First step towards immortality

Why did the chicken cross the road? Have you ever stopped to think that somebody somewhere was the first person to ever tell that joke? That joke was written (or invented, depending on whether you think of jokes as simply pieces of writing or discoveries that should be shared). Stand up comics write jokes all the time, but there aren't really that many that become part of our cultural consciousness that the joke's existence becomes distinct from the writer. Knock knock. Who's There? Ima. Ima who? I'ma kill the guy who came up with the knock knock joke. You can have that one for free.

Sure, we all know the bit about the 7 Words You Can't Say on Television by George Carlin. You can't separate that phrase from Mr. Conductor. Barney from How I Met Your Mother is an innovator of this ilk with his Lemon Law. Who was the first guy to call people "cat" instead of sir or man? I want to congratulate that guy and I'm pissed we don't still do that.

Somewhere down the line, there was a first guy to do that. We don't know who he is; he is an innovator lost in the sands of time, like the inventor of the wheel or penicillin. I do think, however, that whoever that guy was, he would be happier if we started calling each other cat again that erecting a monument in his honor in our downtown city squares. It would probably just come out as a giant marble cat anyway.

I want to join that pantheon of creativity. I was challenged to invent a word as my first offering to those demigods of comedy and posterity for entry into their Olympus over the weekend, and I think I have it: flamty. It started out as flamtankerous, but we can all agree that was way over the top. Flamty is where it's at. The exact defintion is hard to pin down exactly, but I can use it in a few sentences to make it clear for you.

1. I was going to ask that girl for her number, but that dress makes her ass look flamty.
2. Hmm, I there's something funny about the marinade, does that steak taste a little flamty to you?
3. Let's be reasonable here, your sister is clearly the flamtiest in the room. I haven't thrown up even once!

I hope that this will be the first of many inventions of a lexicographic nature to bolster your conversation. Please feel free to post your own interpretations and uses of the word, and also let me know about circumstances in out there away from internetland where this comes up. I hope none of your coming days are flamty.

It's a shame, really

I was bored at work and came up with an idea that I wish I could make happen. I think we're probably still a few hundred years away, technology wise, but when it happens, people will look back on this blog entry and realize my genius. It'll be like Leonardo da Vinci and the helicopter. Oddly enough, the train of thought started with a joke involving seeing Tommy Tutone on MTV's Unplugged before it formed into this piece of majesty you're about to read. The path from that one hit wonder to animal sitcoms is a long and tortuous one, so I really don't know how to explain how I got here.

If we could make animal sitcoms, these are a few that I think I would watch. I think I'll stop at five, because I could probably go on all day. Feel free to add one of your own.

1. Pelican Barbershop Quartet - A story about four lovable pelicans, each with their own quirks, who formed a barbershop quartet and travel the coast entertaining sea birds in exchange for fish and love. There really are not that many things which are more amusing than a barbershop quartet, and one of those is a pelican. Combine them? Instant success. For those of you who don't know what a pelican looks like, here is a picture I found on Google of a pelican trying to eat a bear.
2. Loi et ordre: Unité Spécial du Paon (Law and Order: Special Peacock Unit) - By the time this becomes a realistic television option, every other Law and Order possibility will have been taken. It ties in with the NBC network, which I'm sure would have been overtaken by CSI and American Idol if not for Dick Wolf and Sam Waterston. For some reason, I think this concept of having peacocks in a courtroom works better if they have French accents and berets while they are arguing about Man 1.
3. Dog Ross - A public access program where a German Shepherd shows us how to paint things like fire hydrants, cats, and other dogs' butts. I would imagine his hair to be a little frizzy, like an aging pothead's would be, if he were a dog. You know?
4. Panda Gladiators - The resurgence of American Gladiators really opened up a lot of possibilities. But thinking of how lazy Americans tend to be and how lazy pandas are, this really seemed like a pretty good match. Also, I know of at least one reader out there who rather enjoys pandas, and this picture is really funny. The panda gladiators would need names a lot more hardcore than Ling-Ling, though. Like 1000 Golden Pandas of Fury. I guess that they would be named a lot like Chinese restaurants.
5. Dr. Rocky - A talk show for raccoons, where they try to break stereotypes of things like looking like burglars and eating garbage. They are just like me; they have to eat and can't help what they look like. And, really, who hasn't looked at a mostly eaten chicken bone and thought, "There's still another good two or three bites of meat on that"? Also, they would discuss the fashion merits of coonskin caps.

Ideally, we'd be able to watch some of these shows before the end of my life. Frankly, watching pandas shoot tennis balls at each other is better than like 85% of whats on tv now. And if you say that you wouldn't be interested in hearing a pelican sing the bass line of "Hello My Baby," I'm basically calling you out as a liar right here on these internets in front of God and everyone.

