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,  (missosology.info),  Diaper Fashion Show (inventorspot.com), Vultures (http://bigeyedeer.wordpress.com/2007/07/03/this-cartoon-is-circling-in-the-sky-above-you/).

Blowing Bubbles in the Shower with my Meatball

What year did Jesus think it was?”  George Carlin

I did something really strange yesterday.  I had a shower, while chewing gum.  Thankfully, one does not need to “walk” in the shower.  I wasn’t in the mood to disprove any old adages–I had simply forgotten to spit my gum out.  Plus, it was one of those new-fangled dessert gums–apple pie, to be exact.  I like to chew every last bit of aspartame-enhanced flavour out of that one.

Being in the shower with gum in my mouth was a really weird experience.  Not sure why.  Maybe it was the constant threat of getting water on my gum.  For some reason, I feared that getting my gum wet would dry it up.  (Pause, while I scratch my head).  Despite that irrational fear, I cheekily blew a bubble and was suddenly transported back to my Grandfather’s house.  Five-year-old me was sitting at the kitchen table beside the window with all the Red Rose Tea figurines perched on its sill.  Grandad is seated across from me.  There is a bird outside whistling and I am making a pitiful attempt to mimic it.  I’m pretty sure that this attempt involved a lot of flying spit and heavy blowing.  My breath probably wasn’t minty sweet either.  Five-year-olds hate to brush their teeth.

My grandfather decides he is going to teach me to whistle.  Sounds sweet, right?  I guess it was, but, unfortunately, this pivotal moment in my life would forever hamper my whistling future.  Never would I be able to enter whistling competitions and tweet out a symphony.  Nor would I ever be able to hail a taxi with an authoritative toot.  No, I whistle just like my Grandad.  And what we do, as I found out years later, can’t really be called a whistle at all.  For one thing, my upper lip totally covers the lower one–a far cry from the lip-symmetry displayed by professional whistlers.  And, for another thing, our whistle is monotone.  I don’t know what note it is in, but it’s not an overly useful one.

This brings me to another relative’s attempt to teach me a new trick–please note that I was the only grandchild and niece for the first twelve years of my life; therefore, everyone clamoured to “educate” me.  Letterman’s Stupid Pet Tricks, but with people.

My uncle decided he wanted me to learn how to make a whistling sound (what is it with my family and whistling?) by using a blade of grass pressed between my thumbs.  I never did master this either (what is it with me and my lack of mouth coordination?), but I did get a series of grass-cuts–much worse than their paper-induced cousins–on my lips.  And my tongue (I’m a slow learner).

Another uncle tried to teach me how to catch a football.  I broke my thumb.

So, I decided to teach myself how to blow bubbles with my gum.  This was the era of Bubble Yum, a superb gum for making balloon-like bubbles.  Basically, any idiot could do it.  Even me.  And even in the shower.

Speaking of Bubble Yum, this commercial jingle still gets lodged in my mind every now and then.  Right now would be one of those times.  Ugh.  Get it lodged in your head here: 

1)  Which brings me to this riveting little piece of information.  The World Guinness Book of Records title-holder for the largest bubblegum bubble ever is Alabama resident, Chad Fell.  His bubble reached a diameter of 50.8 cm or 20 inches.  As someone who never truly grasped any of the concepts taught to her in geometry, this means absolutely nothing to me.  Thank God for pictures.  That is one hell of a big bubble.  But I think the picture after it popped would have been more telling.

It’s probably clever of him to protect his hair with a hat, but why the hell does he sport a beard?

2) And just in case you are completely bored with regular gumball-machine variety gum, someone has come up with the ultimate combination–meat & gum.  Thankfully, this gum doesn’t taste like hamburger.  It just tastes like bubble gum.  Regular pink gum.  But if you really want to try this or freak out your friends, you can order yourself a box here:

http://www.cybercandy.co.uk/store/Meatball-Gum-739048118988.html

Spearmint, Peppermint, and Cinnamon are the most popular gum flavours in the world, today.  Interesting, considering that the first mass-produced gum was based on spruce gum.  Mmmm…tastes like tree.  And don’t spruces need their gum?

3)  The thing that fascinated me most while writing this gum blog, is the fact that there is an International Chewing Gum Association.  Seriously.  I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.  Apparently, the gum manufacturers of the world need to associate.

I had to investigate further.  It would appear that this organization likes to brag about gum.  Not only is gum great for oral hygiene and providing a low-calorie treat, but it  is also a “delivery vehicle for dietary supplements and even medication” (their words, not mine).  This confused me immensely and then I recalled Aspergum.  I used to love Aspergum.  It is orange.

