Cavemen and Martians and Doughboys, Oh My!

I have as much faith in the newspaper’s daily horoscopes as I do in a Chinese factory worker’s ability to pen prophetic words and stuff them into my fortune cookie. This raises the question…Why aren’t  there more psychic lottery winners?

I do, however, find it interesting that cartoon characters and puppets have birthdays. Not because I think that everyone born on November 2 will share Cookie Monster’s unhealthy relationship with food or that those born on February 22 will suffer from Pebbles Flintstone’s speech impediment. It is simply fun. Unless, of course, you are like me and learn that not a single one of your beloved childhood characters shares your birthday.

Here is a list of assorted talking ducks, dogs, and other creatures and their dates of birth (according to various websites).

January 9-Daisy Duck

January 12-Mater

January 17-Huckleberry Hound

January 13-Rubber Duckie

January 28-Ernie

January 29-Aquaman

February 2-Fred Flintstone

February 3- Elmo

February 8-Beeker

February 12-Gromit (Wallace & Gromit)

February 14-Pink Power Ranger

February 17- Rod Flanders

February 19-Batman

February 22-Pebbles Flintstone

February 25-Patrick Star (Starfish)

February 29-Superman

March 2-Porky Pig

March 3-Lucy Van Pelt

March 4-Woodstock

March 9-Barbie

March 17-Dennis the Menace

March 18-Pillsbury Dough boy

March 20-Big Bird

March 22- Kenny (South Park)

April 1- Bart Simpson

April 17-Daffy Duck & Sherlock Hemlock (Sesame Street)

April 20-Barney Gumble

May 1-Sponge Bob Square Pants

May 9-Kermit the Frog & Lisa Simpson

May 15- Minnie Mouse

May 25-Goofy

May 26-Kyle (South Park)

May 29-Iron Man

June 1-Oscar the Grouch

June 7-The Amazing Mumford

June 9-Donald Duck

June 19-Garfield & Tasmanian Devil

July 1-Guy Smiley & Cartman (South Park)

July 24-Marvin the Martian

July 26-Bert

July 27-Bugs Bunny & Jon Arbuckle (Garfield)

August 7- Wallace (Wallace & Gromit)

August 19-Snuffleupagus

August 21-Christopher Robin

September 5-Clifford the Red Dog & Pluto

September 13-Scooby-Doo

September 15-Mr. Burns

September 19-Slimey

September 30- Snagglepuss

October 1-Marge Simpson

October 2-Snoopy

October 6-Peggy (King of the Hill)

October 9- The Count

October 14-Grover & Winnie the Pooh

October 16-Telly

October 19-Stan Marsh (South Park)

October 25-Squidward

October 28-ALF

October 30- Charlie Brown

November 2-Cookie Monster

November 18-Mickey Mouse

November 21-Quick Draw McGraw

November 30- Mr. Krabs (Sponge Bob)

December 17-Little Bird (Sesame Street)

December 22-Elsa (Disney)

December 27-Howdy Doody

Who do you share a birthday with? Who would you most like to share it with? 

My Nose Smells. No, really. It Stinks.

I possess a very keen sense of smell, but there is something that I have always wondered, but been afraid to ask.  Do nostrils smell?  Of course, I know that nostrils are capable of enabling us to sense a smell.  What I am asking is “do nostrils, themselves, actually emit an odour?”  I have never sniffed with any nose other than mine, so maybe I have just become accustomed to the smell of my own nasal cavity.  What if it really stinks and, as a result, I am not able to smell the world around me properly?

i smell spit (1)

Maybe Tim Horton’s coffee doesn’t really smell like skunk butt.

Oh no.  I have always loved the smell of freshly pumped gasoline–a fact that has raised many an eyebrow over the last few decades.  Ugh, I’m old.  Maybe it smells horrible–like asparagus pee–and I don’t know it.

asparagus

How can any of us really be sure that our own nose aromas aren’t interfering with our sense of smell?  The only way to be sure is to rip off another person’s nose and borrow it.  You know–try that childhood “got your nose” trick, but really mean it.

