Poke Me In the Pancreas, Throw Me a Loin Cloth, and Don’t Call Me Dick.

I wish I was a dog.  Seriously, dogs seem to completely lack self-awareness.  Either that or they possess the most skewed self-images found in mammalia.  As I’ve told you before, I am short.  Five feet tall to be exact.  I put up with short jokes, have to rely on the charity of others to reach cans in the grocery store, and pay exorbitant amounts of money on having my pants hemmed.  (Thank God for capris–finally, pants that fit.  Unfortunately, they are long pants on me.  I guess if I want actual capris, I’ll have to buy shorts.)

The entire world seems to be designed to remind me that I lack height.  And that I suck at basketball.  Short dogs, however, do not have these problems.  And not just because they don’t wear pants.  Or shop for groceries.  Dogs seem to be oblivious to their height.  Rodent-sized toy varieties have no qualms about running up to Great Danes and barking ferociously at them–perhaps, saying something like “hey you, get off my lawn.”  And more often than not, the horse-sized canine will do exactly as the little dog says.

Dogs seem to have no idea what they look like.  Maybe I should adopt the dog’s approach to life.  I am six feet tall and my legs are long and shapely.  This could become my new mantra.  “I am six feet tall and my legs are long and shapely.”  

But I know this will only last until I try to reach for a mug.

Hmm…according to Wikipedia, the average height for a female among Bolivia’s Aymara people is 4’8″.  Note  to self: look into possibility of emigrating to Bolivia and likelihood of acceptance into its indigenous community.

1)  I haven’t featured a bizarre Japanese product in a while, so I thought it was time.  Meet the “anatomical” sleeping bag.  I’m not quite sure what the thought process was of its creator, but I have arrived at a few conclusions of my own.  This would be ideal if you needed to accurately pierce a specific organ of a sleeping foe.  Perhaps a dagger through the heart of a napping vampire?

While camping, it would give bears an edge on selecting human delicacies.  Hm…I feel like liver this morning.  Now where is that?  Oh, ya.  Right about here.

It also makes skinny slumberers look muscular.

This model is currently sold out, but you can put it on your “wishlist” here…http://www.japastuff.com/products/381-anatomical-model-sleeping-bag.aspx

   2)  (Time for another one of my awesome segues).  Speaking of body parts, it’s amazing the things one can learn while watching TV–even lame sitcoms.  Case in point–while “sort of” watching That 70’s Show (it never quite manages to fully capture and hold my attention), I caught Eric Foreman telling someone about a race car driver named “Dick Trickle.”  Seriously, that is his name.  Now if I had the name “Richard” and the last name “Trickle,” I never would have opted to go by “Dick.”  Maybe this guy has a great sense of humour.  Or maybe it was a marketing gimmick.  I will never forget that name for sure.

So, in case you are new to the world of Dick Trickle, here is a little bit about this man with the name that makes fifth-graders the world over giggle.  And some middle-aged women like me.

He is the short-track driver with the most wins in history.  He has logged over a million laps (I get car-sick just thinking about it).  And he has won over 1000 races.

Now you know.  This Dick can drive.

3)  Speaking of Dicks, what on earth is behind this loin cloth?  This is, perhaps, the creepiest roadside attraction I have ever seen.  And while doing this blog, I have seen a LOT of them.

This Bigfoot rendition is found in front of a gas station in the town of Vermilion Bay, Ontario.  He is 18 feet tall and weighs 3800 pounds.  And what the heck is in his mouth?  Is he smoking a giant cigar or is he chewing on a giant tootsie roll?

Apparently, Bigfoot a la Vermilion Bay was created one summer by someone who was just passing through town.  I guess he had time to spare.  Or asylums to hide from.

And to make this apparition even creepier, it is equipped with a speaker and has been known, on occasion, to speak to innocent sightseers. Maybe its maker is actually trapped inside.

Big Feet, Creepy Fruit, and Ugly Things for your Lawn

“Isn’t it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do “practice””?  George Carlin.  

I woke up feeling “annoyed” today.  Not sure why.  I got a good night’s sleep–the neighbour’s dog didn’t keep me up howling this time.  You’d think I’d be pleased.  I even got any extra 30 minutes of shut-eye.  But no, I woke up bitchy.  I’m trying my best to conceal this fact.  Especially because I am usually a nauseatingly cheery sort.

Which brings me to another bone of contention.  If someone is a grumpy-gut all the time, we simply shrug it off and say, “Oh, that George.  He’s such a grouch.”  We realize that this is who “George” is and we love him anyway.  (Disclaimer: I don’t actually know any Grumpy “Georges.”)  But, when a usually pleasant person is having an off day and exhibits even the slightest sliver of bad humour, everyone goes on the attack, questioning said person as to why they are in a bad mood.  Isn’t a ray of sunshine allowed a little gloom now and then?  (Not that I am calling myself a “ray of sunshine”…other people call me that.  And modest too).

1)  Let’s face it.  People put really ugly things in their front lawns.  Things that they would never allow in their living rooms.  Hideous little gnomes.  Brightly coloured ceramic toadstools (and you already know how I feel about fungi).  Crystal balls with their paint peeling off perched on plastic pedestals.  It would appear that when it comes to lawn ornaments, tacky is better.

This is actually cheering me up.

Well, now let me introduce you to the ugliest yard “decoration” ever…the BigFoot Garden Yeti.  While there are smaller versions available, it is the life-size model that caught my eye.  Although, how you can make a “life-size” version of something that doesn’t exist is quite puzzling.

This 71 1/2 inch tall, 147 lb. monstrosity will cost you a mere $1495.00 US.  If your garden gnomes have been getting a little too cocky, put them in their place with one of these babies.  Load up your behemoth-sized shopping cart here:

http://www.skymall.com/shopping/detail.htm?c=10519&v=&tab=pd&vendorDirect=false&pid=204248855

I dare you.  Give your gnome a complex.

2)  Which brings me to my next topic.  Why do we call Big Foot “Big Foot?”  (Okay, that was a weird sentence to put into writing).  His feet are big, but are they really THAT Big?

Consider the Guinness World Record holder for the Biggest Feet–Morocco‘s Brahim Takioullah.  He wears a European Size 58, which apparently cannot be found stocked anywhere.  A European size 48.5 is the equivalent of a Canadian/US size 14, so one can only imagine what size this dude takes.

I once knew a guy who was 6’7″ and he always claimed that his “manliness” was in proportion to his height.  Well, if Brahim’s foot size is an indicator of his “manliness,” he will have no shortage of dates.  I mean look at those things!  They’re huge!

3)  Speaking of body parts, welcome to the strangest fruit that I have ever encountered–the Buddha’s Hand (a clever segue, even if I do say so myself).  This citrus fruit is kind of creepy looking–like the hands of a Simpsons  character that has hung out at Mr. Burns Nuclear Power plant a little too long.  Or headless octopuses.  (I always thought it was octopi, but this spell-check program claims otherwise).

Unlike oranges or grapefruits, this puppy does not require any peeling.  You eat the whole thing.  One finger at a time.

Ick.

If you have tried one of these, I’d love to hear about your experience.  And while you’re at it–octopi or octopuses?