In the pits

I ran out of deodorant this morning halfway through my application. Fortunately, like the Emperor, I had foreseen this. I bought some Right Guard or Gillette or something that was really cheap because it was being discontinued. I almost hope I don't like it because I won't be able to get more. It's the kind that has the little blue spheres in it; I think they're the kind that can stop Terrell Owens from coming over.

Because I ran out of my old stuff halfway through, my right underarm is rocking a different scent than the left. It's kind of weird -- asymmetrical deodorant leading to asymmetrical smells. The good news is they both smell fresh (I believe the new one is "Surf" scented -- whatever that means -- I always try to get ocean or water themed soaps and shampoos because I want to smell like home, but tragically, these things bear no resemblance to the way the ocean or surf smells. People not named Kramer take showers to get that smell off of them) so it's not like left good right bad.

Some people have more active sweat glands on one side of their body. Not me, though, when I sweat I barely stink at all. I'm immune to that, in the same way that I'm immune to the siren's call of American Idol. It's magical. But I wondered for the people who have one side more intense than another, do they vary their deodorant applications accordingly? Like five swipes instead of three? Or an entirely different, more powerful deodorant altogether? Am I just venturing into the lifestyle that these other, tragically misunderstood people live everyday? Oh, and does shaving your armpits really make you stink less? I wouldn't know, because regardless I don't stink anyway. The magic, remember.

Geronimo

There is something inherently fascinating about the vending machines where things fall down after you select them. Like candy bars or gum, after the strange circular springs (which look like dough hooks) rotate and advance them and they fall into the ingeniously designed chamber that prevents you from reaching your hand up to pluck them from their resting places. There was an episode of The Critic where guns did that.

I purchased an individually sized, overpriced bag of potato chips in this manner today to eat with my lunch. (It was a chicken sandwich with swiss cheese, mayonnaise and honey mustard, if you're curious. It was average.) Some of the chips were smashed when I ate them, and that is really unfortunate. Is there anything less desirable, chipwise, than broken pieces? No.

This isn't revolutionary news, I'm aware, because chips are frequently broken at the bottom. However, I also noticed that the potato chips are on the top level of the vending machine. What a disastrous placement of such a fragile food! Especially when there are heartier things in there, like Snickers and granola bars small tubes of Pringles. I want to share with you a design to help minimize the tragedy of chip breakage in vending machine falls. Observe:

I can't say for certain that the chips weren't broken before the fall, but really, I don't want to take that chance, either. Hopefully, together we can keep other chips from suffering a similar fate. The gum can go screw itself, though.

I don't understand the turntable

There are a lot of things that are puzzling about a microwave. I don't mean how they work, that's not that tricky. A filiment generating EM radiation about the same size of water molecules irradiates the food, vibrating the water to generate heat. What's so hard about that? Also, it doesn't cook from the inside out. That'd be absurd.

The thing that I have trouble with is the timer. I was heating up some stuffed shells for lunch today (they were delicious, by the way) and I accidentally hit 1 - 8 - 0 instead of 1 - 0 - 0 as I was trying to heat them up, when I realized, if I let this go, I have no idea for how long that will go. Will it be 180 seconds? Or 140 seconds, for a minute and 80 seconds? How come, when everything else in our society is base ten, our clocks and microwaves aren't? I also can't believe I actually changed it now, because I want to know how long it would have cooked for.

I also don't know why microwave manufacturers insist on putting in the turntable. Radiation, by nature, is emitted in all directions from its source, so reflections from the walls will cause the variety of angles sufficient to heat it from different directions. The turntable mostly makes my food spill and pulls off the paper towel I put on top to keep my food from spilling.

I also think it's pretty funny that people have discovered all sorts of weird things that will happen when you put crazy things into microwaves. Whoever the first guy was to put a cd into a microwave deserves a medal, because really, why would anyone ever think to do that? I think something crazy happens when you put a peep into microwave, too, but since I hate them I've never done it. I do, however, think it would be pretty fun to put a bottle of shaving cream into a microwave* and let it go for 3 - 6 -0, even though I have no idea how long that would be.

I have also decided that I never want to reheat pizza in a microwave ever again. It ruins the crust. So, really, there are only three options: take the time and reheat it in the oven, eat it cold or man up and finish it the day before.

*Please don't actually try this. I don't want to be responsible for internet kids getting burned by shaving shrapnel.

I am going to invent a sandwich

Everyone is so sad about the death of Steve Irwin, so I thought I'd try to push the envelope of food (I don't think there has been enough advancement in the world of sandwiches lately) to try to cheer everyone up by describing to you a revolution in sandwiches.