I got your nose!!

 

Speaking of body parts, I love Tim Burton movies.  He’s rather an odd duck, I know, but his bizarre perspective on the world translates into brilliant films.  I have always wondered, however, how Edward Scissorhands partakes in rock, paper, scissors.  Seriously.  Only an idiot would do the old “one, two, three” and pull out a flat paper hand.

edward_scissorhands-1

And, as long as I am on the subject of idiots. In Canada, we have a dishwasher detergent called “Cascade” and its commercials star a woman who solves dish-related domestic disputes.  Unbeknownst to me, it would appear that we Canadians take our dish washing very seriously. This sage of plates and forks refers to herself as the “Cascade Kitchen Counsellor,” presenting troubled dirty dish owners with this miraculous product that can remove baked-on foods and marital discord in one dishwasher cycle. This is my new dream job.

 

 

But I digress. Back to the question at hand. Do you think your nose has a smell?

 

Images courtesy of:  Asparagus pee (http://diaryofahitman.wordpress.com/2012/03/20/the-history-of-asparagus-pee/), I’ve got your nose (http://bretacogan.blogspot.ca/2011/06/this-is-how-voldemort-turned-evil-you.html), Scissorhands (http://smg.photobucket.com/user/stellkins/media/edward_scissorhands-1.gif.html),

I Apologize on Behalf of my Middle Finger…

How do you hold your pencil? Apparently, I use the “death-grip” method–which is unfortunate if you happen to be my pencil. Or my middle finger. Yes, my propensity for clutching my pencil with brute force has resulted in a large protuberance that I (somewhat) affectionately call my “writing bump.”

skeleton pen

I was once a robust, healthy pen. And then “she” got her hands on me.

dx.com

Well, it turns out that my unsightly writing bump is the product of an “immature pencil grasp pattern.” Okay. I have been referred to as immature before–usually after I have been spotted talking to a mitten or drawing eyes on a cantaloupe–but this is a whole new form of…um…youthfulness. Yeah, that’s it. Youthfulness.

sad cantaloupe.jpeg

It’s hard to eat fruit with a face.

nourishinglittlesouls.com 

 

After years of communicating via the QWERTY method, my writing bump had almost disappeared. My middle finger had returned to its pristine pre-pencil self. Finally, I could hold it up with pride. I found myself wanting to show everyone just how lovely it looked. Surprisingly, no one seemed impressed. Coincidentally, this era is also known as the lonely years.

Even Mr. Rogers is proud of his “Mr. Tall.” (Just heard this sentence out loud for the first time. It sounds worse than it actually is.)

Enter the adult colouring book–the seemingly benign collection of highly addictive intricate drawings designed to transport fully grown people back to their childhoods. Seems like a perfect match for someone with an immature pencil grip. There is just one problem. Yes, thanks to Johanna Basford and her tribe of evil colouring book artists, my writing bump has returned to its former gargantuan glory.

On the upside, my middle finger is much less outgoing than before.

 

Here are a few examples of what happens when the innocent fun of colouring  enters the adult realm.

colouring picture for lazy

funny-children-coloring-book-corruptions-30

Bored Panda

thrill murray

Mental Floss

 puke by numbers

Sad and Useless

 

one night stand

Huffington Post

 

Have you fallen victim to the adult colouring phase? 

Yellow pants, rubber sheets, and a new Bic Razor…my increasingly bizarre shopping list

I almost threw up on my pillow last night. No, my pillow didn’t do anything to repulse me. It was just lying there as pillows tend to do. It’s this damn cold and my body’s apparent need to rid itself of it by plunging me into esophagus-splitting coughing fits. And, common side effects of said coughing include peeing oneself and vomiting in a manner that would have landed me the starring role in the Exorcist. 

 

 

Except much less green. What the heck have they been feeding that girl? Pistachio pudding?

