A Petrified Hot Dog, A Lesbian Horse, and A Foot Named Mildred

The paper cut is a mysterious thing.  For instance, I could lop off an entire arm, leaving a gaping hole with a fountain of arterial blood squirting forth, and it would not hurt as much as a paper cut.  Albeit, the limb-removal is more likely to cause me to scream in horror, pass out, or perhaps, die.  But I bet the paper cut–especially one along a bending seam like a knuckle–would instill greater pain.  Not that I’d sacrifice a limb to prove my point.  After all, I was a kid who named my hands and feet.  It would be like cutting off a friend.  Left hand=Petty.  Right hand=Loyalist.  (yup, Loyalist).  Right foot=Snowy.  (Maybe I had perpetually cold feet).  Left foot=Mildred.  I was a strange child.

Forget waging war with machine guns and tanks.  We should simply throw shards of paper at the enemy.  Maybe we should be dropping bombs of 8 1/2 x 11″ sheets of photocopy stock on them.  And, if they are looking up, we may even be lucky enough to deal out a paper cut to the eye.  Yee-ouch!  That’s gotta hurt.

One of my many occupations is a part-time job in a book store.  I am no stranger to paper cuts.  You see, part of the problem is that space on the shelves is tight, so we regularly have to use Houdini-like feats to make new stock fit.  It does not matter that customers can barely pry a book loose from the Jenga-ish wall that we have created.  Our goal is to simply get the inventory out.  This leads to a lot of paper cuts.

Honest, all I did was pull out one book!

Honest, all I did was pull out one book!

But I have never bled on the merchandise.  That would simply be disgusting.  Although, I did sneeze on a book once.  I hope the pages didn’t stick together.


1)  Speaking of fingers, does it not strike anyone else as strange that prolonged exposure to water actually makes our skin wrinkle?  The moisture gets sucked right out.  Look at this thing.  It doesn’t even look like a finger anymore.  It looks like a dehydrated carrot or a really old hot dog.

According to researchers at Newcastle University, prune-fingers actually serve a purpose.  Apparently, digit wrinkles allow us to grab on to wet objects.  All-season radials for our fingers.

I thought this was a cool little fact.  Even if the picture does remind me of the episode of Seinfeld in which Kramer eats a really old, theatre hot dog.  Blick.  I almost throw up in my mouth thinking about it.  After all, I hate hot dogs–new or old.

Check out the clip, if you’d like a good laugh:  

Everytime I watch it, I get the dry heaves a little.

extra toes

2) Like I’ve said once before, extra fingers run in my family.  And, despite my mother’s sigh of relief when she discovered that I had the requisite 10, I have always wished that I had been born with extras.  It would have been a great conversation starter.  Plus, I wear mitts instead of gloves, so that never would have been a problem.  I probably could have conned some doting elderly person to knit me some six fingered gloves, anyway.  Plus, I think I would be able to type much faster.

I now introduce you to the feet of a six-year-old, Chinese boy who was born with 16 toes and 15 fingers.  I’m amazed at how perfect each little piggy looks.  After a 6 1/2 hour operation, the little lad now has ten fingers and ten toes.  And he has cut his risk for paper cuts in half.

3) Stocking the bookstore shelves is not always exciting.  It seems like I am forever putting out new offerings by Danielle Steele and Nora Roberts.  Ack.  How in the hell does Nora Roberts possibly find the time to write what feels like a book a week under her own name AND under her mystery-writing pseudonym J.D. Robb?  Has she undergone cloning?  Or is she not an individual at all, but rather a writing team?  Hm.  I really want to know.  If she is a real person, I suddenly feel like a lazy, non-productive writer.

I would love to stock the shelves with bizarre titles like these puppies that I found at Amazon.com.  Yes, these are real books.

weird book 1weird book 2weird book 3weird book 4weird book 5weird book 6

Even some of the descriptions are hilarious.  The “Lesbian Hair” author refers to children as pets with thumbs.  The coffin book claims that this is one project you will not want to put off and that it is perfect for people who want to be buried in their work.

And I didn’t know that horses could be Lesbian.

Photo credits:  finger (www.popsci.com), toes (www.dailymail.co.uk), books (amazon.com).

