Tag Archives: Humor

An Okra, An Artichoke, and a Mitt With No Ears

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in June 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I love mascots.  Seriously, for me, they are the highlight of any sporting event.  Who doesn’t love an animal or inanimate object that stands on all fours and, for the most part, acts human.  Well, like a very hyper, Ritalin-needing human.  That doesn’t speak.  And seems to require constant attention.

The truth is–I WANT to be a mascot.  Perhaps not a sports mascot.  I’d live in fear of the other team’s fans.  I’d like to be an advertising mascot.  Well, on nice mild days.  Those costumes must be a bitch in the heat.  The head probably absorbs sweat like a sponge.  It would probably weigh a ton by the end of the day with all that water-weight.  And what if it hasn’t been dry-cleaned since the last person’s perspiration oozed all over it?  Ew!

Okay, so my mascot dreams do have limitations.  But on a not-too-hot and not-too-cold summer day with a zero probability of precipitation, I would love to dress up as something cute with eyes.

I once got to spend a day as the Planter’s Peanut.  That was fun.  Who doesn’t love a monocled nut?  Or is a peanut a legume?  Doesn’t matter.  The fact is that I got to be a fictional and beloved character for a day.  I admit that the costume wasn’t exactly designed for someone who is as “vertically challenged” as I am.  Mr. Peanut had no legs.  Just a body and feet.

I had the opportunity to be an Instant Teller Machine once, but, of course, I was too short.  Apparently, Instant Tellers are at least 5’7″.  Isn’t there a law against height discrimination?  Is there a mascot union that I can file some sort of grievance with?  At least I can take comfort in the fact that the whole Instant Teller mascot thing was cancelled.  The tall people just didn’t want to do it.  Go figure.

1)  So, I decided to look up some mascots on-line and choose my next gig.  I discovered that produce-based mascots are all the rage.  Particularly with sports teams.  This seems strange to me.  I hadn’t realized that vegetables have so much street cred.  I’ll have to keep a closer eye on my tossed salad.  God only knows what trouble such a large group of greens could get in to.  Peer pressure.

Here’s a sampling of what I found.   

I am partial to Artie, but I doubt he intimidates his foes.  Not only is he an edible fellow with a cute name, but he has a so-dopey-looking-he’s-got-to-be-a-nice-guy smile and the same stance and mannerisms as Barney.  The dinosaur, not Rubble.

In case it isn’t obvious, the WuShock is a manly bale of wheat.

2)  There are a lot of product mascots that I love.  If I am completely honest, my “mascot bucket list” (I can’t believe that I just admitted I have one of those in a public forum) would include poking the doughboy’s belly, partying with Red and Yellow M&M, shaking the Hamburger Helper Hand, opening the door for the Excel Gum garlic (and teaching the donut some yoga for better balance), and punching the Snuggle bear.  I know that last bit sounds cruel, but come on–he’s nauseating and spends way too much time in women’s laundry.

I would, however, give the Burger King ‘King’ a very wide birth.  He’s just creepy.  For one thing, he parts his hair in the middle, which only highlights the large cow-lick he has on each side of his head.  Plus, he has no bottom teeth.  He supposedly lives on burgers, so how the hell does he chew them?

Plus, I would never trust him around my children.

Well, Burger King seems to think that children and adults alike will want to dress up as their social deviant “royal.”  This horrific mask is available in several sizes.  If you’d like to buy one, seek help.  (Oops, did I say that out loud?)  You can purchase this here:  http://www.buycostumes.com/Burger-King-King-Mask-Adult/27401/ProductDetail.aspx

3)  In my opinion, the Arby’s Oven Mitt was awesome.  Despite the fact that his voice belonged to Tom Arnold.  It’s not the mitt’s fault.

Oven Mitt wasn’t around for very long, which I really don’t understand.  Ronald McDonald was employed for years and let’s face it–clowns are creepy and he is creepy even by clown standards.  And don’t even get me started on the Noid.

My favourite commercial starring this beloved mitt is the one where he attempts to wear glasses, but discovers (much to his shock and dismay) that he has no ears.

I did, however, find this gem:

So, if you require a mascot to dress up as something cute with eyes, but is shorter than the average mascot, and in no way resembles a clown, let me know.  Just get the costume dry-cleaned first.

