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):  http://www.amazon.com/Giant-George-Life-Worlds-Biggest/dp/1455511455#_

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:  http://www.mcphee.com/shop/products/Bacon-Mints.html

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 (bedlingtondogs.blogspot.ca), Uncle Oinkers( blogs.villagevoice.com/forkintheroad), Onion Boy (myfunnyeye.blogspot.ca), Airport check (slog.thestranger.com).

Homer the Crow, Larry the Lobster, and the Zillion Dollar Omelette

“If one synchronised swimmer drowns, do all the rest have to drown too?”  Steven Wright.  

What does it mean when you hear a voice in your head and this voice sounds like Homer Simpson screaming?  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t usually hear voices.  It’s just that lately, whenever I step outside, I hear this piercing screech, much like the noise that the Simpson clan’s father figure made when he fell off the cliff.  And then out of the ambulance and off the cliff again.

I am comforted by the fact that my husband hears this voice too.  We both can’t be nuts.  Or can we?  They say that women who hang around together experience the synchronization of their menstrual cycles.  Maybe this is like that, but without the bloating and cramps.  Maybe my husband and I have concurrent periods of insanity.

This unsettling thought spurred us forward to seek out the source of this bizarre noise.  We soon realized that it seemed to be coming from the sky.  And it was not the sound of angels.  The noise seemed to pass over us intermittently.  Strange.

And then, we spotted it.  The source of our confusion.  We would not have to look in to the acquisition of a padded cell or his & her straight jackets, after all.

It was an everyday crow with a really strange caw.  Poor fellow.  What a horrible voice for a crow to be afflicted with.  I’m sure the other crows make fun of him.

Today, June 15th, is officially Lobster Day.  I had no idea that lobsters had their own day.  I guess it seems only fair.  We do dunk them into boiling hot water and listen to them scream.

In honour of this tasty crustacean, I think we should learn a few lobster facts.  So, here we go:

Lobsters taste with their feet.  So, this means their food all tastes like their feet.  Sorry, my feet may smell like parmesan, but they sure as heck don’t taste like it.  They taste like foot.  Or so I have concluded.  I haven’t actually tasted my feet.  And I don’t eat floor food–five second rule or not.  Floor food has been where my feet have been.

A lobster’s brain is in its throat.  That must be very uncomfortable.  Wouldn’t you experience a constant a-hem?  Would a hiccup cause a stroke?

Lobsters breathe through gills on their legs.  I’m glad my nose isn’t on my legs.  Too close to my farts.

You are already aware of my fascination for ordinary things made big, so it only makes sense that I feature a giant crustacean.  The photo above is Larry The Lobster, a 17 metre tall tourist attraction made of steel and fibreglass.   He stands proudly in Kingston SE, South Australia.

We are used to the traditional red lobster.  Heck, they even named a restaurant chain after them.  But in the cold waters that extend from England to Morocco, you can find the blue lobster.  This Smurfy lobster’s bright colouring makes him vulnerable to predators.  Plus, he is supposed to be even yummier than his North American counterparts, so humans are willing to pay big bucks to chew on his claws.  I would still never eat at a place called Blue Lobster.  A little too Green Eggs and Ham.

Okay.  This just goes to show that there are some people that have more money than brains.  Meet the “Zillion Dollar Omelette”–10 oz. of American Sturgeon Caviar, an entire lobster, a whole lot of egg, chives, cream, and more.  All this for a “mere” $1000. US.  Only available at Norma’s in Le Parker Meridien Hotel, Manhattan.

How am I ever going to face my boring PB on toast breaky tomorrow morning?  So pedestrian.

Apparently, about 12 people order this each year.  If you want to have a less expensive (and less decadent) version, you can have a scaled down, 1 oz of caviar omelette for $100.

And if a little lobster doesn’t have enough to worry about–being eaten by other sea creatures, being boiled in a pot, or winding up in a rich person’s omelette–they have incredibly horrible mating rituals.  They pee in each other’s faces–apparently, this is a turn-on.  It also allows the male to know that he has, indeed, found himself a female lobster.  If he is in the mood, he’ll flip her over and they’ll assume the missionary position.  Seriously.  But, if she isn’t in the mood–perhaps she has a headache (Would this be in the throat, where her brain is?  Or is it because he just pee’d on her head)–she will not allow herself to be flipped.  And the male will have to gulp down some liquid and pee on someone else’s head.

Photo Credits:  Larry the Lobster (TripAdvisor), blue lobster (justonemorepet.wordpress.com), omelette (dailymail.co.UK), BOB ( by Jeff Pert, Mike Lynch Cartoons), Stupid (Jeff Pert Cartoons).

