Two rabbits take turns traveling trails citing tales of lost tails. Nevertheless, these rabbits, Bob and Nathan, travel mistakenly into a tribe, or, at least, a flock. “Good morning” says TRIBE MEMBER #1 to Bob and Nathan, but he continued, “It, however, is not morning – or is it?”
“It is not,” concludes Bob.
“It is not,” TRIBE MEMBER #1 concurs.
A trail often leads to a tribe, or, at least, a flock, but that doesn’t mean it is worthwhile.
A gentle breeze rustles me awake. I know not how long it has been since I made my way into the archives, I only know that my stomach grumbles in protest of my unintentional fast. As the wind rustles the cobwebs from the doorway, I catch the scent of Mexican food and my body begins moving involuntarily. Almost as if drawn to my destination by it’s own free will, I set out to find the source of the magnificent aroma and stumble into..
If this means nothing to you... get out.
It’s kind of like a craving for Cheez-Its or Sprite. Once you get it in your mind that you need a crispity, crunchy cheesy cracker snack or a thirst-quenching lemon-lime fizzy drink, simply nothing else will do. People may offer you a box of Cheese Nips or a Sierra Mist Free to subside your cravings, but those people should be banished to the far corners of Agrabah for all time for their treachery.
Seriously, don’t offer me CHEESE NIPS. Or tell me they taste the same. They don’t.
However, a craving for Chipotle is a unique thing. You know exactly what you are getting yourself into, you may not even be hungry, and yet it’s almost like there is an evil llama forcing you to make way to Chipotle.
EXTRA MEAT! Baphomet commands it!
You have mentally and physically prepared yourself and accepted the consequences that come with a burrito. There is an entire emotional rollercoaster that comes with a journey into the Mexican grilled paradise. This blog is a chronicling of such.
Parking Lot: There it is, shining in the darkness. The only part left of your pre-Chipotle journey is to cross the parking lot and breach the glass doors where, held inside, awaits the mixin’s, fixin’s, and desire that fuels a Chipotle. Take a step into the building, close your eyes & take a deep breath, soak in the sounds and smells and open your eyes to see…
Inner Doorway/Line:
I gotta wait how long...?
A line. Yeah, if you manage to get to Chipotle and end up getting your Mexican delicacy without playing any sort of waiting game, go get a lottery ticket because that just plain doesn’t happen. Part of the Chipotle game is seeing how long of a line it takes to make you say, “Screw it, I’m getting Chinese.” The line moves fast, but when you walk into the store only to be standing half in, half out due to overcrowding, you may have to re-think things. In a blur of toppings and rice, you suddenly find yourself at the…
Cashpoint:
“My inner turmoil in video form.”
The following cannot be said lightly. It doesn’t matter if they have it wrapped, ready to go, drink set up, chips on the house with a side of guac: the time between finishing your burrito, and paying/receiving your burrito WILL feel like an eternity. All you can do is barely mumble out a thank you or a half-assed apology for acting like a crack head as you are overpowered with anticipation for your soon to occur consumption. The only thing that matters is you getting your lips around that tortilla and ripping it to shreds. But first, some Sprite in a water cup because nobody cares; this is between you and the burrito now. As you sit down at the…
Table: A sigh of relief escapes your quivering lips as your monstrosity sits before you. It’s like staring out into Middle Earth before you take your first steps to Mordor; you’re afraid to start, because you know you won’t be able to stop. Worse than a can of Pringles, the “can’t stop” side effect of a Chipotle is a powerful force to be treated with caution. Many have fallen in it’s wake of destruction. We mourn their passing by spilling a drop of tobasco in their honor. Sometimes you can feel sick, or full to the point of explosion…
Immediately after devouration:
I didn't even know they came in that size, Merry.
A combination of shame and pride washes over you as your body shudders in response to your massive attack of south-of-the-border amazingness. You will find yourself shocked with your ability to perform even the simplest of functions with three pounds of warm Mexican goodness lumped into your stomach. As your innards relocate to find room for remains of the rice based onslaught, your consciousness creeps away and your find yourself slipping into a…
Chicoma:
Chicomas strike at any time. Be prepared with a travel rug.
Here it is. This is, arguably the best part of Chipotle minus actually enjoying the food. The Chicoma is: “the state of uncontrollable relaxation one experiences immediately following consumption of a Chipotle product. It is unavoidable.” Challenged only by the slumber that follows a hearty Thanksgiving dinner, a Chicoma is a force of nature that spares no man or woman. It moves rapidly, quickly ticking off the moments until you finally succumb to the power of the burrito, waking up confused two hours later with the television blaring repeats of Home Improvement with Tim Allen. That is not something to be proud or ashamed of, that is simply how things work out from time to time. Tool Time, that is. Perhaps we shall discuss the Chicoma in greater detail in future Fwaah posts as it deserves much investigation. Once you wake from your ricey slumber, you have approximately negative five minutes to get to the…
Bathroom:
The face of Chipotle regret.
Unavoidable, shameful, remorse is the only emotion allowed post-Chipotle. As you curse the food gods for raining down hellfire of poo, you wonder if Cal’s up to grabbing a quick burrito bowl… you know he is.