Photo Credits: WuShock & Artie (10awesome.com), Okra (sports.yahoo.com), Kernel (Grand Forks Herald), Oven Mitt (Flickr-Roger Coss).

Fish Heads, Canoe Heads, and Ones That Wear Suction Cups

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in June 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Boycott shampoo! Demand the REAL poo!”  Steven Wright.

Some humans have way too much time on their hands.  Like bloggers, for example.  But at least we try to put this excess time to good use, entertaining and educating the masses.  Or at least that’s what we say to justify what we do.  Or at least that’s what I say to justify what I do.  I’m still not sure if anyone believes me though.

I could be doing much worse things with the extra hours in my day–I could sing a song about decapitated fish heads and dress them up in assorted outfits.  Right now, you are probably thinking that this is just some random, weird thought that I just pulled out of my head.  I wish.  In actuality, the comedy duo, Barnes & Barnes, did just this. In 1980, this video was everywhere…and my adolescent self thought this was very entertaining.  Now, I just find it disturbing.  Seriously, someone had to collect a pile of smelly fish heads and, then, find fish-cranium-appropriate Little League outfits, knitted sweaters, and someone who would actually consent to dead fish parts be placed on their drums.  And how did they ever convince Chip & Dale to do the vocals?

If you would like to see this video in it’s entirety, go here.  Warning: the actual song doesn’t start until past the two minute mark.

And, it would appear, that some of my fellow Canadians had a little too much time on their hands–and, perhaps, a wee bit too much to drink.  I admit that I love to canoe.  And I have had to portage from time-to-time.  And that I have often wondered what would happen if, while I am balancing my canoe over my head, I am struck by lightning.  Apparently, someone else entertained this thought too–and turned this thought into a character on the comedy show Four on the Floor.  The character, of course, was called “Mr. Canoehead.”  And, surprise, surprise, it was aired in 1986.  The 80s were strange.

To watch Mr. Canoehead’s inaugural episode, click on this:  

1) Fish Heads, Canoe Heads–I see a pattern developing here, so I might as well run with it.

As this blog has shown, the Japanese are a very innovative people.  The have a solution for every problem.  I, for instance, am a pretty dumb commuter.  Like the woman pictured here, I love to sleep on the bus, but I have failed to adopt bus-ride-head-protection-safety-gear.  I actually didn’t even know that such a thing existed.  I usually rest my head on the window, which results in my head pounding against the glass at every bump or turn.  (Can repeated small blows to the head inflict brain damage? Hmm.  That could explain a few things.)

She, however, is a  genius.  Why didn’t I think of suction-cupping my head to the pane of glass?  And, just in case she doesn’t wake up at her stop, she has posted a sign on her forehead telling other passengers where she is supposed to get off.  Not only is she clever at preventing head injuries, but she has also found a way to shirk her passenger-ly responsibilities.

I, however, cannot read in a moving vehicle without vomiting, so I wouldn’t be able to look at her sign at all, let alone know when to wake her up.  And wouldn’t her helmet give her her hat-head?

2)  I thought my allergies were a bitch, but then I came across an ailment called “Exploding Head Syndrome.”  Seriously, I will never joke around about my head exploding again–no matter how much snot I have in my sinuses and no matter how much pounding my migraines cause.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  People who suffer from this affliction do not actually experience the rupturing of their craniums (what is the plural of cranium, anyway?)  Rather, they hear extremely loud noises much like a gunshot, a roar, or a scream.  The noises come from “inside” the head.  And they usually occur when the person first falls asleep or within the first two ours of sleep.

Is it just me or does this condition sound freaky?  Voices in the head are bad enough–particular if that voice sounds like Fran Drescher.  But even she’s slightly more soothing that the sound of bombs or guns going off.  I repeat–slightly.  This would be enough to make me never want to sleep again.  Ever.  And I love sleep.

3) I couldn’t do a blog dedicated to heads without including an ode to the best one of all–The Mayor in Tim Burtons The Nightmare Before Christmas.  I have always loved both of this politician’s faces–his happy one and his stressed out one.

