Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Dude, Where's My Stuff?

I seem to be the victim of a cruel hoax.

Who is playing it upon my person? I know not. The gods, the stars, the evil people who rule the world. One can't say, really.

All my things are disappearing.

And I don't mean stuff around my house, like my car keys and newly-laundered socks. I'm talking good old American products out there. Right out there in stores, stuff I want and can't have. Can't have anymore, anyway.

It's like Wendy's. Or Big Wendy, as my nephew called her when he was just a tot. They'll put something on their menu and list it as "Only For A Limited Time!" It used to be the Monterrey Ranch chicken sandwich. I tried one, and it was quite good. A couple of weeks later I went back for another, and - it was gone! I think they brought it back one time, just long enough to give me one more whet of an appetite, then it disappeared and hasn't been seen since.

More recently with Big Wendy it was the (and I'm only slightly paraphrasing here) Wild Mountain Spicy Swiss Ultra Bigass Hoohah chicken sandwich. It's a spicy chicken patty with a hottish sauce, red onions, lettuce, well, it's a tasty little number.

Or was, anyway.

I used to get that a lot in the old pre-surge days. But it disappeared, and I was left lonely. Then, a couple of months ago it reappeared on BW's menu. I got all excited and started reliving my junk food days, and so I ordered one. Came home, took it off the bun and ate it with a knife and fork, and you know, damned if it didn't work out just fine. And a few times after that I'd do the same thing.

Then one day I was at odds as to what to have for dinner, so I decided to go see Big Wendy and get the Wild Mountain Bigass chicken thingie. And of course, it was gone. Gone, gone, gone, and I ended up with my old standby, a side salad with house vinaigrette, aka the stuff that tastes exactly like what they used to call Italian dressing.

I recently had a similar experience in the Crunchy Carby Snacks That I Shouldn't Have But That Make Me Happy department. I was browsing at a convenience store a while back, trying to find a little bag of chip-like stuff I could have in the car, and I saw some Doritos. Black Pepper Jack, they were called. I bought a bag, and thought they were probably the best flavor of Dorito yet.

Next time I went in for some, when I got back into the car I noticed something on the bag. The words that strike fear into the hearts of consumers everywhere: For A Limited Time!

"Well, fuck," I said, crunching.

And I enjoyed my Black Pepper Jack Doritos from time to time for about a month-long period. Then this weekend I wanted to get a couple of snacks to take to Mr M's, and headed to the convenience store. No Black Pepper Jacks. I headed on to B'burg and stopped at a store there. No Black Pepper Jacks. Apparently their limited time has now passed, and they've suddenly disappeared from all the stores that used to have them.

But all this pales in comparison to the Great Protein Bar Debacle of '05.

Protein supplements are mighty plentiful, but really good ones are extremely hard to come by. I've found one liquid version that's OK, drinkable, expensive, but comes in huge tubs and I don't think it's going away any time soon. Bars are a little different.

Without going into too much folderol vis-a-vis the world of protein bars (which are very important to me, because it's the only way I can make myself have anything resembling a breakfast), here's what one is up against in this department.

Now, what you're looking for is 1) a good amount of protein grams (15 is OK, 18 is really good, 20 or more is excellent), 2) the smallest amount of sugar or sugar alcohol grams possible (nothing over 3 for sugar or about 5 for sugar alcohol), and, and this is a biggie 3) something that doesn't taste like a brick.

There are hundreds of bars out on the market, and finding the right combination of the above is nigh on impossible. Some of them have as low as 3g of protein, as many as 23g of sugar, and, well, there's no denying a brick when you eat one. Believe me, I know.

Back in January when we went down to North Carolina on the girls' weekend, we made a Target stop. Target now has this little area in their stores called "The 1 spot," where they have various and sundry pieces of junk that are only $1. I was browsing around in there and found little individually wrapped candy bar-looking things in one bin. They were called "Smart Selection." I turned them over and started reading the labels. No sugar or sugar alcohol grams, anywhere from 18-20 grams of protein, about 8 of fiber...I was intrigued, so I threw three or four into my basket.

My friend San and I checked out before our shopping companions, so we took our bags and went over to the table-and-chairs area and sat down. I thought, hey, perfect opportunity, so I pulled out one of those bars and gave it a try. It tasted like a brownie. With nuts. A real-live brownie.

"Man," I thought, and left my bags with San while I went about bought about six more of the bars.

