Baby it’s cold outside!

It’s been cold and miserable across the country for weeks now. Since before Christmas, the country has been plunged into the deep-freeze, with even the southern-most regions, like Florida, seeing snow and frigid temperatures.

This brings into play previously undiscovered differences in people’s relationships. There have always been “odd couple” pairings – a saver involved with a spender, a slob living with a neat-freak or a sauce versus a rub (oops, sorry – that’s barbeque, watched “Pitmasters” last night)

But the cold weather brings out another division in personalities – the rotisserie versus the snowballer. This is in reference to how people sleep….more specifically, how they roll over in bed.

A rotisserie sleeper changes their position in bed by flicking the covers upward and executing a quick roll that involves raising up on heels and elbows to flip over while remaining in virtually the same real estate. They shift from back to side in a smooth maneuver without affecting their longitude or latitude on the bed surface. The blankets flutter back down, almost undisturbed. They are good people.

On the other hand (the not so good hand – LOL) there is the snowballer. The snowball sleeper rolls in the manner of a steamroller, collecting sheets, blankets, comforters, duvets and possibly pets as they hurtle themselves across the landscape of the sleeping area.

Woe be to anyone sharing the bed with a snowballer.

You will be left shivering in this cold spell, as all of the linens designed to keep you warm are now wrapped around the snowballer like a burrito shell.

This can lead to arguments and accusations, none of which will do your relationship any good.

Is there a solution? Why yes, there is.

If you sleep with a snowballer, be forgiving. They are usually unaware of this tragic personality flaw and will deny it, even as they struggle to unswaddle themselves from their shroud. “I don’t know how all of the sheets, blankets and the cat ended up wrapped around me! Are you sure you didn’t do this to me?”

Your best bet is a good defensive move. Remember, they know not what they do, so when you are ready to go to sleep, lean over and kiss them goodnight.

Butt! (And I do mean butt) as you roll back over to your side of the bed, grab the edge of the covers and shove them firmly under your posterior. Tuck those suckers in tight. Anchor them with all your might. Otherwise, you’re going to get fat.

That’s right. I believe that many people gain weight once they’re in a relationship for a while, not because they let themselves go, but because they’re just trying to stay warm. Those of us who’ve packed on a few pounds aren’t lazy or overeaters, we’re just trying to insulate – grow our own body-blanket.

Help save your relationship. If you’re a rotisserie sleeping with a snowballer – learn to butt-tuck. Or do this:

These are NOT gifts you’d want to give your children – but they are pretty funny!

LEGO Concentration Camp

(This is not a real LEGO toy. It was featured in an art exhibit at an independent art space in Warsaw, Poland called RASTER)

Photos credit

My Little Pony Glue Factory
Click to enlarge image

Peeping Tommy Night Vision Goggles
Click to enlarge image

Shiite Pet
Click to enlarge image

Pole Dancer Doll
Click to enlarge image

Other highly inappropriate toys can be seen here

Wishing all of you a safe and happy holiday season!

As God is my witness I thought turkeys could fly

Thanksgiving is just a couple of days away. Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!

Every year about this time I remember one of the funniest episodes of any television show in history. Of course, I am referring to the WKRP in Cincinnati Turkey Drop. If you’ve never seen it, watch the clip online.

It’s a helicopter, and it’s coming this way. It’s flying something behind it, I can’t quite make it out, it’s a large banner and it says, uh – Happy… Thaaaaanksss… giving! … From … W … K … R… P!! No parachutes yet. Can’t be skydivers… I can’t tell just yet what they are, but – Oh my God, Johnny, they’re turkeys!! Johnny, can you get this? Oh, they’re plunging to the earth right in front of our eyes! One just went through the windshield of a parked car! Oh, the humanity! The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement! Not since the Hindenburg tragedy has there been anything like this! – Les Nessman

Or maybe they can….(Kids, don’t try this at home)

The turkey shot out of the oven,
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table,
and partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner,
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.

It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
where there’d never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
it smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn’t a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.

I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I’d never again stuff a turkey,
with popcorn that hadn’t been popped.

Warm Thanksgiving Wishes to All!

The Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are the 2009 winners:

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus (n.): A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer, right?

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

And the winners are:

1. Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.

3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.

6. Negligent, adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.

7. Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle, n. A humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13. Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.

14. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent, n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Cat’s Diary

Day 683 of my captivity.
-My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

-They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the floor.

-Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. Had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. The audacity!

-There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

-Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

-I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously mentally challenged!

-The bird has to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. The captives have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe……. for now….

Dog’s Diary

8:00 am: Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am: A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am: A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am: Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm: Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm: Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm: Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm: Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm: Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm: Wow! Watched TV with my master! Heavenly!
11:00 pm: Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Please don’t click away. That’s your first instinct, I know.

I understand.

It’s uncomfortable, even painful, to read a tribute to someone who died on September 11, 2001.

This post is not a religious or political statement. It is a testament to our humanity, to show respect for the life of a fellow human being. A person who felt love…and laughter…and pain. Life is fleeting for all of us. Please…take a moment to honor this one.