I just discovered that his voice was provided by the late Glenn Shadix (pictured here), an actor that has a very familiar face for good reason.  I remember him as Otho on Beetlejuice, Harold (Jerry’s landlord) on Seinfeld, and, of course, as the mayor of Halloween Town.  His list of credits is quite lengthy.

Shadix passed away at the young age of 58 due to a fall that caused blunt trauma to his head.

For a glimpse of his character in The Nightmare Before Christmas, click on this: 

This post wouldn’t be complete without at least one Bobblehead.  And who’s a bigger Bobblehead than Dwight Shrute?  (Rhetorical question.  Please do not answer.)  If you’d like to buy this bobblehhead of Dwight Shrute, you can visit Dwight Shrute Bobblehead at NBC.  I’d love to know if anyone actually has this Bobblehead or any other strange ones.  

Well, enough of this “heady” topic.

Photo Credits:  Subway Sleeper (www.weirdworm.com), Exploding Head (fishinmama.blogspot.ca), Glenn Shadix (aveleyman.com), anteater (http://justoutsidetheboxcartoon.com/tag/brain/)

My Phone: I Can Throw It, Smoke It, and Put It In a Song

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in June 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Two guys walk into a bar. You’d think one of them would have seen it.”  Daniel Lybra

I am not a fan of the cell phone as many of you know.  I realize that it does have its uses.  It has allowed distraught husbands to call home and check that they are picking up the right brand of  tampons.  It has allowed for the creation of many viral and highly embarrassing videos.  And, according to CSI Miami, you should always have one in case you wind up being kidnapped in the trunk of a car.  (Sorry, had to click to CSI Miami link and ogle David Caruso for a minute).  Damn.  In typing last sentence, discovered that I now had the opportunity to create David Caruso link, so had to do some more ogling!)  Must focus.

For the most part, cell phones (and, apparently David Caruso sites) have made us rude.  We ignore the “present-in-the-flesh” people around us, while we text and twitter with everyone else.  We turn the highways and bi-ways into death traps as we text, talk, and drive.  And we light up movie theatres with our little telephone screens–who has time to watch a movie with so many texts to text?

Rather than rant and annoy the snot out of myself, I have decided to dedicate today’s blog to the telephone in all its glory–most of it being former glory.

1)  This woman appears to be quite annoyed with her cell phone.  Perhaps when she asked “can you hear me now?,” no one replied.  I have to admit, I’ve often felt like doing this to my phone.  It’s one of those runaway touch screens that never seems to stop on  the contact that you want and always seems to dial someone that you don’t want–and they are always long distance–and it’s always during prime time.  And it never gets any reception in Walmart.  What the hell do they make those walls with anyway?  Plutonium?  But no matter how irked my phone may make me, and no matter how often I entertain thoughts of backing over it with my car, I would never actually “hurt” it.  At least, not until my contract is up.

This woman pictured here, however, makes it her business to hurl mobiles.  She is a participant in the Mobile Phone Throwing World Championships, a Scandinavian tradition that is growing in popularity.  I knew we all secretly hated these intrusive devices.  The World Record for the longest throw is 95.83 meters and is held by Brit, Chris Hughff.  There are four different categories in which to compete, but I think the most interesting would be the freestyle category.  This allows contestants to choreograph interesting manoeuvres for their mobile devices.  Yes, some phone-tosses can be more esthetically pleasing than others.  Apparently.

For a phone introduction to phone throwing, watch this video:  

2)  Okay…this is the coolest thing ever.  At least, I think it is.  Bare in mind, my life is boring.

This is a little tidbit that I learned at mashable.com and I had fun verifying its accuracy.  So, here are the rules.  Take any regular seven-digit phone number.  Multiply the first three digits by 80. Add one. Multiply that by 250. Then, add the last four digits of the original phone number. Add the last four digits again. Subtract 250.  Divide by two.  And presto!!!

Seriously, try it with all of your friends’ numbers too.  It will work every time.

And this picture makes me miss rotary dial phones.  But I don’t miss dialling (that word looks like it isn’t spelled properly, but spell-check claims it is) numbers with lots of nines and zeroes.  They always kept the tips of your nails smooth though.

3)  The 80s were a blast.  Big hair gelled into crunchy, immovable heights, then further solidified with a blast of French Formula or Final Net hairspray.  We thought we were cool.  Men wore gem-tones without shame.  Women wore ties.  And innocent people were unceasingly harassed–their lives made unbearable by the never-ending ringing of their phones.

