -- lamps, cookie jars, everything ranging from the outrageously detailed to the crudely painted, etc. Depending on the jerk seller, I usually see these bad boys priced at over a hundred bucks (fuck!) and, unfortunately, anything under forty bucks is usually 3/4 chipped or the size of a pine cone.

I once tried to weasel an awesome Elvis lamp from the owner of a bar in Erie, PA. I offered him cold hard cash for the treasure, the good stuff, cabbage, dinero, legal fucking tender! Sadly, he told me to fuck off. I wholly understand, it was definitely a nice piece. As it turns out, the bar doesn't exist anymore, so...I won?

This ol' dog always comes out on top, though.

YEAH BOY I GOT ONE

It's not the one, but eh it's close.

This is nice because it's "Hawaiian Elvis," and that's OK with me. Say what you will, but that was a fine time in Elvis History. Jumpsuits, colorful leis, endless buffets, the works.

The quest was fortuitous, though. I got this for a clean fifteen dollars and it's the size of a desk lamp. Someone must not have seen Saved by the Bell Season 2, Episode 5: "House Party" and accidentally didn't price this accordingly. What a loser.

Look at those sideburns! Those eyebrows! That smirk!

Kiss me, you fool.
xoxox

LUST FOR SACRILEGE

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

The gang's all here.

Watch a gross movie, carve a rotten pumpkin, eat a razor-blade disguised as a Snickers, etc. Do what you gotta do -- it's only once a year we can all collectively run around in monster masks to stalk the streets and cause mischief. It always helps to steal little kids' candy and to trip old ladies for looking at you funny. Always gets me in the Halloween mood.

Have a good one, ya creepy weirdos.

MOAM?

Last week I finally saw one of my all-time favorite bands, Man Or Astroman?

Yeah, this is gonna be weird because their name does include a question mark, so trust me when I say I'm not supposed to sound confused every other sentence?

OH GOD I DID IT AGAIN

Ah, Man or Astroman? Where do I even begin? The furthest memory I can drudge up is sitting in my brother's room back in Illinois, staring at this marvelous, colorful album cover. CD's were pretty cool back then, way more advanced than the current, dinky cassette tape, so I guess there was a lot of charm in this album art being so huge. Well, my older sister had a bunch of shitty new-wave records at the time, so, uh, those don't count because those suck.

I liked everything about it. Robots either mining for gold, building a base to destroy Earth or simply working out, who knew? All that mattered was what lie beyond the front page and into the meat of the matter...the music.

Oh, and really, the name "Man or Astroman?" is just so inherently weird and cool you couldn't fuck this one up if you tried.

The music is great duh

Surf-rock with an outer space flair. Throw in a bunch of sci-fi movie samples and you've got a pretty good idea but you don't because there's so much more to Man Or Astroman?

They're better than all other surf bands. They've exceeded by somehow turning a pretty laid back, goofy genre into really kick-ass shit. Not trying to hate on the classics, jus' sayin' is all. Jus' sayin', bro.

I'm gushing, aren't I?

"Destroy all Astromen," specifically, is my favorite album. Actually, I like a few other albums more but this one was my first taste -- it's hard to forget the soft caress of your first lover's touch. This is the album that would hook me for, oh, twenty years, and would help me form my own playing style as a guitarist. I owe a lot to these stinkin' goofs.

They stopped playing years ago, so I pretty much threw in the towel when it came to ever seeing them live. I've accepted my forever bummed-out-ness. Once Youtube rolled on in, I finally had access to see what they even looked like. It only pissed me off more. And fascinated me. So many grainy clips from so many grainy shows. Who were these guys? The mystery remains and shall always remain I've missed my chance fuck!

So imagine my surprise when I found out that Man or Astroman? was once again playing shows and was coming to Phoenix, AZ, my back-fucking-yard. The joy! The excitement! I said to imagine my surprise, did you imagine it? There's a lot of it!

