Category Archives: Adventures with Mr. Munchy

Cabela’s and hunting video games

The munch man and I took a short trip down to Dundee, Mi. today for business. On the way home we stopped at Cabela’s. It’s basically an outdoor enthusiast’s wet dream, a store for everything hunting related in a building the size of a megachurch. I just got some beef jerky (I am a omnivore) and looked at the awesome display of stuffed animals.

The guy in front of me in the check out line was buying hunting video games. Is setting up a blind in the middle of nowhere in the cold and waiting hours not boring enough for you? Additionally, if you want a video game where you get to shoot stuff you could always play Grand Theft Auto, it’s way better in that department than a hunting video game.

And the beef jerky I bought almost had Jeff Foxworthy on the package…and then I realized that I am not a redneck and went with some Jack Links.

I almost wish that I had bought some of this

I almost wish that I had bought some of this


Toledo, and how it sucks

For the past few days I have been visiting my grandma in Toledo, OH (which has to be the old people capital of the world, next to Florida. It seems that everyone has a grandparent that lives there). My grandma’s favorite store is Elder Beerman’s, which is the greatest old people store ever. Whenever we go I am always the youngest customer in the store by 40+ years.

Anyways, there are a lot of ways in which I could point out how lame Toledo is, but I shall instead leave you with some pics from E.B.’s.

Pardon me for momentarily going into AOL speak, but I feel that it most applies here: “Omg, WTF?” Who the hell thought that this was a good way to advertise? It’s srsly the creepiest thing ever.Srsly, what the hell were they thinking?

How I fell in love with Greyhound

[As you may surmise, this isn’t technically an Adventure With Mr. Munchy. But the literal minded among us (I’m looking at you, all you ancient Romans) can deal. It’s an adventure worth telling. Plus, the Munch man picked me up, so there!]

I haven’t ridden the Greyhound in two years, since I regularly traveled home every month or so. Yesterday I was rather dreading my trip, smelling people, loud music blaring and dudes who would ask me if I had ever fornicated were not something I was looking forward to. But, I was happily proven wrong and it reaffirmed my faith in the awesomeness of humanity and how the right people can make even the most tedious and uncomfortable of experiences vastly entertaining.

It all started with myself standing in the line for the Detroit-bound Greyhound, hearing that the bus was going to be delayed and sending the boy-who-makes-me-food away…

“This would NEVER happen in Europe!” The lady behind me loudly exclaimed, and the proceeded to go around the line and to let everyone else know this charming fact (more on her in the previous post). We finally get on the bus and Everyone’s Favorite E-2 Roommate¬† told me that I should sit next to this European Lady. Which I did. She wasn’t really European, just travels a lot and told me that I should go to some arts festival in GR.

In front of me was an older gentleman who was lecturing a goth-punk girl with a combination of life stories, anecdotes about how he was born on the same day as Babe Ruth, how she should go into the military (I think he thought that she was a male to boot) get stationed in Hawaii and call up Oldies stations to request her favorite song, and talking just to hear himself talk.

Then, in Lansing lots of other people get on. Two of them sit across the aisle from me and the man starts loudly talking about how he had been in jail since May 25, for simply having tinted windows on his car [insert a roll-eyes here). He was calling his lawyer and cussing up a storm with the lady next to him, not caring about the nine-year old girl sitting in the seat in front of them.

An Amish family also walk on, in full costume. The women and her two children sit in the front two seats and, because space is limited, her husband goes to an open seat at the back. This starts the two cussers off that all Amish are hypocrites and should drive buggies everywhere and they don’t really like them there. I was just amazed that there are Amish in Michigan.

The older gentleman was napping so a man in a white knitted hat (the kind with visors) starts loudly lecturing the goth-punk girl about spiritual warfare and that demons are everywhere. She doesn’t respond as much to him as she did to the old man (people will generally humor the old more than they will the certifiably insane). At one point she attempts to escape to the bathroom, and the man in the white hat proceeds to loudly interrogate the Amish women because she is, he believes, a Mormon. The poor woman cannot understand him, and even I can only pick out one word out of five, her son tries to help her translate but he’s only five has has no clue who the hell the Latter-day saints are (although they did perk up at the word “Jesus”). He then gives up when goth-punk girl returns.

I only wish the older gentleman would have been awake during this point, so that he could provide commentary on how Ike would have viewed spiritual warfare, or the European Lady, so that she could teach us about minority religious groups in Europe.

Mind you now, this is only an account of what was happening in the first third of the bus. I can only hope that the second two-thirds of the bus had people and interactions this awesome.

Who wants to join me in traveling the country via Greyhound this summer, with the purpose of having such similar awesome experiences?

Adventures with Mr. Munchy: The Detroit Axemen

Figure 1 Motorcycle clubs are just about the coolest things ever. You dress up in all leather, be totally badass, grow your hair and belly as much as you want and do whatever you want whenever you want. The only thing that could possibly make motorcycle clubs any cooler is if the club were full of firefighters. Enter the Axemen.

We had intended to just return Gary’s truck and then go pick up stuff at Best Buy, but we ended up at the Axemen’s clubhouse (of which Gary is the president). An old mortuary has never looked so good (they even have the old mortuary tables in the back).

They haven’t been in there for very long but they have already cleaned up the rough neighborhood they are in and have made their clubhouse look spectacular.

Although their logo (fig. 1) is a little lacking compared to the club for the police (fig. 2). I think I’ll become a police officer, if only to join the motorcycle club, because their logo goes with my already existing tattoo so much better.figure 2

So Mr. Munchy and I ended up spending the evening with the Axemen. Which begged the question, how come so many of the women involved in motorcycling look so trashy? And wouldn’t long hair get in the way? And how the heck does the Munch man have so many random connections?

Further updates will come when we return to the clubhouse on thursday to take pictures.

Pictures of the clubhouse may be seen here:<a href=””&gt;.