All across the country, people with different area codes were united by one common bond–the ill fortune of having the phone number “867-5309.”  And Heaven forbid, they were also named “Jenny.”

If you want to hear the song that created this communications mess, go here:

Other phone numbers have proven troublesome over the years thanks to film or song.  In “Bruce Almighty,” God contacted Jim Carrey from the phone number 776-2323…again with no area code.    Ironically, in one area code this phone number belonged to a church that had a pastor named Bruce.  The DVD version of the film was edited to contain the number 555-0123 instead.

Why do TV shows and movies use phone numbers that start with 555?  Officially, the numbers 555-0100 to 555-0199 are reserved for fictional use.  There is only one toll-free number reserved for fictional purposes–1-800-555-0199.  Other 555 numbers are intended for Directory Assistance applications.

3)  I know that it’s the “in” thing to have your phone number convert into a catchy mnemonic.  To me, that would make sense if regular phones had QWERTY keypads as diallers.  Now we have to remember the letters, convert them one-at-a-time back into numbers, and I’m sorry, but that’s just way too much work.  The number 9 belongs to four letters.  And I hate it when businesses list their phone numbers mnemonically in the yellow pages.  I am looking for a phone number.  Not another advertising message encrypted into their phone number.  If I am calling you, I already know what product you are selling–and odds are, I am already sold.  But if you tick me off by making the phonecall, itself, too complicated, I might dial the other guy.  The one that lists his phone number as seven simple digits.

But, just for kicks, I had to put my phone number, my mobile number, my husband’s mobile number, and my parents’ number into this neat “convert your digits to words” service called Phone Spell.  None of these numbers, by the way, turned into anything that I would actually use.  Some references to kiwis (which I am allergic to), someone named Liz, and a spa (I wish).   You can give it a try at:   http://www.phonespell.org/

4) Years ago, I bought my father what I thought would be the coolest Father’s Day present ever–a phone that looked like a duck decoy.  It even quacked.  Unfortunately, a few years later, we heard that land-line phones that had the receiver in the earpiece caused brain cancer.  Bye duck.

Let’s face it.  Humans love to turn everyday objects into something else.  Egg timers that look like eggs with eyes.  I admit to owning one of these.  Kleenex box covers that look like the Easter Island rocks–I have one.  The Kleenex comes out of his nose.  Pot holders that look like beaks.  Got those.  And a gnome that is actually a watering can.  Don’t have one, but have been eyeing one at Canadian Tire.   Hmmm.  Maybe I’m the only one that loves everyday objects that look like something else.

And now, humans have the option of purchasing a cell phone that looks like a pack of Marlboros.  And if you smoke, while you’re on the phone, you can get brain cancer and lung cancer simultaneously.  Now that’s cool.

Photo Credits:  Phone Thrower (flickr husin.sani),  Retro Phone (remodelista.com), Jenny (tweentribune.com). Phone Spell logo (phonespell.org), cigarette phone (newlaunches.com), Life in the Future (DryBonesBlog.com).

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

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in June 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“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

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in May 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“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 Magazine–ish 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 CHEESE, A GIANT TOOTH, AND A FOOTPRINT ON MY THROAT

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in May 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.”  Rita Rudner.  

Odd things happened to me as a child. Have you ever had someone step on your throat? I have. I think I was about four years old when I came home crying to my mother that a boy at school had pushed me down and stepped on my throat. Apparently, I was outraged. My mother, however, was not. In fact, she thought the whole thing was hilarious.

She subscribed to the belief that the sadistic little bugger simply had a crush on me. Admittedly, a larynx squishing is much cheaper than say a dozen roses. My husband, however, says that my throat-stomping was likely because I talked too much.

Either way, everyone but the one with treadmarks on her throat was highly amused. After all, it doesn’t take much to entertain a human.

1)  For example, humans are fascinated by regular, everyday objects made big.  If you build it, they will come — even it’s just a big tooth.

10392221_1263179260258_3743657_n

Turns out that someone thought it would be a great idea to build a giant molar and plunk it down on the side of the road. And, in case it failed to draw a crowd to this Trenton, New Jersey location, they even decided to build a pair of impressed onlookers. Yes, those aren’t real tourists in this photo. They’re statues.

