Month: February 2013

Genetically superior mice may overshadow zombie apocalypse

I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve spent lying awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking to myself:

Gee, if only they could make a super strong mouse.

Super mouse

I bring this up because of several readers who sent emails regarding science news, several of which have to do with mice — and all of which I have combined into an informative feature we’ll call:

Modern scientific breakthroughs that couldinspire a horror movie franchise.

We’ll begin with a story about the creation of the first “super” mouse, which was sent in by Bonnie Higgins of Bridgeton, NJ, whose good intentions, I must assume, included keeping me awake at night armed with pepper spray and a sledge hammer. According to the article, scientists in Boston have created a mouse with giant muscles, “capable of enduring rigorous exercise for extended periods of time.”

This is great news for people like me, who often worry that the traps they put out might actually kill a mouse. Now mice will not only have neck muscles thick enough to withstand the trap, but they’ll also be strong enough to re-set those traps and then throw them back at me. Continue reading Genetically superior mice may overshadow zombie apocalypse

Take it from France: nothing says ‘romance’ like a clogged bidet

Clogged bidet I know this is a little after the fact, but given that Valentine’s Day is TODAY, I’m guessing that a lot of men are just beginning to realize they’re in serious trouble after coming home last night with nothing but a six-pac and an NBA game schedule. If you are one of these men, then there’s a good chance you are getting into Valentines’ Day mode right…

about…

NOW.

(Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for any injuries, heart ailments or claims of memory loss occurring as a result of this information.)

Do not panic! As men, we will stick together and, through the power of the Internet, call upon the romantic wisdom of men from throughout the world and, hopefully, come up with at least ONE good idea. Continue reading Take it from France: nothing says ‘romance’ like a clogged bidet

Men: time is runing out if you want to avoid being a love dunce

As a public service to men everywhere, I am hereby issuing the following announcement:

Love Dunce Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.

If you are married, have a girlfriend or, for reasons of your own, feel a need to continue the charade of dating a Swedish airline stewardess who is always out of town, it’s time to start planning something romantic. For those of you in the latter category, this will be easy since the only person you have to worry about pleasing is yourself.

And, yes — I plan to clarify that last statement immediately.

What I mean is that every male currently in a relationship with an actual living female could, by Feb. 15, all be dating the same fictitious Swedish airline stewardess should they fail to impress their Valentines. As a result, men everywhere are panicking because we know that impressing the women in our lives isn’t easy. We realize that you are complicated creatures who need more than a physical connection when it comes to romance; you also need an emotional outlet in order to feel satisfied.

We, on the other hand, just need an outlet located near the television. Continue reading Men: time is runing out if you want to avoid being a love dunce

Frozen lima beans: The gift that keeps on gagging

eating,_chewing,_nut,_teeth,_mouth copy It will have been more than 80 years ago next month since Clarence Birdseye, inspired by ancient food preservation methods used by Arctic Eskimos, made history by introducing the very first frozen food option: “Savory Caribou on a Stick.”

Though his first selection was met with little enthusiasm, Birdseye persisted, and eventually created a line of frozen vegetables that many of us are still gagging on today.

I, for one, am still unable to walk past lima beans in the frozen food section without getting the dry heaves. This reaction stems from my childhood, and a spoonful of lima beans I’ve been trying to swallow since 1973.

Unless you’ve been hermetically sealed and stuck in a freezer, you already know March is “National Frozen Food Month.” Coincidentally, I should mention this happens to fall in the same month as “National Ear Muff Day,” “Extraterrestrial Abduction Day” and “National Pig Day,” meaning that, for anyone whose pig happened to be wearing ear muffs at the time it was flash frozen by alien abductors, this is a big month for you. Continue reading Frozen lima beans: The gift that keeps on gagging

Grammy, Shmammy — LL Cool J’s got nothing on this cracker

versatileblogger111 Blog of the Year Award 1 star jpeg vinspiringblog You know how some days you wake up and, while half asleep, you head to the bathroom — but not before putting both feet in the same pant leg? And then after laying face down on the carpet for a few minutes, you realize your naked rear is sticking straight up because your feet are bound together like a rodeo calf? And in the moment is when the door opens and it’s your 18-year-old daughter, who begins screaming and scratching at her eyes because of what she’s witnessed?

OK, maybe it’s just me then.

