Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Here’s the deal. The earliest evidence of people using an adhesive dates back to the Middle Pleistocene era where stones were glued together using tar. That’s right, from the beginning of time humans have said: I must have food, I must have shelter, and I really want to stick this thing to that thing.

And here we are, 200,000 years later, and we still haven’t gotten it right.

For most of us, our first experience with adhesives is the paste that kindergarteners use as a tool for classroom art projects and a nutritional supplement. I don’t know what teachers expect, the container comes with a small, plastic tasting spoon. But don’t worry about the paste sticking to the child’s internal organs – this paste doesn’t stick to anything.

Next, we move on to Elmer’s glue – most useful for creating a secondary skin, wherein the gluee covers their fingers in glue and then, once it dries, peels it off. Again, it comes off quite easily due to the fact that this adhesive rarely adheres. Unless you’re gluing one piece of paper to another piece of paper, Elmer’s won’t do the job. And how often, after the age of eight, do we really find ourselves needing to glue one piece of paper to another piece of paper?

As adults, we develop more sophisticated glue needs. But do we really have any good options? There’s carpenter’s glue, Krazy glue, fabric glue, and glue sticks (which just remind me of the push-up popsicles I used to enjoy as a youngster…why do all the glue companies want kids to eat the stuff?) But I’ve never had a satisfying adhesive experience with any of these.

And if we go straight to the strongest stuff – super glue, it’s pretty terrifying. Here’s the actual warning label from a brand of super glue, “Possible cancer agent. Exposure may result in nausea, headache, confusion or instability. May be harmful by breathing vapors. Exposure may cause kidney damage.” All I wanted to do was repair this cracked picture frame, but now if I don’t hold my breath from the moment I open up the glue, my kidneys will fall out. The risk/reward ratio just isn’t there.

And then, of course, there’s the opposite side of the story. Who hasn’t had this happen –

pan

That’s right, every glue I’ve ever purchased has the fastening power of cold oatmeal, but every single company that affixes labels to products has access to an ultra-glue that can’t be removed without the aid of an industrial-strength vat of chemicals and superhuman powers. (Non-stick pan my tuckus!)

Oh, and I almost forgot – glue guns. Who’s the genius behind this one? How about a device that spews burning hot viscous liquid out of a gun? Glue guns. From the makers of Deadly Acid Face Cannon.

I know what some of you are going to say – what about tape? Tape? Tape?!? Surely you jest. How is it that we’ve developed the technology that allows for subatomic particles to be fired at each other so that they smash together at rates approaching the speed of light, but we can’t develop a tape dispensing system that doesn’t result in me spending twenty minutes searching for the end of the tape each and every time I use it?

Yep, that’s it. I’m through with glues, tapes, pastes, and all of their adhesive brethren. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Advertisements

Here’s the deal. Like a bear with a snooze button addiction, I’ve been on an eight-month blog hibernation. But nothing will wake you up in a cold sweat quite like the most alarming political candidate of a lifetime. But Donald Trump transcends politics. People can argue over political ideas. Fine. But this isn’t about that. Because he doesn’t have any political ideas. He has almost no ideas at all.

Look, all public figures misspeak and have gaffes. Over the course of years in the spotlight, mistakes will be made. But Trump is a whole different category. In researching this post I came across an article in Vanity Fair called, “Seven Terrifying Things Donald Trump Has Said in the Last 36 Hours.” Pretty incredible. This man says more ignorant, hateful, braggadocious things before breakfast than most people will say in a lifetime.

And what is Trump’s central qualification for this surreal presidential bid? His business success. He never tires of talking about how he makes great deals, how he’s the biggest, HUGEST, best businessman in the whole universe. But he doesn’t often talk about the forty million dollar inheritance that got him started. I don’t know about you, but I have a suspicion I might look a little more successful myself if I had a forty million dollar head start on life. His father gave him more money than most people see in a lifetime and made him president of his real estate company…being born ridiculously rich – that was by far the best deal Trump ever made. In fact, there was an article written about how Trump would be as or more rich today had he merely invested his inheritance…so he is exactly as successful as he would be had he not done a single thing.