 

Yes, the human body often betrays its owner. For instance, I harbour deep-seeded fears of vomiting on a customer’s forehead or accidentally urinating on a coworker’s shoe. It could be worse, however. I could be the woman whose farts forced the landing of a plane.

farts you just cannot trust them

Motivateusnot.com.

In December 2006, an American Airlines flight was forced to make an unexpected landing in Nashville after passengers reported smelling burning matches. The travellers were evacuated and bomb-detecting dogs were brought in to sniff out the problem, locating a stash of used matches under one passengers seat. The seat’s occupant admitted to the FBI that she had been lighting the matches in an attempt to hide her flatulence brought on by a medical condition. Wow. That’s gotta blow.

 

Speaking of blowing, if you have ever had a head cold, you know how annoying it can be. You blow and blow and still, your nostrils remain clogged shut. Imagine how this man–often referred to as the record-holder for the world’s largest booger–felt.

 

And, before pushing play, I should warn you that this could lead to you doing your own Exorcist impression.

 

Ack! Right? I’ll wait while you go grab the mop.

The human body is a mysterious and, oftentimes, uncooperative and somewhat masochistic thing. But it can also be a source of great amusement.

Sometimes eyebrows form a united front.

eyebrow

Funkyjunk.com. 

Ear hairs run wild…

 

Noses grow long…

 

biggest nose

Mix 965 Houston.

And bladders  have a mind of their own. No one’s body cooperates all the time. I have to go change my diaper.

 

Can Puppets Get Hemorrhoids?

I was a strange child, but I was also a problem-solver. In an effort to repair my status as an “only child,” I decided to create a quartet of loyal friends that would stand by me no matter what. And nothing proved more faithful than my trusty appendages–Mildred & Snowy Foot and Petty & Loyalist Hand. Yes, my hands and feet were the trusty friends that I was looking for.

Unbeknownst to me, however, my right hand had strong political views. I just thought the name “Loyalist” was pretty. Leave me alone. I was 4.

 

Hands-Talking-To-Each-Other

Soshable.com

Petty and Loyalist loved to talk, but as I grew older, it became apparent that other people preferred hands to remain mute. This posed quite the conundrum. On the one hand, I felt guilty silencing them after years of allowing them to converse freely, but, on the other, the threat of a padded cell did prove to be a strong deterrent. Petty & Loyalist–and by association, Mildred & Snowy–were silenced.

(Insert moment of quiet reflection followed by the playing of Taps). 

Until I discovered puppets. Finally, my hands could talk freely without shattering my ever-shrinking facade of sanity.

Over the years, Loyalist has accumulated a sizable wardrobe. Sadly, Petty’s comparative lack of cooperation limits him/her/? to playing spastics, the feeble-minded, and members of the NDP.

double-security-mitts-hand-control-mitt-one-size-fits-most-tie-strap-1-strap-white-one-fits-most

Berktree.com 

This limbless, mouthless, eyeless…er…puppet is the perfect match for Petty’s skill level. He/She/? has spent many hours of bliss donning this one-of-a-kind Thalidomide Helen Keller puppet.

Loyalist, however, has mastered a full range of class, order, and phylum ranging from Michelin Star chefs to red-nosed reindeer to snails. Yes, snails.

Speaking of snails. it was recently brought to my attention during an episode of Top Gear that snails give trout piles. I didn’t even know that fish could get hemorrhoids. I eat trout. Have I unwittingly eaten a ‘roid? Ack.

trout with hemorrhoid

“Stop squeezing my damn hemorrhoid!”   (Browntownutah’s Blog)

This, apparently, is the type of thing that Richard Hammond and Jeremy Clarkson –two avid British car guys–discuss while stranded in a South American desert.

 

Top Gear snails and piles

BBC Two

Which raises a question in my neuroses-plagued mind–What type of havoc will be wreaked upon my buttocks if I eat a trout that has piles and a stomach full of undigested snails?

beeker shocked

David Kanigan. 

