How To Article of the Week

This week: How to Make a Wire from a Plastic Bottle

Too time consuming. Using a hairdryer to mold it? If I really want wire that badly, I'm sure they have some at the dollar store.

The Statement Necklace

I know big jewelry is popular right now, particularly the "statement necklace."



(Actually, I have no idea what is popular, but I see a bunch of women wearing necklaces that would easily fit in with an African tribal dance, so I figure people probably like that kind of stuff right now.)

As a kid, however, I remember hearing a heated discussion about how ugly big jewelry was. I remember mentally nodding my head emphatically, even though I didn't have an opinion until that moment. Let's face it. I'm a follower.

I went home thinking, "Wow, I'm glad my mom doesn't wear big, ugly jewelry."

Over the next few weeks, I started to notice that no matter where we went, I would have easily won the argument, "Oh yeah? Well my mom's jewelry is bigger than your mom's jewelry!"

Hands down.

At first, I was mortified. She basically had a giant medallion hanging around her neck. It looked like she had won an Olympic sporting event.

Then, I realized that I had survived until now without anyone pointing out how bad it looked. I noticed that my mom had the panache to really work it in Costco-sized costume jewelry, and I figured that I should be proud rather than looking for a hole to crawl into.

Later on, I remember hearing her talk about her necklaces, saying she didn't think it was worth wearing anything if it didn't "make a statement."

There you have it.

My mom is a trend setter ...

And her jewelry is still bigger than your mom's jewelry.

This could be my daughter's twin

Commercials I Still Laugh At

My sister reminded me about this commercial yesterday, and I laughed all over again:



Then, I remembered these:

Happy Father's Day to ME!

I have a secret (or not so secret) dream. Some day, I would love to walk into a store and buy a pair of pants.

That seems like a silly dream, but I haven't been able to do that since my freshman year of high school.

All my pants have to be bought online, and as much as I love the Internet, It would be really nice to try pants on without having to wait for the mail.

That is the long lead in to one of the best Father's Day presents ever.

A new pair of pajama pants.

If regular pants are hard to find, pajama pants are impossible. They aren't in the typical pants sizes, so people only have the option of S, M, L, XL, etc.

I buy 30x36, and the longest pajamas I've been able to find only make it up to a 34. That's before they shrink in the wash. Usually, this also means they have a waste band that would comfortably fit eight of me inside.

My wife just made me a pair of pajama pants that fit perfectly. They're long and wonderful and make me feel a little less like a giraffe in high waters.

At the risk of traumatizing all of you with my bony toes and skinny legs, here is a picture:

How To Article of the Week

This week: How to Make an Airplane From a Postcard

This actually looks like it might work surprisingly well. One of these days when I have nothing else to do (i.e. not until I take a dirt nap), I'd like to make one of these.

Warning: Graphic Images

So, I'm an idiot (you may remember how long it took me to understand the concept of a hot burner).

I guess knives should be added to that list. Over the weekend, I was trying to cut through a huge block of cheese and instead managed to slice through my thumb nail.

Yep. Not the thumb alone. I chopped right through the thumb nail.

Deep too.

Here's a picture of the damage:



I'm sure you can't even see it right? I couldn't get a real good shot, so I figure I'll have to outline it for you:



I'm not looking forward to what will happen when my nail grows out enough to lose the only connection left at the bottom of the slice.

I'd really rather not lose my nail.

Music Junkie

I heard these guys on the radio last week. I kind of like them, and I guess their CD comes out today.

I may need to get it.

How To Article of the Week

This week: How to Escape From the Trunk of a Car

Thinking about this creeps me out. The thought that some people are actually abducted makes me ill, and I hope this advice actually works.

Awareness Test

I think I need more sleep ...

What do crab grass and cockroaches have in common?

Both will probably survive a nuclear bomb.

As you know, an infant has more fix-it skills than I do, but I'm trying to be handy and build my daughter a sandbox.



It's nothing fancy, but I need her to have another outlet besides throwing dirt on our strawberry bushes and ripping off all their leaves.

Some day, I'll have to ask her why can't she do that to the weeds instead.

You're probably thinking, "So, tangent boy, what does this have to do with crab grass and cockroaches?" (Actually, it has nothing to do with cockroaches.)



A couple nights ago, I took my shovel to go slice out the section of lawn we want removed, and realized just how badly the crab grass was going to kick my trash. Granted, my 120 lbs. is a sorry excuse for leverage, but after 20 jumps onto the shovel, the only thing I had to show for it was aching ab muscles and a headache.

I went out again yesterday, but I think this project is going to take longer than I thought.

Crab grass? They seriously need to consider making body armor out of that stuff.

Someone, call the people who make those Kevlar vests.

Advice from me to you

If you and your friend decide to dig a couple pits on the hill across from your house so you can have the ultimate water balloon fight (in the trenches), and you hit a section of granite with a vaguely humanoid depression in it, here are some things to remember:

1. Don't assume it was the site of some mafia assassination.


2. Don't freak out that the mob boss is going to come find you for digging up the the spot where he almost buried guy who snitched on him to the police.


