Thoughts from a Shower

I’m not sure why people always have their deepest, most sincere and profound thoughts in the bathroom.  Men are famous for flushing the toilet, opening the door and announcing, “I just thought of something.”  For women, we do our best thinking for the shower.

Sometimes, shower thoughts are genius:  We could solve world hunger if cow manure was edible.

Other times, they are life-changing:  I am going to invest my tax refund wisely instead of buying another pair of shoes.

And sometimes, they are rambling, incoherent, and pointless.

Ladies and gentlemen, I devote this entry to my rambling, incoherent and pointless Shower Thoughts. Lucky you!

  1. I know there are dogs who are allergic to fleas, but what if there are sheep who are allergic to wool?
  2. What if a turtle is claustrophobic?
  3. Are there cats who are afraid of mice?
  4. Are there mice who hate cheese?
  5. I know this has been pondered by better people than me, but what if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?
  6. Why do people say they are putting toast in the toaster? And for that matter:
  7. Why do people refer to their water heater as a hot water heater? If the water is already hot, why heat it in your hot water heater?
  8. Am I the only one in the world who knows that “penultimate” means second to last, and not top of the line?
  9. Why do we demand piping hot pizza when we have to wait for it to cool off before we can eat it? Why isn’t lukewarm, edible pizza a thing?
  10. Why do we say people who don’t eat much “eat like a bird” when birds eat half of their body weight every single day?
  11. If we’re at a restaurant and someone tells us our meal looks good, why do we say thank-you?
  12. How can every coffee shop have “the world’s best coffee?” They do mean OUR world – Earth, right? I guess they could mean Venus and not be wrong.
  13. Why does every person in a crime thriller shoot until they run out of bullets, and then throw the gun at their target? Has that ever worked?
  14. Why is “moist” such an awful word?
  15. Why do we “dust” when we clean our homes? Shouldn’t we be un-dusting?
  16. Are there any pilots who are afraid of heights? And if so, just don’t even tell me.

Okay, so where do you do your best thinking?  Any Shower Thoughts you’d like to share?  Feel free to spill, folks!  I’m always looking for proof that I’m not the only one with a mind like a mouse in a maze!

 

What’s in a Word?

Do you ever lay in bed at night, trying to sleep, and suddenly, your mind decides to reach into its dark, hidden stash of almost-forgotten memories to slap you in the face with the most random shit?  I have to believe this happens to other people (it’s what keeps me sane, so don’t pop that balloon, for all our sake).

And by the way, what the hell is up with these nighttime reveries anyway??  It’s your one time to relax and not think. You’re laying there, feeling the hardships of the day seeping out of your overburdened consciousness, and you’re grateful for the quiet … glad to be away from the noise of it all.  Suddenly, your brain is like, NO! You will NOT sleep … you will instead fixate on that irritating commercial jingle you heard in third grade as it plays over and over in your head. Or how about that stupid thing you did at work five years ago? You know what I’m talking about. In the conference room in front of everyone too. That was fun, huh? Or, why does a round pizza come in a square box? Answer that one, smart guy.  Why is it that if someone yells “duck” they are helping you, but if they yell “chicken” they are mocking you? Have they ever even MET a chicken? Those things will tear you up. Tear. You. Up.  Or the old tried and true, are there birds who are afraid of heights? Poor birds.

So. Yeah.

Anyway, I bring all of this up to let you in on the crap question-of-the-night my brain decided to throw at me last night. Perhaps you’ll relate. Perhaps you’ll have an answer. Perhaps you will be kind enough to soothingly touch my arm (figuratively speaking, of course, since we are on the internet and as far as I know, we can’t actually reach out and touch someone … yet) and say, encouragingly, why, no, Wendy, you are not crazy. Not crazy at all. It will all be all right.

Is the plural of a computer mouse, mouse(s) or mice?  The crux of the problem, the answer to which I unwillingly contemplated for hours, is this: grammatically, saying computer mouses just isn’t right and the grammar-fanatic in me fights back against such misuse. But … saying computer mice … well, in a word, drives me flipping insane. It sounds neither right nor logical … just stupid.

