Giant Farts, Epic Ear Fur, and Vultures That Stare

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”  ~Satchel Paige

It is happening.  Ugh.  I’m getting old.  The proof is on the top of my head–right in the middle. Where the part is.  Boldly sticking up in odd angles amidst my red curly hair are–I can barely force myself to admit this–GREY HAIRS.  As I have mentioned previously, I really screwed up when I went through the DNA-selection line-up.  It would seem that I opted for all the negative traits from each of my parents–the short, hammer-toed, freckly genes.  And the one that makes my hair shift from copper to white in my early forties.

My husband noticed them first.  Likely because he is a foot taller than me and spends a great deal of his life looking at the top of my head.  And also because he is the most observant person I have ever met.  Seriously, I live with a real life Columbo.  Except less bumbling and without the  wrinkled clothing.

So how have I coped with my unwelcomed white hairs?  I haven’t.  I pluck the ones at the front and my husband does the rest.  We are extremely careful not to pull any of the treasured reds.  It’s the ones that are white on the ends and red by the root that confuse me.  Is this a hair that couldn’t decide what colour it wanted to be?  I could see it starting out red, then getting tired and turning grey.  But why go from grey to red again?  Is my new Pantene condition the equivalent to Geritol for hair?

Can anyone explain this phenomenon?  Am I just a freak with mutant hair?

1)  OMG.  I nearly pee’d myself.  I realize that incontinence comes with getting older, but this time it was due to laughter.  Lots of it.  The source of my mirth–the Guinness World Record Holder for  the longest ear hair.

Seriously, who lets themselves look like this?  Apparently, India’s Victor Anthony does.  His flowing earlocks are 18.1 cm (7.12 inches) long.  Who lets their ear hair get longer than their head hair?

How the hell does he hear?  Just now I wound up some of my head hair and shoved it in my ears.  It significantly muffled the Jeopardy theme song.   Ah.  Now I know why he keeps it.

2)  Have I told you how much I love the Japanese?  Seriously.  The more I blog, the more I want to go to Tokyo and have a square watermelon, a tube of hard-boiled egg, and eat a square of a tomato chocolate bar.

I might even have to check out one of their cutting edge fashion shows like the one pictured here–An Adult Diaper show.  Seriously, first it’s grey hair.  Next, it’s Depends.

Actually, it turns out Depends is not our only option.  Diaper manufacturers showcased their newest models as happy and extremely dry men and women paraded the catwalk to 80’s hits like Frankie Goes to Hollywood‘s Relax.  How can anyone relax when they are wearing a diaper over their clothes?  On stage to boot?  And to make matters more complicated they are raising their arms in the air.  I could never do that on stage wearing diapers.  The nerve-induced pit-stains would clear out the whole front row.

Obviously, the Japanese are much braver people than I.

  3)  The older I get, the more I fart.  And they aren’t cute little popcorn farts either.  They are foamy-sounding monsters.  It’s like a giant balloon being deflated in my pants.  I’m not worried though.  No matter how bad they get, my flatulence will never pose a threat to Global Warming.

Yes, I went from farts to Global Warming.  Why?  Well, it turns out that scientists are now blaming the dinosaur’s intestinal tract for ancient Global Warming.  Yes, their farts were that bad.   It is believed that dinosaurs produced more methane than all of today’s natural and man-made pollutants combined.  Damn vegetarian diet.

Photo Credits:  Ear hairs,  (,  Diaper Fashion Show (, Vultures (

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  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:

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 (, Colouring Book (, Deirdre 1 (, 2 (, 3 (,  extra finger (