4)  And this blog wouldn’t be complete without a reference to ABC gum–what grade-schoolers’ call “Already Been Chewed” gum.

Seattle is home to the world’s greatest “nose-thumbing” at grade-school teachers everywhere.  Forget sticking your glob of masticated Juicy Fruit under your desk.  In Seattle, you can stick it to the wall beside the Market Theatre in the Pike Place Market.  Cool.  And then you can call it “art.”  Even cooler.  And, then, your little glob of gum will become part of a tourist attraction and visitors from all over will take pictures of it.

And no one will make you scrape it off and wear it on your nose.

Photo Credits:  Bubble (www.guinnessworldrecords.com), Wall (Wikipedia).

Evil Fungi, Lucky Leaves, Dumb Dogs, and Strange Envelopes

I discovered I scream the same way whether I’m about to be devoured by a great white shark or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot.” – Axel Rose

I am always amazed at how quickly mushrooms grow.  We have had weeks of dry weather and after only two days of rain, a plethora of strange looking fungi have sprouted up amidst my Evening Primrose and Columbine.  I’m sorry, but toadstools are sort of creepy.  I’m not sure why.  It could be some latent memory associated with Alice in Wonderland.  Or maybe it is due to a traumatic experience after a grade-three school trip that I had involving toadstools, my peanut butter sandwich, and a Destroyer Angel look-alike.  All I know is that I can’t wait for the hot weather to return and shrivel those freaky fungi up, which raises another question.  Where do they go?  Mushrooms disappear as quickly as they appear.  I told you–they are FREAKY.

1)  It’s funny what we humans consider to be  lucky…a horseshoe, blue herons, the number 7, getting the big end of a wish bone,  finding a penny, and throwing said penny in water.  When you think about it, we are a very strange species, indeed.

Another supposedly “lucky” charm is the four-leaf clover.  Yes, when we spot one of these genetic mutant weeds, we let out a squeal of delight, run to show it to our friends (who will also squeal in admiration of your find), and Google ways to preserve our treasure in a feeble attempt to prolong the length of our good fortunes.  Never mind that you have just ended the life of the poor clover.  Having an extra leaf didn’t prove “lucky” for it, did it?

Anyway, the sermon in church today was about the Trinity, which led to the mentioning of the regular three-leaf variety of clover, which made me want to look up some four-leaf clover facts…my mind works in mysterious ways.  And, no, my mind does not often wander in church.  I am usually a very attentive parishioner.

The four-leaf clover is really a light-weight when it comes to limb-growth.  In fact, Shigeo Obara of Japan holds the Guinness World Record for having the clover with the most leaves.  This sucker is a 56-leaf clover!  He should be the luckiest man on earth.

Plus, finding one or two four-leaf clovers is really no big deal (no matter how loudly you squeal or how many friends you get to squeal with you).  According to the Guinness World Record’s site, Alaska native, Edward Martin Sr., has the largest collection of four-leaf clovers with 111,060 of the little green finds.  I wonder where he keeps them.  He must spend a lot of time crawling around on the ground.  Seriously, the acquisition and storing of over a hundred thousand weeds is a full-time job.  I am very worried about this man.  Doesn’t he run an unusually high risk of succumbing to lime disease?

2)  Everyone thinks their own dog is smart…well, almost everyone.  My neighbour who discovered her Boxer choking on her bra doesn’t exactly brag about her pooch’s I.Q.  But most of us think our Rover or Fido is special.

If you own a Border Collie, your dog probably is special.  It is, after all, the dog with the highest I.Q.

Here are the TOP 10 Smartest Canines:

1.  Border Collie

2.  Poodle

3. German Shepherd

4.  Golden Retriever

5. Doberman Pinscher

6. Shetland Sheepdog

7.  Labrador Retriever

8.  Papillon

9.  Rottweiler

10.  Australian Cattle Dog

Sorry to say, but if you are the proud owner of an Afghan Hound, I hope your dog has loads of personality.  Apparently, he/she is not the brightest biscuit in the box as this breed came in dead last.

3)  I’ve got to admit that licking envelopes seems to get more and more disgusting with every passing year.  What the heck are they putting in the envelope glue, anyway?  I seriously fear ending up like George Costanza’s fiancee, Susan–for those who don’t watch Seinfeld (what is wrong with you?  This is the best show ever), Susan died from licking their wedding invitation envelopes.  As George later explains, they were a really good deal (cheap) and they were expecting a lot of guests.