Trees with Eyes, Tube-shaped Eggs, and Packages That I Haven’t Read Carefully

It is no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase ‘As pretty as an airport’ appear.”    Douglas Adams.

I hate wearing sunglasses.  I have an oddly shaped head or face or something, because they always make me look very strange.  Like a beetle on crack.  I’ve tried every type from teeny-weeny intellectual ones to motorcycle cop “you-can’t-see-my-eyes” styles to the ones with lenses the size of garage doors.  None of them give me that sophisticated Jackie-O look–no matter how many scarves I wear.

And they make my eyes sweat.  Well, not my actual eyes–that would probably land me a spot in some optical medical journal–but the space under my eyes.  All summer I look like Alice Cooper.  I realize that I could invest in some waterproof mascara, but that just opens up a whole new can of worms.

My husband’s glasses fog up a lot.  That must be frustrating.  One minute the world is a crisp vision of loveliness and “pwoff,” it is transformed into a chasm of blurriness (do you like my attempt at Mad Magazineish sound effects?)  Which raises another question?  Do contact lenses ever fog up?  Or worse, if they get cold can they stick to your nice, warm eyeballs? Think of Flick’s tongue and the flagpole in The Christmas Story.  

1)  I have recently discovered that I am an idiot.  Seriously, I am a total numpty-head.  I don’t know how many times I have endured the frustration of pulling out a sheet of Saran wrap, having the entire tube come with it, and struggling to hold on to my sheet of cellophane without allowing it to stick to itself, while I fight to return the roll to the box.  A box with a jagged metal “tearing strip” that usually winds up ripping my flesh during this battle.  It happens to me on a regular basis.  And I always blame the Saran wrap.  Or its equally frustrating cousin, tin foil.

It turns out that I am to blame.  Apparently, the thoughtful manufacturers of these products have gone to the trouble of creating a device to keep these rolls in place.  I’m just too stupid to read the packaging and make this discovery.

If you, too, are a moron–I’m in no position to judge your mental prowess–simply take a glance at the photo to your right.  See the little triangular-ish shape on the side of this (and all other) Reynolds Wrap boxes?  Well, apparently, if you push that puppy in, the roll will stay in place.  Who knew?  Okay, some of the world’s “smarty-panted” people probably knew.  But, surely I can’t be the only one who didn’t know.  Could I?  (Cue sound of crickets).

2)  I love trees.  My favourite is the weeping willow.  They’re great for climbing and their long, draping foliage is perfect for hiding in.  Maples are nice too.  Seriously, a tree that makes pretty colours in the fall AND gives us sweet sap for pouring on our pancakes.  Plus, I’m Canadian.  Maples are sort of our thing.  Check out our flag.  And our pennies.  Although you’ll have to check out the pennies soon since they have been put on the minting chopping block.

I recently discovered, however, that not all trees are pretty or stately or eager to provide us with shade.  Some are downright scary.

This “screaming tree” lives in Hither Hills State Park, NY.  I’m sorry, but if I ran in to this, I’d probably run the other way screaming.  Trees just simply aren’t supposed to look like this.  I am grateful that a very brave photographer managed to take this shot though.  Seriously.  Can you imagine seeing this through a camera lens?  Or taking your eyes off it long enough to take your camera out and turn it on?  I’d be far too worried about what its branches were up to.  Like, are they reaching around to grab me?  I mean look at the mouth!  Trees generally don’t have mouths.  I can only imagine what someone would find if they peered down inside this bark-covered beast.

But, as ugly as the American offering is, the UK has an even more horrific forest dweller.  Not only does it have teeth, but it appears to have actual eyeballs.  Or eye sockets, at the very least.

 

 

 

 

Does anyone remember the evil trees in H.R. Pufnstuf?

Image result for hr pufnstuf talking trees

I think I’ll go outside and hug my faceless oak.

3)  I have  simply got to go to Japan.  As you know, this is the land of square watermelons, the girlfriend pillow, and tomato chocolate bars.  And in case those aren’t enough to send you out for airline tickets to Tokyo, I have just found another draw. The Japanese egg roll.

How efficient is this?  Instead of taking the time to boil an egg and set the timer to ensure it’s hard-boiled, you simply take out your tube of egg and hack off a slice or two.  I wonder what type of bird lays cylindrical eggs?

Photo credits:

Reynolds wrap:  http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gJCMpC3I-ng/TAkYjt80sXI/AAAAAAAAGxc/-grfoaKwtvg/s320/foil.jpg

Egg tube:  Marci Wittwer Butterfield

Screaming tree:  brothergrimm

UK Tree: David Garnham/Newsteam/Getty Images

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?