Snack Pack, Bitches!

I was just in the kitchen here at Penetrode. Someone had purchased a box of "Snack Pack Big Cups". But because it was on its side, I briefly thought it read, "Snack Pack, Bitches!"

And when I double checked, I was deeply disappointed. I think it would be great if there were a product called Snack Pack, Bitches! It would be just a small part of the whole "...,Bitches" line. It could be like Newman's Own, but more ghetto. Instead of Newman's Own Popcorn, we'd have Popcorn, Bitches! But it is not to be. The world isn't ready for Food, Bitches! I am disappointed again.

This incident reminded me of another great disappointment. Pull up a chair and prepare to hear about Jim's tremendous Aliens disappointment.

I was walking through the touristy district between Leicester Square and Picadilly Circus with my roomies, Amandarama and Fightguy. And standing in front of a building were two men dressed as Colonial Marines. Being big fans of the movie Aliens, we walked over to see what was up.

"What's this?" we asked.

"It's a new attraction called Alien War," one of the marines explained. "It uses some of the sets from Aliens and Alien 3. You get to go through and experience the movie first hand."

"Do we get pulse rifles?" I asked, half joking.

"We don't have the permits yet for rifles, but we do have handguns," he replied.

Suddenly, I had an erection like never before. Finally, I would have my dream of locking, loading, and handing out xenomorph ass on a personal basis. In my mind I was already warming up my favorite lines, "Let's rock!" "Yeah you want some of this? Yeah? You too?" and "They mostly come out at night. Mostly."

And yet, before I whipped anything out (wallet or otherwise) I knew I had to make sure. Somehow it seemed too good to be true. And also likely to result in the deaths of hundreds of customers.

"So," I asked, hoping against hope, "If we buy tickets, you'll give each of us a handgun with live ammunition and let us blast away at Aliens?"

"Oh, no!" Said the marine, "We use blanks..."

Blanks, I thought. Well, that's probably a lot safer. It might still be worth doing...

And then the other marine chimed in, "...and only the actors get to handle the guns. Participants play the role of colonists."

I was crushed. Colonists? Colonist makes the role of red shirt look like a good career decision. I didn't want to be a colonist! I wanted scream epithets while blindly firing a machine gun and practicing appalling gun safety.

So we left. Sadder but wiser. What kind of world is this where tourist attractions don't involve live ammunition and handguns? Answer - a pretty damn depressing place. And I can't even drown my sorrows in Beer, Bitches!

LM