Well, no need to dread this tongue-straining chore any longer.  In fact, it may become something you look forward to.  J&D’s, the purveyors of everything “bacon,” have introduced bacon-flavoured envelopes.  They even look like bacon–long globs of fat and all.  Only $6.99 for a pack of 25.  http://weirdnews.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=weirdnews&cdn=newsissues&tm=36&f=20&tt=33&bt=0&bts=0&zu=http%3A//www.jdfoods.net/

Craving for a late-nite snack?  No worries.  Just get some mail ready and your nocturnal yens will be satisfied.  I wonder if they are cholesterol free.

Tainted Mayo, Candles for Men, A Dumb Car, and A Big Nose

“I’m not afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”  Woody Allen. 

One of my friends has a t-shirt that says “I see stupid people.”  This is brilliant.  And, unfortunately, quite true.  Needless to say, I encountered one of these “stupid” people in the grocery store.  I should have known that this woman was not rocket scientist material when I saw her hovering over the expired mayonnaise in a clearance cart.  Expired mayo is the last thing this girl would ever eat…my mama didn’t raise no dummies.

Apparently, I am not alone in these thoughts as another bystander openly expressed her disgust over the toxicity of ancient egg products.  She told the mental midget that there was no way she would buy expired mayo, no matter what price it was.  The “stupid person” then said that she doesn’t worry about stuff like that at all.  In fact, her mayonnaise at home is well past its “best before” date and it’s fine.  And then she said something that got the other shopper and I retching and gagging in unison.  Her exact words were “I don’t even keep my mayo in the fridge.”  To which my cohort and I said, “you mean before you open it, right?”  And stupid woman replied, “No, I never keep my mayo in the fridge.”

This is why I hate potluck dinners.  I do not want to eat a dish prepared by a stupid person.

1) With Father’s Day coming up, I thought that this strange new product line was apropos.  The familiar Yankee Candle company has introduced the MAN CANDLE–yes, candles for men.  Why should candle-loving males be forced to endure feminine scents like lilac blossoms, butter cream, or lemon lavender?  While I, personally, have never heard any men complaining about the rampant sexism in the candle industry, obviously someone somewhere was feeling neglected.

Well, no need to worry now.  Yankee Candle has you covered with masculine fragrances like: 2X4 (does this smell like Home Depot?), First Down, Man Town, and my personal favourite, Riding Mower (which is supposed to smell like a freshly mowed lawn).

And if you think that’s impressive, I discovered another butch candle retailer called “Mandle Company” that carries a truly unique line of scented waxes–Stogie, Camp Breakfast, Campfire smoke, Kegger, and Pizzeria–just to name a few.

2)  If your dream car involves largeness or luxury, this probably isn’t for you.  I met this automotive oddity on an episode of Storage Wars.  On this particular episode, the ever-creative (and, in my opinion, yummy piece of eye candy), Barry Weiss, recruited a little person equipped with a pair of stilts and night vision goggles.  The now 7′ tall dwarf spotted a round piece of glass in the back of a unit and jumped for joy (carefully due to the stilts and all) and announced that it was likely a huge aquarium.

Barry, always willing to take a gamble, was the high bidder.  Needless to say, it wasn’t a large aquarium–but a small aquarium-like car.  In a storage locker.  Behind a pile of boxes.  And a mattress.

Welcome to the BMW Isetta–a 1950s “bubble” car.  Yes, it is not your imagination.  The only way in and out is through the nose–yup, a great safety feature, particularly after a front-end collision.  But no need to worry.  BMW has you covered.  If you should find your  exit blocked by a wayward vehicle of normal proportions, you should simply crawl out through the sun-roof.  I’m too short for this.  It’s likely that I could barely reach the top of the car, let alone pull myself out of it.

But I am not worried.  For one thing, I do not want a car that is shaped like a football–and is approximately the same size.   Furthermore, as I gaze at this feat of automotive genius, I realize that getting out after a head-on collision isn’t really a major concern.  You’d probably be dead anyway.  Even if said collision was with a wayward Junebug.

3)  Notice anything “outstanding” about the man in this photo?  Does anything “jump” out at you?

According to the people at the Guinness World Records, he is the proud owner of the largest nose on the planet.  That’s nothing to sneeze at.

Mehmet Ozyurek of Turkey has a honking huge proboscis–measuring in at 3.46 inches from the bridge to the tip.  Isn’t he the nosy one?

And one last pun…now you “nose” more than you did before.  I’ll have to beg your forgiveness for that one.