Inquiring minds–and puppets–want to know.

If you could operate any puppet, which one would you choose? I know I’d be Bert, hands down. Then again, if my hands were down, how could I operate him? 

 

Nostrils Behaving Badly

I didn’t sleep well last night. And I blame my nose. Apparently, breathing in and out, producing snot, and providing a home for my freckles is not enough excitement for my mischievous proboscis. It has now decided to take up whistling.

If you have ever had a squeaky toy jammed up your nostril, you may know exactly what I am talking about. If you, however, are like most people and you’ve had nothing larger than your index finger rammed up your snotlocker, I will now do my best to describe the experience.

Jim Carrey fans have a bit of an edge as the rubber-faced comedian is no stranger to the perils of the squeaky snout. This clip from Me, Myself, and Irene adeptly illustrates the exact register in which my left nostril chose to perform. (Advance to the 5 min 38 second mark).

I’m not sure what exactly caused my situation last night, but I suspect an errant booger. And, no matter what I tried, it refused to dislodge. I blew my nose as hard as I could without rupturing an ear drum–although if I had, my nose whistle would no longer have been a problem. And, yes, I even embarked on my own archaeological dig.

There. I said it. “I picked my nose. And I liked it.” This confession is most effective when sung to the tune of I Kissed a Girl. Go ahead and try it out loud. “I picked my nose and I liked it…..” 

Everyone picks their nose. Hell, I bet the Queen of England has enjoyed a poke or two in her royal nasal cavity. It probably explains all the green dresses. And, I am fairly certain that George Costanza was right about Moses being a picker too.

Seriously. Desert air will do that to you. Forget worrying about bed bugs in your Vegas hotel room. Watch out for boogers, instead.

ed91109e29601a4b871248d2422632e0

When it comes to picking one’s schnoz, it is only acceptable to do it in private. And, no, driving in one’s vehicle does not constitute privacy. Windows are see-through and no one wants to witness you pulling a giant oyster from your left nostril. I think that the car immediately behind anyone who is caught elbow-deep in their honker should be allowed to rear-end said vehicle without fear of recrimination. “Officer, he seemed to be having difficulty getting his finger far enough up his nose, so I gave him a little nudge.”

It would probably generate the same result as this fancy manoeuvre…

I cannot leave you in good conscience without giving you one word of caution. Over-picking your nose can be hazardous to your health.  According to an article in the Daily Mail, 63-year old, Ian Bothwell, “died from a nose-bleed consistent with picking his nose.” Perhaps, he had a &*%$# nose whistle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever stuck your hand in a dust devil?

Have you ever seen a dust devil? It’s rare that something can be described as awe-inspiring and “cute” at the same time, but both of these words perfectly sum up a dust devil. On the one hand, I am astounded that these tornado microcosms can develop in the first place, seemingly out of nowhere. And, on the other hand, I sort of want to stick my hand in and see what happens. But I never have. Perhaps that is why I am still able to type with both hands.

I could have ended up like this guy.

Well, this year has gone by like a dust devil. It seems like only yesterday that I made the usual resolutions. Apparently, I was going to give up carbs (note to self: find and dust off Wheat Belly book), exercise daily (must hook up Wii balance board. Where is Wii balance board? Is it even called a “Wii balance board?”), and compose life-altering blogs that catch the attention of publishing companies around the world who, in turn, lavish me with high six-figure book deals, whisk me from one ivory tower to another on private jets, and provide me with a personal trainer for my transcontinental book tours–thus ensuring that I both exercise daily and eschew carbs, forcing me to live up to my previous two resolutions. Did I tell you that I lead a rich and fulfilling fantasy life?

This is the last place I saw my Wheat Belly book.

This is the last place I saw my Wheat Belly book.