Me at Best Buy: “Excuse me clearly overworked sales clerk, but do you have any computer mice?”  I feel as though such a request would be met with disdain if not outright confusion. Oh, of course they would know what I meant, but wonder in awe at my attempt at being “hip.” (On a side note, do we still say hip?)

It took me longer than it should have (4 hours 32 minutes) to figure out an answer to this late-night grammar puzzle. But solve it, I did. Aren’t you proud?

Simply put, I will never ever be in a situation where I have to use the plural of computer mouses  mice  mouses  mice  mouses … aaarrrgghhh!

Derailed: Caught Again

He was smiling as he explained the details of my new phone.  His eyes were bright and clear, his hair something out of a fantasy novel, and teeth whiter than nature had ever intended.  My gaze fixated on his teeth, my mind wandering the way it always does.

“Are they real?  What toothpaste does he use?  What would our kids look like?  What the hell is he saying?  Oh, crap, I have no idea how to upload photos on this phone.  I’ll just smile and nod and look it up on Google later.  Wait, did I just agree to an upgrade!?”

Derailed again.

I have kind of a fascination with beautiful features, and I always notice hair, eyes, and teeth every time I meet someone.  It’s not crazy, folks, it’s the stuff sappy love songs are made of.  No one ever wrote a poem about greasy hair, grey teeth, and dull eyes, although I may take a crack at it later if you’re all interested.

I’ve been known to trip over air when I spot a gorgeous set of chompers, captivating eyes, and long flowing hair.  I’m not picky, it can be a guy, a girl, or a Collie … especially the Collie, if I’m being honest.

I’m not alone, either.  Clear, bright eyes and healthy hair and teeth are the markers of good health, and that’s why we, as humans, are hardwired to notice them.

Unfortunately, I get caught staring frequently. Sometimes, it’s a legitimate stare because I am fascinated by someone’s features.  Other times, however, I get caught staring and I swear, I wasn’t even looking at someone. They just got in the way as my train of thought derailed. Daydreaming and being lost in thought often results in a blank stare, a goofy look on my face, and occasionally, light drooling.  I cannot count how many times (okay, so I can, but for argument’s sake … ) I have had to thwart a flirtation attempt after a daydreaming episode.  What can I say?  I’m an unintentional stalker heartbreaker.

“Hey, there!  I couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me.  I feel the same.  We should hang out sometime.”

“Do you think otters know they are cute?”

“Whaaat?”

“Do chickens feel embarrassed that they can’t fly very well?”

“Ummm…”

And another heart broken by my profound thought process.  Sorry, I can’t help it you just got in the way of my deep brain exercises.

If you think my posts are bizarre at times, you should walk a day in my mind.  I guarantee you’ll be exhausted.

Trolls, Sadists, and The Olympics – Oh My

The Olympics have drawn to a close and it seems as though it was filled with just as much scandal as it was exciting competition. Sadly, it was not without heartbreak or injury either.

If any of you have been following the games, you may have heard about the injury suffered by French Olympian, Samir Ait Said. In the midst of his vault routine landing, Said suffered a broken leg. Not his first. But still devastating and horrific. First, let me say my heart immediately went out to him as images of Joe Thiesmann flashed in my head. And I’m glad to say Said seems to be recovering well, as well as one can after such a terrible event.

But all of that is beside the point, how did I discover this piece of news? Luckily I didn’t witness it like I did Theismann’s injury – that one is still rattling around in my head I’m very sorry to report. No, it was a normal day pretty much like any other day and as I so often do, I was browsing my Facebook newsfeed when lo and behold a news article popped up detailing Said’s botched landing, his subsequent insult to injury when the paramedics dropped him while he was strapped onto a gurney, and an update on his recovery (as much as was known then).  Believe it or not, the story of this awful incident was not the most disturbing thing about the Facebook post in question. Not by a long shot.

You see, apparently the media outlet posting this article had decided to show some respect (gasp!  I know, right!?) to both the athlete and presumably its audience and opted NOT to show the stomach-churning video of the gruesome injury. In fact, from what I understand, numerous news sites and even the Olympic committee had removed various versions of the video due to its grisly nature, not to mention, once again, respect.  And frankly, what purpose does it serve to air such a thing?  But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

As I mentioned, the news story was not the worst thing about this Facebook post and that’s saying something. No. The worst thing was the slew of comments from the bloodthirsty…well, let’s see…trolls? No, that’s not right. Sadists? Horror-mongers? I could come up with some better names, but my mother reads this blog. I digress. Back to the comments.