3. Don't try to fill in the hole again, hoping no one noticed.


4. Don't run home in tears, hoping that somehow, hiding under the bed will protect you.


5. Do go have a brownie (because brownies are ALWAYS a good idea).


6. Do go back to the holes and have the best water balloon fight of your life.

For the record, when we started to speculate about why the granite could be shaped that way, I nearly wet my pants, and I don't even think I knew what the mafia was.

PSA: Rules of the Road

Just to clarify ...

If you are in a car, this:



Does not necessarily mean this:



Especially if there are none of these:



If there is no stop sign, those fancy stripes on the ground only mean something if people are crossing.

That is all.

(There is a two-way stop by our office. Because there is a crosswalk, everyone assumes it doubles as a stop sign. Without fail, whenever I'm waiting for my turn, someone with the right of way thinks they have to stop and let me go ahead of them.)

How To Article of the Week

This week: How to Use a Squat Toilet

1. I don't think I ever want to have to use one of these.

2. Favorite line:

"Sure, the explicitness of these instructions might make you a little uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as it'd be to ask someone how to use a squat toilet, or walk away from one with a mess on the floor and on your clothes."

Enough said. Definitely, enough said.

Women and Purses

I have stumbled upon a fundamental rule of women and their purses.

It dawned on me when I watched my daughter try to get something out of her toy purse when she was a year old. I have no data to support this, but I'm positive it crosses both age and cultural barriers.

Here is the rule:

When women have to find something in their purses, every single one of them does the following.

First, they hold the purse open and look to see if what they need is on top. Since another fundamental rule of purses is that whatever they are looking for instantly shifts to the bottom corner, this first tactic never works.

Second, they shove their hand into the purse while simultaneously looking up and away from their purse. This means they just have to fish blindly with their hand.

Typically, the first time never works, so they pull their hand out and repeat step one.

Then, since the laws of physics prevent the item from ever shifting to the top, they have to repeat step two.

Not once in the whole process have I ever seen a woman combine both steps one and two.

I passed! ... I think ...

Well, I survived the physical. It's amazing how much better food sounds just because you can't have it. They wanted us to not eat anything after lunch and drink plenty of water prior to our appointment that evening.

I finished my lunch around 12:30 p.m. and had my first food craving around 1 p.m.

It only took 30 minutes ...

I spent the rest of the work day subconsciously reaching into my snack drawer, only to recoil my hand once I realized what I was doing.

By 6 p.m. I was ready to eat my shoe.

In other news:

Marisa just wrote about some people she knows who had a life insurance physical too.

Needless to say, I don't think my height/weight ratio puts me in the "super preferred" category.

"You're going to feel a little pressure."

I have a physical today for my life insurance policy, and I can't help thinking about this video:



The last time I had a physical, I was still in high school. It was to get approval to go to Canada for a couple years, and I needed a doctor to say I wasn't going to die from climbing a flight of stairs. My brother-in-law's dad was a doctor, so I figured it would just be easier and faster to go to him. I gave him a call and he said he could just do the exam at his house.

It was probably the easiest physical I've ever had. Aside from a blood and urine sample, he pretty much just asked me one question. "How do you feel?"

After that, all that was left was picking up the signed paperwork at his office after the blood and urine test results came back.

Piece of cake.

After hearing the results were in, I headed over to his office to pick up my paperwork. I told the nurse at the front desk why I was there, and she asked me to have a seat. Crossing the crowded waiting room to an empty chair, I felt the entire room staring at me.

At this point, I should probably mention that my brother-in-law's dad wasn't a family physician. It turns out, he was an OB/GYN. Looking around the room, I realized everyone was either pregnant or with someone who was pregnant. I can only imagine what they must have thought of a skinny white boy sitting all alone.

I couldn't wait for the nurse to bring up my results and get out of there.

Just then, a nurse with a clipboard came through the door to announce the next patient. "Nathan? ... Nathan?"

Seriously? They were calling me back?

I stood up and made my way over to the nurse. She took me back through the maze of hallways to where the doctor was, and he handed over the papers.

To this day, I think he did it on purpose. It's what I would have done to embarrass a teenager who was entirely too worried about what other people think.

Well played, Dr.

Well played.

The Old People Patrol

Back in high school, my friends and I had a theory.

We figured out there was a special task force within the police department to prevent people from speeding. Now, we didn't know where the funding came from or why it was such a secret operation, but we were convinced it existed.

Have you ever noticed that when you are in a hurry, inevitably an old person pulls out in front of you, only to weave back and forth, maxing out at 22 mph?

They also seem to know exactly where you are going and head you off for about 15 blocks before finally peeling off.

We dubbed them "The Old People Patrol" and were convinced they even had a smelly truck division as well.



We figured they work in a network and are all connected by CB radios. As soon as they see someone in a hurry, they report it and send the closest agent to pull in front of the law breaker.

It was a pretty impressive system, one that always seemed to get me on my way to work.