One moose face, two puppets, and league of morons.

The doctor has just told me that I have pustules in my throat. This is disturbing. While it does explain my current inability to speak at anything louder than a faint whisper, the very fact that I have “puss” anywhere in my body has left me feeling rather discomfited. And oddly curious. I’d like to see these “pustules” for myself. Thanks to my shallow pallet and rather moose-like tongue, however, this is not possible.

moose tongue

Which leads to a question that I have always wanted to ask the masses, but have not had the opportunity to do so. When you close your mouth, does your tongue fit snugly inside with the bottom and roof of your mouth touching it OR does your tongue have plenty of breathing space–room to move around?

And do you say “Bert and Ernie” or “Ernie and Bert?”

And can you properly pronounce “Nuclear?”

Inquiring minds–or at least those with nothing better to ponder–want to know.

1) It would seem that there are two types of people in the world. The first camp–and, in my opinion, the more normal of the two–would include people who look upon the above moose photo and think “Hey it’s a moose with a big tongue. He’s kind of cute” or something along those lines. The second camp–the one that makes me sleep with one eye open– looks at it and thinks “that’s one tasty looking moose face.”

Yup. There are weirdos amongst us who think that a moose face is something to be eaten. ACK! According to Four Pounds Flour, Moose Face, known in the culinary world as Moose Mouffle consists of the “fibrous flesh of the cheek and the gelatinous prehensile upper lip.” First of all, lips should not be gelatinous. Nor should they be eaten. Apparently, even the moose face-munching crowd do have their limits, announcing that the cartilaginous nasal septum is not to be eaten. Of course. Lips, yes. Nose, no.

2) While Starsky & Hutch, Cagney & Lacy, and Lilo & Stitch had a consistent billing order, Bert and Ernie or Ernie and Bert do not. So it doesn’t really matter which way you say it. The Muppet Wiki’s “Bert and Ernie” VS “Ernie and Bert” cites book, album, and video titles using both combinations. But for me, Bert will always come first.

3) American politicians are not exactly noted for their mastery of the English language. Can anyone spell potato? It turns out that tuber vegetables aren’t the only thing that can stump a public official. Jimmy Carter, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Walter Mondale, and Dwight D. Eisenhower are all guilty of publicly mispronouncing the seemingly simple word “nuclear.” Why they insist on saying “nucular” is unclear…or “uncular.” Perhaps Homer Simpson does have what it takes to run the nation.

Well, I am going to bid you adieu and go off to nurse my pustules.

No caption required.

No caption required.

Photo credits: Moose Tongue (

I’ll have a bug salad, a toe-nail in my sandwich, and one beak slurry please

I am constantly being ignored.  No, this is not merely an attention-craving rant by a narcissistic “what about me?” Generation X-er.  I am a member of Generation X.  And I do crave attention.  But neither one of these facts has anything to do with this.

I was always the kid in school who would put up her hand and never get called on.  Unless it was during math class.  I always got called on in math Class.  I think the teacher secretly enjoyed my blank, clueless expression and stammering.  But all my other teachers seemed oblivious to my very existence.

Even as a grown-up, my presence is often over-looked.  Particularly in line-ups.  The other day, I was next in line at the deli and the server asked the woman behind me what she wanted.  After years of this sort of thing happening, I have grown bolder and simply said to the woman behind me, “I guess I am invisible.”  Cheeky, eh?  The server looked astonished that I had called her out on her blatant disregard for my paltry synthetic smoked poultry needs.  “Oh, were you waiting to be served?” She asked.  Seriously, did she think that I was standing in line because I was short of better things to do?

This “ignore that red-head girl” attitude is not only foisted upon me by my fellow humans, but machines tend to ignore me too.  Especially automatic doors.  They refuse to open for me.  I could do Richard Simmons-styled arm flailing followed by a dash of Elaine Benes‘ awkward kick-dancing and still, the doors won’t budge.

That would look like this    with a touch of this added 

Not exactly something that is easy to ignore, is it?

At first, I attributed my failure to be noticed to my extreme lack of height.  It’s easy to overlook someone that is a foot shorter than you.  I ignore kids all the time.  Oops.  Did I say that?

But then, another thought occurred to me.  What if I’m not being ignored?  Maybe I’m invisible.  Or worse.  What if I am simply a figment of my own imagination and I do not exist at all?  Note to self:  Stop filing income tax.  I bet that will get me noticed.

1)  Sometimes being ignored at the deli counter is not a bad thing.  What the heck is mock chicken anyway?  Something else pretending to be a chicken?  And, I’m sorry, but baloney is just a flattened hot dog.  And we all know that hot dogs consist of a slurry of leftover animals parts.  And what’s with meat/macaroni loaf?  We know the meat isn’t meat, but is the noodle noodle?

I suppose it could be worse.  If I ever walked in to the Walmart canned meat section and found a can of water bugs–not just the ordinary ones either, but the GIANT ones–I would drop my groceries and flee the store emitting a scream so shrill that it would put Richard Simmons to shame.  I know.  Quit picking on the poor man.

