The Write Transition

From One Life Chapter To The Next

Archive for the category “Musings”

21 May 2012
89 Comments

Two Awards And A Sassy Recipient

I have come to a sobering conclusion. After the apocalypse, only two things will remain. Cockroaches and blogger awards.

I hope the preceding statement does not make me appear ungrateful. Quite the opposite. I am honored and humbled that the very talented writer and poet Polly has nominated me for The Genuine Blogger Award and the Reader Appreciation Award. Thank you, Polly. Despite my feistiness, the gesture is much appreciated. That you and I breathe the same air is remarkable.

 In tracking down the rules for these awards, relief rained upon me. You see, The Genuine Blogger Award has no rules. It is merely a way to let recipients know their work is appreciated. That is so sweet, syrup drips from my follicles.

As for the Reader Appreciation Award, I must share a bit of what I’ve been up to and pass the award onto some deserving bloggers.

Oh, dear. I am dull. Hear the air yawn around me.

Rather than bore you with my daily comings and goings, allow me to share what three strangers have been up to. That’s right; I don’t know these people. Does that matter?

  • For example, the balding man idling at the red light in front of me two days ago makes candles. How do I know? Because he plucked wax from his ear as if paraffin would soon be a scarcity. Never have I seen such determination. But where he stored his treasure is anyone’s guess. I’m just glad the light changed before he needed a sticky adhesive.
  • At a recent conference, seated two rows ahead of me, I discovered a starving woman in my normally well-fed community. At least, I assumed she was famished, because never before have I witnessed a diminutive woman eat a bread roll bigger than her head.
  • Oh, and I must tell you about Cheeks, a woman entering the deli just ahead of my son and me. It’s not that I’ve never seen spandex on a dimply, over-sized buttocks; I’ve just never seen the clingy material bury so deep in one’s crack that two distinct hills are the outcome. It was like butt boobs. Or so said my teenage son.

Image credit: One Inch Punch

As much as I’d love to go on, I recently promised brevity in blog posts, so I must bid you adieu. Besides, there is a string-bean of a man laying mulch outside of my window, and lest he think I am a mesmerizing master at work (yeah, right) or a slacker (bingo!), I best get my single-breasted buttocks out of this chair.

But before I go, I need to nominate others for these awards, always a difficult choice when one reads dozens of wonderful blogs. I opted on the following bloggers because, aside from Polly, they were my six earliest followers, who—against all odds—faithfully come back to see me. As always, do not feel pressure to play the game. Just know that I truly appreciate your support.

JM McDowell

Kourtney Heinz

The Girl in the Cat Frame Glasses

Postcard Fiction

GM Barlean

A Rich, Full Life In Spite of It

What about you? Have you encountered any strange strangers lately? Or maybe you’re the strange one?…

Posted in Blogging, Musings and tagged , , , , , , ,
10 May 2012
93 Comments

A Mouthful Of Uglies

Let’s start today’s post with a short quiz, shall we?

A. Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Bacteroides gingivalis, Treponema denticola, Fusobacterium nucleatum, and corynebacteria are:

  1. Aliens inhabiting the planet Ifyouchoosethisansweryouareanidiot.
  2. Children with dreadful name-picking parents.
  3. Politicians who have sexted images of their genitals. Twice.
  4. Disease-producing organisms commonly found in the mouth.

B. You should share these critters by pre-masticating food and thrusting the disgusting blob into a defenseless child’s mouth:

  1. True
  2. False

If you answered 4 and 2 respectively, you are one step ahead of Alicia Silverstone. Yes, this video is old news, but as with most things horrifying, I tucked it away for future use. So if you failed to view the terror flick last month—because you were too busy actually living a life—I encourage you to click the link and view it now. Go ahead. We’ll wait.

After this oral feast aired, public outcry poured, though most of it centered on Momma. “How could she do that? What was she thinking? That’s so gross.” Today, however, I’d like to present the pre-verbal infant’s side in this animalistic feed.