Everything was perfect and in harmony at the show. The Crescent Ballroom is quite posh for a venue, and since their house beer is "Luchador Lager" I've committed to the idea that I will one day move in and live under the stage. Plus, most of Man Or Astroman's? fans are so specifically Man Or Astroman? fans, so it was just a bunch of nerds in glasses and old dudes. It was pleasant.

I'll spare you the details (code: I'm lazy) but the show was killer. Sadly, a few original members have been replaced for the night's festivities (where the fuck were you, Coco?!) but all was negated once the guitars were humming and the drums were pounding. I dunno, man, it was pretty kewl.

Speaking of the drums, Birdstuff, who was very nice in hearing our excited claims of eternal fandom, was unstoppable. He played quick, fast and sparse. Small drum-kit but BIG sounds, it was incredible. He even broke a tom and instead of just, ya know, not using it, he took it off his kit and wore it over his head. Are you not entertained?

And then the show ended and he did this really crazy thing and stuff. 

COOOOOOOL

It's art! From outer space! They called it a night by stacking every instrument into a pile of throbbing, bizarre noise. I can only imagine the clean up, which makes it all the more impressive.

100% satisfied. Thanks, MOAM?

Ghoulies in my bathroom.

I love a great bathroom. With all the years I've spent traveling, I've come to appreciate a good toilet with a secure door that doesn't leave the participant in a world of fear. I hate what I've become, but I've learned to embrace my new outlook on life. In fact, I have a list of requirements:

I like it when there's toilet paper, of course. I like knowing there's soap available. It offers a glimmer of hope and makes the process a little less stressful. It's as if the crime as a whole can get however crazy it wants, as long as there's that light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, I also prefer paper towels over the blow-dry fan things (can double as second tier toilet paper paper when the occasion arises) and the more stalls the better. In fact, the bigger the better the bathroom the more vast and anonymous it can become. I like anonymity. AND IF THERE'S ON THING I hate the most it's when someone is right outside the door and are really, really impatient.

I don't know how to swing this back around to what I'm trying to say but um just get a "Ghoulies" movie poster and put it above your toilet i like bathrooms

"Ghoulies," for those unaware, is a 1980's horror film about a gang of troll-demon-turds that are summoned by the wicked ways of black magic. Some guy is in a house with his wife or something, and he goes into the basement, maybe reads a book and hey yeah there ya go. I can't remember how or why any of this took place, but I think it was because...why not? Wouldn't you read creepy, Latin passages from a dusty old book?

It's an awesome Halloween flick. You can't go wrong with this and it's many sequels. It's dumb fun and entirely enjoyable because of this. There's a whole lot of silliness and little monster dudes running around, which is entirely up to the viewer whether that's good or bad (of course it's good) but I can assure you that we, as a whole, HATE that the ghoulie featured in the movie poster is not in the film.

Not even a toilet is shown! We demand a ghoulie wearing red suspenders! We want it all and we want it now!

It doesn't really matter. Even if the movie is jumbled and confusing and red-suspender-ghoulie-less, this is THEE best decoration one can use to spice up that boring room you poop in, guaranteed.

This fits my mood. It fits the aesthetic. I am one with The Toilet and now I can show my appreciation by framing and hanging a picture of a little, green turd-monster jumping out of the can.

It excites! It invokes! It tickles! I stare deep into his eyes and he looks right on back.

Now my bathroom rules. In fact, I might invite friends over just to show them where I keep my toothbrush and zit cream and HEY LOOK AT THAT A GHOULIES POSTER DONT YOU THINK ITS COOL GUYS?!?!

Yeah, my bathroom rules.

Carpet Displacement Theory.

There's a lot of things that bother me. I can't help it -- I just absolutely get annoyed by nearly everything. Well, not everything. In fact, if I were to whittle down the list of things that I worry about, it would fall under the category of inane and pointless. Because most everything I dream about, think about or concern myself over is pretty stupid. The dumber the better. I can't help it. It's like an OCD with ADD and a dash of OMG.

So, what's bothering me now?

Carpet wrinkles. Ugly carpet wrinkles.