Well, apparently our friends in Thailand do not possess this North American squeamishness.  Canned tuna is for wimps.  Cloverleaf salmon for the faint at heart.  If you want a hearty meal, whip up a water beetle salad sandwich.

Okay, that time I really did throw up in my mouth.

2)  There may be some things worse than a bug salad sandwich, albeit not many.  One would be a sandwich lovingly prepared by someone’s feet.

Yes, that’s exactly how comedian Rob Williams of Austin, TX likes his lunches.  Foot made.  Gross?  Very.  But his nimble toes have earned him the Guinness World Record for the fastest sandwich made with one’s feet.

He whipped up a culinary masterpiece stuffed with baloney (he had to remove the rind), cheese (his toes managed to rip off the plastic wrapper),  tomato, mustard, mayo, pickles and lettuce , complete with olives on sticks, in a mere 1 minute and 57 seconds.  This included slicing the sandwich in half with his toes.  That’s some fancy footwork.

Toe jam sandwich, anyone?

Homer Simpson only has four toes.  He could never make sandwiches with his feet.

3)  I’ve always maintained that TV can be highly educational.  Unfortunately, I gravitate to more low-brow fare; therefore, my nightly education is limited to…well…this–the stuff you see in my blog.

Last night’s episode of Shipping Wars proved very enlightening.  To me.  One of the shipments turned out to be a 400 pound replica of the Simpson’s clan sitting in their trademark pose on the family couch.  According to the seller, only 86 of these movie theatre props were released to the public.

As much as I love it, I seriously could never justify dedicating a prime sofa location to fibreglass people–no matter how cute they are.  Plus, they look like a bugger to dust.

Photo Credits:  canned bug (, foot sandwich (, simpson clan (, Bart (

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:

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.


If you have tried one of these, I’d love to hear about your experience.  And while you’re at it–octopi or octopuses?

The Origins of Embiggen, Murphy the Molar, and the Lap Pillow

“Opera is when a guy gets stabbed in the back and, instead of bleeding, he sings.”  Robert Benchley.

I don’t know if you noticed (I’m hoping someone did), but I changed my blog’s name.  Apparently, the other one was too hard to spell–unless you speak fluent Italian.  I should have known it would be problematic when I–its creator–kept having to double-check the spelling.  What can I say?  I’m not too bright.  But, that’s the whole purpose of this blog–to learn new things and, if nothing else, to make me brighter.

1) I decided to kill the proverbial “two birds with one stone”–explain why I named my blog  The Embiggens Project, while giving you a new and life-changing piece of information.  Do you detect the sarcasm?

No blog is complete without a Simpsons reference.  Not only is the show brilliant, but it is the longest-running sitcom in history.  And it has filled this blogger’s brain with a plethora of useless information.  A perfect example is a history of the word “embiggen.”

“Embiggen” was actually born in 1884, in a British journal entitled Notes and Queries: A Medium of Intercommunication for Literary Men, General Readers, Etc.  It sounds official enough, doesn’t it?  Just wait until you read the sentence that introduced the world to this new verb–“but the people magnified them, to make great or embiggen, if we may invent an English parallel as ugly. After all, use is nearly everything.”  So, there we are.  Embiggen=make great.

Embiggen later found its way into scientific journals dealing with string theory.  You know that when a word has been deemed acceptable by the science world, it has truly hit the big time.  But “embiggen” was destined for bigger and better things and thanks to a community of yellow cartoon characters with eight fingers, it entered the homes of millions of TV viewers.  Although it seemed to have only stuck in the minds of a few of us.

On a statue of Jebediah Springfield–the founder of the town which is populated by the Simpson clan, the Flanders, the Comic Book Guy, Krusty the Klown, the Wiggums, Apu, and Milhouse–is the town’s motto  “A Noble Spirit Embiggens the Smallest Man.” So there you have it.

2) Okay, so I have been dying to find a way to incorporate “Murphy the Molar” into my blog and I have finally done it!  (Does anyone else remember this singing tooth who starred in television commercials in the early 1970s?  I know that I will have his theme song stuck in my head for the rest of the day, which isn’t really a bad thing.  It makes me smile).

Back to the task at hand.  I have a question for you.  What is the most popular colour of toothbrush?  I’ll give you a moment to think about that.  Here’s a hint–my husband is using one right now.

I don’t really feel like getting up to answer the door, so I’ll give you the answer–BLUE.  Yes, apparently this is a colour that both sexes enjoy.  Next time you are shopping, be bold–go for neon yellow or hot pink.  Turn the dental hygiene world on its ass and maybe next year’s stats will be completely different.

A special thanks to Murphy.

3) The Japanese are truly innovative people.  I recently featured their square watermelon, but now I have found an even more intriguing (polite way of saying bizarre) invention–the Hizamakura Lap Pillow.  Yes, a pillow that resembles the lower half of the female torso.  “She” comes in a red skirt or a black one and retails for $131 US.

To make things even stranger, the manufacturer also offers a “maid costume” version–a model that is currently SOLD OUT.  Yes.  Sold out.

And, in case the ladies are feeling left out, we can always purchase a “boyfriend arm” pillow.  Buy a bunch of each and turn your bedroom into a body-part riddled crime scene.

People have way too much disposable income.