A Sip of Eye Juice Please. I Must Go Run Over Myself.

Many years ago, someone sold my grandmother a used Dodge Diplomat.  She was quite proud of  her new wheels–and greatly amused that people often mistook it for a cop car.  It was white.  And big.  And the popular choice of many small town police stations.  There was just one problem.  The floor was rotting out.

When she discovered this formerly hidden problem, she was mortified.  It would cost a fortune to fix.  Plus, she wondered what other secret ailments this car was keeping from her.

None of this interested me at all.  I was too busy wondering  if a “hole” in the floor meant that she would run over herself.  This is how my mind works.

I also wonder if Gordon Ramsay ever eats Kraft Dinner.

And why there’s a train car at our local body shop.

And if anyone has an aardvark I could borrow.  (We seem to be overrun with ants).

I have a simple mind that is fascinated by very strange things.  Much like Homer Simpson.  

Back to the topic of Kraft Dinner.  It would appear that we, the consumers, are dissatisfied with the run-of-the mill KD fare.  Apparently, we want healthier noodles smothered in fake cheese.  Kraft recently introduced versions that are higher in fibre and crammed full of omega 3.  Well, I got brave the other day and tried some of their “all vegetable” type–made with cauliflower.  Yes, you read that right.  Cauliflower Kraft Dinner.

My first thought was–“Sure.  Like I’m supposed to believe that this is actually made with cauliflower.”  I’m not usually cynical by nature, but this sounded too good to be  true.  Healthy KD?  But, it would appear that the people at Kraft can truly be  trusted.  The noxious fumes of boiled cauliflower–the only veggie that smells more vile is the odiferous cabbage–let me know that these were not your ordinary, colon clogging, white flour noodles.  And the bonus is that, despite the smell, it tastes exactly like the KD you know and love.  Um, maybe “love” is too strong of a word.  The KD you have come to expect.

Only trouble is that it causes–er–a colonic explosion.  I nearly blew a hole in the commode.

1.  Here is another thing that I “wonder” about–this book title.  Hm.  I must be a very naive landlubber.  As you know, I am highly neurotic.  I worry about everything.  Well, thanks to author, John Trimmer, I now have another fear to add to an already massive list–getting squashed by huge ships.

Not only is Mister Trimmer a writer, but he is also a “Captain.”  He must know what he is talking about.  If he thinks I should learn how to avoid huge ships, I will.  Even if I do live in Central Canada, far away from any major shipping routes.  Should some drunken sailor plow a multi-storied cruise liner into a massive tropical storm that whips it ashore along the St. Lawrence, where it is picked up by a record-breaking tornado, and plunked down in my living room, I will be prepared.


And that’s not even the interesting part.  You should see Amazon‘s list of products that customers who viewed this item also viewed.  Here it is:

-the best of David Hasselhoff (there is a “best” of the Hoff?  Must be the pauses between songs)

-white face paint (to hide behind, while you are buying the best of David Hasselhoff?)

-the 2009-2014 Outlook for Wood Toilet Seats in China.  (This has left me speechless.  And I can’t get MY book published.)

-Uranium Ore (To blow oneself up, along with one’s entire neighbourhood after listening to the Best of David Hasselhoff)

-The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification (For when birdwatching gets dull).

-3B Scientific Testicle Self Exam (For when shopping cart-watching bores you too).

-a book entitled “Bombproof Your Horse.” This one truly made me “wonder.”  A LOT.  Seriously, bombproofing your horse?  Are they a lot of drive-by horse explosions that I haven’t heard about?  What the heck does a bomb-proofed horse look like?  Did anyone ask the horse what he thinks about this?  Maybe he’d rather just move to a less “bomb-riddled” neighbourhood.

2.  I also spend a lot of time wondering about stupid people.  Especially the type of people that carry their umbrellas with the business end pointed out.  They usually make it extra-dangerous, by swinging their arms when they walk.  Shopping should not be a risky affair.  I should be able to do it without being impaled by someone’s rain protection.

Consider the driver of this car.  The one decapitating cyclists and poodle-walkers as he makes his way down the street.  The one who is about to meet his match in the form of a tow truck.  He must be a lethal umbrella swinger.  And an idiot.

Umbrellas, after all, aren’t always as innocent as they appear.  

