Garlic Breath, Mutant Dogs, and Mints that go “Oink”

I have had killer bad breath since last Thursday.  Don’t get me wrong–I brush my teeth.  And my tongue.  I even gargle.  No tongue fur or plaque stucco here.  I blame it completely on garlic.

I recently learned that a spinach crepe is not nearly as innocuous as it sounds.  Apparently the flavour of spinach is greatly enhanced by garlic–lots of garlic.  It’s not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy my crepe.  I did.  Even my subsequent burps were scrumptious.

The Caesar Salad that I had later on in the day was totally my fault.  Even the crispy blocks of heaven–otherwise known as croutons–were doused in the naughty spice.

By that evening, dogs were crossing the street to avoid me.  Birds fell from the sky.  I couldn’t even coax a mosquito to bite me.  (Note to self:  look into viability of garlic-based bug repellent).  And my poor husband avoided me like the Bubonic Plague.

On the up-side, I did gain control of the TV remote.  And I got the bed to myself.  Really, my breath was THAT bad.

Well, it is now Monday and my halitosis has finally departed.  For now.  Four Weddings Canada is on later in the week and I really want the remote.  Garlic & Parmesan Twistos, anyone?

1)  Dogs notoriously have bad breath–and it’s not from garlic.  It would stand to reason that the bigger the dog, the bigger the mouth, and, therefore, the bigger the breath problem.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m sure there is a Chihuahua out there with breath that could kill a skunk–all those spicy Mexican food scraps.

This…um…dog is the Guinness World Record’s tallest dog in the world.  Look at him.  He’s practically a mutant.  “Giant George” the Great Dane of Tucson, Arizona stands 43 inches tall.  He consumes 110 pounds of food each month and has his very own queen-sized bed.  He has appeared on Oprah and now has his own book out.  This dog really is worth his weight in gold.

If you’d like to buy George’s book, you can purchase it here (although I am not clear as to how a dog actually writes a book.  He doesn’t even have hands):

2)  My garlic breath was tough.  No amount of Listerine, Sensodyne, or Cool Mint gum could kill it.  Apparently, I should have tried a slab of bacon.  Huh.

Meet Uncle Oinker’s Savory Bacon Mints.  I never thought I’d use the words “bacon” and “mint” in the same sentence.  Just one question–if bacon has the power of a mint, how come the bacon bits in my Caesar Salad didn’t freshen up my mouth?  Maybe it’s only the bacon/mint combination that works.

Please note that unlike the chocolate/tomato bar, the square watermelon, and the girlfriend pillow, this invention cannot be blamed on the Japanese.  If you’d like to buy a pack or two of these rare delicacies (I’m sure they are a delicacy to someone somewhere), you can get them here:

1440 Facebook users “like” this product.  Honest.

3)   Onions are a major perpetrator of breath infractions.  Not that it’s onion’s fault.  I’m sure it would rather live than be sliced or diced and made in to food.

In honour of the sacrifice that onions have made in the name of flavour, here are a few onion facts:

  • -Libyans eat more onions per capita than any other country.  Apparently, their consumption works out to 66.8 pounds of onions per person each year.  I hope they also consume a lot of mints.  Note to self: purchase portable iron lung machine prior to vacationing in Libya.  In comparison, the average American will eat 20 pounds of onions in a year.
  • -It has been said (mainly by an old English Rhyme) that the onion has the ability to predict the weather.  Let’s face it, any vegetable could do a better job than the average weather man.  Rumour has it that a thin skin predicts a nice winter, but a thick skin means a harsh one.
  • -Apparently, onions and potatoes do not play well together.  According to the Centre for Disease Control, “do not place onions near potatoes because potatoes give off moisture and produce a gas that causes onions to spoil more quickly.”  What happens if you eat raw potato with onion?  Will you explode?  Hmm.
And here is a Burger King advertisement that disrespects the onion, yet elevates the pickle.  
“If you hear an onion ring, answer it.” -Anonymous

Photo Credits:  Giant George (, Uncle Oinkers(, Onion Boy (, Airport check (

An Okra, An Artichoke, and a Mitt With No Ears

I love mascots.  Seriously, for me, they are the highlight of any sporting event.  Who doesn’t love an animal or inanimate object that stands on all fours and, for the most part, acts human.  Well, like a very hyper, Ritalin-needing human.  That doesn’t speak.  And seems to require constant attention.

