The Pie Baker

Fresh from the Oven

Maybe It’s Just Me

Contrary to what one might believe, I do actually have small windows of time when my mind begins to wander…usually when I’m taking a shower or driving home from work. It is during these times, that a vapor lock occurs inside my cranium that refuses to let rational thought inside. Topics that manage to invade my gray matter include, but are not limited to, conspiracy theories, invention ideas, recipes, craft ideas and fantasies. Don’t get excited, not THAT kind of fantasy! They often involve mundane tasks such as painting the walls or mowing the lawn. But maybe it’s just me…

For example, this morning, in the shower (one which I actually got to take by without the presence of my daughter) it occurred to me that Anthony Sullivan – the British guy who pitches products like the Super Snake and was on the show “Pitchmen” with the late Billy Mays – could theoretically be responsible for Mays’ untimely death. Ok here’s what happened: my alarm went off to the radio blaring one of Sullivan’s latest commercials and as I stumbled to the shower, I kept thinking how his voice was just as annoying as Billy Mays’. Then I remembered that Mays was dead and how it seemed that Sullivan was snatching up all the ad time for the “incredible new products” to hit the market. Even that Sham-Wow guy is in jail (icing on the cake for Sullivan), so the market is now saturated with guy! What if he orchestrated something to take out his biggest rival? Autopsy reports state that there was cocaine in Mays’ system, but his family adamantly denies any drug use. Knowing his nemesis had a heart problem, Sullivan could have mixed a little Bolivian marching powder in with the Oxy-Clean and “accidentally” blown a cloud of it into the air, which Billy inhaled and, after a bump on the head from a suitcase in an airplane, he buys the farm. I am NOT saying that anything like this actually happened. I sympathize with the Mays family and couldn’t care less about Sullivan – I have a MUTE button. Maybe it’s just me…

And here’s one…as I was getting dressed, I wondered what feat of German engineering had occurred to keep Mariah Carey in her dress at the Golden Globes. That joke is just TOO easy, so I won’t even go there! Some of the clothing that stars wear is so beyond the ridiculous that I wonder what they are thinking when they don a fluffy confection of sheer lace, blinding sequins and high and/or low cut cloth swatches? Do we really need to see the breasts of these women? And why don’t the men do something similar? I wouldn’t mind if Hugh Jackman (my close, personal friend) showed up shirtless in a pair of tighty-whities and flip-flops!! Come on, what these women wear is tantamount to that, so why the double standard? Maybe it’s just me…

On another note… don’t you think it would be FANTASTIC to have a 24 hour drive-thru convenience store kind of establishment? Here’s the scenario: You need diapers, smokes, pop and juice in the middle of the night and you’re in the middle of a downpour of epic proportions. You also have a baby (or toddler) in the car with you. Do YOU want to get out of the car, run around to the other side to get the baby, cover the baby in a blanket, run into the store – already soaking wet – get the needed items, run back out into the rain, put the baby in the seat (getting further soaked from the waist down while buckling the straps), open the trunk and put said items in, run to the driver’s side and hop back in? Yeah, me neither. Which is why we need a place where you can drive up to a covered menu board, you can poke buttons for what you need, then pull up to a window where you pay for your order. Then once payment is received, you proceed to another window or door where the items you ordered only moments before are delivered to your warm, dry vehicle. Beauty, right? Maybe it’s just me…

Does anyone else have these strange moments where your brain takes flight and the craziest thoughts enter in? Care to share? Oh, maybe it’s just me…

January 22, 2010 Posted by | Uncategorized | 1 Comment