"Gingerbread Man Armpits and Headless Mannequin Boobage"

(Written by ChristopherK2 11/27/12.)

When a man goes shopping with his lady for clothes for her, he's mindful of several rules. For example, he instantly, reflexively, and loudly says "NO!!!" to any inquiry as to whether an item makes her butt look fat. He's also supposed to frequently compliment her exquisite tastes, and otherwise just generally shut the heck up.

So, the man often has little to actually DO during these trips, especially when she takes 15 or so items to the Ladies' Dressing Room.

I completed such an excursion yesterday with Pamela and it was successful in the sense that she bought a bunch of stuff that she seemed happy with (so far!), and my butt wasn't terribly flat from all of the sitting.

And the sitting is a part of the process most men intensely dislike. We like to DO things and idly sitting (as opposed to *actively* sitting like when watching football on TV) does NOT qualify . So we mostly sit while aimlessly glancing at random crap (NOT other women, of course), thinking about upcoming sporting events, picking our nose, etc.

So, as I'm sitting while Pamela's trying on stuff, I notice two things about Penney's Ladies' Wear section: they use *headless* mannequins; and they have large seasonal signs hanging from the ceiling featuring Xmas themes, notably, Gingerbread Men.

As to the Headless Mannequins, I had a few thoughts. The first being, WHY headless??? The only reason I could see was that they could make them taller without offending more of the Munchkin Women. Another thought involved one lady mannequin with a VERY see-through blouse. Is a Guy allowed to get even mildly aroused by Headless Lady Mannequin Boobage??? How close can he move to it without violating some Puritanical societal rule that leads to being labeled a perv?

Then I noticed that the seasonal signs hanging down all had five or so little light bulbs twinkling away. The Xmas tree ones, for example, had the twinkling lights where you'd expect tree ornaments to be. Kinda cute. But the Gingerbread Man had one at one of his armpits. WTF??? I had never devoted a thought to Gingerbread Man Armpits before. Does one of Penney's maintenance guys have to spray them every day with Mennen for Gingerbread Men? Are they hairy or furry or... hmmm... nude?

But I suppose it could've been worse... they could've put a light bulb at his crotch to twinkle the day away. But I guess that would've raised WAY too many questions. Well, at least for the Guy sitting and waiting for his Lady to *finally* make up her mind about whether she looks better in the Chartreuse & Brown top or the Strawberry Blend one.

"The Top 10 Things I'm Thankful For"

(Written 11/22/12 by ChristopherK2.)

10. A wonderful childhood being raised in scenic Hagerstown, especially during the idyllic 1950s.

 9. A great family, especially Mom and my big brother, David.

 8. A splendid education, especially the schools in Hagerstown and the University of Delaware.

 7. My fraternity, Pi Kappa Alpha, which has added so much to my life.

 6. My many friends/brothers I've been lucky to have thru my fraternity, especially Brad and Ervil.

 5. The fun and learning experiences of my many hobbies over the years, especially ballroom dancing and photography.

 4. The many friendships I've made in real life thru my connection to AOL.

 3. The enjoyment of the many sports I've been involved with, especially golf, basketball, and football.

 2. The many smaller things throughout my life, such as computers, interesting jobs, being tall and thin, and so many other good friends and acquaintances.

And the Number 1 Thing I'm Thankful for is...

1. The presence in my life of my beloved fiancée, Pamela...

"Okay, So I Was WRONG About Farts!"

(Written 11/10/12 by ChristopherK2.)

Yeah, I occasionally give friends sound advice about virtually EVERYTHING. And I *thought* I was a world-class expert about Farts. But apparently NOT.

The particular issue was Backed Up Farts. As some of you know, I sometimes sleep in my recliner chair owing to a 40+ year battle with a hiatal hernia. If I feel even slightly too full as bedtime approaches, sitting in the chair is far less likely to cause further damage than laying in a bed.

And I had noticed over the years that sleeping in the chair inevitably led to a rather large amount of farting shortly after waking. My working theory was that sitting tended to just kinda stop up things, as contrasted with what I *assumed* was the normal slow "passing of gas" throughout a night spent in bed.  I recently so advised a friend who's going thru a temporary forced sitting rather than laying rather than laying situation to be aware of the dreaded Backed Up Farts.