Donald-Trump

But I’m not here to try and make a joke out of Trump – he’s doing a much better job of that himself than I could ever hope to do. I’m just here to assemble some of his verbal low points. And to reinforce the fact that, this November, Americans will have a very important, tough decision: whether to vote for Hillary Clinton, or to vote against Donald Trump.

  1. “I will be so good at the military, your head will spin.”

The great thing about Donald Trump is that he’s great at everything. EVERYTHING. And anything he’s not great at he will soon be the absolute best at. When asked a number of foreign affairs questions that he could not begin to answer, he simply reassured us all that, at some point in the future, he will know everything about everything. (If he has the power to immediately be the best at anything, I just don’t understand what he’s waiting for)

  1. “How do you define leadership? I mean, leadership is a very strange word because, you know, some people have it, some people don’t and nobody knows why.”

Exactly…except for the fact that volumes of books have been written about what makes a good leader. People will disagree, but a lot of thought has been given to this subject. It is, therefore, perhaps a little alarming that the man who is vying to be one of the most powerful leaders in the world has no real idea of what might make a good leader. Then again, I’m sure he’s confounded by strange words he can’t figure out on a daily basis.

  1. “I think I am actually humble. I think I’m much more humble than you would understand.”

Is he bragging about his humility? Donald Trump is the opposite of the Terminator. Instead of a machine that has become self aware, he is a human who is entirely unaware.

  1. “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay? It’s, like, incredible.”

A wildly rare moment of clarity for Trump. Even he can’t believe what he’s getting away with.

  1. “Sorry losers and haters, but my I.Q. is one of the highest and you all know it! Please don’t feel so stupid or insecure, it’s not your fault.”

Yes, a sure sign of intelligence is the constant insulting and belittling of everyone you come into contact with. Mocking the handicapped, judging every female only by appearance, insulting any and everyone who crosses him in even the slightest way – it all reeks of exceptional intellect. As we all know, Einstein was famous for wandering the streets and yelling about how stupid everyone else was.

  1. “Two Corinthians 3:17, that’s the whole ballgame.”

As you’ll likely remember, this is Trump speaking to the Christian Liberty University and claiming to be a HUGE God type guy. He later explained this unusual reading of the bible verse, “It’s a very small deal, but a lot of people in different sections of the world say two, and I’ve had many, many people say that to me. My mother, as you know, was from Scotland, and they say two.”

I agree with the beginning of his statement – it actually was a small deal. But the real problem here is that it perfectly demonstrates Trump’s complete inability to admit any mistake. Trump smacks us in the face daily with his glaring, obvious mistakes…and he defends each and every one of them like a toddler covered in cookie crumbs insisting he doesn’t even know what an Oreo is. It would be so easy to say that he misspoke, but instead he insists he was treating the audience to a Scottish interpretation of the scripture. And who are the “many, many people” who confirm each of his delusions? Oh, Donnie, you’re endless attempts to recover from your gaffes only makes you all the more ridiculous.

  1. “My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.”

Trump is the first candidate since…ever…to twice refer to the size of his penis in presidential debates. (And did he just say that the size of his genitals are “well documented”? Does he have reams of reports on his girth stashed under one of his solid gold couches? Has he hired a journalist that dedicates all of his time to measuring Trump and typing up graphs? What the hell is going on here?) I have never known any human being so insecure (finally, something he actually is the best at). He can’t let any small criticism go, he has to fight to prove that every part of his personality and body is HUGE.

longfingers5555

  1. “I know words. I have the best words.”

I’m sure you do. If only you could just once remember to use them.

  1. “Happy Cinco de Mayo! The best taco bowls are made in Trump Tower Grill. I love Hispanics!”

This is a man who thinks that after claiming that the vast majority of all Mexican immigrants are criminals and worse, thinks that a picture of himself with a taco bowl will make everything all right. Reminds me of the time Roosevelt said, “Sorry about those Japanese internment camps. I’m eating sushi! I love Asians!”

