I like my pillow done extra crispy with a bowl of goat grass and a side order of dangling boogers.

How can a face be both greasy and dry?  Surely, one’s sebaceous glands could learn to work in tandem and produce a consistent, even layer of oil.  Not enough to make your face look like it could butter a slab of toast, but enough that you don’t walk around all day with flakes of dead skin congregating around your peeling nostrils like a bunch of renegade boogers.

Okay, Toni Braxton.  Is that dry skin or a nasty old booger?

Okay, Toni Braxton. Is that dry skin or a nasty old hunk of snot?

Most people experience a greasy T-zone.  My face does not know the alphabet.  It is basically illiterate.  My oily patches form more of a W.  A big-ass W.  Keep in mind that I hit puberty over thirty years ago.  I should be enjoying that point of life between having a teenage bumpy face and developing a visage that looks like well-worn leather.  The years between zits and wrinkles that most people get to enjoy.  I should not be clinging to a complexion that looks like I’ve been bobbing for apples in a vat of vasoline.

Should I believe those supposed altruistic celebrities that swear by ProActive or should I listen to the old lady at church that recommends a face full of mayo?  On the one hand, ProActive’s endorsers get paid to compliment it.  And, on the other hand, the old lady at church has skin like an over-microwaved pea.

Would you take skincare advice from this?

Would you take skincare advice from this?

I know.  An oily face will keep me looking young.  But I am tire of pimples.  Blind people keep mistaking my face for braille.

But enough about me.

1.  Did you know that a stye is basically a zit in the eye?  Ack.  Again, I must ask–what the heck is up with sebaceous glands?  Does anyone really need grease in their eyes?  Well, here is an interesting stye fact.  Another word far a “stye in the inner corner of the eye” is an AEGILOPS.  According to the Guinness Book of World Records, Aegilops is also the longest English word with its letters in alphabetical order.  I just bet your life wasn’t complete without knowing that little fact.  It is also a type of goatgrass, but who really cares about that?

I guess he does.

Did somebody say "goatgrass?"

Did somebody say “goatgrass?”

2.  Some people suffer from really over-active oil glands.  I worry about their pillows.  No seriously.  Would you want to absorb some greasy person’s face juice all night long?  I wondered if anyone has constructed a pillow with oily sleepers in mind.  It turns out that they have.

Nothing soaks up grease like a hamburger bun.  Just ask a burger.

Nothing soaks up grease like a hamburger bun. Just ask a burger.

Finally, a guy who won't mind if I get face grease on his shirt.

Finally, a guy who won’t mind if I get face grease on his shirt.

A pillow that you can blame for your greasy face.

A pillow that you can blame for your greasy face.

Perfect after a night of zit picking.

Perfect after a night of zit picking.

And I found this baby at http://jenniferandjonny.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/48/#comment-20…for the person who has simply given up.

The "I can't stand my oil slick of a face anymore" pillow.

The “I can’t stand my oil slick of a face anymore” pillow.

3. Okay, so this video is not for the faint at heart or weak of stomach.  I have to admit, that I found it simultaneously vomit-inducing and mesmerizing–like watching Gordon Ramsay clean out a mould-infested refrigerator on Kitchen Nightmares.  This is a dermatologist extracting a rare, but enormous form of blackhead.  Remember, I said ENORMOUS.  These massive pustules were likely the inspiration for the ostrich pillow found above.

black head extraction

Suddenly, my oily W-zone doesn’t bother me so much anymore.

Photo credits:  Toni Braxton (http://www.cadfanatic.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/tonibraxtonbooger.jpg), jabba the hut (http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100915194256/starwars/images/thumb/7/7f/Jabba_SWSB.png/250px-Jabba_SWSB.png), goat (http://www.wisegeek.org/do-goats-make-good-pets.htm#field), burger pillow (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hl5bQduRAMc/SDSyPq2oDeI/AAAAAAAAAuA/xpJQH-qAJ_w/s1600/hamburger+pillow.jpg), bacon pillow (http://images.thewirelesscatalog.com/graphics/products/regular/VM9812.jpg), boyfriend pillow (,   scabs pillow (http://www.badderhomesandgardens.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/il_570xN.328760944.jpg),

No arms, skinny legs, a giant diaper, and a blanket that scares me.

I am feeling a tab bit discombobulated today and stringing together coherent thoughts is quite beyond my capabilities.  Stupid, random sentences that have nothing to do with each other is much more within my reach.