The story alone was quite detailed and the author talented enough to paint a word picture for his audience — a word picture that was more than adequate to conjure a mind’s eye view of what occurred to this poor gymnast.

And yet. There it began. The vocal outcry of the offended masses culled from the cream of our society. “Where’s the video!?” asked one. “Why’d you guys take it down?” whined another. “Someone needs to re-post on YouTube or something, man!” decried one technologically clever soul. “Really, you’re not going to show it!?” demanded one particularly impatient individual.  As you might imagine the comments and discussion only went downhill from there.

The conversation kind of devolved into the equivalent of an incessantly whining toddler throwing an ever-growing tantrum because you turned off his beloved Teletubbies. Yet it wasn’t their whining or incredibly childish gore-filled demand for the video that bothered me, although that was bad enough, it was the “why” behind their communal outrage.

In fact, I dare you to look around on YouTube at what some of these like-minded…people…are watching these days. Live fights between young pregnant women, people getting hit by cars, animals being tortured, and a number of less than “innocent” sadistic pranks. Oh, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

It continues to beg the question, what the hell is wrong with our society? Why are we obsessed with violence and inundated with the demand to see other living, breathing beings suffer? Is it funny for some people, or is it just some sick urge even they don’t understand? Either way I really do worry for the future sometimes. We seem to be barreling towards the extreme southern district of the afterlife a lot faster than originally forecast with no hand-basket in sight.

Late Night Boogeyman

There was this movie that came out in 1989 called Little Monsters starring child-actor-of-the-decade Fred Savage and Howie Mandel in a career defining role as Maurice, the monster who lives under the bed in a world full of ghouls and goblins. Sort of like a live-action Monsters Inc. In the movie Fred Savage’s character gets taken into this netherworld and learns that those scary spirits under his bed are by and large pretty fun-loving dudes who just want to live their life and have a good time.

Why did this thought come to me? My mind is hard to shut off sometimes and one night when I was attempting (unsuccessfully) to doze off I noticed the light in my bedroom closet had been left on. I didn’t remember leaving it on and couldn’t recall even being in the closet at all that day. It made me think about just how long the light had been burning before I noticed it. And then, as so often happens to me late at night (or any other time if I want to be completely honest), my mind wandered off the rails.

Lying there in bed I thought that maybe it wasn’t me who turned it on. Maybe it was a boogeyman. And if it’s a boogeyman, what if he’s afraid of the dark? What if all these monsters children grow up fearing are simply misunderstood creatures that have been swept under our beds or crammed into our closets because eons ago humans forced out all the boogeymen so we didn’t have to cohabit ? Is it possible that the monsters under our bed are refugees? Did we put them there centuries ago and now they only come out at night when they know we’ll be asleep so they won’t run into the scary humans?  But….they’re afraid of the dark.  So once in a while as the others are huddled around trash-can fires in their ghost world, a few adventurous boogeymen (probably children boogeymen…because I doubt the grown up boogeymen can control their kids at all times any better than we can control ours all the time) step out into a human’s closet and, frightened by the shadows and odd shapes that the clothes and sundry items make on the wall, they turn on the light.  Perhaps they are just misunderstood, much like Maurice and his brood, and we should really just hand them a flashlight instead of screaming at moving shadows.

That would definitely account for why my closet light is on…I mean it makes sense, right?  And if there really is a boogeyman in my closet who is afraid of the dark, who am I to get up and turn the light out on him thereby frightening him to death?  So I stayed in my warm, cozy bed, looking at the soft light beaming out from under the closet door and I pondered the various underworld creatures who might benefit from some night-lights and a little empathy.

Yes folks, this is what I think about as I’m trying to pass out after a long day. Maybe instead of worrying about spearheading humanitarian efforts to create a cross-species allegiance between humans and monsters I should just go to Walgreens and buy some Zzzzquil.

Please sir...can you spare a flashlight...??

Please sir…can you spare a flashlight…??