That Vegetable Fractured My Skull, That Pillow Gave Me An Arrhythmia, And That Guy Called Me Spastic

I was in Tim Hortons the other day–a claim that pretty much all Canadians can make on any given day–and I heard something that had never occurred to me before.  The cashier said to the next guy in line, “I can help you over here.”  And the guy replied, “No thanks.  I don’t need any help.  I just need a coffee.”

Why had I never thought of that response?  It’s genius.

And it has made me worry about what I will say when I go in to work tomorrow.  I always ask the bookstore clientele if they need help.  Upon reflection, it sounds like I am accusing them of requiring psychoanalysis–and that I am offering to provide it.


So far, no one has called me out on the ridiculousness of my offer of help, but it is only a matter of time until that Tim Horton’s guy comes in to the store.  Unless he’s illiterate.  I can only hope.

Talk about dumber than a bag of rubber hammers.

Talk about dumber than a bag of rubber hammers.

1) Perhaps, some of the bookstore clientele are in need of therapy and my offer of help will inspire them to seek medical attention.  Especially the one who smells like pee.

And the world is full of the insane.  Just look at these hammer-wielding morons.  I’m sure that if you saw them walking down the street (with their rubber mallets concealed, of course), they would appear as normal as you or I.  Well, maybe you.  I rarely appear normal.  But, once they bring out their squeaky hammer, they turn in to madmen and madwomen.

This is the Sao Joao Festival in Porto, Portugal–a celebration in honour of St. John, the patron saint of lovers.  Apparently, hitting a member of the opposite sex on the head is meant to be a turn-on.  In the old days, the head-basher of choice was a leek.  Don’t ask me why.  If someone said they were going to take a “leek” on my head, I’d run the other way screaming.  No one knows why the leek was dropped in favour of squeaky hammers–likely due to an influx of head injuries.  Plus, a night of having giant onions whipped across your head would make your hair smell appalling.  No amount of “Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific” (remember that shampoo?) would set it right.

Talk about getting up on the wrong side of the bed.

Talk about getting up on the wrong side of the bed.

2) After a rough night of being in hit in the head with a hammer, there is nothing better than a good night’s sleep.  Unless, of course, you find yourself next to a complete surprise.  And I don’t mean the guy you picked up after one too many Molson Canadians–the one who looked like George Clooney in the pale light of the moon, but more closely resembled Woody Allen in the light of day.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am a huge fan of Woody Allen, but you couldn’t pay me enough to sleep with him

The “surprise” that I am referring to, however, is a severed horse head.  Not a real horse head a la Godfather.  That would be disgusting.  No, I am referring to the severed horse head pillow planted there by someone who wants to give your cardiac system an unscheduled stress test first thing in the morning.

If you have someone who has recently given up coffee and needs a tad bit of a “jolt” in the morning, you can get yours at

And, just in case you live under a rock and have never witnessed the scene that birthed this idea, here you are…

I bet that guy is going to need therapy.


3)  Some people require therapy for issues relating to self-esteem.  I don’t think anything could be harder on one’s self-esteem than being called “spastic” or “spas” for short.  But what else would you call someone who hails from the town of Spasticville, Kansas?  

In fact, this name is such a burden on residents that in 2010, they applied to have the town’s name changed to “Trail’s End.”  It is said that the name Spasticville originated with a large home for the mentally challenged that was once located there.  That’s just mean.

In the interim, the inhabitants of this minuscule Kansas town can say it loud, and say it proud.  “I am a Spas.”

Photo credits:  Lucy (, rubber hammers (, horse head (, Spasticville (

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 (, Dog shoes (, Snoopy (, whooping crane (

Underwear for your Hands, Fur for your Tongue, and Blankets for your Security

When I die, I want to die like my grandfather who died peacefully in his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car.” – Will Rogers

We feed the crows and ravens that live around our house.  In fact, they actually come when I call them.  The neighbours have grown accustomed to hearing me call “Big Bird”…at least, I think they have become accustomed to this.

The thing they are not likely used to is finding weird food items in odd places.  We often give the crows bread with peanut butter on it.  Needless to say, I often see slices of whole wheat basking on my neighbour’s roof.  He has found chicken bones in his gutter, which he finds especially puzzling.  We, of course, play dumb.  And the best, was french fries on top of his cedar hedge.  That was a head-scratcher for sure.

1)  I know that I’ve featured a number of dumb products that are actually available to the public, but this one is special.

At first, I dismissed it as being too stupid to be true.  But, the more I look at them, the more they grow on me. They’re kind of cute.  Probably great for cycling. Who would have thought–tighty whities for the hand!

The website claims they prevent chafing (who gets hand chafing?), distract your enemies (who is this person that is so hated that they must wear attention-grabbing undergarments on their hands?), and are perfect for jazz hands.  So, for a mere $11.95 plus shipping you can do all of the above and more.

2) Okay, I just grossed myself out.  This picture is like a traffic accident.  I don’t want to look at it, but I can’t stop.  And the worst part is that this could happen to any one of us.

This is a condition called “hairy tongue.”  Apparently, in normal circumstances, our papillae are worn down by food and usual mouth activity.  Sometimes, however, the papillae grow longer than normal and become “stained” by food and tobacco.  If I had a tongue that looked like this, I would never leave the house again.

How can I avoid this infliction?  It is caused by the use of antibiotics and is linked to thrush.  And some sources state that it can also occur within 24 hours of taking Pepto-Bismol.

If you should wake up one morning with a furry, black tongue, don’t panic.  It usually resolves itself.  And you can help it along by brushing your tongue twice a day with a soft toothbrush.

I, however, would probably attack the hairy beast with an SOS pad.  And a giant eraser.  Maybe even a Mr. Clean Eraser.  This is truly gross.

3)  Did you know that Charles Schulz is famous for more than just the creation of the beloved Peanuts characters?  He is also responsible for the term “security blanket.”  Cool.  I’d love to invent my own word or phrase, but unfortunately all my ideas are dopey and probably won’t catch on.

Speaking of security blankets, did you have one?  I did.  It was a light green towel with a purple stripe in the middle and its name was “Huggy.”  Huggy did double duty by also acting as my napping blanket in kindergarten.

I wonder where Huggy is now.  I am probably better off not knowing.  He probably didn’t go to his happy place.