I thought only later that I really should check the Science of Farts before passing on my advice based purely on personal experience. So, I did my usual super-scientific research and found that <gasp> I was totally WRONG. I was mortified (but not enough to update my friend... well, unless she happens to read this). I glommed onto a site via Google that seemed purely scientific and on point ("Facts on Farts" at www.heptune.com/farts.html).

It is the end-all-and-be-all of All Things Farts. It has fascinating sections on "What is fart gas made of?," "Why are stinky farts generally warmer and quieter than regular farts?," and my fav, "Where do farts go when you hold them in?"

But I digress... The answer to my question was in the section on "Do ALL people fart in their sleep?" The complete answer is, "All people (don't) fart in their sleep. I think mainly those who refuse to fart when they're awake do so as they're dozing off. For other [normal] people, toilet training takes such a strong hold that they let nothing pass their sphincters in sleep. For these people, the gas accumulates in the night and they vent it upon awakening."

So, near as I can tell, when I sleep in my bed, I apparently fart uncontrollably as I fall asleep and thus there is nothing left for early a.m. Backed Up Farts. (I'll be sure to soon ask Pamela to verify my Bedtime Farting Schedule.) But when I sleep in my recliner chair, I follow the normal routine (perhaps I subconsciously don't want to slowly destroy the chair's fabric over time with close-up, direct Bedtime Farting), so I hold the farts in til I awaken.

"Life is Good! Let's Dance!"

(Written 7/10/12 by ChristopherK2)

 

Just imagine getting paid to spend your life traveling around the world dancing with the local people (and one oddly-coordinated seal), especially if you're an absolutely terrible dancer who usually looks like you're doing the Funky Chicken dead drunk.

 

I stumbled into the story of Matt Harding on, strangely enough, my fav astrophysics site.  Matt describes himself as a "35-year-old deadbeat."  He's been lucky enough to pull this off for almost 10 years now, by finding sponsors who use the video footage in tv commercials and such.  He's also a YouTube sensation with one of his videos reaching more than 40 million views.

 

His latest video is at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pwe-pA6TaZk.  He also has his own YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/mattharding2718?feature=results_main.  There you can find many other similar videos.

 

His story is at http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/about, and his FAQ are at http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/about/faq. 

 

A fair warning about that first video.  You're going to SMILE a lot, you WILL clap your hands, and you'll inevitably WANT to get up out of your chair and DANCE the Funky Chicken and other dances along with Matt and his crowds...

 

So, let go of your inhibitions!  Smile!  Clap!  And DANCE!  Life is Good!

Below are side-by-side pics of me (age 50) and my maternal uncle Mike (~age 22).  Eerie, isn't it?  He was Mom's little (6'3", maybe 150 lbs.) brother.  He was killed in WWII during the invasion of Normandy.  I wrote this prayer poem many years ago in honor of Mike, and have posted it regularly ever since on Memorial Day.

"Today, I Remember"

    To the soldiers who, like my Uncle Mike, gave their lives for our country:

          Too often I forget about you, but today, I remember.
          My thoughts are crowded with images of the Hell you confronted.
          You fought those demons, and I am awed by the bravery you summoned.
          Your blood was spilled in countless places, all now hallowed grounds.
          You sacrificed yourself for us, and I am humbled by your deeds.
          You left behind friends and family, who must be so very proud.
          But there is a hole in their lives that cannot be filled.
          No mere words can properly convey the feelings that I have, now.
          But, from a grateful citizen, thank you.
          May your souls rest in eternal peace.
          And I pray that there is a special place in Heaven reserved for you.

          And to my Uncle Mike, this much more:

          Your life and death have touched so many, in ways that are still being tallied.
          I pray that you, Grandma, Granddad, Helen, Hilda, Celia,
            Dad, Mom, and David are together again.
          The rest of us will join you, soon enough.
          And then our family can be whole, again.

          You died in a lonely battlefield in France, surrounded by unimaginable horror.
          You were so alone then... how did you find the courage?
          And how do I find it?  Is it within me?
          You are so much a part of me, and I can never forget you.
          For every time I look in the mirror, I also see you.