350608472_619335323467503_2774870969335522133_n-1

2)  Humans also have a penchant for bizarre competitions…and cheese. Would you risk life and limb for a roll of hard dairy product? Apparently, there are those that will.

Cooper’s Hill in Gloucester provides the perfect setting for the annual cheese-rolling race, a feat of competitive insanity that is believed to have been going on for roughly 200 years. The hill is actually a very steep incline — more cliff-like, really — and the muddier, the better. Someone rolls a wheel of cheese down the sharp drop and people chase after it. The first one to the bottom receives the prize–which in my case, would be a whole lot of constipation.

Yes, people get very muddy, although some do opt to wear white suits for dramatic effect. Or to exact revenge on their drycleaner. But many have actually been carted off on stretchers with broken bones and concussions. According to the NIH, St. John’s Ambulance manager, Jim Jones, shared that they tend to between 30 and 40 injured individuals each year. And, no, that doesn’t include the subsequent intestinal blockages.

353471087_237685068984989_6282719873049404851_n

3) Many humans (okay, mainly me) aren’t all that observant. For instance, I was vaguely aware that the plastic tabs that keep my bread closed come in different hues, but I never questioned why.

It turns out that these colours actually mean something.  They tell us on which day of the week our bread was baked.  According to Tasting Table, this is how it works:

Monday =blue.

Tuesday =green.

Thursday =red.

Friday =white.

Saturday =yellow.

(Note that the colours are in alphabetical order to make it easier to remember.  Yes, sometimes, we humans are clever.)

Walk Across the Nation, Hug a Rodent, and Wash Your Hands

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in May 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“We’ll be back to our nature documentary, ‘Baggy the Anorexic Elephant’ in just a second.”  Colin Mochrie.

Why do really tall people always feel compelled to stand in front of really short people?  I admit it.  I am a short-arse, or so I’ve been told.  Repeatedly.  Some times this lack of height–or vertically challengedness–comes in handy.  I rarely hit my head on chandeliers.  My shoe laces are nice and handy when they need to be re-tied.  And I can stand up straight in crawl spaces.  But there are times when being short sucks, especially when you’re in a crowd.

I recently participated in our local Relay For Life and was eagerly looking forward to seeing the Survivor’s Lap.  I had a nice spot for viewing too.  Until the Human Elm appeared and stood right in front of me.  Okay, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe he couldn’t see me.  Like I said, I’m short.  But he also stood in front of a group of children, some elderly women, and a number of other less than 7’12” people.

Maybe he is like a large dog–intimidated by toy poodles because he is totally unaware of his height.  Or maybe he used to be really short, experienced a huge growth spurt in his thirties, and has forgotten that he is now tall.  Perhaps, he thinks he is invisible.  Or see-through like Saran Wrap.

He is more than likely, just rude.  And his rudeness is in proportion to his height.

1)  I don’t know a lot about Monaco.  All I know is that I want to go there.  But here are a few Monaco facts:

–  It is smaller than Central Park.  But with much less bums at night.

–  There is no income tax.  Obviously, they have never heard of the NDP.

–  It would take an average person 56 minutes to walk across the country.  Now that would be a nice thing to be able to say–“I went for a cross-country walk.  Literally.”  As a Canadian, this is really hard to fathom.  Especially with my short legs.  Or stubs.

–  It is one of the safest countries in the world, which leads to another fact–on a per capita and based-on-area basis, Monaco has the largest police force on the globe too.

-And it is home to approximately a mere 36,000 people.  But I guess that is a lot of people to cram into Central Park.

2)  It wasn’t all that long ago, that some of my whiny countrymen and women complained that we should take the beaver off our nickel.  Apparently, rodents are not “upper crust” enough to grace our coins.  The loon is fine.  Beavers, so they say, are not.

Which brings me to my next tidbit of information.  In 1970, we not only deemed beavers respectable rodents, but we held them in such high regard that we gave a pair of black Manitoba beavers to Queen Elizabeth II, herself.