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

~~~~~~~~~~~

If you would like to write a tribute, please visit the 2996 Project website.

I Remember
John F. Swaine
World Trade Center.

John Swaine sounds like a good man. I live in a small town in the Midwest, it’s hard for me to imagine going to a skyscraper to work every day. But he did, and was a hard working, dependable man, who wanted to do the best for his family. From the comments I read at guest books in his honor, he was a kind and caring man, and loving father. He left behind a wife and three daughters. My heart goes out to them for their loss.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

From the NY Times
John Swaine was the consummate Wall Street bond trader: “Aggressive and full of boundless energy,” said his brother-in-law, Richard McGuire. He worked at Cantor Fitzgerald for about 10 years.
“He really loved his work,” Mr. McGuire said. “He worked hard and played hard.”
But he wanted to share the wealth. He helped his brother-in-law, John Reo, get a job at Cantor, trading bonds. They worked and died together on the 104th floor.
Mr. Swaine, 37, of Larchmont, N.Y., may have loved the Street but he did not fall for the trappings. He preferred to help his extended family, and to spend money on his wife of 13 years, Suzanne, and three daughters.
“He rarely spent any money on himself,” Mr. McGuire said. “He provided his family with a beautiful home. But he was unassuming. He didn’t have fancy cars or suits. He took the subway from the train every day. Everything he did, he did it for his family.”

From Wall of Americans
John F. Swaine and John A. Reo were brothers-in-law and bond traders. Swaine, 36, of Larchmont, N.Y., was married to the sister of Reo, 28, a University of Notre Dame graduate. Both worked at Cantor Fitzgerald Securities on the 104th floor of the trade center. “We lost our son and our son-in-law together,” Reo’s mother, Judith, said softly. “We’re in the process now of planning two funerals. It’s unreal.” Swaine was the father of three girls–Sarah, 11; Emily, 9; and Hanna, 5. He had worked at Cantor Fitzgerald for more than 10 years, Judith Reo said. Her son, however, had started at the firm in May. John Reo recently had moved to Larchmont and was staying with his sister, Suzanne, and Swaine. Larchmont was especially hard hit by the attacks, Judith Reo said. “The whole community has so many losses that it’s incredible,” she said. “They’re all young men, and a lot of the families are without dads today.”

From his hometown newspaper
(September 11, 2004) A plaque, a stone, a list, a poem – and people gathered to remember those lost three years ago in the attack on the World Trade Center. That’s how Larchmont and Mamaroneck officials, police, firefighters, scouts, families and friends commemorated the events on Saturday morning at Memorial Park in the Town of Mamaroneck.
The group assembled first for a brief ceremony at what’s come to be known as “Girl Scout Rock” in the little garden near the train station parking lot, where scouts have placed a memorial plaque. The most solemn moment was a recitation by Town Supervisor Valerie O’Keeffe of names of local residents who died at the twin towers three years ago:

• Helen Belilovsky
• John Howard Boulton
• Douglas G. Karpiloff
• Frank J. Koestner
• Maurice Patrick Kelly
• Helen Crossin-Kittle  Patricia Helen Kittle
• Edward H. Luckett II
• John Thomas McErlean Jr.
• Christopher Orgielewicz
• John Reo
• John F. Swaine

The assembly then reconvened across the street for the unveiling of a memorial stone, under a commemorative tree planted last year by FIND (Friends in Need), the Larchmont-based organization formed to help the local families impacted by the disaster.
“September 11, 2001 it’s not just a date, it’s a part of us, just as our loved ones are,” Bob Meglio, one of the founders of FIND, told the gathering. Other speakers echoed his words. “We remember, we bear witness across Judaism, across Christianity, across even Islam and Hinduism, we remember. so those who have fallen are not lost,” said Reverend Bill Crawford of Larchmont Avenue Church.
And how do we remember? We mark with a stone, and say a prayer that has no mention of death, but only an appreciation for life, said Rabbi Jeffrey Sirkman of Larchmont Temple explaining the Jewish custom.
And so, Carolyn Koestner and Eugene Belilovsky, who each lost a parent on 9/11, helped unveil the stone marker under the dogwood tree that has taken root since last year at edge of the field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Calling All Angels
by Jane Siberry
A man is placed upon the steps, a baby cries
And high above the church bells start to ring
And as the heaviness the body
Oh the heaviness settles in
Somewhere you can hear a mother sing

Then it’s one foot then the other
As you step out onto the road
How much weight? How much weight?
Then it’s how long? And how far?
And how many times before it’s too late?

Calling all angels
Calling all angels
Walk me through this one
Don’t leave me alone
Calling all angels
Calling all angels
We’re cryin’ and we’re hurtin’
And we’re not sure why…

And every day you gaze upon the sunset
With such love and intensity
Why it’s…it’s almost as if
If you could only crack the code
Then you’d finally understand what this all means
But if you could…do you think you would
Trade it in
All the pain and suffering?
Ah, but then you’d miss
The beauty of the light upon this earth
And the sweetness of the leaving

Calling all angels
Calling all angels
Walk me through this one
Don’t leave me alone

Callin’ all angels
Callin’ all angels
We’re tryin’
We’re hopin
We’re hurtin’
We’re lovin’
We’re cryin’
We’re callin’
‘Cause we’re not sure how this goes

2996