Everything must go, but nobody takes anything!

So the neighborhood had a yard sale today. Woohoo! I mean, it's Georgetown, and the weather is getting nice, yard sales are always going on. (When we lived in Bradford, the little old lady at the end of the street had one every Friday and Saturday in summer. She was, how do you say, a professional yard saler.)

I digress. Someone decided to organize a neighborhood swap meet (I mean, yard sale), which is always good to generate more foot traffic.

Now, after the neighborhood yard sale we did six or seven years ago (in Bradford - competing with the professional on the corner), we ended up with a big, fat fail. Made about $200, sweated about 20 pounds (that was happiness), and watched everyone go across the street because she had all the baby/kid stuff. All I had were books and stuffed animals from my childhood that followed me around and had to go. (Let me backtrack - I still have stuffed animals from my childhood. Just because they followed me did not mean they automatically ended up in the sell pile. No, no, no ... there were, and still are, a handful that I won't even give to my daughter. If you know me, I'll give Munchkin anything ... "sure baby, you can have that machete, just let me teach you how to use it safely, okay?" ... so that's saying something. But again, I digress.)

I swore I would never do it again. I meant it. But our house was starting to look a little bit like an episode of "Hoarders" and it just had to go. Since someone else organized the yard sale, all we had to do was deal with cheap people, right?

It wasn't quite that easy. Poor Scott had to get ready for the event without me, as I had plans elsewhere. (You think I did it on purpose, and had I know the date of the yard sale ahead of time, I so would have done just that. But this is pure coincidence. I swear.) We hauled all our crap down to Chris and Laura's house because 1) their house is on the main street of our neighborhood so better visibility; 2) putting their stuff and our stuff together made it look like more (and it was all mostly kids/baby stuff) so that would generate more foot traffic; and 3) the kids could play together, which is always a good thing (even though, as it turned out, mine was super-crabby).

They got started early, and actually did have a few decent sales. Scott managed to sell the rocking chair that I thought was so far beyond repair I was going to throw it in the trash truck myself, next time I saw it. Shows what I know.

I swoop in around 12:30, four and a half hours after it gets started. Hey - wait, before you hate on me, I brought back LaRosa's and if you're familiar with northern Kentucky and pizza then you know LaRosa's is the best, and the furthest place south I can get LaRosa's is still a 30-45 minute drive from home. So, there you go, I brought lunch. Woohoo. I start my duty answering idiotic questions. Below, actual exchanges...

"Can I leave you my name and number? My niece just found out she's having twins, and they've got nothing. She's not that far along, so they don't know what they're having, but I don't want to just go buying stuff yet. So, maybe you can just save what you don't sell and give it to her?"
Laura and I both have this blank look on our faces at this point. The lady repeated her plea and this time she said something about a "small price" for the lot. Oh, she she wasn't necessarily asking for handouts. Cause after she left, Laura and I were both like, "umm, if we're giving something away, it's to Goodwill so I can claim it on my taxes, thankyouverymuch."

There was this one lady who was insanely large and lacked much of a personality. (Which is funny because isn't it the general thought that bigger/more unattractive girls have better personalities to make them desirable AND if you're going to go offer people next to nothing for their items, you might want to at least have some charisma or ability to develop a rapport to do that.) Anyway, she picked up some VHS tapes. VHS? REALLY? Wanted to know if there were more. We had some in our closet, so I sent Scott home to get them. She did end up with quite a few VHS tapes when it was all said and done. She also picked up a picture and wanted to know how much. I hesitated - I paid $75 for that picture. So I didn't know what was fair. Was $10 fair? Seemed a little under-value, so I told Scott to put a price on it. He goes, "Two dollars." She goes, "I'll give you $1.50 for it." My heart sank doing the math. I can't believe I let that happen. Scott was pissed later when he found out it originally cost so much, he wondered why I didn't put a higher price on it. Mainly because I knew this bitch would walk away, maybe not even with any of her coveted-VHS tapes, so you know, trying to keep the customer happy.

We also had the droves of Mexicans descend upon Sutton Place. Come on, if you're going to buy my stuff, at least have the decency to speak English to me. (Don't get started. I can go off, I sold car parts to them for two years. They never looked me in the face. God only knows what they were saying to my boobs as they rattled off in Spanish.) But, anyway ... more than once I saw them put their kids on the tricycle we were trying to sell, push the kid around, and we'd kind of do that happy dance of "we're going to get rid of that obnoxious thing!" and then the Mexicans get pissed off (probably because we either don't have the prices in pesos or we're not willing to speak Spanish to them) and leave. Don't even make an offer on the tricycle that entertained the kid(s). Hey, screw you too. Perhaps you were unaware of this fact, but a yard sale is not where you go to test drive the kiddie toys. You're supposed to buy them!!! You test drive them at Toys R Us, where at least the people who work there are getting paid to deal with your dumb ass.

Chris said the Mexican women were awful when it came to the clothes. He'd say $2 for two or three baby shirts and they'd freak out. Like they were expecting to pay a dime for three shirts. Umm, no, the sign said "Sutton Place Yard Sale." It didn't say "Five and Dime."

Laura had this toddler bed we've all attempted to get rid of. I listed it on craigslist. She listed it on craigslist. She had it out there and people inquired about it all day. There was one lady who placed money in Laura's hand (not as much as Laura wanted, but it was something and it was out of her house) and the lady goes, "Oh, wait, I don't need this, the one at home converts." And just like that, sale gone. There were countless people who would ask, once they got an answer they'd call someone. My favorite response after one of those moments was, "Yeah, she just didn't want to spend any money." So, when you asked "do you want to BUY a toddler bed" she's like, "No, but they can give it to me if they want." Yeah, well, get in line behind the other ballsy chick asking for handouts.

