It turns out that the replacement Sidekick I got a few weeks ago has a much better camera than the old one. Not resolution-wise, mind you, just not-having-a-purple-tinge-on-one-side-wise. Of course, crappiness wouldn't have stopped me from foisting these shots on an unsuspecting world. But now, even if you find them boring, they're undeniably not that purple.

First, barbeque-sauce-shopping: harder than you'd think.

Canadian Club? Are you sure that isn't a brand of terrible whiskey bought by high school kids? Perhaps this sauce is a horrifying byproduct of the distillation process. I just don't know. But Canada seems to be asking for us to put our BBQ trust in them. I'm sorry guys, but you haven't earned it. Nobody talks about Quebec-style ribs.

I can imagine the meeting behind this label perfectly:

Person A: We need to sell people on the great taste our new recipe.
Person B: Yeah, but I'm worried about losing people who like the taste the way it is.
Person A: Hmm. Yeah. Seems like we're kind of at odds here.

Six dry-erase-fume-filled hours later

Person B: ... So yeah, I totally think we can say that.
Person A: Yeah, when you think about it, flavor and taste are really two distinct things.
Person B: Right.
Person A: Right. Totally. Okay, great, let's get Person C to do some comps.

"Celebrity Cleaning"? "By Referral Only"? I'm mystified. What, do you think they show up in, like, costumes? I'm thinking it's like in L.A. Confidential, but with mops. Huh. I honestly don't know what celebrity I'd most like to have clean my windows. Seems like the kind of question one should have an answer for.