Is it just me, or are gas pumps increasingly complex and confusing? Whenever I am forced to use a new station, I stand in front of the pump like an idiot for like 5 minutes… which way does my card go in? Can I pay outside? Do I slide my card and then push buttons or vice versa? There is a “Yes” button and an “Enter” button… why? Which one means, ok, please start the gas now? And then, they all switch up the order of the octane levels… so you have to be very careful not to fill up with premium gasoline when you just need regular. And then I have to be careful to not accidentally purchase a car wash…. seriously, I just need to put gas in my car!
Being pregnant is mostly hilarious… and pathetic… and uncomfortable… but I choose to dwell on the hilarious here. There is an over-abundance of information on how to care for oneself while pregnant, how to most effectively deal with the curse of childbearing, and of course, the details of fetal development. BabyCenter.com is one such wellspring of information that upon request will send weekly updates about pregnancy to your e-mail inbox so you don’t even have to try to research anything. You just check your e-mail as usual, and poof, knowledge streams into your eyeballs. I received these updates for both of my pregnancies and sometimes I read them, sometimes I don’t. Mostly I enjoy the reminder of how far along I am (which appears in the subject) because people are always asking me and I never know.
Something funny about these e-mails just occurred to me tonight. The brief informational section always begins by telling you the approximate weight and length of an average fetus at your current week of pregnancy and giving you a practical, non-womb-bound object to compare it to. Some of these things have been fairly common (to me) and therefore useful, such as the length of a banana or carrot, or the weight of a head of cabbage or a cantaloupe… it wasn’t until recently though, that I noticed that the non-womb-bound object has consistently been a fruit or a vegetable. Now, if you ask me, this is not only supposed to be useful for universal comparison purposes, but also to serve as a subliminal message regarding what one should be eating while growing a baby. Pregnant women (if you’ve never been one) are highly suggestible when it comes to eating things you know… so if they compared the fetus length to a bag of M&Ms or a carton of ice cream, that would not be helpful for the nutrition of anyone involved. The thing is, however, choosing to stick with the fruit and veggie theme calls for some very creative thinking. I mean, there are 40 weeks of pregnancy, and very specific sizes and weights to be compared. So this has forced the Baby Center people to do some clever and specific research on produce. Some of my favorite comparisons are:
19 weeks: weight of a large heirloom tomato
25 weeks: length of an average rutabaga
26 weeks: length of an english hothouse cucumber
31 weeks: similar to carrying around 4 navel oranges
37 weeks: length of a swiss chard
38 weeks: length of a leek
Yes, I actually went back through the “trash” folder of my e-mail to compile these… it was that funny to me in the moment of realization.
Perhaps this makes me a poorly nutritioned pregnant person, but I am not automatically familiar with the length of an average rutabaga… and I’m not sure I really know what a swiss chard is. Now, suppose I went to the produce section of my local store and picked up a rutabaga… how am I to know whether it is of average length? Should I measure all the rutabagas and find the mean? What if it was a bad year for rutabagas and they were all smaller than average… or a good year and they were all larger than average? Visions of confused pregnant women in grocery stores, holding up obscure vegetables to their bellies in attempt to understand more about their developing fetuses make me laugh so hard my taut womb, currently bearing a leek-length baby, hurts!
See – all of this veggie talk and now I’m craving salad.
Do not record yourself having sex. Just don’t. If it’s good enough, it will be memorable; no need to capture it on film. Nothing good ever seems to come of it!
I heard the other day that animal rights activists were upset with President Obama for swatting a fly on camera during an interview… are there really people out there with that little else to worry about??? I wonder what they’d think about the 2 million ants I’ve killed in the last week…
So I found this while sifting through my unfiled Word documents. I can’t remember where it came from – must’ve been a silly e-mail forward. But – it’s hilarious and fits the vibe of finding random humor in everyday things. I’ve added my thoughts in italics. Enjoy.
What movies have taught us about life…
# During all police investigations, it will be necessary to visit a strip club at least once.
# When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other.
# All people living in medieval or earlier times spoke with a British accent, no matter where they were from.
# If being chased through town, you can usually take cover in a passing parade – at any time of year.
# All beds have special L-shaped cover sheets which reach up to the armpit level on a woman but only to the waist level on the man lying beside her.