Well, today didn’t start like that for me. Today was actually a morning of extremely pleasant momentum, which, in our house, usually means an empty bathroom (rare in a house with three teenagers) and a perfectly timed BM. In this case, however, it was pleasant momentum spurred by kudos from my fellow bloggers. After returning to the keyboard following two days of what CSI: Las Vegas would term “explosive flu blowback” [Insert rapid sequence through nasal passages here], I had a chance to go through my “Likes” and “Comments,” which led to a very humbling series of nods from fellow bloggers whose work I admire. Continue reading Grammy, Shmammy — LL Cool J’s got nothing on this cracker

A man’s guide to romantic cuisine—Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

cavemen-food-nutrition copy Men, by their very nature, are grillers of food. This is because grilling, aside from providing men with a legitimate excuse to drink beer and play with fire, is actually a sign of romance and affection dating back to the discovery of fire itself. We know this thanks to recently discovered cave paintings depicting what archeologists believe is a romantic meal prepared by a Neanderthal named Glork soon after the discovery of fire. According to archeologists, the sequence goes like this:

Painting one: Glork makes a small fire using a careful mixture of embers, dry leaves, and an assortment of twigs. He then douses it with liberal amounts of highly flammable liquid, creating a massive fireball that scorches the roof of his cave.

Painting two: Glork adds a marinated pterodactyl drumstick to the fire and begins drinking an unidentified beverage.

Paintings three through six: Glork continues drinking a lot more of his unidentified beverage.

Painting seven: Attempting to capture the attention of an attractive cavewoman, Glork uses the flaps of his animal skin to fan the aroma of dinner in her direction. In the process, he inadvertently exposes himself, leading to the creation of what archeologists believe is the very first “Kiss the Chef” apron. Continue reading A man’s guide to romantic cuisine—Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

Your space adventure awaits! And mine will just have to keep waiting

So you want to be an astronaut!

OK, neither do I. But suppose we did. And let’s suppose I didn’t routinely freak out anytime I’m launched higher than a pogo stick. Then we would all be very Civilian space flight excited about all the recent advancements in the area of private spaceflight. Even now, it is possible for us to take a “slingshot ride” to the edge of the atmosphere and back, providing adventurers like ourselves with a breathtaking view of the earth, a few minutes of weightlessness, and, hopefully, at least one change of underwear.

You’ll notice there are quotation marks around the phrase “slingshot ride,” which is the actual term one expert used in describing the flight so that people like me, with no aeronautic experience, could picture themselves being flung headfirst into the stratosphere by something resembling a giant jock strap.

This, of course, would never happen.

At least not in the U.S.

Thanks to the FAA, we can rest assured that any flight heading into the cosmos will first have to meet the same rigorous federal safety standards set by The Jetsons 50 years ago. Knowing this, spaceflight entrepreneurs have spared no expense in designing flight packages cool enough to justify the $98,000 per-person price tag, which includes a disposable flight suit and wacky souvenir vomit bag that reads: Sack launch. Continue reading Your space adventure awaits! And mine will just have to keep waiting

Cold snap puts freeze on taking out trash in your underwear

Trash run It’s not often that it gets really cold here along the Oregon coast. And by REALLY COLD, I mean cold enough to warrant using an ice scraper. Now, to someone from Michigan or Maine — where an ice scraper is a six-ton piece of diesel-driven steel with studded tires and a nine-foot scoop — scraping down my windshield with a four-inch piece of beveled plastic that has a smiley snowman on the handle wouldn’t exactly be called a winter crisis (On the East Coast, this is what is commonly known as “spring.”)

However, for us coastal Oregonians, who are kept reasonably warm by jet streams that push cold air to the north and allow naturally abundant hot air to make its way up from California, pulling out the ice scraper means it’s time to revisit some cold-weather-safety procedures. Continue reading Cold snap puts freeze on taking out trash in your underwear

Seriously, remember to love each other like Rufus Valentine

Rufus Valentine hands As I’ve mentioned before, I lived in the South for 10 years, with six of those years spent in the suburbs of Atlanta. In the early 1990s, I was a restaurant manager operating in one of Georgia’s largest shopping malls — three stories of glass, sale banners and merchant space spanning six football fields’ worth of mall space.

As you can imagine, I’ve dealt with as many personalities as there are seats in a 280-capacity dining room. The fact that Rufus Valentine dug such a deep groove in my memory should tell you a little something about the man’s character.

I’d like to tell you more.

The first time I saw Rufus Valentine was during the Braves’ heyday in February of 1992, when all of Atlanta was anticipating the spring — and a run at the World Series. Essentially, you could be completely naked; but as long as you had a Braves cap on you were considered properly attired by most Atlantans. Continue reading Seriously, remember to love each other like Rufus Valentine

Looking for excitement? Try feeding your arm to a catfish

Yes, that's me — the one INSIDE the catfish.
Yes, that’s me — the one INSIDE the catfish.
After living in the Deep South for 10 years, I occasionally feel a strong urge to return. When that happens, I just remind myself that as beautiful and historic and hospitable as the South is, it contains people who use themselves as bait for catfish that are roughly the size of an Airstream travel trailer. Generally speaking, these people are not intoxicated or medicated. Nor is there any evidence to support that they are the victims of mind-controlling aliens who have simply grown bored waiting for the invasion.

No. These folks WANT to hunt catfish by sticking their bare hands into underwater burrows, knowing full well it could be the hiding place of a cottonmouth, snapping turtle, or Dick Cheney. Continue reading Looking for excitement? Try feeding your arm to a catfish