OK, here's the thing: it's really not that big of a deal. I get to live under a roof with a toilet and a kitchen and I get to watch TV and strum a guitar and occasionally eat food. It's not a bad gig, really. Griping over a few inconsistencies in a cheap, poorly installed carpet is pathetic even for me.

But it's my blog so oh well suck it!

I've always wanted wood floors, to be perfectly honest. Creaky, classy wood floors. It would eliminate any carpet suffering! Destroy all sadness! Every time I turn around it seems like everyone's got wood flooring (fake or not) and the jealously overrides. Again, not that big of a deal but fuck that would be nice. Clickin' and clompin' all over creation. To dream!

What I'm currently involved in is a carpet with weird, bubbly pockets scattered throughout. I suppose they make decent ramps for Hotwheels, but don't help in keeping up with the Jones'. I know the Jones' have faux wooden floors. Those pretentious fucks.

Here's one of the main offenders. A camera literally does not do this justice because I very well know there's a wrinkle there but you clearly cannot see a wrinkle there. It's that black line. If you squint. And imagine with your heart.

FINE FINE

Here's a closer, lower angle. You get the idea, it's jacked, it's there, I obsess. Take my word for it. All that aside, what am I gonna do about it? Why did I call you all here today?

WELL I've come up a theory. An idea. A blueprint. A fool-proof plan. I have a curiously odd proposal on how to amend this carpet treason.

I call it "Carpet Displacement Theory."

My hypothesis is that one area will and SHOULD give way to fate, invention and really heavy things. The plan is to leave hefty objects on said wrinkles in an attempt to flatten them out. The wait of these objects would displace the wrinkles and bubbles and allow me to sleep better at night. Hence, "CARPET DISPLACEMENT THEORY." So grab yourself a small TV, a toolbox or a stack of comics...it's time to get busy!

I like to use a laundry basket. It's inconspicuous, unobtrusive and if questioned, no one can fault you for doing your laundry. 

Now, to leave it overnight for twenty-four hours!

Again, pictures don't do it justice. But then again, it didn't do anything so whatever. My theory, sadly, is just a thoery. And in practice totally fucking sucks. In a way, it DOES kind of work, because the area, to the well trained eye, kind of looks flattened and corrected, but I'm guessing it's only because a certain area of carpet is smashed up so yea of course it looks different duh

Did we learn anything today? No. Not at all. You kind of caught a glimpse into my neurosis, which is kind of cool. Wait, is that even the definition of neurosis? What's neurosis? Oh, God, I'm having a panic attack.

yay see ya next time

Quick and Crappy Coffee Review: Kona 13 Coffee & Tea

I went to Kona 13 Coffee & Tea and it's got coffee and it's good here are three things why it's good:

1. The name of the shop uses the word "Kona."

The word "Kona" is fresh, it's vast and it's exhilarating. It instantly brings to mind the sandy shores of Hawaii, luaus and pigs roasting over a fire. It's a great word, a solid word, the perfect word for use in any business. I'm not even really sure what "Kona" even means, but it's hooked me so there ya go.

2. The previous coffee shop before Kona 13 Coffee & Tea sucked, so by default, Kona 13 Coffee & Tea is already a winner.

Before Kona 13 Coffee & Tea came into existence, another coffee joint was in it's spot. It was a place called "Baristas" and it was the silliest little thing you ever done see. In a nutshell, it was a Hooters for coffee. Their idea was to have their female employees sell coffee in lingerie, giving you thrills and chills and all sorts of tinglies. If the regular, ordinary consumer of a fine cup of Joe is anything like me, they'd be too embarrassed to order anything in a joint like that so uhhh yeah. It's just too much pressure. Too much hype. Too many pervy vibes floating around at eight in the morning.

Which is all just a calculated guess as to what's going on inside -- I've never even set foot in the place. I've only driven past it a handful of times. Alright, I was in the bushes. With a telescope. Ten miles away.

They went kapoot so whatever.

