August 2007


Scott Adams didn’t care to touch this article from msnbc, but I couldn’t help but post about it.

The article could have had several titles.  Scott entitles it “Death by Camel Hump”

A few others might be: “Camel Rides Women to Death” “The Killer Hump”  or “The Hump that Killed”

Could a person have a more bizzare death?  This woman has a great conversation starter up in heaven now.

“Hi-ya mate!  Name’s Bruce.  I was a surfer in Sydney and was killed by a shark.  How’d you die?”

“A camel tried to mate with me.”

“What?!”

“My pet camel literally loved me to death.”

“Wicked!”

In my surfing today, I came across the website of Barbara Barrington Jones.  She is a public speaker.  Check out this page on her site.  Under “Barbara’s Tips” are all the answers to questions she is probably asked dozens if not hundreds of times when she is public speaking.

I’m sure there are women out there who praise her and thank her for her speech and spiel, but there are also those women who are interested in Barbara’s lipstick, mascara, moisturiser and other female products.

I know Barbara is all about internal and external beauty stuff, but I still find it amusing that she posted this on her site.  She essentially pre-empted all those inevitable questions about what she uses.

I just saw this over at NeatoramaHere’s the link to buy the real deal.

Hillary Nutcracker  Once she cracks them, she puts them in her lock box.

When I was a young, innocent, kind child, my family decided that I was old enough to be corrupted.  They introduced me to the game of Spoons.  You may have heard of this game.  We use a deck of cards (face cards, Rook card, Uno cards … any deck will do).  The dealer deals out all the cards evenly to each player.  In the middle are spoons.  The number of spoons is exactly one less than the number of players.  Each round begins with each player passing one card to the left.  The passing of one card to the left continues until someone has four of a kind.  Once you’ve collected four of a kind, you grab a spoon.  The person left without a spoon is out.

The rules are simple, but the play is almost lethal.

My family is very competitive.  The boys are tough and the girls have claws.

There are many tactics in this game.  Some try to quietly take a spoon when they have four of a kind.  When that person is quiet enough, play continues.  Sometimes others notice and quietly take a spoon too.  But as soon as everyone realizes it, all hell breaks loose.

Others’ tactics are vicious.  Us boys would generally throw a block like we were making a hole for a running back to pass through.  Other times we’d throw a forearm at the person next to us, catching him in the chin … because you really only have to beat one person!

The sisters, on the other hand, were like cats and string.  If you meekly reached for a spoon, they’d strike at you with the force of a tiger.  Instead of pulling back a spoon, you’d have a mangled, bloodied hand.  I still have scars from that game.

We’d usually play Spoons at the table … it was easier to wash blood off the table than it was to get it out of the carpet.

Every physical action caused an emotional reaction.  The fun part of the game was aftermath.  Each round would be replayed like a controversial football call.  But there were no refs and there were no rules about taking spoons by force.

Of course my Dad encourged this kind of play.  He was an old-school dad.  If the boys (or girls) got into unresolvable arguements, it wasn’t the person who was the fast talker or best reasoner who won the argument.  Rather it was the best boxer.  Yep … our family spats were settled with boxing gloves.

When the yelling reached a fevered pitch, Dad would escort the two parties out to the back yard, strap on gloves and then start the match.  The last boy or girl standing won.

Miraculously, our family survived this form of parenting.  I guess we got to the point that we either hated being bloodied or we hated having to bloody up our own sibling.  If we didn’t really want to duke it out, then we’d settle our arguments with a handshake (or we’d decide not to argue at all).

Maybe my Dad knew something about parenting after all.

The first SF story I have comes from the highlands of Guatemala. I was a missionary there. One day a bunch of us were traveling to attend a meeting. The ride was long and there are no rest stops in Guatemala. We were in a packed mini-van. One of the other missionaries needed a pit stop. Miraculously, he was able to convince the driver to stop … something to the effect of “you’ll have to clean up my urine if you don’t stop.”

The minivan had one side-door and the missionary (we’ll call him Chuck) was sitting in the very back. 75% of the occupants had to exit. Once Chuck was out in the open air, the rest of us got back in. I didn’t need to exit and so I remained in my seat in the very back. We all waited patiently while Chuck relieved himself on the side of the road.

When he was finished, 75% of us exited the minivan and let Chuck back in. Soon we were humming down the road again. Meanwhile, Chuck was laughing uncontrollably. I asked him what was so funny. Stage fright. With all those people in the van just two feet away, he couldn’t relax sufficiently to release!

He waited two more hours of driving before he found a private bathroom.

The creators of Momspit sent me a couple of samples.  It’s great!

I love the scents and how it foams up.  The best part about it (at least for us) is that it is alcohol free.  Our three-year old had a nasty habit of taking one squirt of hand-sanitizer to wash his hands and then he’d take another to lick!  At first we thought this was amusing, but then we heard on the news that hand sanitizers with high alcohol content can make kids drunk!  If you think this is an urban legend, read the Snopes scoop on it.

If I were the creator of Momspit, then I’d market the product along the vein of “it won’t get your kids drunk!”  Because, hey … there’s no alcohol in Mom’s spit! (Or at least there shouldn’t be.)

So if you have young kids and you’re a parent on the go, use Momspit.

So I’m reading email tonight and I see that someone has posted a comment on my Momspit post.  Apparently MomSpit is a real product!  Go visit www.momspit.com to see all about it.

WOW!

So I emailed  the company and told them about my post and my shock about their existence.  Then I asked for some free samples.

I’ll keep you updated.  We may be using a cleaner, gentler version of momspit next Sunday.

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