Hair apparent?

I accidentally washed my hair with Gatorade this morning. Not sure why the bottle was in the shower, or why someone had written "Suave" on it with marker. As it turns out, it was not all bad, as my hair had never felt fuller, more athletic or carbo-loaded. Plus the added benefit of the ants it attracts. Their myriad tiny feet feel like a day long craniosacral therapy session.

Cartoon capers (Not the garnish, either!)

Have you lost sleep wondering if Phineas J. Whoopee is planning to harm your family or pillage your 401K? If so, let me share something that helped me: Phineas J. Whoopee is only a cartoon character. Additionally, he was generally considered a "good guy". I cannot tell you the relief that revelation brought me. Of greater concern is the possibility that Boris Badenov may sell state secrets to WikiLeaks.

Mechanically Separated at birth?

When I see food packaging that mentions "Mechanically separated beef and pork" I would like to think it means that there is a kindly robot that keeps the animals snug in their own pens. Something like Rosie, the maid from the "Jetsons", keeping a watchful eye on the creatures and preventing them from getting into mischief. That is what it means, right? RIGHT?!?

On the Knighting of very small bears

Recently I saw the cover of the book "House at Pooh Corner" and wondered just how many children would understand what is going on. It would appear that Christopher Robbin is beating Pooh with a stick, and that Pooh Bear likes it. Which would lead one to wonder as to what kind of sick relationship they have. Of course, Christopher is actually "knighting" Pooh Bear. (That's SIR Pooh de Bear, to you!)
However, to the untrained it might seem natural for Christopher Robbin to lash out in anger. What parent sends a small boy out into a hundred acre wood alone? I suspect that they heavily insured him first, in the hopes that he would be trodden on by a Heffalump.

On the popping of peas

We recently watched a movie entitled "Murder by Decree". In which Sherlock Holmes and Watson track Jack the Ripper. At one point Watson proclaims that he likes to eat peas whole, as he enjoys the way that they pop in his mouth.
Gack. I couldn't disagree more. In fact, apart from Pop-Rocks, I can't stand it when food pops in my mouth. Case in point: green beans. I love them, but as soon as I become aware of the actual 'bean' popping in my munching mandible, I am through.
I suspect that this is the reason why I gave up eating baby gerbils.

On-Call Memoirs #1: Pager Anxiety

As the title indicates, I was on-call, and thus was to be available for emergencies* within the apartment community 24 hours a day on weekends and holidays, and from 5pm-8am on weekdays.
I had no life. But I did have a pager! A shiny example of yester-decade technology. It was my very first experience with such a beast; and it made me extremely nervous. Since I knew not what to expect, I assumed that it would go off as soon as I received it and placed it on my belt.
It didn't. Nor did it go off the next day. Or the next. I called the messaging company to send me a test-page to make sure that it worked. It did.
Needless to say, the little black box finally found its voice. And with that voice came an unusual phenomenon: Pager Anxiety. I would frequently wake up with a start in the middle of the night, certain that I heard it go off. It hadn't. I would feel it vibrate on my belt when it was my week off.
I hung up the pager some months ago now, and yet occasionally I am visited by phantom vibrations on my belt. There must be some pharmaceutical that I can get that will help me. Perhaps a series of shots?


*Emergencies ranged from gas leaks, squirrel invasions, dead bodies and omnipresent plumbing problems.

On-Call: Memoirs of an Emergency Maintenance Person

For over four years, I was the emergency on-call maintenance person at a large (220+ unit), historic 1930's apartment complex in downtown Minneapolis.
From time to time, I am going to post some of my experiences and adventures.

Nose-Hole Hair

As a man ages, it is a well known and unavoidable fact that hair develops where it is unwanted. As George Costanza of "Seinfeld" once said "You have to be vigilant", lest these unwanted tufts get out of hand.
However, not all men are as vigilant as they should be.
Case in point, a fellow I used to work with. Although in most other aspects he was very well groomed, he suffered from one unattended hairy-area - 'The nostril hair'. It wasn't walrus style or bushy. In fact, it was but one single hair. However, this one, single, solitary hair was very thick and very dark. And very, very long.
This rogue hair grew out of his nostril and almost all the way down to his upper lip.
I truly do not know how he missed it. In fact, I would believe that he must have taken great pains in order to not accidentally clip it while shaving.
The question then arises: 'Why?'
Perhaps he read somewhere that the length of a mans robust nasal hair proved his virility. Or perhaps he suffered from a rare condition whereby if he ever trimmed it his brain would loose elasticity. Perhaps it was a gypsy curse. Maybe he was aiming for a Guinness World Record.
I do not know.
All I know is that it was very hard to look him in the eye while speaking to him.

Rockwell would understand

In 1984, a musician (term used generously here) named Rockwell released the song entitled "Somebody's Watching Me." Rockwell may have fizzled into Motown oblivion, but the song remains lyrically true. The sense of being watched can produce paralyzing feelings of paranoia.
Especially when you are being watched by people in a vehicle.
In fact, it would appear that the number of people watching you is inversely proportionate to the amount of agility one can exhibit.
For your consideration, the following scenario: Man in car stopped along side a full school bus.

One or two children look at driver of car = Man forgets how to naturally use hands. Actions become stilted. Cell phone flies on to the floor

This attracts attention of more children = Man now unsure how to hold mouth, where to look, or how to retrieve cell phone. In an attempt to look casual he sweeps his hair back. Sadly he misses and pokes his own eye.

Now the majority of the school children are watching the man. Gestures, rude faces and hooting at peak = Man rapidly loosing control of motor functions and other bodily abilities. Breathing is labored, bladder control fails.

Light turns green and the school bus departs. Man in automobile is reduced to a gibbering mass flailing in his own filth. Outraged drivers behind him begin honking. Man looses consciousness and later awakens in Trauma Center at St. Mary's Hospital.

I guess that this is why many school buses now have darkened windows.