Dear Mommy,

I know you love me. I love you, too. But I don’t love your dental disease. Or your sore throat pathogens. And it’s really—oh, wait, is that a Herpes lesion I see on your lip? Oh, Mommy, those hurt. Please don’t give me oral Herpes. I guess that ulcer could be Coxsackie, you know, the virus that causes Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. I hear there’s a particularly nasty strain circulating. So maybe—and, you know, I’m just spitballing here—maybe you could try using a blender and spoon instead, like all of the other nice mommies.

Sincerely,

Baby Silver

I know a little something of which I speak. You see, I’ve experienced a similar oral horror. No, my mother did not feed me that way. At least I hope she didn’t. Sadly, this trauma comes courtesy of my husband.

Years ago, before Mr. Rubin understood the true entity that is Carrie, he committed an unthinkable act, one that still makes me shudder and quake like Bruce Banner on the verge of his Hulk-dom. In an inexplicable move, my Y-chromosome mate used my toothbrush. My toothbrush! The same bristles that scrub my Type A, never-share-a-cup, on-the-cusp-of-a-germaphobe chompers.

What was his pitiable defense? He couldn’t find his; he didn’t think I would notice; we’re husband and wife. Well, the good man knows better now. Boy, does he ever. Because Carrie is so very. As a sensitive introvert, I detect smells and annoying tactile sensations that normal people might not.

And I’m telling you, my toothbrush smelled and tasted differently.

You don’t believe me? Well, you should. Besides, if the smell hadn’t clued me in, the big chunk of food hubby left behind sure as hell did…

Nothin’ says lovin’ like foodstuff in the scrubbin’…

So what about you? Would you ever share a toothbrush? Use the same spoon? Enjoy someone else’s chewed up food? Lick a hotel wall?

All images from Microsoft Clip Art except the peas-and-carrot toothbrush which is compliments of me.

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Posted in Entertainment, Musings, Well-Being and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
30 Apr 2012
120 Comments

A Beautiful Contradiction

Image credit: Microsoft Clip Art

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

You see, I’ve received the Beautiful Blogger Award by the witty, charming, and beautiful I Mayfly. This may or may not be her real name, but if it is, she has my sympathy. On the other hand, her parents have my stink eye.

The rules are simple. All I need to do is express my gratitude to my lovely insect friend (thank you, I Mayfly!) and pass the honor to other bloggers. For those of you who enjoy rules and order, I have included the award regulations at the end of this post.

Absent from these rules is any requirement I divulge personal information about myself, a gift for which we are all grateful. But I have to give you something, no? And since it won’t be my chocolate, I’ll need an alternative. And yes, I like to start sentences with conjunctions. And no, I don’t care if The Elements of Style tells me I shouldn’t. But yes, I do care what you think. So yes, I’ll stop if you want me to.

So what to do? What to do? What ties into the theme of beautiful blogger?

This could be me, but there's no chocolate smeared around her mouth, so it must not be. (Image credit: Microsoft Clip Art)

Got it!

The sexy/ugly game, of course!

Years ago, my sister and I enjoyed a sincere but cruel game of sexy/ugly. This involves naming a celebrity who’s ugly but at the same time sexy. A Google canoodle the other day assured me I wasn’t the only one to play this game, but my search was cursory. As a science gal, I never want to introduce bias.

I’ll admit, I hesitated about this post, because I don’t enjoy poking fun at others unless they deserve it. But then I realized the soon to be mentioned celebrities have armpit hair more important than me, and any hurt feelings generated by my adolescent musings would be more than compensated by their mansions, pool floaties, and well-dressed pooches.

So here goes. My list of sexy/ugly is:

David Bowie—Not only sexy and ugly but hip as well. A triple threat.

Angelica Huston—A face like a drag queen but sexy as hell.

Billy Bob Thornton—Introspective and he sports vials of blood.

Sandra Bernhard—An apt surname given that prominent proboscis and gap-toothed grin can both burn and make… (Oh, now I really apologize for that last one.)

Tommy Lee Jones—A younger Tommy Lee Jones, not the current Shar-pei version.

