Psych! Nothing could ever ruin guac for me.

Today’s Take 5. Smells like egotism!

Even though me updating my blog does NOT seem familiar at this point…

I got around to watching Sunday’s Family Guy and realized with glee that Peter and the boys’ Quahog Men’s Club was a clear homage to the clubhouse in The Berenstain Bears’ No Girls Allowed. At one point Peter even said “No girls allowed.” Get it?

Yay!

My favorite BB book, though, is obvs The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food. I loved how the candy they ate had no labels and came in clear plastic cases, like drugs. And would you look at the height Brother Bear is getting on his candy pour? Totally impressive. The supermarket scene (not pictured, though I would really like to do a page-by-page commentary on this book so I should find a copy) is also killer. Did you guys know I love edible crap?

Gulliver’s Travels or Bergdorf Blondes… tough call.

This is why you should NOT shop for books at Virgin Megastore.

I’m reading A Million Little Pieces for my thesis on the connection between addiction and compelling narrative, and I’ve been obsessively trying to peel off the Oprah’s Book Club sticker on the cover. I think they intentionally want those things to stick on just so the book owners have to feel shitty about themselves for going so commercial.

It’s been a half hour since that last paragraph and DR has decided to bring you How to Deal with the Oprah’s Book Club Sticker: A 5-Step Program.

1. Buy your new book. Glare at the OBC sticker, like it doesn’t deserve to associate with your book. (But somehow you do? Not even.) Wonder aloud, or quietly, why the sticker bothers you so much. Does it represent all that is evil in the world? Does it mean you’re not original? No. It means you’re really fucking jealous.

2. Ham it up with your new book, specifically with the OBC sticker. Pose with it while flipping it a playful bird instead of your usual nerdy thumbs-up. The sticker is so obnoxious. What gives with that thing, anyway? Little does it know it’ll be dunzo in a few seconds. You’re not funny, but this is kind of fun.

3. Peel the OBC sticker off your book for the next three minutes. This part’s not fun. Why do they even tease the buyer with the prospect of peeling it off, only to be left with some gummy stuff and a scratchy surface? They should just make it part of the jacket, which you could then cover up with postage stamp-size Care Bears stickers your mom sent you in a box.

4. Resort to tearing small pieces of the OBC sticker off with your teeth, because it’s fun and zany and really attractive. Realize it’s 8 am and you’re doing a photoshoot of yourself eating a book. Weep. Recover. Chug some water, then undergo a revelation that moisture could be the answer to your OBC dillemma.

5. Use a Q-tip, water, and some gentle pressure to coax the last of the OBC sticker from the book that is now all yours. Despite your efforts, the book also belongs to Oprah, capitalistic bookstores, and thousands of people who bought it because the last two qualifications made it seem trendy. Hold it in front of your face in triumph. Wonder why you felt the urge to post this on the Internet.

Note that a similar program exists called the Five Stages of Grief:

Denial (this isn’t happening to me!)
Anger (why is this happening to me ?)
Bargaining (I promise I’ll be a better person if …)
Depression (I don’t care anymore)
Acceptance ( I’m ready for whatever comes)

There is no connection between that Five-Stepper and mine, but I wanted to throw it in there to make the post seem longer.