I haven't made one yet, but I think I may give it a shot sometime soon. I don't think I've ever seen this on a menu anywhere, so I'm going to claim ownership. Allow me to describe it, because I really don't see how it won't be delicious.

On a hamburger bun, place a small grilled or broiled hamburger, then a small grilled or broiled chicken breast, topped off with a slice of American cheese and two strips of bacon. Mayonnaise and mustard would be the allowable condiments, maybe a piece of lettuce, some onion, perhaps tomato, and two pickle slices. Ketchup would probably be unacceptable. Oh, and toast the hamburger bun. I need a name for it though. Like the deliciaburger or chickenhamburgerawesome. Now that I think about it, though, the bacon may be a little too much.

If anyone tries it before I get a chance to, I'd love to hear how it turns out. I'd also like to hear about the results on experimenting with the bacon, and possibly the cheese. Maybe make a Swiss chickenhamburgerawesome by replacing the slice of American with a slice of white holey cheese instead. Also, I personally like honey mustard, but can see spicy mustard working quite well, too.

In my eyes

My eyes are bothering me this morning. It happens every once in a while, something is in my contact, like an eyelash or a boulder. Right now, I think it's an eyelash. I meant to take my contacts out before I left for the lab, but I got out of the shower and before I knew it I had my contacts in my eyes (see previous post). In the lab, I have nowhere to put them if I were to take them out, other than in a beaker or flask or something, but I don't really want to put my contacts into a container that may have at one time held freon or anti-freeze.

I am a little conflicted about my eyelashes at times like these, though. You see, I have awesome eyelashes. People have told me that (and no, not my mom [actually, not just my mom]) but right now it feels like there is a sword piercing my right eye. As a result, I am tempted to grab the wire cutters in the cabinet and remove every last one of the vile hairs that are growing out of my eyelids. It's especially perplexing to think that there are people who actively try to lengthen their eyelashes with mascara. Long eyelashes might be nice, but I'm pretty sure only women notice them. And when they do notice that particular feature, it doesn't have quite the same effect as rock hard abs, a chiseled profile or a BMW, so really, it's kind of a disappointing victory in the physical lottery.

I wouldn't be surprised if after I write this, somebody writes, "I wish I had longer eyelashes." And that may be true. It reminds me of a pool party I just went to where two girls were complaining about their hair. One of them said to the other, "Your hair is so thick," to which she responded, "I know, it sucks." Evidently, she didn't realize that thick hair is good. It'd be like somebody else saying, "My legs are too long and sculpted. I can't wear high heels," without realizing that people wear high heels to have their legs look long and sculpted... or so I hear.

So, I guess I should stop my whining and suffer through the occasional maverick eyelash. I understand that some people think it's a good feature to have, even if I think of it as a baseball team having the best bat boy. It's nice, I guess, but I can think of a few areas of more pressing need. On the other hand, I'd probably look kind of weird if I went through with the eyelash cutting plan.

Creatures of Habit

Do you ever do things like brush your teeth and then forget, only later to wonder if you brushed your teeth this morning? Actually, that was a bad example because when you brush your teeth you have that lingering fake peppermint taste in your mouth for like an hour. But something really habitual, mindless and reflexive to the point that you don't think about it anymore, like locking the car door or flushing the toilet. If you do your business in the bathroom and leave while drying your hands and step out and think, "Is my waste still lounging in that bowl, or did I send it on its merry way?" I don't think I've ever actually forgotten to do either of those things, but I sometimes forget that I actually did them. Isn't that weird?

I got back from watching a movie at a friend's place tonight, and wondered if I remembered to lock the front door before I left. I had no recollection of inserting my key into the lock to perform this act, much like I have no idea from where two pairs of my pants came. They are really shorts, but pants, to me, is a funnier word. Fortunately, I did not forget to lock the door. It's good, I guess, that I don't ever forget, but it's a little frightening, too, that I am capable of doing something to the point of not remembering if I did it. Could this apply to other things, less mundane and possibly more sinister? Could I have taken baseball bat to a Mercury Sable and simply have forgotten? Or robbed a Pakistani bank at gunpoint? I'd never know, because Pakistani money probably isn't worth that much; I wouldn't expect a huge lifestyle change after holding up one of those.

I hope, for all of your sakes, that I am not some sort of subconscious criminal genius. It would be kind of awesome, though, to be able to just have money appear in my apartment and I have no idea where I got it. I'd really prefer to remember how I got it, though. I'll try to sing a song or something for each of these frequently occurring events in my daily life, so that they'll stick out a little better. Although I've never forgotten to flush the toilet, that's not the sort of risk I'm prepared to take.