I also love the lady who rang our doorbell after dinnertime. She bought something (or someone did earlier) and she was coming back to get it, and she didn't know where to go to get it. That seems really mean. First of all, to do for the seller, because what happens if you don't come back? And it's mean to do to the poor customer, because then they look like idiots to the 15 people who answered the door saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

All said and done, we didn't hardly make enough to cover the amount of money I spent shopping out of catalogs tonight. (Haha, before you even say it, I was not buying more stuff for a yard sale - I am buying the stuff for other people.) Stupid yard sales. Next time I say, "Hey, let's get in on this, it won't be that bad." Shoot me. Just shoot me.

Archives: Just a few more reasons to hate Indiana

~~ Originally posted as a Facebook Note on August 31, 2009 ~~

Believe it or not, I own this book. And the Duke
version too, but that's another issue.

Alright, as if the "Country Gospel Music Church" and 45-mph road construction zones every five miles with no actual construction going on weren't bad enough, here are a few other things seen while in Indiana that made me question its worth. :)

1. Marion featured a billboard advertising their historic getaways. "Voted #4 by Midwestern Living"
Alas, someone needs to tell Marion that fourth place is the third loser, and is nothing to brag about. If you don't get to stand on a podium holding roses and tears streaming down your face, you don't get to brag. Let it go. You got nothing Marion, IN.

2. "The Last Resort" RV campground
Seriously, if you ever catch me camping ... and camping in Indiana at that ... you know it's a total last resort. Talk about mastery of the obvious.

3. "Westward 'Ho' Campground"
I'm still trying to figure out why the 'Ho' is in quotes. (Yes, the single quotes are what was on the sign.)

4. "Like ice cream? Try ours. Open Sat-Sun."
Well, I guess in Gnaw Bone, IN you're not allowed to like ice cream Monday through Friday.

5. "Brown County - Home of over 200 unique stores."
I couldn't get a cell phone signal the entire time I was in Brown County. Ergo, when I plan a shopping trip, Brown County, IN isn't going to be remotely close to on the list. If there's no cell signal, it's not a good sign. I'm sure if I actually got out of the car, I might have heard dueling banjos.

6. "Sleepy Arms Hot Tub Suites and Wedding Chapel"
Seriously? Who the hell decides to run away and get married in podunk Indiana? Is there really a market for that?

7. Right across the street from the "Sleepy Arms Hot Tub Suites and Wedding Chapel" was a hotel advertising "overnight rooms."
Is there a need to advertise that you have overnight rooms? Do people really drive by this place and think, "man I need to take a rest for an hour ... oh wait, guess I can't, I can only stay overnight." I mean, I know it's a few miles down the road from the Westward 'Ho' Campground, but really????

Then again, it is Indiana ... what do you expect?

Quirky McQuirkerson from Quirksville

 Or ... "Just Call Me Sheldon Cooper"

I haven’t written many blogs from scratch since the “As Seen on TV” series and some horrendously bad poetry … so, let’s go ahead and try one now, shall we?

This blog was inspired by the fact I spent 30 seconds spinning my doughnut this morning trying to find the hole before I took the first bite. I realized at that point that I have numerous OCD-anal-retentive eating habits.  Some of you will think I’m insane, and that’s fine. (I am, I admit it. Love me or leave me, I don’t care.) I will mention a couple other ones some friends have along the way, because, why not? If you didn’t know you were fair game, you would have left me long ago!

Place settings
Let’s start easy. My mom made me set the table every night growing up. She informed me the fork goes on the left of the plate, the knife on the right of the plate – blade facing the plate, and then the spoon. I absolutely cannot function unless this is my place setting. If I sit down and it is reversed, I will pick up the utensils and move them to the correct sides before doing anything else.  If I’m at a place where my utensils come rolled up in a napkin, I will take them out and put them in the correct place … unless…

There is one exception to this rule – I absolutely, positively cannot handle my silverware touching a table at a restaurant. Therefore, if I’m at a place without a tablecloth that gets changed after every meal (which, believe me, we don’t go to places like that often!), I will prop my utensils up such that only the handles are touching the table. Which means my fork and knife will be propped on an appetizer plate, the napkin under my drink, or on a spare straw … whatever I have to do to make sure the part that goes in my mouth did not touch the table. (And yes, before you ask, after I use the knife, it rests on the edge of my plate.) 

Did she remember to place her
napkin "gently in her lap" before
wrestling with those "slippery
little suckers"?

Napkins
Similar to place settings, let’s move to napkins. Mom also taught me napkins go in your lap. Pretty Woman taught me napkins are “placed gently in the lap.” There is no tossing or throwing of napkins. Most of the time (unless I’m eating at home – this rule does not apply at home for whatever reason), I will have a napkin in my lap. I really wish Munchkin would learn this as opposed to holding up sauce-covered hands saying, “I need a towel,” and reaching down to wipe it on her jeans. Of course, it’s not beyond me that she wipes her hands on her jeans because she sees me wipe my hands in my lap, but that’s because I have a napkin (or in Munchkin-speak, a “towel”) in my lap.

Now, I didn’t really bring this up to discuss a wishy-washy habit I have. It’s actually to point out that I could be worse. My faux-bro, Jason, God love him, has to have three napkins in his lap before he can start eating, wherever he is. Not two, not four, it must be three. This little quirk of his is just one of many reasons I love him.

