During one of my recent nocturnal online shopping trips, I came across a number of great new products designed for weight control. Well, they hadn’t actually become products yet, but were still in the “figment of someone’s imagination” phase – based enough in reality to have been issued patents, but still miles away from seeing the light of day. I did, however, manage to find three that were for sale, so I scooped them up before they disappeared from the market. Scientists and Registered Dieticians agree that most of us are overweight because they eat too much, too fast. That’s where the Alarm Fork comes in. This handy battery-operated utensil…
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Hand Gestures Grunts, gestures and the sounds we make to communicate
Late last night, I was yanked away from the season finale of “The Desperate Lives of Atlanta Housewives” by an urgent knock on the door. It was Ping. Ping recently emigrated from Thailand and is boning up for his citizenship examination by taking English lessons. Taking pity on anyone having to learn English as an adult, I graciously volunteered to help tutor him with the nuances they never teach you in language school. “If you really want to fit into the fabric of American society,” I told Ping, “You’ll have to learn American slang and the thousands of grunts, hand signs, gestures and sounds we Americans use to take the…
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Chasing the Elu$ive American Dream What ever happened to my white picket fence?
When I was 10, my father took me by the shoulder and said, “Son, we need to talk.” To this day, whenever someone (particularly my boss), tells me that we need to talk, it sends shivers down my spine. I had no idea it was going to be about the American dream. My mother was away doing whatever mothers do on a Saturday afternoon, so he knew he held me captive for at least an hour. He led me into the garage and told me to slide across the front seat of his car. Sitting in the front seat of my father’s Oldsmobile had become our own little cone of…
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Last Chance Underwear Skidmarks and the smell of kids... everything you ever wanted to know about rectal hygience
When I was a kid growing up in southern California, I’d try to escape the blistering summer heat by playing in the sprinklers on the front lawn or floating submerged in a public swimming pool until my fingers turned to prunes. I counted those hours under water as part of my daily hygienic practices. My mother didn’t. At that age I didn’t know that the reason they chlorinated the water so heavily was because my classmates were peeing or Hershey squirting in the water. It looked clean to me. The way I looked at it, as long as I spent every day under water, I could go the entire summer…
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Happy Birthday to Me Yummy surprises made from mashed sweet potatoes and eggs... happy birthday!
I just celebrated another birthday. Now, before you start applauding, you need to understand that at my age, birthdays aren’t something I relish with any level of enthusiasm. To me, birthdays merely mark the passage of time. The only thing I do to achieve another year on earth is continue breathing in and out and swing my feet out of bed each morning – which is becoming more difficult than it sounds. Things were simpler before the rise of Christianity. People didn’t know how to calculate the lunar calendar, so they couldn’t keep track of birthdays. Everyone just assumed they were getting older when they couldn’t see their toes any…