P.S.
Also, here’s the coolest thing you’ll see today. Hands down. If you see something else that is cooler, post in the comments because I just don’t believe ya buddy. Wind!
fwaah.
-a
The title of this post is pretty much the most straight forward title. You already know what I am about to do here. But, you gotta cut me some slack. I came up with that baller title of “Adele; Adieu” …Straight up gangsta. So, here’s another music post. It’s all about those late nights. When you’re out and bumbling your way to your house. And you got your iPod, and you are too tired to search for something different, and so you settle for your favorite band. Which ain’t no bad thing. But there are some great albums that match late night drives. I am gonna try and hit the no-brainers, but then enlighten you with some stuff that you might have missed.
Rules: Top 15. And we’re talking: you’re in the car, by yourself, on your way to sleepy sleep. And you’ve got at least a fifteen minute drive and you are tired.
Here they are:
This music video is so cool, that it should be in my blog.
There you go. A quick little blog. Not a review on any of them. Just great albums that you should get, and then jam out to while driving.
A quick anecdote: My buddy J-Tables totally looks like Justin Vernon (lead singer of Bon Iver).
J-Vern of Bon Iver
J-Tabes of Two Tables. They totally look alike. Danger Zone.
Who am I missing? Let me know, In the comments. Online.
-Cal
Journeying for the first time into the Grinsell Archives, I stumble upon a calendar. But this is no ordinary calendar, there are bears in it, and these bears have something to say to me, although I can’t quite decipher what it is. So I ignore the bears and realize that my pointer finger is indicating that Tonight Daylight Savings Time is enacted. However, I don’t buy it.
Time is a funny thing, it is the only thing that is unwavering regardless of anything else the universe has to say. Time is thee most monotonus idea ever. Then somebody throws in Daylight Savings Time, and everything goes wack. Spring ahead, fall back, all this one hour nonsense.
How bout this, I say no to DST. I don’t believe in it anymore, what’s the point? All it does is cause loss of sleep and having to touch your dusty clocks, and then realize that your clocks need dusting. Nobody likes dusting, it’s all… dusty. Just ask this girl.
Speaking of things I don’t believe in, 3D movies. Those are not things anymore. Yes, in the 90s they were cool and innovating, but now? Now every movie is in 3D, movies are expensive as it is, but two more dongos for a pair of annoying glasses and things flying at you for two hours. I’d rather eat pickles, thank you.
Speaking of pickles. I scoff at those who eat things unpleasant to their taste buddies. Why not eat only food that is a wonderful kitty tea party in your mouth? Bad tasting food, no matter how healthy, can’t be good for you! If you don’t want to eat it, then that is saying something about your body that doesn’t want that food in there. Besides, there are plenty of healthy foods that anyone can enjoy, like these! Wait, scratch that, those aren’t so great for the bod. Maybe I should rethink some things.
fwaah
-CJ
As I come to terms with the fact that the Grinsell Archives have claimed me as my own, I find myself becoming more and more comfortable with my surroundings. As time marches on, I find that the bitter taste of hopelessness and the discomfort of my surrounds transforms into a Stockholm Syndrome of contentment in the dark passageways.. time heals all wounds.
Here at WTFwaah, we like to discuss things. This may come as a shock to you, but it’s true. We are meant to confuse and enlighten, as well as force our opinions upon you because we have the power. Here’s a list of things I thought of today that are simply better after time has it’s way with them.
Jimmy Fallon: When Jimmy Fallon first took over for Conan O’Brien, I was unsure how he would hold up when compared to the king of late night weird. I personally thought that Fallon only had a small handful of sketches on Saturday Night Live that he really contributed something to beyond giggling off-screen and managing to break character every other line. Since his departure from the show however, his popularity has risen significantly, and he is remembered fondly for his performances during some weak years of SNL.
But after the initial awkward period, Jimmy Fallon has really started to shine on the late night talk show host circuit. This isn’t a very large circuit, but a circuit nonetheless. Late night entertainment has turned into a battle of the Jimmy’s as Fallon and Kimmel face off night after night. Fallon has secured the collegiate crowd, with his goofy likability, young age, and relatability to the tech savvy young adults. Plus he has the Roots as a house band. Who does that?! The Roots are beyond incredible, and I am constantly blown away by their versatility on the show.
Seriously, stuff like this is gold.
Old School Hip-Hop: Easy segue from the Roots. You know what every Outkast fan’s favorite thing to say is? “Ohmygosh! You love Outkast?! I love Outkast!!” Which works out extremely well for me, since I love Outkast. But, this is not an exclusive perk to Outkast, as whenever people talk about hip-hop these days, without fail someone will say “I like how rap used to be…” and discuss the lyrical splendor that is Illmatic, The Low End Theory, and It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.
You're telling me you like Notorious BIG over Pitbull!!?!?
Wine: I don’t have much to say about this section, I just had to include it for all our highbrow, snobby, wine loving readers who would expect such an inclusion. I would hate to get those condescending looks from the upper class. Forgetting about “aged wine” is like seating a child in front of Sid Viscious and Johnny Rotten on a plane. Oh wait…
That little girl will never be the same. Today is the day she becomes a man.