1) Speaking of bellies–puffy from wheat or not– what I know about science, Sheldon Cooper could fit in his shortest eyebrow hair, so don’t laugh at what I am about to propose. If I rub my belly vigorously for extended periods of time, will it gradually disappear? Or will I just rub off my hand print? Or wear a whole in my sweater? Perhaps, the best people to ask would be the 1093 students from Effingham, UK who mastered the art of simultaneously rubbing their stomachs and their heads, creating a new Guinness World Record for “the most people patting their heads and rubbing their stomachs.”

The existence of this record raises a whole whack of other unanswered questions. Who the heck thinks up these things? How do you prepare for a feat as unusual–and stupid–as this? And, what the hell did their hair look like when it was all over? Seriously. There is not enough de-tangler in the world.

The last thing my Wii console said to me.

The last thing my Wii console said to me.

2) Getting back to my Wii, as you already know, I am exceptionally spastic. And my Wii console never lets me forget it. In my younger days, I was quite coordinated–able to do backflips, the splits, and balance myself atop my cheerleading squad’s less-than-solid pyramid. Unfortunately, a backflip or a split would now render me paraplegic. And no amount of cheerleaders would invite me to stand on their limbs.

While I struggle to perch upon one limb for anything longer than a few minutes, the flamingo makes standing on one leg look not only easy, but comfortable. Who in the hell is comfortable standing like that? They are. They are so comfortable, in fact, that flamingos have been known to sleep that way. This must be where the term “bird brain” comes from. Birds are not too bright.

According to How Stuff Works, we humans–me included–should be able to stand on one leg more easily than a flamingo. Our bodies are vertical. Theirs are horizontal. They have long skinny legs. Most of us do not. Yet, they make it look so easy. And, let’s face it. Flamingos look much better standing on one leg than we do.

Graceful.

Graceful.

Not so graceful.

Happy New Year to each and every one of you. May your hopes and aspirations–and some of your wildest fantasies–come true in 2015! I’m still hoping Barry Weiss will find “Searching for Barry Weiss,” that my belly will be unencumbered by wheat, and that I will regain my ability to do the splits. Who knows what the next year will bring?

What are your hopes for 2015? Would you stick your hand in a dust devil?

Images courtesy of: Flamingo (http://pencildancers.deviantart.com/art/Flamingo-on-one-leg-193144254).

One moose face, two puppets, and league of morons.

The doctor has just told me that I have pustules in my throat. This is disturbing. While it does explain my current inability to speak at anything louder than a faint whisper, the very fact that I have “puss” anywhere in my body has left me feeling rather discomfited. And oddly curious. I’d like to see these “pustules” for myself. Thanks to my shallow pallet and rather moose-like tongue, however, this is not possible.

moose tongue

Which leads to a question that I have always wanted to ask the masses, but have not had the opportunity to do so. When you close your mouth, does your tongue fit snugly inside with the bottom and roof of your mouth touching it OR does your tongue have plenty of breathing space–room to move around?

And do you say “Bert and Ernie” or “Ernie and Bert?”

And can you properly pronounce “Nuclear?”

Inquiring minds–or at least those with nothing better to ponder–want to know.

1) It would seem that there are two types of people in the world. The first camp–and, in my opinion, the more normal of the two–would include people who look upon the above moose photo and think “Hey it’s a moose with a big tongue. He’s kind of cute” or something along those lines. The second camp–the one that makes me sleep with one eye open– looks at it and thinks “that’s one tasty looking moose face.”

Yup. There are weirdos amongst us who think that a moose face is something to be eaten. ACK! According to Four Pounds Flour, Moose Face, known in the culinary world as Moose Mouffle consists of the “fibrous flesh of the cheek and the gelatinous prehensile upper lip.” First of all, lips should not be gelatinous. Nor should they be eaten. Apparently, even the moose face-munching crowd do have their limits, announcing that the cartilaginous nasal septum is not to be eaten. Of course. Lips, yes. Nose, no.

2) While Starsky & Hutch, Cagney & Lacy, and Lilo & Stitch had a consistent billing order, Bert and Ernie or Ernie and Bert do not. So it doesn’t really matter which way you say it. The Muppet Wiki’s “Bert and Ernie” VS “Ernie and Bert” cites book, album, and video titles using both combinations. But for me, Bert will always come first.