  1. “She does have a very nice figure. I’ve said that if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.”

Not only is this one of the most disturbing things one can imagine a man saying about his daughter, it wasn’t even misunderstood or taken out of context. Trump states, “I’ve said that if Ivanka weren’t my daughter…” so the fact that he has thought about dating his own daughter is something that he talks about often. Dear Trump supporters, a few questions – How? What? Why? Holy shit, wwwhhhhyyyyy?

  1. “I’m speaking with myself, number one, because I have a very good brain and I’ve said a lot of things.”

This was Trump’s response to the question of who he’s consulting on foreign affairs. Wow. It’s a humdinger. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Trump. You have said a lot of things.

Here’s the deal. Long term reader (I wish I could make that plural) of this blog are probably wondering – is the guy who typically writes about sporks, unicorns, states with boring shapes, pomegranates and yodeling about to write a humorous take on miscarriages? Yes. Yes he is.

Let me just say this – I firmly believe that there is no subject that cannot be joked about. That being said, the more serious the topic, the more careful one ought to be. It also lends more credibility if you have some experience with the subject matter. But finding a way to laugh through pain is an essential part of the human experience. That and root beer floats. At some point, everyone should have a really good root beer float.

Note: Even though I am constantly writing about my opinion on very silly things, I rarely have discussed any of my actual life in this blog. Everything that follows is real.

About two months ago, my fiancée peed on a stick. To be perfectly honest, she does this much more often than either one of us would admit to in polite company, but this time it was a special stick. A voodoo stick that can amazingly tell if the urine it’s absorbing is that of a pregnant woman or that of a non pregnant woman and/or confused man. When this magic stick said, “Pregnant urine!” I was immediately cautiously optimistic.

You see, the first time a stick delivered us such news (about 18 months ago), I was a little quick on the celebration. I believe I contacted my best friend and family members within three minutes of the pee stick’s verdict. Somehow, I had purchased a stroller within seven minutes. And was checking out colleges by the end of the hour. Unfortunately, the pee stick doesn’t know the future, and we experienced a miscarriage a couple of weeks later.

Until this happened to us, I had no idea how common they are. Correct or not, I took some solace in this fact. “Look,” I reasoned, “We weren’t singled out. Many, many people have experienced this.” Perhaps this is not logical, but if something bad happens to me that also happens to a lot of other people, I find it more reasonable – it had to happen to 20% of the people, I can’t expect to dodge all of life’s most common tragedies. But if, say, I were attacked by a Bengal tiger that had escaped from a travelling circus, I’d be quite miffed. “What are the odds?!?”  I would cry out in the ER room as they bandaged up the gash in my left thigh and tested me for various rare Bengal tiger type diseases. “No one gets attacked by an escaped Bengal tiger,” I would bemoan my fate, “I’m so freakin’ unlucky!”

Nonetheless, a miscarriage is not fun. It is sad. It’s as if, as potential parents, you begin to slowly inflate this balloon with all your hopes of an imagined future with this child, and then someone just walks up out of nowhere and pops your balloon. And there’s nothing you can do but slowly watch it deflate. What could have soared is gone in a moment. And, frankly, I was afraid it would happen again. Thus, I was cautiously optimistic.

Throughout all of October I found myself afraid of another miscarriage. I would cringe anytime she displayed any slight looks of discomfort. Yes, it was usually just gas (not her gas, mind you, it was her distress at having to suffer through mine), but I felt like any twinge of pain from her could be the bad news we both had ever present in the back of our minds. Plus I heard that a travelling circus had lost a Bengal tiger…

Look, I believe that a positive outlook can manifest itself physically, so we certainly didn’t dwell on the negative. Quite the opposite. We began to talk about names. She had a dream she was playing with our daughter. I put up a top-notch tiger fence.

And then it happened.

Bleeding. Pain. Emergency room.