Krispy Kreme donuts: Krispy Kreme donuts are a heavenly fat blob of sugary fried dough goodness. That was actually their slogan before they came up with “Krispy Kremes: Diabeetus. We aren’t kidding.” Seriously though, a baker’s dozen of these bad boys will cause your body to halt insulin production faster than Gigli passed through the theatres.
We are not above Gigli jokes here.
However, Krispy Kreme donuts fall to the mercy of the “cold pizza” rule: Although the meal is undeniably delicious when hot n’ fresh, the next day leftovers are just as good if not better than the original. If you manage to rip into a box of Krispy Kremez and restrain yourself from scarfing down the entire order, you are in for a treat. As your vision fades from you and you slip into a diabetic coma, relish the fact that you’ll have a bunch of cooled sugary snacks waiting for you when you rise. However, be careful, Krispy Kremes follow a strict timeline, which is as follows:
One Day Old: stellar. Just real pristine baked goods.
Day Two: Still alright, perhaps a tad stale or crunchy if not handled with care.
The Third Day: Put those away, now it’s getting weird.
The Fourth Rising of the Sun: Seriously? Gross. All the donuts now turn into Gremlins. You had it coming, you shlemiel.
Nostalgia: This kinda goes along with old school hip-hop. Were the 90’s as amazing and truly incredible as we all remember them? WAIT! Let the following photo answer that for you.
The answer is no, they were not.
But as time goes by, suddenly all those terrible things like actually memorizing phone numbers, and making plans with someone a month in advanced because you can’t just send them a virtual message the day of saying, “Ayo, you freeeeeeeee,” fall by the wayside, and the nostalgia begins. Captain Planet, Orange Soda, The Dancing Lobsters, a child’s inability to build a monkey statue, and a girl who’s “just too cool for seventh grade” become highlights of a time when (if you’re in my age range) you were at mercy of a minivan. Even the writers here at WTFwaah suffer from nostalgiaism, with good reason. Nostalgia is awesome. We love to feel connected the people of our generation, as it gives a real sense of camaraderie and union as we all share unexpected “I was there too!” moments with the ones around us. Before we could just “Share” with a click of a button, we call upon the youthful memories of the little and big things in life that brought us moments of joy. How sappy.
This is here to break up the sap.
Crappy cars: Everyone’s first car should be a total piece of junk. F’real. That way you are that much more appreciative when something better comes along and you can upgrade to a totally fresh set of wheels brah. But, the longer that you have that crappy junker, the more you start to love it for its defects. Sure you have to enter in from the passenger side, and the key only turns in the ignition when you have the brakes on, the wipers to medium, and the hazard lights on, but the car has character. Rust spots become marks of affection, earned through time spent together, memories made on the side of a country road, or waiting for the light to turn green. A crappy car almost becomes an extension of your being, as you alter your driving habits to accommodate the car’s personality. When you pound on the steering wheel cursing the heavens that “this stupid piece of junk has crossed you for the last time,” it feels like you’re sharing that moment with an actual person. An automobile person.
Automobile people are real cool chaps.
Broken bones: I’m not a mind reader, so I can’t say if this train of thought is shared by everyone, but when I broke my toe throwing my friend Spencer into a pool a couple years back, the first that went through my head was, “Well goodness me, that is one unpleasant feeling in my mosey-wosey-toesies.” This was almost instantly followed by, “This will probably be a funny story someday,” and it is. Like most things, time heals wounds. Today, it may seem like a horrific accident that will forever scar the landscape of your psyche. Two years later, sitting by the poolside with the cast just a stiff shell of signatures and lame inside jokes, you’ll chuckle about that one time you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suffered the consequences. And it’ll be hilarious.
Road trips: The beginning of a road trip is a magical thing. You have a full tank of gas, more candy and trail mix than you know what to do with, and an optimism for adventure that could fuel a trip to the moon and back.
Feels something like this.
Now the remaining 1-∞ hours of the road trip can either be one of two things. Either, a time of connection, personal growth through self-reflection and introspection, and a memorable journey celebrating our youth and environmental variety, or an uncontrollable descent into madness, depravity, and self-loathing. This really all depends on whom you choose to be the fellow members of your caravan. Choose wisely, as once you are on the road, it’s very hard to get rid of someone in a legal, ethical way without having to bring a shovel. Problem is, nobody brought a shovel, but everyone brought half a pound of peachy-o’s. Gummy treats make for awful tools.
Showers: Although I fall into the crowd of people who don’t mess around when it comes to their showers, (bang-boom-zip, I’m outta there in four minutes tops.), I can appreciate a good soak. Coming home after work to a torrent of hot water is about as heavenly as it gets. When I am down with my shower, the amount of steam that pours forth from the bathroom rivals a foggy London morning. Plus making shapes on the mirror is like the best thing ever.
Fog is just the world's loading screen.
Is there anything else that goes over better when it takes a while? Something significant I missed? Hit me up below and lemme know! Also, here is the greatest thing you’ll see today.
fwaah.
-a
what the fwaah? 