The correct way to serve an
iced beverage.

Ice
If my drink is supposed to be cold, it must have ice in it. And I don’t mean two cubes that are half melted already. Yes, I realize this means I get less drink, but come on, that’s what refills are for. I will, literally, pull my straw all the way up to drink from the top where the ice is to make sure I get the coldest drink possible.

If a drink is placed in front of me and there’s not much ice in it, you will watch the look of disappointment cross my face. Then comes the concentration, as I stare at how much ice is there, trying to figure out if I will need a glass of ice brought to me.



---
Let’s move onto food, shall we? Starting with breakfast …

Doughnuts
Specifically, filled doughnuts. I absolutely cannot take a bite of a filled doughnut without first locating the hole used to fill the doughnut and taking my first bite at that particular location. This actually has a purpose – I don’t want to bite on the other end, and end up squirting all my filling out. Duh. It’s messy and it ruins the entire purpose of choosing this doughnut. I wanted the filling and the doughnut in the same bite, not a bite of doughnut followed by licking the filling off my hands. (It’s especially hard to eat a doughnut in multiple steps like that while driving.)

Side note: I hate the fact you only get the filling in like three bites. You end up with half the doughnut with no filling. I want to make a doughnut where they stick the piping bag in like five or six different places to make sure every bite is filled with goodness. Of course, it does mean that I would never be able to eat another filled doughnut. I’d be caught in an infinite loop, spinning my doughnut, trying to figure out where to take a bite … of course, the might do wonders for my weight loss efforts. Hmmm…

Sandwiches
For whatever strange reason, I am averse to holding a sandwich in its entirety and eating it bite-for-bite. I don’t have a reason for this (although, I’m sure the picture here might have something to do with it). I have to rip my sandwich into pieces before I eat it. This drives Scott absolutely nuts. I vary my sandwich deconstruction habits as well – sometimes I rip it into bite-sized pieces and eat it piece by piece. Sometimes I just rip it into two or three larger pieces and then eat those bite-for-bite like any normal person eats a sandwich. Just depends on my mood. However, no sandwich is safe from my sandwich decimation before consumption.

I treat dinner rolls, crescent rolls, etc. in the same fashion. Apparently I just like ripping carbs into pieces.

Sandwiches, part two …
I absolutely cannot stand to have lettuce, tomato, onion, etc. on my sandwiches. Pickles are the only “vegetable” allowed on my sandwiches, burgers, etc. Some people think it’s just because I hate vegetables – well, I do hate tomatoes and onions. But I eat lettuce. I just don’t want it on my sandwich. If I want a salad, I will eat a salad. If I want to eat a sandwich, I will eat a sandwich. I don’t need you to try to combine the two and give me a “salwich.” (Besides, if you shove all kinds of lettuce on a sandwich, it makes it so much harder to rip into pieces. Duh.)
 
Onions
There’s one I completely forgot about, onions. I absolutely, positively, cannot stand onions. The smell, the taste, the texture. There is nothing about onions I like. If they exist in something, I will eat around them, if they are too prevalent, I will abstain from eating the item. I love French Onion Soup – but only for the bread and cheese on top. I will leave the onions down at the bottom.

Furthermore, if you eat onions, get the hell away from me. Do not get up in my face at least 48 hours after eating onions (this includes cooked and raw). I can smell them on your breath. I don’t care how many times you have brushed your teeth, I can still smell them. When I was pregnant, this was even worse. “Scott, get the hell away from me, my spidey-onion-sense is tingling.”

Condiments
There are so many condiments quirks, I don’t know where to start …

Ketchup
Ahh, the be-all-end-all of condiments, ketchup. (And, it’s ketchup, not catsup. Catsup is that generic crap you pay $.79 for at Save-A-Lot that expired last week. Okay, there’s your answer Mr. Burns.)

My biggest thing with ketchup is making sure you have an actual place to put it – be it on a plate, or on the wrapper of your burger, or something like that. The paper that covers your tray at McDonald’s is not acceptable because I’m too afraid of the dyes running and contaminating my ketchup. Do not even think about putting ketchup on a napkin either. You know what happens to wet napkins? Yeah, eww, don’t want that in my ketchup.

My brother, God rest his soul, put ketchup on everything. Including macaroni and cheese. He asked me one year at Thanksgiving if I would be offended if he put ketchup on my turkey. Uhh, yeah. I did not spend six hours of my life basting this stupid thing every 20 minutes just for you to douse it in ketchup. His next question, “How about barbeque sauce?” The answer was no, but it does bring me to another one …

Barbeque sauce
Barbeque sauce (and not BBQ, I hate calling it BBQ) is acceptable on just about anything (save for my sage-butter turkey on Thanksgiving).

One of my favorite stories from when my brother lived with me involved a trip through the McDonald’s drive-thru. (Don’t get me started on the fact it’s not “through.” ) We got home, unloaded and sat down to eat. I got nuggets and Michael asked if he could have one of them. I handed him one, he opened it, and at the exact same moment, he and I each grabbed a fry, dipped the fries into the barbeque sauce, and ate them. Scott’s mouth was hanging open. He was like, “That was eerie.” It was straight up that scene from What A Girl Wants where Amanda Bynes and Colin Firth jelly and eat their toast the same exact way. (I tried to find a clip, but wasn’t able to find it. It’s out there, I’m sure, but am at work and extensive internet searches are not in the cards at present.)

