Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Thursday, May 29, 2003

If you work with me and I happen to have a mouthful of poppy seeds, or perhaps a booger (hanging from my nose, not a mouthful of them), please let me know. Yesterday I got home and looked in the mirror and saw about three poppy seeds in my teeth. Or possibly eggplant seeds. Whatever they were, they were there for a while. And you didn't have the guts to tell me, you co-worker. And you have the nerve to call yourself a casual acquaintance. Granted, I should have checked my mouth after eating these things, but I'm a busy man! I've got things to blog about! Like this:

The only time that Times Square ever smells good is between 5 and 6 in the morning, because it smells like bacon. It smells so fucking good. It's like a city whose main industry is bacon. Every district would be the Bacon District. That would be the best city ever. Better than the Doritos city I once wrote about. I'd be like that dog in that commercial who is all, "Bacon! Bacon bacon bacon! I smell bacon!" The smell is even more potent and awesome if you've been drinking the night before. So here is my suggestion to you. Get your ass to NYC (make sure it's a weekday), get nice and drunk, sleep for three to four hours and then get into Times Square and let your sense of smell take over. If you don't drink, just drink this one time and then go back to your straight edge ways. God will forgive you Drinky McSober.

I should be on the New York Tourism Board. I'd sell the shit out of this city, all based on my "You should be in Times Square when the city smells like bacon" campaign. I would sell t-shirts that say "I (heart) NY When It Smells Like Bacon". There would be signs that say "Welcome to the Big Apple" and the apple in the picture would be wrapped in bacon. Every terror security alert would be Code Bacon. Kevin Bacon would be our mayor. "Bringing Home the Bacon" would be our motto. Calling a cop a "pig" would be not only tolerated but mandated.

I'm very excited about my new city.
All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006