          But today is a special day.
          I honor the memory of you with this writing.
          I know that it is small, compared to the sacrifice that you made.
          But, from a grateful citizen, thank you.
          And from your nephew, thank you for what you gave me.
          May your soul rest in eternal peace.

          By Christopher

          Copyright 5/26/97, 5/30/99, 5/29/00, 5/28/01, 5/30/05, 5/29/06, 5/28/07, 5/28/12

 

 

"My Top 10 Thoughts on Turning Age 65"

(Written 3/23/12 by ChristopherK2)

 

10. "Dang, I'm OLD, officially."

 

9.  "I thought my complexion would clear up by now."  

 

8.  "I really did NOT need for my feet to get *bigger*."

 

7.  "I dimly recall that my hair was once ALL black."

 

6.  "Women under age 40 now look like jail bait." 

 

5.  "I miss being able to slam dunk a basketball with authority.  But being a good ballroom dancer/gardener/photographer isn't half bad."

 

4.  "So many people I've known have died... I'm beginning to hate funerals.  I need some *younger* friends." 

 

3.  "I remember my wedding and honeymoon almost 31 years ago with great clarity.  Last week, however, is mostly a blur."

 

2.  "Monday I felt like I was 112.  Yesterday it seemed like I was 47.  Today's not looking all that good." 

 

And My Number 1 Thought on Turning Age 65 is...

 

1.  "I had a really funny one, but I forgot it.  Darn Senior Moments..."

"My Weirdness Detector Blows a Fuse"

(Written 2/28/12 by ChristopherK2)

 

I've long had a Weirdness Detector somewhere deep within my brain.   It explains my love of "Stupid Human Tricks" and "Dumb Criminals" articles and videos.   And every now and then it senses a "change in The Force," so to speak.   Last night The Detector sent me such an alert and today it became obvious why as I read the news on the AOL Welcome window.

The weirdness began last night while I was sleepily watching the Daytona 500 stock car race.   I normally find packs of cars driving at high speeds in circles quite conducive to sleep.   I was about 90% on the way to dreamland when suddenly a huge fireball exploded on the tv screen.   I *love* all things explosion-related, so I almost jumped out of my recliner in quickly ramming up to full attention.

And there it was in all its glory... a lone stock car far behind the pack blasting along at nearly 200 mph had suddenly hung a dead right to pick the only spot on the track able to cause a major catastrophe... a "jet dryer" (a very large truck equipped with a hang-on jet engine to blow dry the track) trudging along at about 1 mph and loaded with 200 gallons of volatile jet kerosene!   KABOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

It was immediately obvious that no one had been seriously injured, so I was free to enjoy the fireball stuff.   And a huge fireball on a racetrack is clearly weird enough to set off my inner detector.

But my brain was also sending a signal that there was something else also happening.   And that wouldn't become clear until I started reading AOL's Welcome window news this morning.   It seems that we're now officially going thru a period of Universal Weirdness, which have occurred randomly but repeatedly over the years.

My Weirdness Detector began screeching when I saw the headline: "Angelina Jolie's Leg has over 15,000 Fans (on Twitter)."   Now THAT is weird!   I thought everyone KNEW that even though she's one of the most beautiful women on the planet, she has SKINNY legs.  But apparently her appearance at the Oscars has led to many people finally figuring that out.

I quickly noticed many other headlines about seriously Weird Stuff: "Man Gets 3 Years for Punching Bunnies;" (WHAT?) "Alien Caught on Google Street View;" (didn't I just write about Street View the other day???) "Plane Drops Poop On New York Couple;" (ruined THAT picnic) "Waiter Spills Beer on German Chancellor;" (the 99% getting even with the 1%?) and "Hank the Cat Runs for Office in Virginia;" (a cat??? no dogs available???).

Laughing so hard by now that I could barely control the mouse, I moved on to TMZ.   And I wasn't disappointed.   It started off with "Angelina Jolie's Legs the Morning After."   Geesh, the woman has SKINNY, ugly legs, people... deal with it!   My Weirdness Detector's meter then suddenly shot up at "Rodney King-No Jail After 2nd DUI Arrest."   Yes, THAT Rodney King was back in the news, his pic staring up at me from the pages of TMZ.   How many years has it been???   Very strange...