Seeing as how I hate mayo, I figured
a pic of Johnny Depp was so
much better! :)

Mayonnaise
I absolutely hate anything having to do with mayo. Including the word mayo. It’s disgusting. Period. I will not eat anything with it on it, in it, or anything that might have even been remotely close to it. It is pure evil. It ranks right up there with onions as far as I’m concerned.

The only, and I mean the only, thing I like about mayonnaise is the line from Pirates.
“Down to the depths whatever mind thought of parlez.”
“That’d be the French. Inventors of mayonnaise.” (FYI, yeah, that’s one of those deleted scenes.)




--
Let's move onto dessert, shall we? 

Cake/Pies/Etc.
I am very particular in the fashion in how cake must be eaten. If you want to send me into fits, eat your dessert wrong around me. Really, you’ll watch me tense up. Ask Scott. Seriously.

There are two things at play here … fork control and order of operations.

Fork control

NOT OKAY!

You must, and I mean you must, take your fork straight down to retrieve a piece of cake.  A fork cannot go sideways. We have a mantra: “You go down and then up and then you have cake.” Scott can repeat that in his sleep because I’ve yelled at him about it so many times. I have no idea where this came from, nor do I care. I just care that you go down and then up.

Order of operations
This one can get a little tricky, depending on the shape of the item. The general rule of thumb is that if it’s a triangle-ish shape, you must start at the skinny end and work your way to the thick end. Period. End of story. There are no exceptions. If you are sharing a piece of cake, there is no meeting in the middle. You just take turns working from the skinny end to the thick end. And by all means, you will always take a piece of the dessert by maintaining a straight line across the item. This is especially important if you are eating a dessert that is a round or square shape. There’s no real definitive place to start, so you pick a spot on the edge, and always maintain a straight edge. While going down and then up.

Chocolate
Anyone who knows me knows I am a chocolate fiend. But believe it or not, that’s not without its quirks. I do not like fudge, it’s too rich. I know, right? I also hate dark chocolate. And white chocolate, but it’s simply blasphemy they call it chocolate since it doesn’t have cocoa in it and therefore it’s not really chocolate (thank you Alton Brown). I don’t really like chocolate ice cream, Wendy’s chocolate Frostys, or chocolate cake. Just not my thing. Don’t know why, but it’s not. (In fact, for years, I hated cake period. Didn’t care what kind.) Here’s the one that shocks most people – I do not like chocolate syrup or hot fudge on my ice cream. Nope. To me it turns your vanilla into chocolate ice cream and if I wanted chocolate ice cream (or chocolate soup), I would have gotten it. I don’t need it to perform an unnecessary and unwanted mutation on my ice cream.

Eastern cougars, like Tuesday, are now gone

"What, me, extinct? But I'm right here and I'm cute!!!"

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service concludes eastern cougar extinct

Although the eastern cougar has been on the endangered species list since 1973, its existence has long been questioned.
So, wait, older women going after younger men was on the endangered species list? Stifler’s mom, anyone? I call shenanigans.

Yeah, and, so was the coelacanth. But guess what, it’s still around. Why is this a big deal? And why is this a compelling lead?

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Service) conducted a formal review of the available information and, in a report issued today, concludes the eastern cougar is extinct and recommends the subspecies be removed from the endangered species list.
What the heck constitutes a formal review?

“Hey, Bubba, go look out the window over here – see any eastern cougars?”
“Nope.”
“Alright, Bubba, go look out the other window. Any out there?”
“Nope.”
“It’s extinct, case closed.”

“We recognize that many people have seen cougars in the wild within the historical range of the eastern cougar,” said the Service’s Northeast Region Chief of Endangered Species Martin Miller.  “However, we believe those cougars are not the eastern cougar subspecies. We found no information to support the existence of the eastern cougar.”
There is no evidence to support the existence of the eastern cougar. Ever? So why are you marking it extinct if it never existed? Shoot, why don’t you go ahead and list the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot as extinct given that rationale.

Reports of cougars observed in the wild examined during the review process described cougars of other subspecies, often South American subspecies, that had been held in captivity and had escaped or been released to the wild, as well as wild cougars of the western United States subspecies that had migrated eastward to the Midwest.
See, this is the problem with subspecies, you can’t tell what they are. Why do we have to have Midwest cougars and eastern cougars? Why must we discriminate and alienate? They’re all just cougars. Can’t we all just get along? You’re just promoting hatred, stereotypes and subspecies tension among the cougars. It’s not right!

During the review, the Service received 573 responses to a request for scientific information about the possible existence of the eastern cougar subspecies;
AKA – Bubba sent in 573 pictures asking, “Hey, is this an eastern cougar?”

…conducted an extensive review of U.S. and Canadian scientific literature;
Any U.S. and Canadian scientific literature? I mean, there’s a lot of literature out there that doesn’t pertain to the eastern cougar. No wonder the poor thing is extinct, they were too busy reading random scientific research to notice the cougar at their feet, purring, begging for scraps of food. By the time Bubba looked up (by the way, it’s hard to find scientific research with pictures and small enough words Bubba can understand), the cat decomposed and they just assumed the skeleton was that of a regular cougar.

…and requested information from the 21 States within the historical range of the subspecies.
Why the hell is states capitalized? What information were the states going to provide? “Yep, there was a sighting. Bubba’s cousin noticed it, in fact. Yeehaw. His cousin ain’t here no more. Tried to ride that cougar and she ate him up. She’s a maneater I tell you!”