Image credit: dogbreedworld.net

Mick Jagger—Maroon 5 didn’t make a song about those gyrating hips for nothing.

Steven Tyler—Best. Accessorizer. Ever. Just stay away from that mouth. It’s big enough to eat you.

Sam Shepard—Rugged and manly. But don’t Google his 2009 mug shot unless you’re hankering for a shudder.

Joan Cusack—Hmmm, I guess I’ll let you be the judge on this one. Might be too mom-ish for some.

The Hangover Monkey—Come on, you know it’s true.

Image credit: mediagallery.usatoday.com

So there you have it. Evidence once again of an education gone wrong. The astute among you will notice the list contains more men than women (and believe me, I had to scrounge for those women) and too many lily-white visages. Might this be because ugly white men can make it in Hollywood easier than their less comely female and ethnic colleagues? I’ll skip the social commentary, but just saying…

So who are your sexy/uglies? If you are too dignified to answer, then I am interested in your opinion on solving the U.S. health care crisis, a discussion on the fragility of the current global economy, or the solution to unsustainable oil production. What’s that? You’ll stick with the sexy/ugly? Thought so.

*     *     *

The rules for the Beautiful Blogger Award are:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award
2. Paste the award on your blog
3. Link the person who nominated you for the award
4. Nominate your choice of bloggers
5. Post links to the blogs you nominated

As you can see, there is no specified number of victims to pass the award on to. Therefore, I gift it to everyone. Feel free to accept it and paste it onto your own blog or not. A cop out, you say? Perhaps. But such inclusiveness is my appreciation to everyone who has clicked my follow button. Because to me, that really is beautiful…

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Posted in Blogging, Entertainment, Musings and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
12 Apr 2012
113 Comments

That Didn’t Hurt At All

Ever had a flying hockey puck bounce off your head? No? Then let me take you on an adventure. Just know I might stray off course.

I haven’t thought of this incident for years, but thanks to mon ami over at Promethean Times and his recent baseball post, the memory came rushing back and my mind went a-wandering.

The first stop on this cerebral journey was my mental pet-peeve bin. Sadly, this storage depot is jam-packed and will soon need a mate, which I can probably pick up at Wal-Mart.

I will only burden you with one pet peeve, but I warn you, it’s a heavyweight. And while I won’t get too political, as I’ve promised not to do on this blog, there is a teensy chance you might end up taking sides. That’s okay. Everything you say can and will be held against you.

Most of you know I’m currently plaguing Northeast Ohio with my presence. This lands me close to the Cleveland Indians, which is the area’s professional baseball team. The team name itself disturbs me, but I can live with that. What makes my skin crawl, however, is the logo.

Friends, enemies, weirdos who are still looking for Will Smith nude, allow me to introduce you to Chief Wahoo:

Chief Wahoo. In what world is this okay? (Image credit: sportslogo.net)

Yeah, you got that right. You’re not seeing things. This is the actual image displayed on T-shirts, hats, blankets, mugs, bumper stickers, big foamy fingers, and probably the obese bellies of many of my male neighbors. And. It. Drives. Me. Bonkers.

Am I American Indian? No. But I don’t think one need be Native American to find this hideous, debasing face offensive. I mean, really? Can they not find something better? In fact, if the team is dead set on a goofy looking face, they can use this one.

I initially posted a goofy photo of me, but then I wimped out and took it off. You'll have to settle for this guy from the Microsoft Clip Art file instead.

I’ll leave the ranting at that. I think you get where I’m coming from. Back in the over-stuffed storage bin Chief Wahoo goes.

Which takes us on the final leg of my thoughtful journey (yes, as is often the case, it was a short trip): Hockey. The leap from baseball to hockey was made because, as you also may remember, I originally hail from North Dakota, where anyone familiar with the state knows that the final line of the American national anthem is not “…and the home of the brave” but rather “…and the home of the SIOUX!” This is because the University of North Dakota is known for two things: its aviation program and its excellent hockey team. And yes, without reentering my mental pet-peeve bin, I realize that the Fighting Sioux is also a Native American name. Please don’t get me started again. I finally returned to a normal shade.

