Getting ready to leave for Houston this morning. Not much to say. Thought I’d share this article just because the picture is so funny.
I am convinced that the real reason humans wandered all over and populated the planet is because they were lost. The men folk would not stop and ask for directions. Scientists, themselves mostly male, except for the last 100 years, did not recognize this characteristic and called it “migration.”
I beg to differ. My theory is that Mr. and Mrs. Prehistoria and the kids set out one morning to visit the local TeePee Depot. They left from a place just east of Mesopotamia. 24 lunar cycles later they are wandering around in what is now Idaho. Mrs. Pryhistoria hasn’t spoken to the Mister for 2 months. He bit her head off when she told him to ask for directions before they headed up the Rocky Mountains.
Last summer they camped in what would eventually be Up-State New York. It got out of hand. The son of the local Chieftain Hooky Kook made a DNA donation. As a result their daughter will be blessing them with a little bundle soon. And thus our genetic material encircled the globe.
There is only one thing that saved the human race from becoming extinct through infanticide. The kids did not spend that entire 2 years of the trip asking “are we there yet? are we there yet?” One benefit of being lost on prehistoric earth is that no had yet figured out where there is.
I Don’t Care About Your Fiber. And don’t even think of telling me what to do with mine.
Been conducting my ongoing research on all the different diets that are supposed to be THE answer, the magic bullet, the end all be all answer to health. I’m leaning towards the Paleo eating plan. There is one major problem with it however. Paleo foods don’t store as well as grains. I have to go shopping more than once per year. One of the things I found out while researching vegetarian diets (which seem counter intuitive to me) is the following tidbits:
Potatoes, grains and beans are:
- Toxic when eaten raw, which means they have to be cooked. This leads me to believe that eating them came after the discovery of fire. What did us humans do before that? A cleansing juice fast? Bugs?
- Insufficient cooking can lead to mild stomach upsets to acute gastroenteritis. Amen to that brother. I have accused my husband of trying to kill me with lentil soup on more than one occasion.
- chock full of carbohydrates, digest quickly, and have a high glycemic index. Ah ha! The old sugar spike. I don’t care if I’m diabetic, bring it on.
- Has lots of fiber, more than your body needs. As result you become bloated and flatulent. Particularly annoying if you have to sit in meetings all day at work. Although a minor explosion might provide come comic relief, and lead you to be excused from further meetings. Great topic of conversation for parties.
So far, I haven’t found what amounts to any first hand or the original research on vegetarianism. All the sites I look at are copy and paste of some article zero written by God only knows who, God knows when. So if you try to tell me you wrote it. I want proof! They all say pretty much the same thing, though. Meat is gross, veggies are good. Eating meat is unnatural. Eat grains, grains and more grains. Eating meat is EVOL… yada yada. (I stole the evol from Christopher Titus, a great comedian) References to references to someone’s interpretation of a study they heard about at a cocktail party that refers to someone’s blog who makes up stuff out of their head just to mess with people.
Riddle me this:
Mr. & Mrs. Cavemen are sitting around the fire one evening. They are arguing about who gets the last piece of cold nasty root. Mrs. Caveman is trying to get root fibers out of her teeth, but not having much luck because no one invented the toothpick yet. Mr. Cavemen stands up and declares “That’s it. I have had all I can stand! I’m off to the jungle to kill the first squiggly thing I see. Stoke up that fire, Missy, I’ll be back.” Later on in the cave they are munching on some ribs:
Mr: Caveman: (groaning) oh my God that’s good. We need to do this more often.
Mrs. Caveman: “honey, I don’t know about this. It just seems…unnatural.”
Mr. Caveman: you always complain!
Mrs. Caveman: it just feels like…what’s that word…cannibbalism? A minute ago I looked at you and had a vision of you roasting on a spit with an apple in your mouth.
Mr. Caveman: sometimes you scare me.
Vegetarians tell stories of trying to eat meat and becoming violently ill afterwards. This is post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Other wise known as a fallacy of reasoning. Event B happened after Event A. Therefore, Event A caused Event B. Not automatically true. “Vegetarians tell stories” is a red flag right there. Telling stories is not evidence, it is a S T O R Y, anecdotal not empirical evidence. There are many possible reasons that someone became violently ill after eating.
- Their body is not used to eating meat. Same thing can be said of people who become violently ill after eating beans or lentils. Me, for example.
- They didn’t like the company they were with. Happens to me all the time.
- The all natural spinach salad with organic mushrooms they had for lunch had e-coli all over it.
- They have the flu.
- They found out it was their turn to clean the cat box.
- They licked the door knob at the bus station. (Richard Jenni, another great comedian, RIP)
The Straight Dope: This link does not embrace tofu, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.
Verily I say unto you, never cutteth the hair upon thy head whilst thou art possessed by liquores. Neither shall ye coloreth the hair resting upon the head of thy friend.
Never Cutteth Thine Own Hair
I like to skate along the razor edge of trends. Sometimes I get ahead of myself and have to suffer the indignities of being considered a kook.
