WC is apparently the last blogger in America to learn that folks will pay – actual cash money – for product placement in blogs. Or at least give away cool stuff. Who knew?
WC may have missed the bus. But in an effort to catch up nonetheless, WC will provide some product placements of his own to see if any money falls out of any pockets as a result.
This morning after finishing reading the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner and eating a healthy bowl of Quaker Old-Fashioned Oatmeal, WC decided to go for a walk. A glance at this Oregon Scientific thermometer told WC it was -36° F outdoors, so WC knew he’d have to dress warmly. WC donned his Patagonia fleece long-johns, a North Face fleece top, two pair of Woolrich socks, Apocalypse Design bib overalls, an REI down parka, Steger mukluks, and a Mountain Hardwear Men’s Dome Perignon fleece hat. Your nose can drip pretty fiercely at those temperatures, so WC stashed a handful of Kleenex Puffs in his pocket. To see in the frigid, arctic darkness WC donned a Black Diamond Headlamp. WC then pulled a Turtle Fur Neck Gaiter over his neck and lashed on his Atlas 1035 Snowshoes and headed outside.
WC had forgotten his mittens. So WC went back inside, his snowshoe spikes punching some nasty holes in his Mud-Master Floormats, but eventually found his Marmot Expedition mittens, pulled them on and headed outside again.
The parking lot lights from Home Depot and Walmart reflected off of Fairbanks‘ famous ice fog as WC waded through clouds of exhaust from the dozens of idling Ford F-350 pickups and Chevrolet Silverados, snowshoed past the idling cars in line for the McDonald’s drive-up window and struck off into the woods. The litter of Smirnoff Vodka bottles, Miller Lite and Coca-cola cans and Fred Meyer plastic grocery bags was covered with ice crystals that glistened prettily in WC’s head lamp. The flashing lights from Spirit of Alaska Federal Credit Union‘s very strange sign cast long shadows, as WC approached the Diamond Fence around the area.
WC will just sit back and see if the royalty checks roll in.
Irony, folks. Irony.