Here’s the strange thing I’ve noticed about pain of all types – most everyone thinks that theirs is the worst. Most people wear their pain like badges, they like to say things like, “You can’t imagine what I’ve been through,” they like to secretly feel that their pain is extra special. I sometimes wonder if this isn’t part of the problems of our world. How often are we just using other’s suffering in order to compare it to our own?

You see, sitting in an emergency room with someone you love and watching them suffer is not an easy thing. For anyone. And we weren’t seen immediately. We had to wait for other people. Other people who had other pains. Of course there was part of me that just wanted to clear the room, I just wanted to make an announcement for everyone with their scrapes, and bruises, and aches to just get out of the way so that our pain could be attended to. Because pain makes you hopeless. It reminds us of how little control we have.

But she did get to see a doctor. And the pain (as it almost always does) dissipated. The physical pain goes first. The emotional pain lingers longer. But it all escapes eventually with the air from the popped balloon.

We were over two months pregnant this time, which made it more difficult. It felt more real before it was taken away.

But she’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay. And I don’t feel like wearing my pain like a badge. Yes, I’m writing this and putting it out into the world. Perhaps it’s therapeutic. Part of me hopes it could possibly help someone else who’s experiencing something similar. And part of me just really liked the joke about me farting. But I’m not here to say, “Woe is me.” (I’m also not trying, by the way, to judge anyone who does have that response. It feels like a perfectly natural response to have.) I didn’t even realize when I started writing this…but what I want to say (speaking only for myself) is that my pain is not special.

My pain is not special.

And by saying that, I’m not trying to diminish or fail to recognize the loss. I cried. I had heart ache. That was real. But it’s not unique to me. I don’t get to own that pain alone.

I just think that maybe there’s an outside chance that this is a good way to view the world. That this might help us relate to each other a little better. My mom has a unique way of virtually always finding the positive in a situation. I’m not as accomplished in this arena, but I try and do it when I can.

So I try to see the positive.

And I’ll try to share that feeling.

And, honey, I’ll try and fart a little less.

Here’s the deal. Never has a TV show seemed more like a parody of a TV show. The first time I saw an ad for the new reality show, Splash, I thought it had to be a joke. I figured that perhaps it was just a typo for NBC’s drama Smash. But it wasn’t. It was all too real.

 
According to ABC, “Splash marks the first time 10 celebrities will train and compete in regulation platform and springboard diving at dizzying heights in front of a weekly poolside audience.” Really? How can this be? It feels like there have been dozens of times when ten celebrities have trained and competed in regulation platform and springboard diving at dizzying heights in front of a weekly poolside audience in the past. It can’t be just me. Come on, you’ve seen ten celebrities training and competing in regulation platform and springboard diving at dizzying heights in front of a weekly poolside audience before, haven’t you? The idea is so fantastic it must have been done before.

 
And what “celebrities” are featured plummeting to the water from dozens of inches in the air? How about Drake Bell, Rory Bushfield, Ndamukong Suh, and Katherine Webb just to name a few? Impressed? You should be. Because, yes, it’s that Rory Bushfield. Of Rory Bushfield fame. World renowned for doing those things which he is famous for doing. And Katherine Webb? Fantastic. ABC rants that she “finished in the top ten of Miss USA 2012.” That’s it. That’s enough to get her on a reality show. But, hey, if finishing in the top twenty percent of a competition people stopped watching twenty years ago isn’t the definition of fame, I don’t know what is.

Sharleen Stratton and Bree Cole from Australia...

No. They’re not going to look like this.

Yes, it’s pretty sad when your big gun is Louie Anderson. ABC brags that Anderson is famous for his “memorable role” in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Don’t remember that memorable role? Maybe that’s because he is essentially an extra, appearing on camera for less than fifteen seconds and not saying a word. I’m not sure how ABC defines “memorable,” but I’m sure that future generations will look back in admiration at the memorable debut of Splash.

 
But the most alarming thing about this show is not that it consists solely of a bunch of D list celebrities jumping into water, but that 8.8 million people tuned in for the first episode. Seriously. Close to nine million Americans sat down on whatever night this show airs and thought to themselves, “I have nothing better to do than to watch Rudy from The Cosby Show fall into a swimming pool.”

