Behind the Scenes: The Making of Wordless 68
Staff writer: Nigel Buggers
Hello everyone. I decided it was high time I quiet the naysayers, so I slipped a couple of roofies in my two-legger’s cereal and the blog world is my oyster. That’s a damn good thing, because from my perch on the sofa I have been eying some unsavory comments about my Wordless Wednesday pictures. I take my wordless seriously, so when words like “fake” and “photoshop” are casually uttered in the presence of my wordless pictures it gets my piss hot.
Let’s get one thing straight. I make the rules for Wordless Wednesday posts. If I’m going to be handicapped because my keyboard monkey won’t let me whip out my cartoon balloons, then I’m calling where/when/how – and I have outlawed Wednesday photoshop usage in retaliation. I know, I know: some of these pictures are so crazy that even a loon like me looks a bit out of place in them. But suspend your disbelief, because I’m giving you the proof. In the coming weeks, I’ll dissect a few of these posts and show you what went on behind the scenes. Soon we’ll visit my new friend Otis, but today, I’m going to introduce you to a strange local phenomenon I like to call fancy burgers.
I was just walking down the street minding my own business when I looked up and saw this ridiculous chap. He piqued my curiosity so I jumped the fence for a closer look. I asked him his name and where the heck he came from. Not a word. I offered him a piece of that bully stick I keep under my collar. Nothing. I even told him my best cat joke and got no reaction.
I dropped a squeaker on him.
Feeling much lighter, I decided to make my way down Church street to see if there were any other BP execs hanging around, but our police department does a pretty good job of scaring away criminals, so it took me a while to find another one. Once I had it in my sight I started to make my move when I was waylaid. It seems this sweet lady recognized my noodle from my interwebs site. She asked if she could give me a smooch, and my collar was running seriously low on lipstick stains so I consented.
Once I escaped and wiped all of the girlie smells off of me I re-engaged my target. I moved in for a closer look. Check it out. It’s really pretty, and now that I see thing thing in the sun I realize it’s too nice to have anything to do with that Tony guy. After circling it and sniffing it for a few minutes I thought I recognized the shape, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to make the call. It was time to keep looking.
I knew it!! These aren’t rich, lawyered up, lying millionaire criminals at all…these are giant, trippy, fancy burgers! Everyone, say hello to a really cool guy that I like to call…
Check this one out! There is so much going on I feel like someone slipped me a little piece of paper at a Grateful Dead concert. If you stare at it long enough the colors start swirling around and make you lose your marbles. Try it!
This is so pretty that even I’ll not denigrate it with my typically snarky prose.
This is the Ben & Jerry’s burger, and I think it was decorated by those funny smelling VW van people who always have brownie crumbs stuck to their dreads.
This would be the Comcast burger. By this time I was pretty thirsty, but the sign said it only made milk at some point between 10 and 2, and I don’t play that.
This is a little aside that I like to refer to simply as marriage.
At this point, my noodle was cooking. After entertaining thoughts of mushroom burgers, bacon burgers and those brownies, there was smoke coming out of my ears, so lady two-legger obliged me with a noggin watering. Much better.
This burger almost looked like it was getting a sniff of something unfortunate if you get my drift. So I called it the dusty snausage burger.
I sure hope it’s splash resistant!
Well well, what do we have here?? The crown jewel. The actual shot chosen for Wordless 68. As you can see, I fall down at the sight of hideously tacky things. Heck, I have more pink flamingo injuries than I care to admit. And this one is uber tacky. There was a sign under it but it the damn shiny gold thing was so loud it was blinding and I couldn’t read it. I decided that I needed to name this atrocity before I jumped up and ran for my closest Pottery Barn in order to get a good dose of snobbery and flush all of the tacky out of my system.
A name…a name…let’s see…chubby, tacky, tasteless and flashy…oh I know!
Well, that just about does it for me. I’ll be back soon to debunk any myths about my appearance with that camel. In the meantime, please feel free to decorate your own burger any way you’d like. But allow me to make two recommendations if I might.
1. Use milk paints.
2. Avoid Snooki burgers at all cost.