Everyone seems to think birds have it made because they can fly.  But imagine going through life with no arms.  Seriously.  Getting peanut butter off your beak without hands or paws or anything remotely like that must be a pain in the ass.  And the “armed” creatures all make fun of the way you walk.  It’s hard to strut when you have no arms to swing.  Or hands to put in your pockets.  Speaking of pockets, birds have very skinny legs and no hips, so pants are out of the question.  And without arms, they can’t wear shirts.  They will never know the joy of having pockets.  Plus, they must get tired of eating the same old thing all the time.  How many ways can you serve a worm?

Which brings me to another question.  Why do we call pants “pants” in the plural?  And why does one “pant” constitute a pair?  Some say it’s because they have two legs in them.  A shirt has two sleeves, but it remains a lowly, singular item.  Is this because we place more value on legs than on arms?  Hm.  That should make the bird feel a bit better.

1)  Birds, like anyone else, need to have fun and I am sure that one of their favourite pastimes involves well-aimed poop and shiny, red cars.  I know.  I own one.  A shiny, red car that is.  Not a bird poop.  Although, I do occasionally have a few in my possession on said shiny, red car.

It turns out that someone has found a way to rob our feathered friends of this sport.  Yes, they have created diapers for birds.  How humiliating.

If you feel compelled to diaper your canary, you can find these babies at http://www.diapersforbirds.com/index.asp.  They have even included a how-to video for the first-time avian parent.

They could have at least included pockets.

2)  Even our insults seem to malign our feathered friends.  Take the term “bird brain.”  Humans have deemed the avian mind to be laughable–so small that even Dan Quayle (ironically named after a bird) could out-spell it.

But, perhaps, we have been wrong.  Turns out that a diet of caterpillars and crickets is the healthy way to go.  Ack.  There goes my cinnamon swirl peanut butter with raisins in it.  Never eat raisins before you compose a blog about bugs.

Scientists agree that insects are chalked full of protein, iron, and vitamins.  For every 100 grams of caterpillars you gnaw on, you are getting 28 grams of protein.  That’s impressive.  Unless you’re the caterpillar.  And if you prefer the finer things in life, perhaps steamed silk worm is more your style.  Sounds elegant, doesn’t it?

And here’s a useful little ditty for you to remember the next time you go digging for your dinner:

Red, orange, yellow, forget this fellow.

Black, green, or brown, wolf it down.

3)  Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a HUGE fan of crows.  And I finally have the chance to feature one of the coolest roadside attractions  that I had the thrill of discovering–three 11 foot tall metal crows in Upstate New York.  They’re on the I-81 just south of the Ivy Lea Bridge (aka Thousand Islands Bridge) to Canada and can be seen most easily from the southbound lane.  Don’t blink or you will miss them.  Seriously.

Sculptor, Will Salisbury, created 3 Crows in a Field from 1999-2001 as a “campaign to abolish boredom.”  I know it keeps me and my “bird brain” (actually referring to myself, not my husband) entertained.

Photo Credits:  bugs (www.ifood.tv), crows (www.roadsideamerica.com), Gary Larson Cartoon (www.thebirdforums.com).

Hand me my chicken shades, my dog’s polka album, and a cough drop, please.

It would seem that my formerly mentioned head full of snot, which I had chalked up to being a mere summer cold, has somehow mutated into whooping cough.  Yes, I am being bested by a childhood disease.  I tell you–kids are tough.  I think if adults had to endure teething, we’d go ballistic.  Millions of newly-toothed adults pounding the snot out of each other.  Oops, there’s the word “snot” again.  I’m a little preoccupied with it.

And the term “whooping cough” sounds like it should be much more fun than it actually is.  I, in no way, feel like saying “whoop.”  I do, however, feel like beating myself over the head with a sack of hammers.

I remind myself of an episode of Seinfeld–come to think of it, everything reminds me of an episode of Seinfeld.

1)  Humans have been trying to “humanize” the animals around them ever since Noah crammed them into the world’s first cruise ship.  Poodles with parkas, pink dyed curls, and booties.  Need I say more?

This funky chicken appears to be enjoying her Elton John-esque, rose-coloured glasses–but don’t let her seemingly sunny disposition fool you.    In fact, these shades have been designed to prevent her from pecking her friends and relations…um…to death.  Yes, not all chickens are peaceful Foghorn Leghorn types.

I first came across these poultry accessories on an episode of Storage Wars.  Barry Weiss is not only easy on my 20/20 vision eyes, but he is also a fountain of knowledge–quickly identifying the mysterious objects as chicken glasses.

