farts | The Embiggens Project

Wet make-up brushes smell like dog. Not quite sure why. Aren’t they made of sable or horse hair or some other non-canine coat? I just finished shampooing over 50 brushes. Yes, shampoo. Human shampoo.

Years ago, before I knew better, I used dish soap to wash everything–including my car. It always looked clean, but I was never able to achieve that showroom shine. My logic wasn’t completely flawed. Dishes shine. Glasses gleam. So why did Sunlight or Ivory Liquid leave my car looking dull?

Dish soap is designed to fight grease. My car is not greasy. I do not park it next to a fat rendering plant. Nor do I eat Kentucky Fried Chicken while sitting on the hood. I have no need for grease-fighting action.

My husband cringes whenever I tell him about my Palmolive car-wash days. His explanation has been very enlightening for me. If something can remove grease, it can also remove wax. My car is covered in wax. At least it was. So that explains why they make a product called car wash. Who knew?

1) I have always wanted a red nose for my car. At Christmas, I see quite a few be-nosed automobiles–usually with a pair of antlers. I want my car to resemble a human; therefore, I don’t want antlers. Just a nose.

It turns out that if you want your car to look like a person, a nose isn’t the only way to go. Apparently, you can hang a pair of testicles from your bumper. These “Bumper Nuts” come in a variety of colours, including the best-selling flesh tone.

It must be a male thing. I surely wouldn’t be caught dead driving around with an aluminium vagina hanging from my car.

Well, if you want a set of balls of your very own, you can get them here: http://www.truck-nuts.com/

2) Nowadays, it seems that you can’t have a conversation with anyone about cars without someone bringing up the cost of gas. It’s up to $1.24 a litre here–almost worth its weight in gold.

We eat a lot of fibre in our house–fresh veggies, whole grains, and brown beans. Needless to say, there will never be a gas shortage here. Nor will there be an abundance of fresh air.

If only someone could find a way to convert farts into fuel. We’d be “sitting” on a goldmine. A noisy, raunchy, goldmine.

Sorry, my husband actually just farted beside me. This brings me to a strange product that I just discovered–the Subtle Butt fart pad. These adhesive panty-liner-like pads are designed to be affixed to the part of your underwear that lines up with your fart escape hatch. Carbon is used to neutralize the noxious fumes, rendering flatulence odour-free.

No longer will innocent people gasp for uncontaminated oxygen in your presence. Go ahead, eat that raw broccoli. Subtle Butt’s got you covered.

Get yours here: http://www.shopinprivate.com/subtle-butt.html

3. I decided that in order to bring this blog together, I should find a way to combine food and modes of transportation and I came across some interesting finds. Here’s a few food/modes of transport combos that I can’t wait to try–even if I do hate hot dogs.

First, let me get the Photo Credits out of the way.Photo credits-farting sign (www.impactlab.net), hot dog plane (http://keriene.wordpress.com/2012/07/05/hot-dog-plane/#respond), hot dog canoe (littlenummies.net), rice crispy car (fanpop.com), squash bus (xaxor.com), veggie bike (forum.xcitefun.net), milky way cars (www.speckledfreckle.com.au).

“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.