By this point, I was almost afraid to press on to the CNN site for fear of a heart-attack-by-excessive-laughter story of truly epic proportions.   But there it was: "Doggie DNA used in Poop Crackdown"!!!   I kid you not, my loyal fans, an apartment complex in Ohio is cracking down on doggie dooty offenders by sending samples off to a lab for DNA matching to the residents' dogs and charging folks $200 a poop... er... pop.

But even a delightful Dog Dooty story didn't send me into paralyzing spasms of laughter.   Why not???   Well, I think it's because my Weirdness Detector was also letting me know that there's a LOT more weirdness to come over the next few days.   So, I'll have to restrain myself mightily.   I wouldn't want my obit to read, "He died from reading a Dumbest Criminals e-mail."

"Did Facebook Kill Love Letters?"

(Written 2/13/12 by ChristopherK2 for the MDers Over 35 Blog)

 

That's the title of an article I read the other day.  I think both that it's too specific and that it's wide of the mark.

 

I found out after my grandparents died that they were collectors of old documents.  Most were from the Civil War era and earlier and included old money, deeds, canceled checks, promissory notes, and other banking documents.

 

But nestled among them was the only one I kept.  It's a Valentine's Day card dated February 14, 1854.  The envelope is of high-quality paper heavily-embossed to make it look like lace.  The face page of the card inside is almost sheer in spots, also heavily-embossed.  It has delicate raised panels with roses affixed in the corners and hearts within garlands in the middle surrounding a larger gilt-edged panel in the center.  That panel contains a nice printed poem about friendship. 

 

The inside of the card includes what is apparently an original poem, written in an elegant script, as follows (near as I can tell):

 

     To One Absent

 

I think of thee at morning's breaks

refreshing from the night dark sea

When life and light and joy awaken

I think of thee...

 

Overall, it's a stunningly beautiful card and envelope, which would surely melt any lady's heart.

 

In my view, the difference between then and now isn't the fault of social media, but just changes in style over time.  I have written some love letters, but geesh, who has the time to do a card like that one from scratch?  And where would you even find paper of that quality or the panels?

 

I suppose I could do all of that but perhaps I'm just unwilling to take the time?  Maybe I just "settle" for penning a quick romantic comment inside of a nice card from Hallmark along with some pretty flowers and/or chocolates. And maybe I don't do any more than that because women today don't demand (or reward) it.

 

But at least I don't lower my standards to the modern texting equivalent of "Happy V-Day.  Luv U."  

"90-Day Warranty on Toilet Seats???"

(Written 1/21/12 by ChristopherK2)

 

I recently went to Lowe's to exchange a busted toilet.  I was already in a foul mood because it had only lasted EIGHT months. 

 

I bought it because it was the right shape (round), color (white), and style (Arts & Crafts).  I paid scant attention to who made it or where it was made because, after all, I was buying it at Lowe's.

 

Those who know me know I'm hardly of "toilet seat busting" size.  But I apparently did a strict no-no in the modern buyer-beware-it's-made-in-China retail world.  I dared to actually SIT on the seat cover while putting on/taking off my shoes and socks.  I know... DUMB.  <cough>  I'm guessing that led to excessive torquing of the "metal" hinges (because the little support thingies between the seat and cover were too wimpy and too few), which snapped.  And by "metal," I now understand that to mean, "some gray semi-metal looking stuff that's probably a mix of cheap plastic and floor-sweepings."

 

So, I dutifully went to the Return Desk at Lowe's and showed the Return Gal the busted seat and my receipt.  She informed me that it's "store policy" that toilet seats are guaranteed for ONLY 90 days.  WHAT??? 

 

She also said they didn't accept "used" toilet seats, and I'd have to get rid of it myself.  Well, harumph!  I had even cleaned all of the crud off of it!

 

I spent most of my adult career as a corporate attorney and part of it in high-end professional sales.  So, I had a LOT of training and experience in negotiating, and I wasn't about to let that "store policy" stand in my way.

 

I looked around and noticed that the returns desk was right beside the main entrance.  Ah HA!  I then waited for a potential customer to enter and raised my voice considerably to inform the Return Gal that their policy was UNacceptable and that I wished to speak to a "manager."  I may have mentioned the THOUSANDS of dollars I've spent at their store remodeling my house.