 
And I’ve seen another ad for it this week in which some woman stands, poolside, crying. What’s the drama here? Does she have an intense fear of not being dry? Was her family murdered by a rogue band of diving boards and she’s being forced to relive that trauma? Or did she just now learn that her agent signed her up to “star” on Splash?

 
We can’t let the networks continue to water down television like this. You’re telling them that you’ll be willing to watch even the least famous among us do anything if it’s made to slightly resemble a competition. At this rate, next fall we’ll be watching Andrew Dice Clay and Brigitte Nielsen battle to be the greatest department store cost cutter in Slash, Lindsay Lohan and Dustin Diamond struggling to be the world’s greatest celebrity short order cook in Hash, or Carrot Top vs. Erik Estrada in the greatest reality facial hair growing competition of all time – Mustache. And, sadly, all of these jokes seem like a better idea than Splash.

Here’s the deal. Last week’s comment contest has left me overwhelmed, sorting through the hundreds dozens ones of entries. Let’s take a gander at some snippets…

Becoming cliché said, “If ever I were to see the Oxford comma on the street, I would scream, cheer, faint, and ask a friend to take our picture together.”

No doubt that’s a mighty fine comment. And I feel the same way…but about Enrique Iglesias. Although I would suggest changing your order to, “Scream, cheer, ask a friend to take our picture together, and faint.” The photo will look far less impressive if you’ve already gone limp.

Suz Pain asked, “Have you ever tried parsley on your pizza?”

A delicious comment that directly engages me with an in-depth query – kudos. May all your pizza be parsley free.

Jennifer offered, “I just really don’t like…pizza…except on…pizza…you know, I think…pizza too!

Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I took out a bunch of words and her comment no longer makes sense. But I’m still diggin’ it big time.

Jenn lamented, “I never win anything…ever.”

A sad little comment designed to elicit the sympathy vote…and it just might work…

Dandelion Mom raved, “A comment contest! I could totally rock that! I often get very commenty in a completely awesome way.”

Oh yes, she rocked it. Rocked it like a dandelion.

Karen suggested, “Perhaps your favorite aunt should be the grand prize winner.”

Listen, nobody respects nepotism more than somebody trying to break into the entertainment industry…but can I really give the prize to a family member? Why not? It’s my freakin’ blog.

Heather commented thusly, “Although seldom used in Britain and the United States, root parsley is very common in central and eastern European cuisine, where it is used in soups and stews.”

A fine, educated comment if ever I’ve seen one. Sometimes the best answers are to questions no one ever asked. Could be a winner…

Jenny observed, “I have read every blog post you have written and I have been greatly entertained by them all. I would say I have favorites…but that seemed like it would diminish the genius of your other posts.”

Now we’re talking. The way to a man’s heart is through his ego. This one’s going to be tough to beat.

Pizza Margareta

Pizza…pizza…you know, I think…pizza too!

You can see my problem.

As I waded through the very tiny pile of entries I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Why is it that 37.5% of the entrants are named Jennifer, Jenn or Jenny? Why aren’t more of them named Ralph?” And, secondly, “Why are so many people still mentioning bananas. I specifically told them that this was not about bananas.” Then, thirdly, “How in the gosh darned heck am I going to choose a winner from this group of winners?”

Well…problem solved. I have decided to reward all eight entrants with a personalized limerick. If you are one of the entrants and would like to email me your actual name or any details (job, hobby, favorite medieval instrument other than the lute, etc.) you would like me to try and incorporate into your limerick please feel free to do so any time this week – makyamcbee@hotmail.com. Otherwise, I’ll just use your screen name, comment, and the blogger’s secret weapon – making stuff up. And next week I’ll be posting all eight limericks in a Makya McBee Vs. Comment Contest Limerick Winnerspalooza!

Wait, wait, I know what you’re thinking, “What about the $3.92 gift card to California Pizza Kitchen?” That, my lovely friends, goes to the first person to show up at my front door.

On your mark…get set…banana.