3. I was tagged as a spy for competing coffee companies.

My skills in undercover photography have been weak at best. My skills in regular, every day photography suck ass, too. WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY is that I'm terrible at taking photos, especially when I'm supposed to look like I'm not taking photos. It's my ultimate Achilles Heel. It's awkward. It's frustrating. Because it's awkward and frustrating it never isn't awkward and frustrating. If that makes any sense. god this is so frustrating you're making me feel awkward

So I got caught taking photos. I got bold and snapped one of the inside area (it's more of a "stand" than a "shop") which was outrageously ballsy, even for me. It might have tipped the scales because yes I got caught red-handed. By the guy running the show. He asked, "So, what are the pictures for? Am I gonna see this online?"

I would have been totally fucked if he did it in a sinister way. It was more of a wink and a nudge type deal, which helped formulate any type of lie I was about to bust out, it allowed for more breathing room.

"NO IM JUST A REGULAR GUY," I said.

Which I guess worked. Probably didn't. I then decided to tell him that I recently purchased a new phone and was merely testing out the new phone's camera taking abilities. Like, duh! So obvious! The more unnecessary details the more convincing the lie!

If the lies and deceit didn't work, it's alright. I'm just hoping he'll somehow see this post down the line and it'll be even weirder somehow. "Why would he lie?" he'd wonder. "BECAUSE" I'd reply.

Oh, and the coffee's good.

I mean, c'mon. It's coffee.

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?

Well, do ya?

DO YA, PUNK?

ALTAR BEAST

He's here! He's here! He's really here!

He's green! He's mean! He's got a purple chest?

HE'S GOT A PURPLE CHEST!

That is Altar Beast. A sewer-colored demon wolf with small parts, not for children under fourteen. The fine folks at  MonsterWorship.com were kind enough to hook me up with an Altar Beast figure at HorrorHound Weekend, which was great because I do like beasts and I do like candy-apple green colored beasts, too.

They must have known that I'm a big fan of the art toy revolution. There's a certain smell about my person. The seedy underbelly of producing, trading and colleting artsy molds of all sorts of weird shit is...like, really cool. My pheromones are in overdrive just thinking about it! Whatever you want = you make. I like how it's so DIY and unique and colorful. And super fucking expensive but let's not go down that road and ruin the buzz ya know yeah

I'm no expert, but this one is good. Really good. Even the name is good. "Altar Beast." So tough. So beast! The way he stares, the way he struts, the way he's a LIME GREEN WEREWOLF.

I like this pose, too. They sculpted it just right. The "hands above the head" look works in many ways. He's either extreme in attack/scare mode or ready to body-slam the shit out of the entirety of Castle Greyskull. It looks like he moves at the waist but I can neither confirm nor deny this for I refuse to take it out of the package hahaha just kidding YOLO

I love it. My new favorite thing ever. Feels all smooth and slick. Looks even better out of it's cage. Looks highly chew-able, too. Probably tastes good, too. Looks like it belongs in my mouth, is what I'm trying to say.

The only thing that would make this better would be to give it the face of a bee so you can call it "Altar Bee-st." So it would be like a killer bee, but still hold elements of it's wolf-beast form. I dunno. I just really like puns.

ALTAR BEAST OUT

XMAS HAUL, 2013.

What, what did ya get?

Oh, that's great!  You really needed that, too.  It's definitely gonna come in handy.  And I always heard the life warranty on those things were fantastic.  So that's great, yeah.  Oh, what did I get?  Well, not much, this and that...a few little things to tide me over into the new year.

JUST KIDDING I GOT A KEURIG COFFEE MAKER.

The greatest and quickest way to make a single cup of freshly brewed coffee.  This is the Lazy Man's Brew.  This is modern technology!

For years I've scoffed at the notion of a Keurig.  Extra emphasis on the "eu" part, accentuating it's pretentiousness.  Actually buying expensive little plastic cups to brew expensive little plastic coffee?  Who do you think I am?