 

She made a brief phone call, and informed me that they would (with graciousness implied) "allow" me to exchange mine for another one of the same model.  WHAT???  I said, "Do you mean you want me to accept another 90-day toilet seat???"  <voice rising more, as I got on a roll>  "I think toilet seats ought to LAST 20 YEARS, NOT just 90 days!  Seriously, do you want me showing up here EVERY 89 DAYS to swap my then conveniently-broken one for another piece of made-in-China CRAP???" 

 

The poor gal decided to dump me on the manager of the toilet seat department, which is what I wanted all along... a face-to-face meeting with a guy who doesn't care.

 

The Toilet Seat Guy was yammering with another customer when I arrived, so I checked out the other available toilet seats.  When he finally got around to me, I repeated everything (in a quiet voice because no one else was around).  I ended with showing him the Kohler seat I wanted, which had a *1-year* warranty printed on the box.

 

He started to waver a bit, so I threw in a rant about having to dispose of the old one MYSELF and showed him how sparkling clean it was.  I said something about the unfairness of that policy given that they accept those high-tech light bulbs with the poisonous mercury or something inside of them.  Mercury yes, toilet seat crud no?  

 

So, he caved.  He gave me a "store credit" for the full price of the old seat, and off I went with my fancy new toilet seat.  It's not my fav Arts & Crafts style, BUT it does have a really cool "quiet close" feature.  Kudos to whomever invented that!

 

The moral here I think is that loudly feigning outrage almost always pays off with stores.

 

When I got home, the first thing I did was, of course, to calendar one year ahead to bust my new toilet seat and return it.  HA!  And I now sit on the edge of the bathtub to do my shoes and socks, to avoid offending the Toilet Seat Gods.

Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" Speech

(Delivered from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963.)

...Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.  We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. ...

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream.  It is a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed:  "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. ...

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers...

I have a dream that one day... the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope.  This is the faith that I go back to the South with. ...  With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.  With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together...  to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day...

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true.  So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.  Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.  Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.  Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. ...

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of that old Negro spiritual, "Free at last!  Free at last!  Thank God almighty, we are free at last."

Rev. Martin Luther King

"Prancer--A Story... and More"

(Posted 1/3/12, but written many years ago...)

I'm fondly gazing at a pic of a photograph I took a couple of years ago. It appears to be nothing special--just a nice landspace shot.  The dull browns, grays and greens suggest it's early winter... a somber, blue-gray sky... looking down a gentle hill thru leafless trees, past an ugly street lamp... some scattered hedges at the bottom... beyond, a sandbox with a mother and her small boy... here and there a picnic table or a swing set.  A nice park perhaps?

Actually, it's from a series of photographs of the City Park in Hagerstown, Maryland, where I grew up.  The hill is steeper than it appears--a drawback of photography.  And when I was a small boy, there was an entire "hedge garden" of which there are now only those remnants.

And as with each of those photographs, there is a story.

Some of you know a little about Prancer, for whom my screen name is an honorific.  She was a Toy Manchester dog, given to my brother and me by Mom shortly after Dad's death at my age 6.  She lived until I was in college.  Seven pounds of love and motion.  A magnificent pet, who I loved immensely.

I was Prancer's main "walker."  (My brother suffered from polio when young, and really couldn't keep up with her for very long.)  I don't think it was until after puberty that I could actually run faster than Prancer.  Those little legs sure could churn FAST!  LOL

And one of my favorite places to take Prancer on a "walk" was the City Park.  Thus the hill and the story, the photograph and pic, and now, this--to try to capture a memory that is still so vivid after all these years.

Ed. Note: I moved back to Hagerstown a few years ago, to be back home after so many years away. A couple of years ago, I moved to just a short piece from the house in which I was raised.  Now I'm a brief walk away from the City Park.  So I (and sometimes Pamela) walk by that hill regularly. And after all these years, I still always stop there... and pause a few moments to remember... 

This Cracked Me Up...

Maybe it's a Guy Thing,  but this video cracked me up...

Mother of all Hot Wheels Tracks