Check out this 1947 news clip.  You’ll be amazed by what passed for “clever banter” back then.  Not a glowing moment in our developmental history.

2)  We’ve all heard of shoes for dogs, but what about shoes that look like dogs?  Now you can say, “these puppies hurt my feet” and really mean it.

Created by Israeli designer, Kobi Levi, in 2010, these babies raised a few eyebrows…human and schnauzer alike.

I said, “Heel!”

3)  Snoopy thinks he is human.  He composes novels, engages in regular plane fights, decorates his doghouse for Christmas, ice skates, and prepares turkey dinners.  I’d love a dog that cooked.  Especially if he cleaned the kitchen afterwards.

Here are a few interesting facts about Snoopy:

He loves root beer.  Mm. root beer.

He’s afraid of large, dangling icicles.

His favourite brand of dog food is called “For Dogs Who Flew in World War 1 and  understand a little French.”

He was once engaged, but his bride-to-be took off with a Golden Retriever.  Must have been the hair.  And the height.

He plays the accordion and has a penchant for polka music.  Okay, that makes him a human with bad taste.

Here is a whooping crane.  I have whooping cough.  I don’t like this bird right now.

Photo Credits:  Chicken in shades (gp1.pinbike.org), Dog shoes (glamour.com), Snoopy (www.myfreewallpapers.net), whooping crane (www.birdorable.com).

Ink on my feet, Froot Loops in my eyes, and a Handful of Vomit

My husband has been looking for a pair of reasonably priced black sandals for much of the summer.  He’s a tad bit picky.  And he has big feet.  Like skin-coloured scuba flippers.  With hair.  Well, he finally found a pair of affordable and massive footwear and bought a pair of spongy, comfy, and (hopefully successful) odour-eating insoles.  The insoles, however, were an unsightly loud colour and stood out like a sore thumb (or should I say toe) against the black.

Now, my husband is a very resourceful type.  No conundrum is too great for his mental prowess.  Don’t like the colour of your insoles?  No problem.  That’s what black permanent markers are for.  Well, after covering the obnoxious orange with flat black he modelled his fancy feet for me.  I was impressed.  “Very nice,” I probably said.  Or something like that.

The next morning, I entered the shower and was dismayed by the charcoal briquette-coloured footprints on the usually shiny porcelain.  Was there a giant licorice baby on the prowl?  Mm.  Licorice.

No.  No mutant snack foods around here.  Apparently, permanent marker is no match for a pair of sweaty size 13s.

1)  Yesterday was National Mustard Day.  If any condiment deserved a day of its very own, I would say its mustard.  So I suppose you are wondering why the heck I have a picture of broccoli (yup, that’s broccoli) on a post dedicated to mustard.  Or maybe you’re not wondering at all, but let’s just pretend you are.

According to the British Journal of Nutrition, we should be dousing our cooked broccoli spears with the yellow condiment.  Cooking broccoli kills its myrosinase–an enzyme that enables us to absorb the cancer-fighting and anti-diabetic compound, sulforaphane.  Mustard is high in myrosinase, so problem solved.

Head hurts.  Too many big words.

But seriously, mustard on broccoli?  Gack.  Just threw up in my mouth a bit over that one.

2) Speaking of throwing up–meet the Guinness Book of World Records‘ oldest vomit.

I don’t know quite what to say about this other than, “Ick.  Who the hell would want to hold a chunk of puke?”  Which is immediately followed by, “And who the hell would want a picture of them holding a chunk of puke?”  I’m sure this guy is a hero among his archaeologist friends.  This could be why I don’t have any archaeologist friends.  Some things should remain buried in dirt.

Well, back to the vomit.  Found in Peterborough, UK, it is believed to be 160 million years old.  What has something got to eat to have its barf last millions of decades?  Definitely not the cereal I had this morning.  Even if it was Fibre 1.  But that’s a whole other story.

3)  When I was a kid, I was taught it was wrong to play with my food.  I wonder if my failure to succeed as a cereal artist can be traced back to this rule?  Yes, I said CEREAL artist.  If I had been allowed to play with my Froot Loops (mm.  Froot Loops), I could have been the one to create one of these masterpieces.

My apologies to all the archaeologists out there.  I am sure you are quite interesting people.  No, really.

Photo Credits:  broccoli head (www.watson.org), vomit (www.newscientist.com), Larry King (www.metro.co.uk), Obama (www.buzzfeed.com), Pamela Anderson (www.metro.co.uk), Jerry Seinfeld (www.fakedpotatoes.com), Rice Krispie goose (http://sweetandunsavoury.blogspot.ca/),