Of course, thinking of the Fighting Sioux transported me back even further, back to when I was a homely, permed-headed, fourteen-year-old girl. At least I didn’t have braces. No, I saved that pleasure for when I was thirty-three. Awesome.

What's worse? The braces or the orange lips? (Image from carefair.com)

As I, a pitiful lass in Target clothes and big-framed eyeglasses, innocently watched the Sioux on their way to hockey championship, spindly arms raised in victory with each passing goal, a hockey puck, freshly airborne from a slapshot and whizzing faster than a bullet train, crashed into my right frontal skull.

The crowd went silent.

I looked around in a dazed stupor. Who me?

Oddly, I wasn’t injured. A few inches laterally and I could have had a nice epidural bleed. But the most I suffered was hurt pride, as only a teenage girl torpedoed in the head with a hockey puck could.

No lasting damage, you ask? I’ll let you be the judge.

Cartoon hockey image from Microsoft Clip Art

Posted in Life Experiences, Musings and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
02 Apr 2012
86 Comments

Please With A Capital Pee

If you have a weak constitution, I suggest you ignore this post. I’ll take the loss. Just stay on the page long enough to register as a site visit. No sense to punish my stats for your frailness.

Today’s sentences will involve potties, urine, hair, toilet paper, and a hardened green substance spattered on a urinal. Why? Why not.

Long ago, during graduate school (bet you’re surprised to hear about higher education after the previous paragraph), my husband and I cleaned a fast-food restaurant. Given our school load was intense, we had little time for other employment, but the few hours of cleaning each night brought in much-needed cash.

Imagine the expression of a person about to have a Pap smear, root canal, and colonoscopy, one right after the other, and then apply that to the younger, unwrinkled Rubins when we launched the dreaded nightly countdown to the required cleaning. Seven. Days. A Week.

Thinking back now, I believe my expression was the more pained of the two. Which makes perfect sense, given I had to tackle the bathroom (worst negotiation ever).

So, with today’s post, I hope to provide a public service by asking: what in the heck is wrong with people? Does no one remember the Golden Rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you? (Or whatever form of the saying you learned.) Thank you, Mother, for teaching me this ethical guideline early; it’s an easy credo to follow and comes with a big payback.

Allow me to apply this rule to bathroom etiquette:

Dear public restroom user,

  • Would you leave itty bitty shreds of toilet paper lying all over your linoleum? Especially if you knew hundreds of people would come along, trampling those bits of tissue with wet shoes, making the little paper critters nearly impossible to lift off the floor? No? Then please don’t do so in public.
  • Would you leave piss all over the toilet seats, floors, and walls in your home? No? Then please don’t do so in public.
  • Would you deposit long, curly black pubic hairs over the commode and floor in your guest bathroom before visitors arrived? No? Then please don’t do so in public.
  • Ladies. Would you stuff a maxi pad the size of an airplane pillow into your master bedroom toilet? No? Then please don’t do so in public.
  • And men. Oh, men, men, men, men, men. Would you really, I mean really, hock a big ol’ green loogie on the porcelain god in your own restful sanctuary? No? Then I beg of you, please do not do so in public. I still possess nightmares of chiseling that petrified gunk off of the urinal as well as the biceps to prove it. A scraping tool should never have to be a component of bathroom cleaning supplies.

I could go on forever, but I won’t. You get the picture. So please, the next time you use a public bathroom, think of me and my scraper.

And if that doesn’t disturb you, I don’t know what will.

All images from Microsoft Clip Art

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Posted in Family, Life Experiences, Musings and tagged , , , , , , , ,
22 Mar 2012
65 Comments

Be Careful What You Pose For…

Photo credit: my iPhone camera and my snail mail contents.