# The Chief of Police will almost always suspend his star detective – or give him 48 hours to finish the job.
# All grocery bags contain at least one stick of French Bread.
# It’s easy for anyone to land a plane providing there is someone to talk you down.
# The ventilation system of any building is the perfect hiding place – no one will ever think of looking for you in there and you can travel to any other part of the building undetected.
# Police departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned to a partner who is their polar opposite.
# The Eiffel Tower can be seen from any window in Paris.
# All bombs are fitted with electronic timing devices with large red readouts so you know exactly when they are going to go off.
# If you need to reload your gun, you will always have more ammunition, even if you haven’t been carrying any before now. (unless you’re the bad guy or the self-sacrificing hero…)
# You are very likely to survive any battle in any war unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home.
# Should you wish to pass yourself off as a German officer, it will not be necessary to speak the language – a German accent will do.
# If your town is threatened by an imminent natural disaster or killer beast, the mayor’s first concern will be the tourist trade or his forthcoming art exhibition.
# A man will show no pain while taking on the most ferocious beating but will wince when a woman tries to clean his wounds.
# When paying for a taxi, don’t look at your wallet as you take out a bill – just grab one at random and hand it over. It will always be the exact fare.
# Kitchens don’t have light switches. When entering a kitchen at night, you should open the fridge door and use that light instead.
# If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate any strange noises in their most revealing underwear.
# Mothers routinely cook eggs, bacon and waffles for their family every morning even though their husband and children never have time to eat them.
# Cars that crash will almost always burst into flames.
# All telephone numbers in America begin with the digits 555.
# A single match will be sufficient to light up a room the size of Dodger Stadium.
# Medieval peasants had perfect teeth.
# Any person waking from a nightmare will sit bolt upright and pant.
# It is not necessary to say hello or good-bye when beginning or ending phone conversations.
# Even when driving down a perfectly straight road, it is necessary to turn the wheel vigorously from left to right every few moments.
# It is always possible to park directly outside the building you are visiting.
# A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty.
# It does not matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts – your enemies will patiently attack you one by one by dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors.
# When a person is knocked unconscious by a blow to the head, they will never suffer a concussion or brain damage.
# No-one ever involved in a car chase, hijacking, explosion, volcanic eruption or alien invasion will ever go into shock.
# Television news bulletins usually contain a story that affects you personally at the precise moment that it is aired.
# You can always find a chainsaw when you need one.
# Any lock can be picked by a credit card or a paper clip in seconds – unless it’s the door to a burning building with a child trapped inside.
# Once applied, lipstick will never rub off – even while scuba diving.
# There’s no reason to fear hostile aliens or monstrous beasts… usually something simple will kill them or scare them off… like water, loud noises, or dogs.
Why is it that Southern Californians complain about the weather unless it’s 75 degrees and sunny with a light breeze? Seriously; we are having abnormally cool weather for June (low to mid-70s) and people are complaining! When it gets up to 110 I’m sure longing for sunshine will be completely forgotten.
I had a very funny experience the other day… in the McDonald’s… inside Wal Mart. I know, the story is funny already.
First, let me state that I typically find McDonald’s and Wal Mart pretty disgusting… they are particularly grotesque when one is placed inside the other. The dynamic duo closest to my house is even more gross than others I have seen. However, I needed to pick up a few things and I thought my toddler might weather the trip up and down the aisles better if he had first been treated to some tasty chicken parts fried in fat and dipped in high fructose corn syrup.
I was actually enjoying my date with my son, nestled in the portion of the plastic booth that wasn’t covered in someone else’s ketchup. He was in a pleasant mood: grateful for the indulgent treat and happy to have other people to look at. In the midst of our people watching, I noted an elderly man, scooting in with his walker. He ordered one of those fruit ‘n’ yogurt parfaits and rolled his walker just past us to near where I assumed he wanted to sit. Instead, he asked the woman sitting at the table behind us if she would watch his walker while he used the restroom. The woman agreed and he shuffled around the corner, leaving his parfait and tray on his walker.
I thought nothing more of it until the man wandered back in.
“Where did you put my ice cream?!” he angrily demanded of the woman.
“You didn’t get no ice cream, you just go that,” she said, gesturing to his yogurt, still balanced on his tray, on his walker, with great annoyance.