"It's ludicrous!" I'd shout.  "It's wasteful and tacky and lame!" I'd proclaim.  I've since succumbed to BIK (Believers in Keurig) because this is the best cup of coffee brewed in under forty-five seconds.

My mom has one, and I've always liked using it because you could make a single cup of Joe without the fuss and muss of grounding up beans or scooping out grounds from a tin can.  AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON FILTERS.  Unless you're using a French press or heating up water for instant, the whole damn thing is an exercise in exhibiting patience.  Yeeeeah I'm literally over blowing the whole thing because it really doesn't take that long to warm up a standard pot of regular coffee.  So then what the fuck is the point of a Kuerig?

Well, it is quicker, but it's also maddeningly convenient.  You know how you waste a full pot of coffee when all you wanted was a single cup?  Those days are gone, my friend.  Sure, it's definitely more expensive and there's probably a lingering chemical taste in each serving (the whole thing is a boiling machine of hot plastic) but it's totally worth it.  I'd assume this is great for single people or anyone who updates their Facebook with Bitsrips.  Because you're probably single.

It's good stuff.  It really did taste like burning plastic at first, but a dozen or so run-throughs and the stank is nearly non-existent.  Hell, I use so much half-and-half it really doesn't even matter what I'm drinking.

The only negative is strictly ridiculous and of my own accord.  I suppose I like the sight and smell of a Mr. Coffee drip.  A steaming pot of coffee is just so classic and vintage it reminds me of movies that take place in police stations and drunken late night trips to Dunkin' Donuts.  You don't get that with a Keuring.  But it's still cool.  Like, really cool.  This was a good Christmas.  I love Christmas.

See you next year!

Christmas in a Bottle!

There's a few things I really like about Christmas.  First and foremost would be the presents.  Following close behind would be the food and, consequently, the smell of food.  And I guess the decorations and the music and any Christmas themed episodes of any sitcom ever.  So pretty much everything.  BUT PRETTY MUCH THIS:

I dabble in scented candles.  I really do.  I like potpourri, I like scented pinecones, I even like those trash bags that kind of smell like flowers.  I try to get the candles that can stink up entire rooms, but I've yet to come across any that work unless you're hovering a foot and a half away from the source.  And even then you're kind of just doing that "sticking your nose in the air for a whiff" thing.

AND SO ENTERS THE GLAD HOLIDAY TREAT SPRAY.

It's genius.  It's incredible.  It's vicious in it's simplicity.  Instead of waiting for the scent to go to you, you go to the scent.  You intermingle, you join, you become one.  You spray the damn stuff all over your furniture and literally sit in the stink of your own desire.  I figure there are other drizzle machines before the "Sweet Holiday Treat" version, but this is the first I've heard about it and this is all that counts.  It's Christmas and I really don't want to bake actual cookies.  I want it to smell like I did.

Ahh!  Sweet holiday treat!  Dulces para las fiestas!  What are you?  What secrets are hidden in your spray?  What darling confectionery will my nose be sucking in this holiday season?  What fragrance will dribble down the spout and forever stain my fingers with an unmistakable Christmas odor?

It's that!  It's that's thing!  The smell of cupcakes covered in a drippling of spiral icing!  Could that be chocolate?  Carrot cake?  Gluten-free red velvet?  Who cares!  It's Christmas!

Easy enough stuff, man.  Squeeze the trigger and go nuts.  Just don't point down.  Or in your mouth, even if you really, really want to.

It smells crazy good.  It's like cinnamon and vanilla and JOY.  It's overpowering, which I like, and it keeps the flavor of fun present for quite some time.  Definitely lasts longer than a few movies on Netflix.  Can't tell ya how long this sucker will be able to keep on doin' it's thang, but I figure it'll last all of December.  Assuming I'm humble with my spritzes.  So for what I can tell, this spray does the job and it does it well.  I cannot recommend this enough.  It's become my passion, my obsession.  I am a skunk in the wild.  A pheromone squirting animal.  I AM THE MIDNIGHT SPITTER.

A+