Hold It!

"No Bathroom for You!" (9/365)

Sound Advice

I've always enjoyed the "sage advice" from old ads... My favorites were always the "horrors of halitosis" ads.  Just imagine what fresh hell the world would be if halitosis truly were as bad as the old ads made it out to be!

This old Lucky Strikes ad is equally hilarious.  Don't eat-- smoke!

"Sound Advice" (3/365)

Will You Be My Valentine?

I wasn't sure this was for real when I saw it yesterday. Turns out it is.

Might be fun as a gag if you're in a secure, well-established relationship... but if the new man in your life takes you here near the beginning of your relationship, might be time to re-examine things...

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: One Pound

One pound. ONE POUND of peanut butter and chocolate. That is all.

Almost Wordless Wednesday: So Friggin' Cute!

The snowmen in my half-bath are so friggin' cute! I don't know if I should be this enamored of a toilet lid cover...

Holiday Warning!

With the holidays coming up, especially one associated with a season of lights, I thought I'd pass on the following warning. Cat lovers, beware!

In 1993, we lived in a third-floor walk-up in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We had a long bar dividing the living room from the kitchen, and for Christmas, I set tapers along the bar. One afternoon our landlord was up there for some reason. Suddenly, he interrupted us to exclaim, "Your cat's on fire!" We had a long-haired cat named Figaro who liked to lounge on the bar. Apparently, in the midst of our conversation, she'd walked next to a candle... and her tail turned into a taper of its own.

She wasn't hurt; it was only the tip that was singed. But apparently someone in the house didn't learn her lesson... (ahem).

Five years later, in Salem, we also had a very fluffy, very mean cat named Cleo. She was half-feral... well, she was really mean (except to her momma; as Russell Crowe said in '3:10 to Yuma', "Even bad men love their mommas."). I had my Day of the Dead altar up, complete with marigolds, sugar skulls, pictures, and... candles. Tapers, to be exact.

I walked into the kitchen and smelled something horrid. Burnt and charred, and reminiscent of the time I'd burnt my own hair. And there sat Cleo, with a tail that looked like part of a melted black tire. She didn't seem to be aware of what was going on, but I called the local cat vet in a semi-panic.

She asked, suspiciously, "How did the cat burn its tail?" I answered, "I didn't INTENTIONALLY set my cat on fire! She walked next to a candle!" Trying to wipe the burnt hair off a mean cat's tail is like trying to tame a sack of snakes. I'm pretty sure we left some of it to fall off itself.

OD and Figaro, circa 1996.  Cats just looooove children...

The lesson is: don't leave tapers anywhere this holiday season for your cats (or any animals) to walk next to and become feline torches.  Hell, don't leave candles *anywhere* where they like to lounge.  I don't leave candles anywhere anymore where my cats can catch on fire.  While it may sound slightly comical, and my cats weren't harmed (although if they had egos, they would have been humiliated), no one wants to take a chance on their fur-babies actually getting hurt.

Jack!

Love my Jack O' Lantern... :)

Wordless Wednesday: Too Much Booze

Don't Get it Stuck in a Tree!

Mr. Calm has a plane.  Well, it's technically a glider, and can go up to 60 mph.  It's meant to "glide with the birds".  Most likely, it's going to glide right into the top of a tall tree.

It's not the first time we'll deal with a little catastrophe.  There was a not-so-little crash landing years ago.  This sucker was a big hobby plane... don't remember the cost, but it was probably a pretty penny.  He took it out to the soccer fields near our house, and we went along to watch its inaugural flight.  Up, up, UP into the air it went... and then, I don't know, it decided it wanted to sing opera rather than fly, and plummeted back to Earth.  Alas, it would not sing any arias, as it crashed into pieces on the ground.

It was disappointing.  I'm sorry to say it was also hard not to laugh.  Not meanly, you know.  Just surprised that the life of his plane was so ridiculously short.

He's also played around with building his own type of "rocket"plane.  He has the fuselage built from scratch, and part of an engine.  Well, you know how it goes... work, life, boredom.  It's in a box somewhere in the attic.

Here he is several weeks ago.  Bought a plane that was "specifically" for beginners.  We found a field near the dam that had tall grass: perfect for bracing the landing.  And he did well that day, only losing a wheel.  Not so fortunate was he-- or the plane-- the next time he went back, with OD.  See, he also bought a computer program that teaches you how to fly all types and sizes of model planes and helicopters.  But he didn't learn enough, because this time, the plane flew straight into the top of a thirty-foot-tall tree.  And yes, it's still there.  So is the Coke bottle OD threw to knock it loose.  That's stuck right under the plane.

Here is Mr. Calm with his glider.  While he's had it for about four years, I've never seen it, and my exclamation was loud and seriously surprised when he showed it to me.  He's not ready to fly it yet; he still has practicing to do on the computer program.  And then he has to find a damn big, empty, clear field.  I suggested the soccer fields, the scene of the original crime.

Last night he found out that there is a model plane flying club here in town.  They have a park, and a long runway.  Maybe he can go out there and get tips.  Maybe he can learn how to avoid crashing this glider into someone's head or rear end before he initially flies it.  I do hope that the life of this glider is substantially longer than the last planes he's flown.  I love him dearly, but after all the crashes and snafus, it seems like such a... futile hobby! ;)