“No! I put it right here,” he exclaimed, gesturing over his walker where the yogurt sat and to the empty table. “Now what did you do with my ice cream?” It was exceedingly clear to me that the man was trying to find his yogurt parfait, but that was not so apparent to the lady he was shouting at.
“You didn’t get no ice cream, you just got that!” She insisted more angrily. I sat there silently, a bit stunned at the interesting situation unraveling before my eyes. Did she really not understand he was looking for his yogurt and calling it ice cream? Did he really not see the yogurt literally right under his nose? Before I could sort through my confusion at their confusion, things got even more intense.
“Yes I did – I put it right there.” The old man was practically screaming at this point. “Where is it, who’s hiding it from me?”and he angrily whirled around. Just when helpful words were forming on the tip of my tongue, like, sir, your ice cream is right there on your walker, I decided I didn’t really want to draw attention to my pregnant self and small son immediately after he screamed, “Who’s hiding it from me?!” He may have been elderly, but he was wearing some sort of war veteran hat and I didn’t really want to become involved in an altercation with someone who was capable of hurting me.
Propelled by somewhat stifled rage, the old man tried his best to storm up to the counter to explain his version of the situation to the McDonald’s staff. Apparently it is difficult to storm while pushing a walker between rows of chairs and tables. As he was pushing his walker, it bumped a table and the tray with the yogurt toppled onto the floor. Yet, still, the man didn’t notice it! He storm-rolled right over it. At this point I tried to intervene. As he neared our table I said,
“Sir, it’s right there, it fell.” But his fury was focused on moving him toward the front counter. “Sir?” I tired again, but to no avail. The woman accused of stealing the “ice cream” was indignantly muttering profanities at the man and turned her back to focus on sitting angrily alone. The old man arrived at the counter.
“Someone stole my ice cream,” he reported to the cashier. While this was happening, I watched confused as the woman at the table allowed the tray and yogurt parfait to sit helter-skelter on the tile floor as she stewed to herself.
“Sir, if you need to go to the restroom you should ask us to hold it for you.” I heard the cashier explaining while the old man muttered on.”Someone stole my ice cream. Are you gonna give me a new one or do I have to buy it again?” Frustrated at the growing ridiculousness of the situation, I got up and picked up the man’s yogurt parfait and tray, and placed it neatly on a table next to the woman at the original table.
“Everyone calm down!” I mumbled under my breath. Turning toward the front counter, I said loudly, “It’s right here on the table, it fell off his tray.” No one involved in the discussion acknowledged me. “It’s right here,” I tried again. I realize I often think I am speaking louder than I actually am, but I really felt at that moment that I was shouting into an invisible brick wall. While the manager was being summoned to the counter, I prevailed upon another customer who had walked up in the midst of the chaos and looked sympathetically in my direction. “It’s right here,” I said to her, gesturing at the yogurt.
“It’s ok,” she said, “he just wants his seat. He always sits there,” she explained. WHAT?!?!? Was she really standing that close to the argument and had no idea what was going on? By this time, the manager arrived at the counter and looked mostly like he just wanted the crazy old man to stop talking. The old man was gesturing in the direction of “the incident”.
“It’s right there,” the original woman at the original table finally decided to contribute, mostly because the old man was blaming her for stealing his ice cream. “She picked it up,” she said gesturing at me. I nodded and also gestured, but no one at the front seemed to notice. At that point I stopped caring. I decided that if no one wanted to acknowledge the still, small voice of reason, then that was fine by me… they could lose $1 giving the man a new parfait!
The next thing I knew, the old man wandered to the table where I had set his yogurt parfait, with a new parfait (on the house) in hand. He sat quietly, without saying a word to anyone, ate BOTH parfaits at an unrushed yet steady pace, then got up and scooted his way out of the store. Still bewildered by the series of events that just unfolded before me, I mused at the nature of the situation and the people involved. At first I wondered, Am I seriously the only one here with a functioning brain? Then I began to wonder how many times that old man had pulled that trick… he didn’t seem phased at all by the fact that 2 parfaits appeared… and he ate them both rather quickly. So maybe he pulled one over on the Wal Mart Mc Donald’s people. Touche old man, touche.