3) American politicians are not exactly noted for their mastery of the English language. Can anyone spell potato? It turns out that tuber vegetables aren’t the only thing that can stump a public official. Jimmy Carter, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Walter Mondale, and Dwight D. Eisenhower are all guilty of publicly mispronouncing the seemingly simple word “nuclear.” Why they insist on saying “nucular” is unclear…or “uncular.” Perhaps Homer Simpson does have what it takes to run the nation.

Well, I am going to bid you adieu and go off to nurse my pustules.

No caption required.

No caption required.

Photo credits: Moose Tongue (http://purplemoose.kenaiwriter.net/2008/09/).

My mouth smells like butt, but it tastes like foot.

I wonder how many people have accidentally put the family rectal thermometer in their mouth?

Or brushed their teeth with the grout-scrubbing tooth brush? (Was the black crap in the bristles not a dead giveaway? Or do you eat profuse amounts of licorice?)

Thankfully, I have not engaged in any of the above. At least, I don’t think I have. Note to self…purchase Family-Sized bottle of Listerine. The worst thing that has ever ended up in my mouth is a copious quantity of puddle water and a few large insects. Part of the problem is that I am always talking and, as a result, my mouth can usually be found in the open position.  My dentist, by the way, states that I have one of the smallest mouths he has ever encountered, so the “large” insects may not actually be that large. They just take up a lot of room in my petite orifice. He did add that the size of my mouth did not necessarily reflect the amount of noise that comes out of it. Another note to self: look for new dental professional.

It stands to reason, then, that if I had a much larger mouth I would have a much longer list of odd objects that have landed in it. Francisco Domingo Joaquim of Angola has the World’s Largest Mouth according to the folks at Guinness World Records. With a width of 17 cm or 6.69 inches, this dude can carry his lunch–including a can of Coke–in his face.

As I write this blog, my husband has just dropped the lid from a pen on the floor. I tend to use my dexterous feet in matters like this to pick things up and, while he did not look overly pleased at the prospect of retrieving the lid from between my toes, he gave in a took it. I must now add that the pen lid is well chewed–by me–so I will likely be adding another gross thing to my list of things that have been in my mouth. A toe-juice smothered pen lid.
MV5BNjQxNTA1NjE5Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwOTMwNzE5._V1_SX640_SY720_

Alicia Silverstone‘s son, Bear Blu, has more than just a Muppet-like name to cope with.  Unless you are new to the planet, you have likely seen videos of Silverstone’s bizarre child-feeding habits. The Clueless star–in more ways then one–adheres  to the birdlike “chew it up and spit it in your kid’s mouth” method. Ack. Suddenly the rectal thermometer doesn’t seem so bad, does it?

 

Perhaps, if I learned to speak faster I would spend less time with my mouth open. Hm.  I could take lessons from Fran Capo. Check her out on Sunrise Television. She is the second person to do her rendition of the Three Little Pigs on this video.

 

cb79125169da8d7a57d9ee0b327000c9

Don’t you hate it when this happens?

What is the strangest thing that has ever ended up in your mouth? 

 

If you have a collection of oddities hanging around in your digestive tract from your younger years, you may enjoy Lynn Hasselberger’s post on the weird stuff that she has put in her mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve got mushrooms in my ears, a flowery bag of vomit, and a Cheap Trick album.

I have had swimmer’s ear for over thirty years now–no swimming required. If you aren’t sure what swimmer’s ear –a.k.a “otitis externa”–entails, here’s the best way I can describe it.  Grab the vomit bags that you stole from KLM the last time you flied. (Holy crap. Did I just type the word “flied?” Swimmer’s Ear, by the way, does not impair one’s ability to tense verbs. I wish I could say it does and provide myself with an excuse for my sudden lapse in literacy skills. Did I tell you that I am an unemployed high school English Teacher? The “unemployed” part is no longer a mystery.)

when-english-teachers-party1

Okay, back to the barf bags. Have you got them in the open position? Hold on tight, because you’re going to need them.

