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.

Lucy

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 http://www.kropserkel.com/horse_head_pillow.htm

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.

Spasticville

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 (web.wm.edu), rubber hammers (www.relax.com.sg), horse head (culturepopped.blogspot.ca), Spasticville (mapquest.com).

Use your stubby arms to throw the dog a pizza ball. And put the butter back in the fridge.

Do you ever have one of those days where you can’t seem to string together a coherent group of words to save your soul?  I’m having one of those.  So, of course–I have decided to write a blog.  You, after all, are used to my lack of lucidity.  My rambling, moronic, rants.

A few things have occurred to me lately.

Why is the English language so strange?  I can’t imagine trying to learn it for the first time.  Who decided to name evergreens “fir” trees?  Especially in Canada.  We suffer the “living in igloos” stereotype enough without newcomers falsely believing that it’s so cold here our trees need fur.

And who invented the doughnut?  And why?  If something tastes good, why would you want to have less of it by cutting out a hole?

And why can an owl turn his neck right around?  It’s not like he needs to back his car out of a long driveway.  Or keep an eye on misbehaving students, while he writes on the blackboard.

And why are my arms too  short to scratch the middle of my back?

And why does aspartame taste like crap?

If you know the answer to any of these conundrums, I would love it if you could enlighten me.  In the mean time, I will share a few gleanings that I have discovered of my own.

1)  Most of you know that I am short.  Only five feet tall to be exact.  My lack of height is exacerbated by the fact that everyone seems to be getting taller these days.  Seriously, I feel like an ewok.  With slightly less fur.   And better enunciation.

It turns out that things could be worse.  Yes, I am on the very short end of the height spectrum–for humans.  But I could be a short dog.

“Why would that be worse?” you ask.  Good question.  It turns out that if human heights varied as much as our canine counterparts, the shortest person would be around two feet tall–that would be me–and the tallest would stand at 31 feet.  Suddenly, I don’t feel so short.  I could be two feet tall.  Or 31.  It would be hard to find pants either way.  Or agree on a the height for my kitchen counters.  Where would you put a doorknob? I guess you’d have to have more than one.  And imagine if the tall guy sat in front of you at the theatre.

2)  Okay.  So, you are now going to think I am an idiot.  I think I am, so you might as well too.  For some reason, I always thought that doughnuts were made without holes in them and that the dough balls were later punched out.  It’s Tim Horton’s fault, really.  If the holes weren’t going to be punched out and discarded, why did they develop the Timbit (for those of you outside of Canada, these are doughnut holes that we buy by the dozens).

It turns out that doughnuts are formed in their tire-like shape–hole and all.  I feel very let down by this discovery.

Does anyone remember the little dough balls they used to put with pizzas in the pizza box?  I always wondered what they were for.  But, for some reason, they were always my favourite part of the pizza.  Until we got a dog.  Then the dough ball became “his” part of the pizza.  Stupid dog.

Speaking of Tim Horton’s–they recently caused massive confusion with the introduction of new cup sizes.  If you want to experience this ordering mayhem for yourself, watch this:

3)  After years of “heart smart” Becel, I miss the taste of real butter.  So much so that when I go to a restaurant, I always take a few of the little single servings home. I just found two in my purse.  They had melted.  Note to self:  put plastic baggy in purse for butter-thieving occasions.

And, apparently, butter isn’t just for eating anymore.  It has become a great medium for art.  Honest.  I just realized that my last blog had a bit about sculpting with cow poop.  Today’s is about butter.  I seem to be developing a cow fetish.  Hm.

Here are some mouth-watering examples of butter art:

Photo Credits:  Staypuft (ghostbusters.wikia.com), Homer (www.simpsonovi-dnes.estranky.cz), cow jumping over moon (edibleblog.com), Ben Franklin (endlesssimmer.com), farmer/cow/sheep (illusion.scene360.com), sow and piglets (dyscario.com), motorcycle cow (uk.search4eat.com), man with lion (thechive.com), cafeteria lady (thebaresquare.com), rose (edibleblog.com).