[Note: If your name is Diana Dupree, do NOT read this!]
Since the introduction of Mr. Knowitall, who is our resident historian, economist, food critic, movie reviewer, foreign affairs consultant, science correspondent, consumer products expert and vending machine repairman (not necessarily in that order), many of you have written in seeking advice about holiday gift-giving.
Due to the enormous volume of email we received, they will be answered through a lottery-style process — which means that, until he wins the lottery, Mr. Knowitall will continue to answer your questions.
Being a journalist, I am often privy to world-shaking news of scientific or technological breakthroughs hours before members of the general public (who aren’t on Facebook).
The glow-in-the-dark toilet seat, shoes with their own umbrellas attached, eatable bread gloves… yeah, I heard it hear first.
However, this morning I received an email about a fusion of science and technology that could help millions of people rest a little easier each night; at least until they’re awakened by their own drool:
Bacon-scented pillowcases.
You read it right. Thanks to a couple of guys named Justin and Dave, we can now climb into bed and lay our heads upon a pillowy-soft pile of hickory-smoked bacon — except without all the grease stains. As they told me, “The future of sleep is here, and it smells like cured pork.” Continue reading Because who doesn’t sleep better on a pillow of bacon?
Welcome to this week’s edition of Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, when I take the writing insights gained from 16 years as a columnist and, much like the first remnants of fruitcake to arrive this holiday season, offer slices to people despite their objections and threats of physical harm.
It’s a feature Writers Digest has called, “…Tips every writer should know if they want to be successful. But not necessarily as a writer…”
And what Oprah’s Book Club recently heralded as “…An important reminder as to why we have a book club…”
But enough accolades!
I’m going to open this week’s NWOW with a simple truth:
Step one to being a writer:Write!
That advice seems pretty straight forward. The kind of obvious straight forwardness that carries you with complete confidence toe-first into a brick. Like most advice we’re given, the wisdom behind it is simple; the problem comes in the execution. Continue reading Forget about that image of Bruce Jenner and start writing
Apparently, G.I. Joe and Steve Austin use their acute eyesight for more than just scoping out the bad guys. The act of “playing” is a crucial part of how a child establishes self image and a basic understanding of the world. I know this because, as a progressive father of today, I have read extensively about this very topic — which is why I progressively freaked out when I found my son playing in the shower with a Barbie doll.
It wasn’t the fact that he was playing with a doll that bothered me, it was the fact that it was still completely intact — something I don’t expect from a child who routinely disassembles my office chair and a good portion of my desk in less than four minutes using nothing but a three-piece “Bob the Builder” tool kit.
According to the Under-Tec Corporation in Pueblo, Colo., every day there are millions of people around the world who find themselves trapped in elevators, small cars and copy rooms with people who are unable to meet gas emission standards. This condition, known in medical terms as malodorous flatus (a Latin term meaning “The dog did it”) has been a major focus for Under-Tec, an undergarment development company that, according to its website, was the first to introduce “A new generation of protective underwear for flatulence” called Under-Ease.
Why do I bring this up?
Not for the reason you might think.
Being a journalist, I sometimes rely on “sources” to provide me with “tips” for “breaking” news. These tips come in may forms, including anonymous voicemails, notes left on my windshield or, like this morning, a newspaper clipping taped to my monitor with the words:
You should look into this. I mean it.
— AnnonimAnonnym Your Editor
[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our newsroom…]
As I’m sure you can imagine, being a newspaper columnist I am literally inundated each day with hundreds of emails. I then go through these messages one by one and, after deleting all the male enhancement offers, take time to respond to the occasional email sent by an actual reader. Oftentimes these emails are in response to a specific column that resonated with them, made them laugh or gave them a different persepctive. Some will even include the column in their email, along with a personal note, such as:
Welcome to a special post-Thanksgiving edition of Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing! What makes this week’s NWOW special? It’s the only day of the year I can refer to my writing tips as “giblets of wisdom” without sounding really weird. The same goes for other Thanksgiving-themed writing idioms, such as “stuffing the bird,” “mixing my gravy” and “rinsing the gizzard.”
Ok, you’re right. Those last three still sound weird.
For those of you who may be visiting for the first time (assuming you’re still reading), my weekly NWOW is when I gather the insights gained from 16 years as a newspaper columnist and offer them like the neatly-wrapped innards of a holiday turkey; obviously important enough to include but something no one really wants to think about. Continue reading What can you do with all those literary leftovers?
There are many advantages to shopping with Bigfoot. Keeping a low profile is not one of them.There are times when, as a columnist, I am faced with the difficult decision of choosing between two equally important topics in order to meet my deadline.
Then there are times like this when, thanks to years of experience and accidentally consuming a quadruple espresso meant for the person next to me at Starbuck’s, I realize both topics can be combined into a single, well-structured piece of journalism.
Which is why, today, we will be talking about how to prepare for holiday shopping with the help of Bigfoot.
As some of you may have heard, a hiker in Utah posted video of what appeared to be Bigfoot rummaging through the brush.
In addition, some of you may have heard about Thanksgiving.
Over the weekend, I was the victim of an unprovoked and extremely frightening turkey attack. In my defense, there were five of them (technically known as a “gang” of turkeys) involved in the assault, which started because of my proximity to a preening female turkey, which had apparently snubbed her suitors in favor of me.
Possibly because she was confused by my chicken legs.
Whatever the reason, the male turkeys didn’t take well to this and decided the best way to handle the situation was to join forces and, one by one, take turns flapping their giant wings at my [censored]. Before I knew it, I was being circled by an agitated turkey gang and wishing my editor had assigned me to something less dangerous, like covering a Blind Axe Throwers convention. Continue reading Always call for back-up when talking turkey
(Today, I’m at bat over at Long Awkward Pause! Mostly because Chris really hates it when we play baseball in the office…)
Many men won’t admit to being afraid of female holiday shoppers. The others are still alive.
It’s an American tradition: Kicking off the holiday shopping season by spending the morning after Thanksgiving standing in line at your favorite department store, shivering in the pre-dawn hours, determined to be among the first to get through the doors before your holiday dinner bowel movement hits. It’s a calculated risk, but one we are willing to take in order to make our loved ones’ holiday dreams come true, even if it means wearing Depends Undergarments and knocking fellow shoppers unconscious with a Spongebob Squarepants beach chair.
Admittedly, the last time I participated in the madness of holiday shopping was several years ago as an observer, which is a little like trying to be an “observer” while standing in a mosh pit. One minute I was leaning on a rack of scarves; the next minute I was being used as a battering ram by two large women trying to knock over an electric cart that was blocking the video game aisle.
The women’s names were “Marge” and “Judy.” I know this because, each time before swinging me head first, I would hear the following exchange:
“Ready, Marge!”
“You bet your sweet ASS, Judy!”
After three tries the cart was cleared and I was tossed — discarded, really — onto a table of wool sweaters, where I remained in a fetal position until the three-hour sale ended… (Read more at LAP!)
[Note: If your name is Diana Dupree, do NOT read this!]
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