friday i'm at home.

This post could actually describe the whole week: I've been inside for four days. It's been pretty OK.

I finally ventured out yesterday and my weakened consumerism immune system immediately fell prey to some impulse-oriented marketing (see above). Lay's, which I normally don't even almost enjoy before my eighth beer, is having a "Limited Edition" promotion, and this edition's wild and wacky flavors are "Spicy Reggae Chicken" and "Whiskey Cocktail". They're only 0.99 cents each, so I obviously I had to buy some, those dirty fuckers.

I'm sure at least one person is thinking, "Mmm, say, whisky-flavored potato chips, why didn't I think of that, what a timesaver, two great tastes, etc" but I should explain for the non-locals that, all indications to the contrary, "Whiskey Cocktail" does not refer to an actual whiskey cocktail.

No, here in the wonderful country where my residence is permanent "whiskey cocktail" is a mayonnaise-based cocktail sauce for fried fish, shrimp, mussels, and occasionally frites and probably lots of other things under the right late-night conditions.

It's sweet, and orangeish-pink. Originally it was flavored with a splash of whiskey, but in the commercial versions I've tried, this taste has fallen by the wayside and whiskey is suggested in color only via the creamsicle-ish hue.

The chips, you ask. Not good. Yes, the Whiskey Cocktail ones taste like, hmm, yes, whiskey cocktail sauce, that's it exactly, but the chips are flimsy and boring and not hot like most of the things you would put the sauce on in its natural environment.

And the Spicy Reggae Chicken ones. Wblecch, and that's not a typo. They're coated with something that's supposed to resemble jerk seasoning, but they end up tasting like a cheap women's fragrance based on jerk seasoning, something I imagine Rihanna's chemists might come up with when they're not working on her personal weed crop, something called maybe "Scotchie" or "Mon". Avoid.

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Below, what I'm listening to. It's in code.