No States expressed a belief in the existence of an eastern cougar population.
There they go capitalizing state again.

According to Dr. Mark McCollough, the Service’s lead scientist for the eastern cougar, the subspecies of eastern cougar has likely been extinct since the 1930s.
Oh, well, guess what Dr. Mark McCollough, now that the eastern cougar’s extinct (if it even existed), you are out of a job. You should have held out hope until you reached retirement age, and made this grand announcement at the same time you announced your retirement. And then, just for kicks, have an older woman escort you off-stage. Cougars extinct, my ass.

The Service initiated the review as part of its obligations under the Endangered Species Act. The Service will prepare a proposal to remove the eastern cougar from the endangered species list, since extinct animals are not eligible for protection under the Endangered Species Act.
Really, extinct animals don’t warrant protection under the Endangered Species Act. That makes no sense. I mean, come on, long gone dead animals deserve love and protection too!

The proposal will be made available for public comment.
Poor Bubba’s gonna cry. He’s gonna be out of a job too, you know. With it declared extinct, there’s no need for him to check for eastern cougars out the window anymore. This recession is hitting everywhere, isn’t it? Look for Bubba in an unemployment line near you.

The Service's decision to declare the eastern cougar extinct does not affect the status of the Florida panther, another wild cat subspecies listed as endangered.
Well, of course not … eastern cougar, Florida panther, see how they are different? I can’t imagine how anyone with half a brain would even make the jump to assume the Florida panther is affected by this. Unless, of course, the Florida panther only mates with the eastern cougar, and if that’s the case, some scientists aren’t doing their jobs properly.

Though the Florida panther once ranged throughout the Southeast, it now exists in less than five percent of its historic habitat and in only one breeding population of 120 to 160 animals in southwestern Florida.
Does anyone else hear a Morgan Freeman voiceover coming? “March of the Florida Panthers” coming soon to a theater and IMAX near you.

Shocking new report out - men want to have sex more often! *gasp*

Sex still Important for Men age 70 to 95

Remaining sexually active is important for men - even those age 70 to 95, found in a survey conducted by Australian researchers.
They are men. Men think about sex a lot, apparently 5,000 times a year according to this study. I would venture to say that, as long as the old man is capable of thought, he will still think about sex incessantly, regardless of age. I’m glad we are paying researchers to state the obvious.

The study was initiated to find out what sort of factors influence sexual activity in elderly men.
I’m sure the same as it does in younger men: naked women, porn, naked men, if he swings that way, oh, and did I say porn?

In the sampling of relatively healthy men, researchers found 43 percent would prefer to have sex more often. The survey included 3274 men aged 75 to 95 years, 85 percent of whom provided information about their sex lives.
From my experience, 100 percent of men would prefer more sex. No matter how much a man is getting, it’s never enough. And I'm sure that even if he's incapable of sex, he probably would like to have it, even if it's not possible.

Almost half (48.8%) of the respondents said sex was "somewhat important", and 30.8 percent had at least one sexual encounter in the last year.
Elitist reporter note: Someone forgot AP style there for a moment – we always spell out the word ‘percent.’ Climbing off my soapbox now.

The other 51.2 percent of respondents didn’t say sex was “somewhat important” because their wives were standing over them with a rolling pin or a cast-iron frying pan, ready to beat the crap out of them if they said sex was important.

Researchers gathered information via questionnaires from 1996 to 1999, 2001 to 2004 and again from 2008 to 2009, assessing the men's social situation and medical history.
The men again answered questions about their sex life from 2008 to 2009. The researchers evaluated hormone levels from 2001 to 2004 in an effort to garner more information about just how many elderly men are sexually active and what keeps them that way.
First of all, I have learned one thing in my (*ahem*) 21 years on this planet (shut up, it’s my story), and that’s the fact that men lie when it comes to sex. Ergo, I am not sure how reliable said data is. Case and point …

“Yeah, it’s nine inches long.” Riiiiiight. Centimeters, maybe.

“Oh, that lasted a good 15 minutes.” Riiiiight. If it was on fast-forward.

“Sounded like you enjoyed it.” Riiiight. I’ve watched ‘When Harry Met Sally’ a few too many times. Meg Ryan is my hero.

Men without health problems including diabetes, osteoporosis, prostate cancer, low testosterone levels, depression, and not on medications that might interfere with erections remained the most sexually engaged.
I’ve also learned this much about men, just because they have health problems that interfere with erections (wow, did I just say erection?), they will still have sex up until the point the Viagra doesn’t work anymore or if they die in the middle of the deed. I’m just saying.

NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING, scarred me worse than my dad taking me for a ride on his Goldwing, and when he reached into the “trunk” to get my helmet, I caught a glimpse of the Viagra prescription in there. Believe me, at that point in his life, he had PLENTY of health issues that should have prevented him from being sexually engaged, but obviously he heeded no mind to them.

Furthermore, I have heard it on good authority that I know someone who was in the hospital, recovering from bypass surgery and he and his wife got it on in the hospital bed. So, yeah, the health problems reason really doesn’t jive with me.

Other factors that limited sexual activity included partner's lack of interest in having sex and simply not having a partner.
Yeah, I would think those would have a big influence on it, but there are ways around that as well. Prostitutes exist for a reason. I’m just saying … because look at these dudes, who wouldn't want to get it on with them???? :)

For almost half of the elderly men surveyed, sex remained an important part of life and 43 percent reported a desire to have sex more frequently. The findings have implications for clinicians who should discuss sexual activity with elderly male patients.
Again, I contend that 100 percent will report a desire to have sex more frequently, they just weren’t being honest – which means this “scientific” study has little merit.