Woman on cover: “Hey, honey, guess what? The hospital asked me to be on the cover of their quarterly magazine!”
Significant other: “Wow, that’s great! What’s the feature article about?”
Woman on cover: “I don’t know, but I’m sure it will be something wonderful.”
Posted in Lazy Blog Days, Musings and tagged , , , , ,
06 Mar 2012
35 Comments

Two Winners And A Searching Soul

Hey, all you cool cats and crazy crackers, today I am honored to announce the two winners of the book Entrapped by Barbara Kyle. To those of you who commented, thereby entering the contest, merci beaucoup!

"Entrapped" by Barbara Kyle (from: barbarakyle.com)

And to those of you just stumbling in to see what all the fuss is about, I apologize for the noise. Although quiet in real life, I tend to hoot and holler on the keyboard. I’ll try to keep it down next time. But seeing as how you’re already here, why not stick around? Something fun is coming up.

Not counting Babs or me, 24 commenters left their scent. As promised, I entered that number into Random.org, and the bloke behind the curtain spit out numbers 8 and 19.

The 8th and 19th commenters were writerwendyreid and char. Congratulations!! You will each receive a signed copy of Barbara’s book. I will email you to request a snail mail address, but don’t worry. I will not pocket your address or add it to any lists. I have enough clutter in my life.

Thank you again to everyone who commented. Furthermore, a big, big thank you to Barbara, not only for a fabulous read but for her generous book giveaway!

Now, before signing off, I need to address one specific person. Oh, you know who you are. Don’t look away. As for the rest of you, feel free to return to your knife throwing, your Japanese talking toilet, your naked run, or whatever your activity of choice. If it’s voyeurism that floats your boat, then you’re welcome to stay. But please be quiet. Serious stuff ahead.

Oh, and Barbara? Sorry to debase the Entrapped giveaway post, but I really could not postpone this intervention any longer. Someone is in need of my help.

So, to the person who stumbled upon my blog in search of a “pube combover,” I’m here for you, pal. At first, I thought, surely you jest. Who has time for such tomfoolery? But then I realized, you must be a lost little surfer in need of some Internet GPS. So, after major head scratching and brow furrowing, illumination occurred, and I concluded one of two possibilities for your quest.

It delights me to inform you, I found the websites you are searching for.

The first possibility—and how careless of me not to have immediately seen it—is that you suffer from pubic lice. I am so sorry! Infestation is never welcome. But don’t panic. Treatment is available. And yes, combing your pubes may be necessary; but anything worthwhile requires effort. So I am providing you a link to an NIH treatment website. You. Are. Welcome.

If, however, I erred, and this was not the site you sought with your clever search engine term, then the only other possibility I could muster was your desire for the perfect combover, preferably modeled after the biggest Alpha pube in the pack. Of course, I am referring to the Donald himself. So, my second gift to you, bizarre searching friend, is a direct link to Donald Trump’s website. Have at it. But be careful! This masterful combover is not for the weak, insecure, or lazy. A prized combover like this will take years of growth and hours of maintenance.

Image credit: Fuel the Future

There. Helping others feels so good, doesn’t it?

Cartoon images from Microsoft Clip Art.

Posted in Musings, Reading and tagged , , , , , , ,
28 Feb 2012
55 Comments

Scaring Your Doctor From A To Z

Yes, this is another post devoted to a blog award. No, it will not be typical. But you probably already guessed that.

The masterful Jennifer M. Eaton, whose “writing rants” I always enjoy, recently nominated me for the Awesome Blog Content Award. Rather than ask why, I prefer to know what she slips into her tea. Maybe she’ll share.

So thank you, Jennifer! I happily and humbly accept. But in order to do so, I must describe myself using every letter of the alphabet and pass the award onto at least six other bloggers. Ironic, no? Because in order to continue the ruse of posting “Awesome Blog Content”, listing 26 more things about myself reeks of counter-productiveness.

So toss me a longer leash to explore…

We all know doctors’ appointments are notorious for endless waits, often spent shivering in a nipple-puckering gown, followed by a flash encounter with a harried provider. Suggestions to fix this problem would require an in-depth exploration of the healthcare system by a sophisticated blogger. Of course, you will find neither here.