The truth is–I WANT to be a mascot.  Perhaps not a sports mascot.  I’d live in fear of the other team’s fans.  I’d like to be an advertising mascot.  Well, on nice mild days.  Those costumes must be a bitch in the heat.  The head probably absorbs sweat like a sponge.  It would probably weigh a ton by the end of the day with all that water-weight.  And what if it hasn’t been dry-cleaned since the last person’s perspiration oozed all over it?  Ew!

Okay, so my mascot dreams do have limitations.  But on a not-too-hot and not-too-cold summer day with a zero probability of precipitation, I would love to dress up as something cute with eyes.

I once got to spend a day as the Planter’s Peanut.  That was fun.  Who doesn’t love a monocled nut?  Or is a peanut a legume?  Doesn’t matter.  The fact is that I got to be a fictional and beloved character for a day.  I admit that the costume wasn’t exactly designed for someone who is as “vertically challenged” as I am.  Mr. Peanut had no legs.  Just a body and feet.

I had the opportunity to be an Instant Teller Machine once, but, of course, I was too short.  Apparently, Instant Tellers are at least 5’7″.  Isn’t there a law against height discrimination?  Is there a mascot union that I can file some sort of grievance with?  At least I can take comfort in the fact that the whole Instant Teller mascot thing was cancelled.  The tall people just didn’t want to do it.  Go figure.

1)  So, I decided to look up some mascots on-line and choose my next gig.  I discovered that produce-based mascots are all the rage.  Particularly with sports teams.  This seems strange to me.  I hadn’t realized that vegetables have so much street cred.  I’ll have to keep a closer eye on my tossed salad.  God only knows what trouble such a large group of greens could get in to.  Peer pressure.

Here’s a sampling of what I found.   

I am partial to Artie, but I doubt he intimidates his foes.  Not only is he an edible fellow with a cute name, but he has a so-dopey-looking-he’s-got-to-be-a-nice-guy smile and the same stance and mannerisms as Barney.  The dinosaur, not Rubble.

In case it isn’t obvious, the WuShock is a manly bale of wheat.

2)  There are a lot of product mascots that I love.  If I am completely honest, my “mascot bucket list” (I can’t believe that I just admitted I have one of those in a public forum) would include poking the doughboy’s belly, partying with Red and Yellow M&M, shaking the Hamburger Helper Hand, opening the door for the Excel Gum garlic (and teaching the donut some yoga for better balance), and punching the Snuggle bear.  I know that last bit sounds cruel, but come on–he’s nauseating and spends way too much time in women’s laundry.

I would, however, give the Burger King ‘King’ a very wide birth.  He’s just creepy.  For one thing, he parts his hair in the middle, which only highlights the large cow-lick he has on each side of his head.  Plus, he has no bottom teeth.  He supposedly lives on burgers, so how the hell does he chew them?

Plus, I would never trust him around my children.

Well, Burger King seems to think that children and adults alike will want to dress up as their social deviant “royal.”  This horrific mask is available in several sizes.  If you’d like to buy one, seek help.  (Oops, did I say that out loud?)  You can purchase this here:

3)  In my opinion, the Arby’s Oven Mitt was awesome.  Despite the fact that his voice belonged to Tom Arnold.  It’s not the mitt’s fault.

Oven Mitt wasn’t around for very long, which I really don’t understand.  Ronald McDonald was employed for years and let’s face it–clowns are creepy and he is creepy even by clown standards.  And don’t even get me started on the Noid.

My favourite commercial starring this beloved mitt is the one where he attempts to wear glasses, but discovers (much to his shock and dismay) that he has no ears.

I did, however, find this gem:

So, if you require a mascot to dress up as something cute with eyes, but is shorter than the average mascot, and in no way resembles a clown, let me know.  Just get the costume dry-cleaned first.

Photo Credits: WuShock & Artie (, Okra (, Kernel (Grand Forks Herald), Oven Mitt (Flickr-Roger Coss).