Decades ago, in my party animal phase, I worked as cocktail waitress at a wild bar in Key West. Allegedly the very bar where Ernest Hemingway hung out and pickled himself when he wasn’t writing. After work the gang would head off to after hours clubs. On one of the trips I watched a Pat Benitar music video. It made an impression.
Rolling home in the wee hours I got to assessing my image and made a command decision that I wanted hair like Pat’s. There are very few salons open at 4:00 am. The logical thing to do was to cut my own hair. I dug up a pair a scissors and got busy. A chunk here, a snip there. A little more spikey on the top. Even it up a bit. Perfect!
Morning always comes. No matter how much fun you had the night before. Something was different. My head felt lighter. The cold truth hit me staring out of the bathroom mirror. Oh that’s not good. What have I done to myself….this time? Explanations, excuses flooded my brain. A disgruntled neighbor attacked me with a week whacker. No, I fell asleep with gum in my hair. OK, that’s just stupid.
Ah ha! I did this on purpose, sober and in my right mind. It’s a fashion statement. And that’s exactly what I told everyone. A pretty young girl can pull off almost any look with enough eyeliner and lipstick. A few weeks later a co-worker showed up on a busy Saturday night wearing MY hairstyle. I didn’t ask. It’s true, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.
And Neither Shall Ye Coloreth the Hair of Thy friend
Way back when, on a girls night out a friend pumped me full of champagne and talked me into dying her hair black. She knew full well that I have butchered my own hair. But hey, she was gonna save a few bucks. It was all scientific and professional. 2 parts black dye, 1 part white goo-shake well, newspaper on the floor, and another bottle of champagne. We ran out of strawberries but decided against doing a run for more. I was in the zone, baby. Could feel the Muse at work. Afterwards she headed to the shower and I passed out face down on the sofa.
I work up the next morning to screams and cursing. My named rattled off the walls. Oh god, shut up and stop blinking so loud. Peeking through one eye I see her standing there in the nude, hands on hips, wearing a fright wig. The worse case of bed head I have ever seen. The real problem was the dye job. There was a streak of black running from the outside corner of her eyebrow across her temple and back into her hair. On the other side was a white semi-circle of missed hair around her ear. She looked like she had sprouted feathers overnight.
“I like it, very different, avante garde.” She wasn’t buying it. She calmed down and decided that cigarette ash was just the thing to get the dye off her skin. Who knew? A pot of coffee and ½ pack of cigarettes later, mission accomplished. A neutral 3rd party professional handled her hair care needs from that time forth. We are still friends.
My car is haunted. No really, I swear! Nothing serious, just annoying little glitches. First the satellite radio wonked out and decided to play nothing but the Catholic channel and weather from Wisconsin. I live in Texas so not much help there. I briefly wondered if it was some kind of sign from the cosmos, but decided “nah.” Next thing to go was the rear passenger window. It would randomly slide up and down. Slowly, not that wham bang sound that makes you jump out of your skin when the window glass collapses down inside the car door. The dome light took on a life of it’s own.
I’m one of those go with the flow kinda people so I didn’t pay much attention. However, when the windshield wiper fluid stopped squirting, it started bugging me. Then the turn signals began blinking so fast it was giving me a headache. Enough already. When the husband announced that my headlight was out, I had to bite the bullet and take the girl to the dealership.
I thought it was going to be a quick in and out. Noooooo. The next day the service manager called me to announce that there “was something alive” in my engine. “Say what?” “Well, Mrs. X, a small animal has taken up residence in your engine and is chewing up the wires like they were corn on the cob.” We’re talking major damage here. The insurance adjuster went to the dealership, took pictures, and agreed that it was indeed pitiful. My car needed a new wiring harness, a new seal for the windshield, and various hoses. The fun continued when they did something to the transmission and had to replace a valve. The grand total – $2,500.
Mr. Assistant Service Manager assures me that the critter is no longer in there. Now, how does he really know that? Seems when it gets really cold around here the squirrels decide to have a party in your cozy warm engine block. It’s not done being cold around here.
He tried to comfort me by sharing that the previous person to come in the shop discovered his own personal squirrel in the passenger compartment. Yeee Haaa. Can you imagine toodling down the highway and some furry creature starts bouncing off the interior of your car? I would probably shoot across 4 lanes of traffic, screaming like my hair is on fire, and end up in ditch with a lot of explaining to do.
I asked the service manager if he had any ideas about how I might prevent this from happening again.
“Fox Urine” he chirps.
Um, Gross. “Anything else?”
“Well some people have had success with mothballs…”
“Mothballs? Won’t you smell that when you turn the engine on?”
“Well yes, but most people don’t mind.”
Well, I’m not most people and there will be a snowballs in hell before I drive around with fox urine or Ode de Mothballs stinking up my car. Guess I’ll just have to take my chances with the squirrels. The up side to this adventure was that I got to cruise around town for a week in a rented cherry red Dodge Charger.
- The Best Squirrel Live Trap Or Making Your Home Less Inviting (brighthub.com)