I, personally, am a fan of this furry little carpenter with the steam-rolled tale.  Look at this one pictured in the bottom right of this photo.  How could you not want to give him a big hug?  Okay, so maybe I’m the only one that wants to hug a rodent.  But, at the very least, this hard little worker is worthy of his place on what will soon be our lowest valued currency.

I just hope that I don’t find any circa 1971 photos of the Queen sporting a beaver coat.

3)  I use a lot of hand sanitizer.  You could say I’m a tad bit germaphobic.  Let’s face it, we touch a lot of things during the day–things that other people have touched.  I used to think that I was just being paranoid.

But then I found this little product.  It really made me worry about other people and where their hands have been.  Note to self:  purchase more Purell.

Which brings me to another question–who the heck is going to publicly pull a bottle of “Maybe You Touched Your Genitals” hand sanitizer out of their purse and squirt a glob into their palms?

Well, if you are that person, you can pre-order a bottle (or case) of these babies right here:

http://www.firebox.com/product/5351/Maybe-You-Touched-Your-Genitals-Hand-Sanitizer?aff=512&awc=550_1339370014_00610e24f4ba6e8d4b0a04702596c510

Each to their own.

Big Feet, Creepy Fruit, and Ugly Things for your Lawn

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in May 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“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?

Big bugs, Chocolate-covered Tomatoes, and a Game of Wife-slinging

Posted by facelikeafryingpan in May 2012 and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Go to bed in your fireplace, you’ll sleep like a log.”  Ellen DeGeneres.  

Is it me or are bugs getting bigger and stranger?  Seriously.  I went cycling the other day and something was flying along beside me that looked like an insect (scaly and ugly), but was bird-sized.  I don’t know what the hell this thing eats and, now that I come to think of it, I’m probably better off not knowing.   Disturbing encounters like these always make me imagine the following scenario:

All of the beetles, slugs, grubs, moths, ants, spiders, worms, fleas, flies, and every other bug-related life form in my half acre of property are rounded up and poured into one giant room with white walls and floors.  How big would the pile be?  What “never-seen-before” creatures would I be subjected to?  Would I ever want to step in my lawn again?  Probably not.

Which brings me to the first new fact that I learned today:

1)  I know it can’t help how it looks, but this thing is hideous.  It also looks like something that has walked the earth for millions of years.  In fact, this would be the perfect foe for a resurrected Mothra flick.

I used to think these were June bugs.  Someone in my childhood wrongly taught me this–a cautionary tale for any adult who likes to ply their child with bull@$%&.  June bugs and their cousins the May bug (honest, they exist) are much smaller and benign-looking.

This monster is, in fact, a “Giant Water Bug,” also known as the Lethocerus.  He is basically harmless, unless you are a smaller bug, a frog, a fish, or a salamander.  But, man, he is ugly.  And when he accidentally flies into your garage door, he makes quite the thud.  I guess I should just be thankful it wasn’t my forehead.

2)  I love Japanese inventions.  Remember the square watermelon and the girlfriend’s lap pillow?  Well, here’s a real dandy.

Let’s face it–chocolate is one of the world’s most beloved foods.  And some things make the perfect chocolate companion.  Peanut Butter is my favourite co-flavour.  Some people like chocolate-covered cherries or chocolate with mint.  And right now, Aero has re-introduced their yummy orange-middled chocolate bar.  mmmm.

But, it would seem that the Japanese crave something completely different–chocolate and tomato.  My tender North American senses can’t even imagine what this combo would taste like.  A baby’s diaper springs to mind.

I think this video says it all.  Nothing like sugary tomato soup to brighten your day.

3)  Okay, now let’s leave Asia and head to Scandinavia–Finland, to be exact.  It would appear that for centuries, the Finnish have partaken in a strange, yet jovial ritual–competitive wife-carrying.

Yes, strong male Finns fling their damsels over their shoulders and lug them through an obstacle course that includes water, what appears to be short horse-jumping fences, mounds of sand, and bales of hay.  The winner is the one who completes the course in the fastest time.

Unlike American Reality TV contests like Amazing Race and Fear Factor, this contest does not land the victors a hefty cash payout.  Instead, the prize is beer.  And the amount of beer depends on how much the wife weighs–which in itself causes quite a conundrum.  It’s easier to win with a feather-light wife, but the payout is bigger if she’s failed at Jenny Craig.