3)  I also wonder how someone could spew noodles through their nose or milk out their eyes and not worry.  What if a piece of linguine starts to mould in your sinus cavity?  Or some homogenized curdles on your retina?  Don’t these things even cross their minds?

Ilker Yilmaz of Turkey is undaunted by the threat of dairy-related damage to his eyes.  He is the proud Guinness World Record Holder for the farthest distance for milk squirting from an eye.  Yes, it really does exist.  He obviously boasts some muscular optics, having a achieved a milk squirt of 9′ 2″.

Yes,  he’s “GOT MILK?”  But he can keep it.  Gack.

Photo credits:  Ladder Car (curiousphotos.blogspot.ca), eye milk (guinnessworldrecords.com).

Floppy Fingers, Stretchy Arms, and A Rainbow Vagina

Genetics is a crapshoot.  Some people hit the DNA jackpot–Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, for example–and others don’t fare so well.  I would be one of these people.  I rolled the dice and this is what I got:

Tall Father + Short Mother =  Short Me

Thin Father + Generously Proportioned Mother= Generously Proportioned Me

Tanned Father + Fair Mother= Fair Me

Hammer-toed Father + Pretty Footed Mother = Hammer-toed Me

Fine haired Father + Thick, Lustrous Haired Mother= Fine-haired Me

Two Asthmatic Grandmothers + A Father with Plantar Fasciitis = A Wheezy Person with Sore Feet

I realize that I have just portrayed myself as a pasty, round, dwarf with a balding head and claws for feet.  This is not true.  I also have very thin lips.  No really, I’m not that bad.  I’m no Jennifer Aniston, but I’m not Godzilla either.  I think we all have things we’d change about ourselves, if we could.  First of all, I’d love to be about four inches taller.  I have thought of hanging by my feet in the hopes of stretching myself.  I’ve never seen a short bat.  This stretching thing would also make me much skinnier.  Think Stretch Armstrong.  Only permanent and without the really long arms.  And no black tighty whities.  Can tighty whities be black?

I really do believe in the old adage, “Never judge a book by its cover.”  Unless you come across a cover like this.

1)  This is just weird.  Someone actually thought that children all over the world would want to colour female genitalia.  What’s worse is that a publishing company also thought this would be a great idea.  And that someone out there has probably paid hard-earned money to buy it.

This raises another question.  Aren’t colouring books supposed to be colourful.  Last time I looked, my parts were monochromatic.

I had to check out a few sample pages at Amazon.com.  Curiosity got the best of me.  Well, here is what I found:

If you think your children would benefit from this colouring book, they have places for people like you.  Oops.  Must really learn to censor myself better.  As I was saying, if you would like to order this “educational” book for your child, you can get it here:  http://www.amazon.com/The-Big-Coloring-Book-Vaginas/dp/B000R0HU92.

I’m sure there will still be several in stock.  Bet these would make a splendid stocking stuffer.

2)  Sometimes, our appearance is not hampered by any genetic flaws, but by the choices that we make.  Anyone who watches Coronation Street will be familiar with Deirdre Barlowe and her horrific eyewear choices.  If you are unfamiliar, these will illustrate my point.  Lenses the size of garage doors.  I hope they at least help her see better.

3)  Extra fingers run in my family.  Unfortunately, I was born with the usual 10 fingers.  This is one defect that I would love to have inherited.  Imagine having an extra finger.  Think of how fast I could type.  This blog would have been finished ages ago.  And you would have finished reading it a long time ago.  Ah, now you wish I had that sixth finger too, don’t you?

This condition is called Polydactyly and is usually found in people, dogs, and cats.  It is most commonly located by the little finger, but can also develop beside the thumb.  According to some sources, it occurs in 1 of every 500 live births.  Hm.

Admittedly, my family’s sixth finger tends to be a useless, limp flap that just hangs there.  But I still think it would have been cool.  A great conversation starter at parties.

But it would have been hard to find gloves.

Photo credits:  Stretch Armstrong (www.simpsonspeaks.com), Colouring Book (amazon.com), Deirdre 1 (www.randrlife.co.uk), 2 (www.corrieblog.tv), 3 (www.telegraph.co.uk),  extra finger (usatoday.com).