--
P.S. Jason – no comments from the “scientist peanut gallery.” It’s supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, okay??????

Just because how often do you get the chance to blog about toilet paper?

Kimberly-Clark rolls out tube-free Scott toilet paper

The toilet paper roll is about to undergo its biggest change in 100 years: going tubeless.
Seriously, it’s taken 100 years to figure this out? They figured out how to do this with wrapping paper years ago, why the hell did it take this long to figure it out for toilet paper?

On Monday, Kimberly-Clark, one of the world's biggest makers of household paper products, will begin testing Scott Naturals Tube-Free toilet paper at Walmart and Sam's Club stores throughout the Northeast.
Why the Northeast? Why are they so freakin’ special? And what about those people who have banned shopping at Wal-Mart, now they are left out in the cold.

If sales take off, it may introduce the line nationally and globally — and even consider adapting the technology into its paper towel brands.
“Consider adapting the technology into its paper towel brands”? I should hope so. Along with any other rolled items.

Here’s the thing – you know what they are going to do? They are going to charge more for the tubeless rolls, and add them to their product line rather than replacing the current product line with them. Ziploc did something similar when they introduced a plastic bag that used 30 percent less plastic. Umm, if you’re using fewer resources to make the same thing, it should not be a luxury, but rather “the way” things are done.
 
No, the holes in the rolls aren't perfectly round. But they do fit over TP spindles and come with this promise: Even the last piece of toilet paper will be usable — without glue stuck on it.

• Even with the tubes the holes aren’t perfectly round. Oh, yeah, they start out that way, but just the slightest bit of squeezing, damage during shipping, throwing around, etc. forces the roll to become misshapen. I don’t think it really much matters, cardboard tube or not.
• Woohoo for the last piece being useable. That’s the best part as far as I’m concerned.

 Suddenly, there's news in the $9 billion — but stagnant — toilet paper market. More important, it's got a "green" halo.
News in the stagnant toilet paper industry. First of all, I find the term stagnant quite humorous when dealing with toilet paper. But that’s not my point.

Toilet paper is one of those things that is a necessity. The need doesn’t really go up year over year, it sort of remains the same. The only thing that might cause the numbers to go up will be an increase in population. But seriously, trying to read too much into the toilet paper market is sort of ridiculous.

The 17 billion toilet paper tubes produced annually in the USA account for 160 million pounds of trash, according to Kimberly-Clark estimates, and could stretch more than a million miles placed end-to-end. That's from here to the moon and back — twice.
Why are the lyrics to Savage Garden’s “To The Moon and Back” suddenly running through my head?

"We found a way to bring innovation to a category as mature as bath tissue," he says.
Ahhh, mature. There’s a better word than stagnant.

I never really thought to recycle the tubes, actually. I just randomly toss them behind the toilet and hope they actually land in the trash can. So, to be honest, I’m just thrilled about the prospect of not having to empty the bathroom trash as often. Yeah, it proves I’m lazy, but, well, it is what it is. But seriously, without toilet paper rolls, it takes awhile to fill up the trash can with nothing but Q-Tips.

He won't disclose the tubeless technology used but says it's a special winding process.
Of course he won’t. We don’t want the competition all over it. For shame to share technology that will reduce waste.

A similar process is used on tissue the company sells to businesses but not to consumers.
And they are just now rolling it out to consumers, why, exactly?

Hoover says she hopes other toilet tissue makers follow Kimberly-Clark's lead. How soon that may happen is unclear. Procter & Gamble, maker of top-seller Charmin, declined to comment.
What are they going to say? If they had the technology in the works already, they’d say, “We’re doing the same thing.” Nope, they are kicking themselves for not coming up with it first.

More worthless information

It's been a little while since a dose of worthless information. Though, I will be honest, I actually looked these facts up instead of pulling them out of my little head.

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.
So, by that rationale, I should be  burning 1200 calories a day. Who said working in front of a computer meant a completely sedentary life?

Right now, this very second, 70% of the people driving on U.S. highways are speeding.
The other 30 percent are related to my stepdad and are out there for the sole purpose of pissing off the other 70.

A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.
Someone call a lawyer, I’m suing both Jiffy Pop and Jiffy Lube for unfair advertising. That popcorn does not pop up that fast, and there’s no way the idiots at Jiffy Lube could even identify what you drive as a car in 1/100th of a second, let alone actually change your oil.

President Kennedy was the fastest random speaker in the world with upwards of 350 words per minute.
What a shame he wasn’t the fastest person at dodging bullets.

Oh, that was bad, wasn’t it?

According to suicide statistics, Monday is the favored day for self-destruction.
Sounds like someone’s going to have a permanent case of the Mondays. (As an aside, if what the coroner told us is true, my brother committed suicide on a Monday. So, there’s something to that.)

The Neanderthal's brain was bigger than yours.
Yeah, well, my car is cooler than his.

On the new hundred dollar bill the time on the clock tower of Independence Hall is 4:10.
Someone call Jerry Bruckheimer, he’s got to make a new “National Treasure” movie. I’m sure that means something, and I’m sure he’s got to tell us, through the joys of listening to Nicolas Cage sound intelligent for two hours.

Kansas state law requires pedestrians crossing the highways at night to wear tail lights.
There are no words.