Seriously, it's going to be this gross.  (Image courtesy of: http://www.cherrybombed.com/)

Seriously, it’s going to be this gross.
(Image courtesy of: http://www.cherrybombed.com/)

Swimmer’s Ear is like having an ear-hole filled with clumps of flaky dead skin that makes you itch profusely. The itch makes you want to dig in your ears and pull out the clumps, which, inevitably fall on your shoulder. Now, if you have the misfortune of wearing something black, people will think you have the largest dandruff flakes known to man. Seriously, Guinness Record worthy. And, Swimmer’s Ear, smells like your head is full of sewer water. Now, I don’t know what you get up to at night, but I have never been anywhere near a sewer. Or its water. And surely, my ears have never been dunked in one.

Here it comes.

Here it comes.

But I have spent several fleeting moments over the years wondering if my boyfriends could get swimmer’s tongue. Ack.

I told you not to stick your tongue in her ear.

I told you not to stick your tongue in her ear. (Image courtesy of: http://www.an-mag.com/weird-taste/)

The truly wretch-inducing fact is that the clumps are not dead skin at all. They are, in fact, fungus. Yup, I have a regular mushroom farm growing in the very orifices that I am supposed to hear with. And this raises another question. If I am allergic to mould, does that make me allergic to my ears?

Holy crap! Fungus that looks like an ear!

Holy crap! Fungus that looks like an ear!

By the way, if you want to learn more about the fungus that looks like an ear–not the fungus that lives in an ear–check out this http://esticadinhonature.wordpress.com/2012/11/15/tophill-fungi-list-hits-300/.

1) Speaking of barf bags, there are times when a plain brown paper sack just won’t do–particularly if you have a penchant for hyperventilating. The last thing you want to do is engage in some rapid inhaling using a recently used barf bag. Double ack.

barf bag 1

In fact, it turns out that a fashionable tote for your vomit can be the perfect accessory for any outfit. “Morning Chicness Bags” makes leak-proof (that is important), stylish bags in a plethora of patterns. They’re almost too pretty to ralph in.

2) If you are going to steal a barf bag for strictly “souvenir” purposes, you should definitely opt for a Virgin Atlantic flight. No one does barf bags better. Seriously. Who else would run a contest entitled “Design for Chunks“–inviting artists everywhere to create masterful sick sacks for puking passengers.  If that wasn’t enough, they followed this with a series of Star Wars-themed holdalls for hurls. Nothing worse than a motion sick wookie.

And, then, they rolled out the Granddaddy of Barf Bags. The Bagophile’s dream–yes, there are people who actually collect these things. The gigantic “How Did Air Travel Become So Bloody Awful” bag was Virgin’s clever way of poking fun at discount airlines–and collecting record-breaking regurgitations.

3) Here are a collection of  barf bags  from the Air Sickness Bag Virtual Museum.  I told you…people actually collect these things. And I thought the belly-button lint collection was weird. Okay, it’s still weird. Vomit valise-worthy weird.

I’m not sure why Cheap Trick felt that their fans would require a barf bag while listening to “I Want You to Want Me.” Hm. Repetitive lyrics, perhaps. And Hello Kitty does evoke the urge to heave.

Aero Rudolpho
Aero Rudolpho
Amoszonas Smiley
Amoszonas Smiley
Ansett Australia Photo Order
Ansett Australia Photo Order
Cheap Trick from "In Color"
Cheap Trick from “In Color”
Mini Cooper
Mini Cooper
Eva Air Hello Kitty
Eva Air’s Hello Kitty

Which bag would you most like to upchuck into?

4) And just when you thought you’d seen everything, you come across this….

BARF-pet-food

Lucky, Fido. A big bowl of kibbles & barf.

My ears are itchy.