But don’t worry. You will not leave my site empty-headed. (Unless you entered that way.) Instead, given my background in health care, I will share 26 ways to gain more time with your doctor. When that white-coat shove hurtles you into the hallway before you’ve received your due, just blurt out one of the following symptoms or diseases. Then ripple in delight at the provider’s alarm and watch your time expand.*

Credit: Microsoft Clip Art

From A to Z, conditions that will lengthen your visit (and increase your medical knowledge—my gift to you) include:

Anal leakage (Need I say more?)

Borborygmus (The rumbly sound in your tummy. Probably won’t net you any extra time with the doc, but it will make your few moments embarrassing.)

Cotard Delusion (Belief that you are dead, decaying, or have missing body parts. The latter is not the same as penis envy.)

Discharge. From anywhere.

Exploding Head Syndrome (Not as exciting as it sounds—sufferers hear loud, explosion-type noises in their heads. Sorry to disappoint.)

Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva (Muscles and connective tissue are gradually replaced by bone. Is really quite sad, so am not sure why I’m including it, other than I needed an F, and flatulence seemed too obvious.)

Galactorrhea (Abnormal milk production, men or women. May come in handy if you are a barista.)

Hematochezia (Bloody stools. Hello, Black Snake of Colonoscopy Land.)

Icky pus. From anywhere.

Jock itch (Self-explanatory, but you will need an anti-fungal to cure it. And please, do so before your girlfriend comes over.)

Kala-azar (This is visceral leishmaniasis, a disease spread by sandflies. And good luck finding a Western doctor who will consider this diagnosis for your night sweats and skin ulcers.)

Liquid poop (Not a medical term per se, but surely a condition you don’t want. But watch out, it might reintroduce the Black Snake.)

Myokymia (Well, actually eyelid twitching is not a big deal, but I thought you might like to know the medical term for those rapid-fire eyelid fits. You’re welcome.)

No urine output for 48 hours (Check out your doc’s expression after hearing that one.)

Orthostasis (Drop in blood pressure when standing up. Just make sure your provider can catch you.)

Priapism (You know, that erection you’ve had for the last six hours?)

Q-tip ruptured ear drum (It happens. A lot. You are not mining for gold. Best to keep the thing confined to the outer ear.)

Rhinorrhea (Okay, a runny nose won’t buy you any extra time with the doc, but if you unabashedly sneeze out the contents, you will share your illness.)

Sexsomnia (Sufferer engages in sexual activity while asleep. And this is a bad thing?)

Trimethylaminuria (Breath, sweat, or urine that smells like fish. Or in other words, your ex.)

Urethral burning (Which begs the question: Just what have you been up to?)

Vanishing testis syndrome (Self-explanatory. And concerning if you’re past puberty.)

Werewolf syndrome (Excessive body hair. Actually, is more politically correct to use the term hypertrichosis, but the H was already taken by bloody poo.)

X-ray of Mountain Dew bottle nestled in your rectum (I guarantee, if you bring this exhibit to your doctor’s appointment, you will not leave anytime soon.)

Yellow skin and eyes (Jaundice should get your doc hopping.)

Zero for a pulse, a blood pressure, or a respiratory rate (If you have any of these, well, you will get all the time you want. An eternity, actually.)

See? Who says I can’t educate and inspire?

Credit: Microsoft Clip Art

Now, for the bloggers I will bug, er, I mean, honor with the ABC Award:

Although always hard to choose, here are seven awesome-blog-content bloggers to whom I pass on this award. I will spread the love around to avoid getting slapped with online restraining orders from those I’ve previously nominated, but know that there are many other blogs I follow and enjoy. Next time, I guess. (Yes, I realize that’s a little presumptuous. I’m not an idiot, you know. Oh, wait…)

All Write

Just Outside the Box Cartoon

Gemini Girl in a Random World

Sweet Mother

Perfecting motherhood

Joy in the Moments

Promethean Times

As always, I look forward to your comments. Any startle-producing medical complaints you’d like to add?