 
Mario, of Super Mario Bros. fame, appeared in the 1981 arcade game, Donkey Kong. His original name was Jumpman, but was changed to Mario to honor the Nintendo of America's landlord, Mario Segali.
Jumpman. Wow. How cool is that? I’m sorry Princess, but you best get used to Bowser, you have no hope of being saved if your fate lies in the hands of a plumber named Jumpman.

Elephants are the only mammals that can't jump.
WRONG. White men can’t jump either.

The citrus soda 7-UP was created in 1929; "7" was selected because the original containers were 7 ounces. "UP" indicated the direction of the bubbles.
Man, and I thought it was to have the best ad campaign ever – Make 7-Up Yours.

The largest number of children born to one woman is recorded at 69. From 1725-1765, a Russian peasant woman gave birth to 16 sets of twins, 7 sets of triplets, and 4 sets of quadruplets.
Shhhhh, don’t say that too loud or the Duggars are going to have to try to beat her.

The United States has never lost a war in which mules were used.
Forget the nukes, all we need are mules.

The plastic things on the end of shoelaces are called aglets.
I knew that, believe it or not. Why? Jocelyn’s cartoons.

Holy headless chicken, Batman

http://www.miketheheadlesschicken.org/story.php

That chicken did a lot more than just run around with its head cut off. *rimshot*

Though, I've got to say that the owner was a MORON. First of all,  he went after the chicken with an axe and didn't kill it. I mean, sheesh. Most normal people would give it another whack and finish him off. But, you know, whatever. I'm sure the curiosity got the best of him and that's why he didn't finish him off. That's right folks, let an animal suffer to satiate your curiosity. PETA would have a field day with that nowadays.

Okay, so then he turned this poor headless chicken into a circus freak. I'm sure the chicken was thinking, "God, I wish you'd just eat me instead of put me through this day after day." And you know, the whole point of circus freaks is to make you feel better about yourself - that despite your flaws, you don't weigh 1,000 pounds ... or have a beard (if you're female), or have a nice rack (if you're a guy). How the hell did this freak of nature make people who paid good money feel better about themselves.

Besides, freaks of nature are born. Not made with an axe and a dude with horrible aim. But, you know, maybe things were different in the 1940s.

Now, let's discuss this poor animal's death as opposed to the cruelty of its life. He started to choke - and idiot-boy left the syringe they used to feed him (and apparently to stop him from choking) at their last circus stop. So poor headless chicken choked to death in a seedy hotel room. Nice.

At the very least, they should have enjoyed a nice chicken dinner - at least the chicken wouldn't have died in vain. He would have served a purpose greater than just making his dumbass owner rich. (Plus, he would have fulfilled the purpose for which he was deformed in the first place.)

Just another piece of worthless trivia to add to your arsenal. If you need more worthless trivia, click here and here.

More interesting trivia drawn from a vacation

Fact: Plymouth Rock is a giant let-down.

Now the story… because you know there is one!

On one of our many family vacations when I was a child, we headed up to New England. That would be my mom’s stomping grounds, so we always had to make our trek though the bowels of the earth, otherwise known as New Jersey, just for her. (Just kidding, Mom!)

One year we went to more than just New Jersey – thank God! We went all the way up to Maine! Along the way, we stopped in Massachusetts. Mom, being the history teacher, just had to see Plymouth Rock. Me, being the ass-kissing nerd I was, couldn’t wait to go too.

We get to Plymouth, and check into our hotel. It was kind of quaint, little cabin-type things. Okay, it was more like little duplexes, but still, better than just a giant block of rooms. Then we leave to go see the great Plymouth Rock.

Okay, so Plymouth Rock, is a rock. It’s not even a giant rock. I mean, okay, probably a little bigger than I would be able to pick up, but still. I mean, I pictured some enormous boulder or something, you know, like the size of a car. Not this thing that would be better served as the cornerstone for my flower bed or something – not something that we hear about for ages and ages in history books.

What’s worse, it’s way down at the bottom of this glass-topped shaft. Yep, you stare down and peer at the ‘1620’ engraved upon it. (Which, from the looks of it, was done by a machine, which means it wasn’t done back when it happened.) Oh, and this stupid rock isn’t even on the shore. Nope, like 50-100 feet away from shore. Well, how is this special? It’s not even the first place they stepped foot on if it’s way the hell over here.

God, what a let-down.

There was nothing else fun to do either. Welcome to Plymouth, Massachusetts – where you look at the rock, get disappointed and leave. Hope you enjoyed your stay.

As an extra bonus, we’ll give away your hotel room while you’re looking at said disappointing rock.

I’m not making that up. After we got back in the van and headed back to the motel, we noticed the lights were on in our room. There were people in there too. What?

Apparently some idiot at the front desk didn’t realize our room had been rented out, so they gave it to someone else. Luckily there was another free room, so it wasn’t like we were out a place to stay, but just one more things to add to the list of disappointments that day.

A note about potatoes (a continuation of worthless trivia)

I wanted to include this on my last worthless trivia post, but, well, there’s a story here for it all to make sense.

The worthless trivia fact: “You can’t get gigantic potatoes in Idaho, home of the Idaho Russet.”

To explain…

My stepdad is from Idaho. I’ve heard all kinds of stories about how the school year was altered so they could go out for the potato harvest without missing school, all that kind of fun stuff.

The summer of 1989, we went out on a three-week long vacation, and one of the many places we stopped was in Idaho Falls, Idaho, so we could meet my stepdad’s family and see where he grew up.