And needless to say, when you eat one for breakfast every morning, or need a pick-me-up in the afternoon, six doesn't go a long way.

So just about every Saturday when I was in B'burg, I'd go and get a handful of my new buddy, the Smart Selection bar. And a few weeks ago, I noticed the bin was getting empty.

It was at that point that I started to get a basket, load every one of them in it, and priss myself (even though I'm physically incapable of "prissing") up to the counter. But I didn't. "There might be a limit," I thought. "They might accuse me of greed." Instead, I bought about 18.

The next week, they'd been moved to a bin at the bottom of the rack, and there were precious few in there. "Fuck greed," I decided, and put them all in my basket. There were maybe 15 left.

When I got to the counter and they started running them through the register, they were ringing up at 25 cents a piece. "Yall are gonna discontinue these," I said to the girl, and she answered, smilingly, that yes they were. I tried to plead my case, "Target needs to know the goldmine they've got in these little babies," but her unflinching smile told me she neither understood nor cared.

It's hard to explain. I'm perfectly willing to admit that I'm bordering on addicted to these little things. I'm also perfectly willing to admit that I'm really obsessive and think about things way too much. Last week I had my mom hitting Target stores in Florida and even had Mr M (bless his heart) searching them out in R'noke. None were to be found.

This past Saturday when we went out shopping, of course I made him stop at Target for one last look at the B'burg store. No bars. I was walking around all dejected. "I only have 9 bars left!" I kept saying, glassy-eyed and in disbelief. Then who should we walk right into but my cousin Jacob.

Jacob is a something-or-other at Target. Manager? Hell, I don't know. If she talked to me more and I didn't still have her Christmas presents from 2003 in my spare bedroom I might know her title. Anyway, I descended upon her like a plague and started quizzing her about these bars.

She told me a lot, and none of it was good. Seems the "1 Spot" items are cyclical. They come in and go out of every store the same day, and nothing will stay there for more than six weeks. My little chocolatey friends' six weeks had come and gone. The only glimmer of hope she gave me was that sometimes if an item does well in its little wire bin eventually it could make a return appearance down the road for another six weeks. "But don't hold your breath," she said.

"But I don't think they realize what they've got here. They've got the gold standard of protein bars!" I ranted. She looked at me like I was a little unstable. Which, if you think about it, was exactly the right look.

I'm currently about 7 bars away from eating bricks.

Oddly enough, while all this was going on....

Remember (and if you do you win the prize for brain capacity) in my "Vinyl Fetish" blog from March 16, '04, I talked about having a favorite record. A 45 of the old nugget "Casting My Spell," by the Talismen. I think I was lamenting not being able to find it, because I used to love playing it even though it was broken all the way down the length of the record. I'd just snap it together and put it on the turntable. I later found out that Jimmy Page played on the record, and I found some sort of Page retrospective that contained not only that track, but the single's flip-side, a cover of Bob Dylan's "Masters of War." It wasn't available through Amazon, but was from one of their "Marketplace" dealers, so I ordered it.

And waited. And waited. And then, oddly enough, I waited some more.

Several weeks later I got an email saying it was on backorder and did I want a refund. "Not if there's a chance I'll get the CD," I replied, and so I got the privilege of waiting yet some more.

And in fact, I waited so long that I forgot that 10 months had passed and I had nothing to show. So I emailed the bastards and politely asked about the CD, and was promptly (to their credit) issued a refund to my Amazon account.

And so I went back into their site to see what I could use my new refund on, and I found yet a different CD of Jimmy Page stuff with both the Talismen songs on it. Again through another "Marketplace" seller. It said "Available, will ship within 1-2 days."

I signed up with glee. About three days later I got an email saying the item was no longer in stock. And the money was put back in my account.

I don't want the money! I want my stuff!

Betland's Olympic Update:
* We have Acrowinners!
Honorable Mention goes to LilyG with "Academy kidders. Beyonce - every number!?!"
Runner-Up goes to Flipsycab with "Antonio kept belting evil notes."
And I think this may have only happened one other time, I absolutely cannot decide a winner between two great ones.
Co-Winners go to DeepFatFriar with "All knowledgeable boxers exited, nauseated," and Mike with "Ain't Kill Bill even nominated?" Both too good to chose.
OK, guys, speeches ready.
* Could someone please make Paris Hilton go away? Please? All my stuff is disappearing, and yet she has the staying power of The Bible.

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