Credit: Microsoft Clip Art

*For the sarcastic-deficient and good-hearted folks who stumbled upon my blog in search of medical advice: Yes, this post is a joke. No, you should not make up symptoms. Not only is it unethical, but you will invite a buttload of costly tests. Some of which will be in that very location.

Some of the above diseases I found on Life Support, The Blog

Cartoon stethoscope from Microsoft Clip Art

Posted in Musings, Writing and tagged , , , , , , ,
11 Feb 2012
56 Comments

Post Freshly Pressed Blues

My visage post Freshly Pressed:

Post Freshly Pressed Me

My stats post Freshly Pressed:

My drug of choice post Freshly Pressed:

French vanilla, brownie, caramel, and fudge.

What would your drug of choice be? Please take the poll and let me know. And if you really don’t give a rat’s fat ass, at least help me try out this Polldaddy thing. You’ll have my worthless gratitude.

Update 2/12/2012, 5:33 pm:

So, based on the scientific poll results thus far, you are a bunch of boozed-up, over-sexed gorgers. Surprisingly, one of you does nude tai chi (va va voom!). But even more surprising? Only three of you think I’m a weenie and that this poll is stupid. You are either very nice people or very good liars…
Posted in Musings, Writing and tagged , , , , ,
08 Feb 2012
42 Comments

A Man Baby With Lincoln Logs

On an indecisive journey of whether or not to post this blog-ripe topic, I’ve traveled everywhere from the town of “Absolutely No” to the city of ”How Could You Not” and finally settled in the suburb of “Okay, But Nicely”. In order to justify my decision, I reminded myself the post’s victim chose to go on national television. I’m pretty sure Dr. Phil does not cow prod or brand to coerce upcoming guests. And if he does, well, thank you, Doc for this one. Please, may I have another?

I am talking about the Man Baby. Yes, you read that right. A man who prefers to function as an infant, performing everything from giant crib sleeping, pacie sucking, spoon feeding, footie wearing, to, you guessed it, diaper crapping.

“But how is this possible?” you ask, wide-eyed and open-mouthed (or at least you should be). Don’t worry. Super Diaper Baby is not alone. He has a girlfriend to tend his needs.

And what girl wouldn’t want a real-life doll that eats, sleeps, and poops? It just so happens this one comes equipped with an Adam’s apple and pubic hair. Semantics.

You can learn more about his lifestyle from the following Dr. Phil clip. If this disturbs you, I apologize. If it doesn’t, well, then I have a placenta post you might be interested in (yum yum!).

Uh, oh. I’m supposed to be in “Okay, But Nicely” town. Well, here comes the nice part. To each his own (pardon the cliché, but this is a blog post, not a Pulitzer). Where would this world be without the eccentric and bizarre? Where would writers find their inspiration? Where would Tweeters find their tweets? Where would satirists find their satire?

We need these unconventionals. Imagine if we were all Donald Trumps. We would have only egos and comb-over gels to discuss. Or, God forbid, what if we were all Ann Coulters? We’d be popping Xanax like pimples just to shut ourselves up. And what if we were all Halle Berrys? We’d never do more than mirror-gaze. How could you not with such beauty?

I, for one, am thrilled with these outliers. Especially since starting a blog. And who are we to judge? Find one person free of weird traits. Not me, that’s for sure. I shove a hand so far down my throat to swallow a pill, I’d practically need a colonoscopy to retrieve it. And what about my teenage son? Is it not odd to bend innocent car Gumbys into obscene postures every time I turn my eye?

My poor debased car Gumbys

So, even if producing or changing a diaper full of adult-sized Lincoln Logs isn’t your thing, let’s not judge those for whom it is. As long as they leave me out of their fetish, I really don’t care. Unlike those men on the Paris Metro who introduced my naïve backside to frotteurism many years ago. (Look it up if you need to. But please don’t practice it.)

Therefore, I conclude this entry with a thank you. To Man Baby. For the perfect “formula” for this post. Well, let’s hope he’s drinking formula. Surely, breast is not best in this case.

To continue in my unimaginative manner, all images other than my Gumbys are from Microsoft Clip Art

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