Mom was thrilled. See, my family, we’re what you might call carb-aholics. If it’s starchy or sugary and Dr. Atkins says you shouldn’t eat it – then my family wants it. It should come as no surprise, then, that Mom couldn’t wait to order a giant baked potato from a restaurant while we were in Idaho. She had Russets before, after all, you can buy them in any grocery story, but it’s always better when you go to the source.

Here we are, sitting out at dinner and Mom’s plate is set down in front of her. Her potato is no bigger than her fist. Mom is shocked.

Being the wonderful woman that she is, she didn’t take it out on the waitress. Shoot, it’s not her fault. She didn’t even send it back to the cook, demanding a bigger one. Nope. What did she do? She turned to my stepdad and inquired about this sad-looking potato sitting in front of her.

Without missing a beat, and serious as a heart attack, he replies, “Well, we ship all the good ones out.”

To this day, 21 years later, my mom still tells that story. But wait, we’re not done yet.

After my mom’s disappointing dinner, we met my stepdad’s mother. What did my mom do? She jumps all over this woman, demanding to know what happened to the “good” potatoes you’re supposed to be able to get in Idaho. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Well, we ship all the good ones out.”

Of course.

Back by popular demand - more worthless information!

A friend of mine left a comment on my Facebook page telling me that 95 percent of Americans can't run for 30 minutes straight. That little factoid prompted me to bring you another installment of worthless trivia.

According to a report, 95 percent (I know, another 95 percent, what are the odds?) of all returned gadgets actually work.

Never get into a land war with Asia.

Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line!

There are four breeds of dog that those allergic to dogs can actually have - and it's because they have hair instead of fur. Three of the breeds are dachshund, schnauzer, and poodle. I forgot what the fourth is. (Hey, I said I was full of worthless information, I didn't say I knew everything.)

Sesame Street has been on the air for 40 years. However, it's nowhere near as cool as it used to be. Regressing instead of progressing.

Birds are a distant relative to dinosaurs. That means those irritating birds that poop on your car are actually dinosaurs. Even more reason to get pissed off since they are supposed to be EXTINCT!

Ladybugs are a type of beetle. You can determine their age by their color. Yellowish/orange means a younger bug, red is an adult.

The first of the University of Kentucky men's basketball team's 2000+ wins was in 1903 against Lexington YMCA. Yep, had a horribly tough schedule back in the day, huh?

Approximately 60 percent of newborns have jaundice at some level. Humana does not cover it. What kind of shit is that?

Lightning bugs light up to tell other creatures that they are bitter. Unfortunately for them, that defense mechanism doesn't work for kids in summertime - they aren't interested in eating them, just trapping them in mayonnaise jars.

There are 110 million red roses sold on Valentine's Day in America every year.

Live-bearing fish (like guppies, mollies and platys) can hold sperm in their bodies for up to six months, so you can get baby fish without a male in your tank for a long time.

Maybe it's a cruel joke, but baby fish are called fry. Fish fry. Hahahahaha.

That's it for today... if you missed the prior installment, click here.

Fount of worthless information

Prompted by a friend telling me she was trying to remember the name of a movie this weekend, allow me to share with you some of the worthless information I hold in this head of mine.

It is illegal to walk past a horse with an ice cream cone in your pocket in the state of Kentucky.

It is illegal to allow your dog to chase squirrels in the park in Raleigh, N.C.

It is illegal to have sex in any position other than the missionary position in Virginia.

Suicide is the only crime that is not punishable.

Dolphins are the only mammals, besides humans, that have sex for fun.

The Battle of Bunker Hill was actually fought on Breed’s Hill. (Wait, everyone knows that, don’t they?)

Whiskey was invented by Elijah Craig, founder of Georgetown, KY. (So the story goes…)

Until recently, there were no Phineas and Ferb toys because Disney thought the show was going to flop, so they didn’t bother investing the time and money into toys. It wasn’t until the show became a success that they changed their minds. (Learned that from Wiki.)

Elvis’ middle name is spelled wrong on his grave at Graceland.

This year (2010) marked the first year in 60+ years the mysterious guest did not leave a bottle of Congac and a rose on the grave of Edgar Allan Poe.

One out of every five hardcover books has a security tag in it at Barnes and Noble.

I put my hand up on your hip, when I dip, you dip we dip.

(Just to see if you are paying attention…)

Ghiradelli is owned by Hershey. That’s actually somewhat depressing if you really want to think about it.

Rachael Ray has no formal cooking training whatsoever.

Keith Urban’s middle name is Lionel.

The country singer Doug Stone is actually named Doug Brooks, but the record company thought people would get him confused with Garth Brooks, so they changed his last name.

Phil Vassar has a ton of songs turned down at various record companies, stating they just weren’t good enough to be hits. Among the ones turned down, “My Next Thirty Years,” a huge hit for Tim McGraw.

For whatever reason, the southeastern part of the state of Virginia is the only part of the state to not adhere to the adoption of counties.

The moose, not the lobster, is the state symbol of Maine.

Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house.

Nicolas Cage named his kid Kal-El. You know, like Superman’s real name. Apparently he was supposed to play Superman at one point in time, but he either backed out or got replaced and this was an homage to the role he never played.

O.J. did it.

France is only about the size of Texas.

When kittens chase something that isn’t there, it’s because of an excess of serotonin in their brains. Translation: they are (naturally) tripping on acid.

See, now it’s funny – I’m sitting here struggling to come up with things to put on this list, when I know I could spout more than I could even count in casual conversation. Just goes to show that you can’t always perform on command.