October 10, 2005
Lesson For the Python--Don't Try It!
I hope the Burmese pythons in the Everglades took note: you shouldn't try to swallow an alligator. Your friend blew up because he tried.
As disgusting is the picture is...it's kind of cool at the same time. In case you haven't seen it, that's the back end of the alligator sticking out of the exploded body of the python. The rest of the python's body is in the water. Yum.
I think this is where the line "See you later, alligator" comes in.
Wrote a little poem about it:
To hungry pythons, I wrote you an ode
Don't eat gators if you don't want to explode
Your eyes are bigger than your gut
If you eat it, you're a nut
Just stick with the turtles and toads.
Posted by Anna at 02:14 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
July 01, 2005
Must've Stepped on a Frog...
Do you know what is remarkably funny, even though I'm 25 years old and in grad school?
When someone in a position of authority farts. OK, farting in general is funny. But it's especially funny when it's someone that you don't even really view as human.
I was at work and a nationally-esteemed professor wandered in my office looking for my boss.
When he turned around, he farted. Super loud. Long and drawn-out. No possible alternative interpretation. It was a fart.
As a little girl in one of my classes would have said, "Oh, scooze ooh! Ooh tink!"
Wish I would've had a witty comeback. Instead I bit my lip and tried to keep from laughing.
Posted by Anna at 12:04 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
May 17, 2005
Dri-Weave Heaven
*warning* *warning* *warning* Guys, this may get a little too detailed for you. Read on at your own risk.
I've said before that I have the knack of inventing products for my own use that later appear in the store. Procter & Gamble beat me to the idea this time, though. I was mopping my floors today with my Swiffer WetJet. After I was finished mopping the kitchen and the bathroom (I only have a total of about 12 square feet of tile, so it doesn't take too long), I peeled off the little pad thing to throw it away. Of course, I had to look at it...and discovered something I'd never noticed before: the WetJet pad looked strangely like the Always maxi pad. What with me being the curious type and all, I instantly went to the under-the-sink cabinet (gals, you know "the cabinet") and took a look.
Sure enough, the Swiffer WetJet is only a larger version of Always Ultra Thin, patented Dri-Weave cover and all. Since they're both produced by Procter & Gamble, I guess I shouldn't be surprised...but I was.
This gives me all sorts of new possibilities for further modification in my own life. Maxi pads stuck to the Swiffer for "little" clean-up jobs that don't merit a whole fresh Swiffer pad...or maybe Swiffer pads with the little side guards for those heavy days (I told you men to read at your own risk!)! I mean, girls, this is great! They can be used interchangeably--which means you just buy whichever you have a coupon for!
So the question is...what other uses can you find for the Always pad/Swiffer pad compatibility?
Now if we could just come up with other uses for tampons...
Posted by Anna at 09:35 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack
May 16, 2005
Dear Mr. Homeless Man
Dear Homeless Man who sits at the intersection of I-40 and Broadway,
How do you pay for a cell phone if you can't pay for food?
Yes, I saw you today. You were at your usual spot with your usual cardboard sign wearing your usual blue jeans and green t-shirt. Except today you were chatting on a cell phone. Let me rephrase that: you were laughing on the cell phone.
Is that what you do with the quarters people pass out their window while they're waiting at the stoplight? I'm just wondering. I'm not trying to judge your priorities--laughter is a very important thing. I do think my curiosity is merited, though. How exactly can you afford that cell phone?
Your observer,
White Impala that drives by at 10:00 every morning
Posted by Anna at 04:04 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
May 07, 2005
Analyze This!
I don't usually remember my dreams...and if I do, I hesitate to share them because of their potential deeper meaning. Here's a dream that I had last night, though. All you pseudoFreuds, analyze this one! I dare you!
I was a camera operator in a TV studio. I was assigned to operate the camera for a show that was similar to America's Next Top Model. Well, it was kind of similar. Actually, it was a show that searched for the dog and dog owner that looked the most alike. Every week, the dog/owner pair would compete in modeling stunts that would accentuate their similarities. Instead of being hosted by Tyra Banks, this show was hosted by "Stacey," a receptionist I recognized from the Student Health Center here on campus. Of course, she also had a dog that looked a great deal like her.
There was no personal conflict in the dream: I merely ran my camera and observed the competition. For each episode, I would record the modeling stunt, ranging from the participants and their pets riding with their faces out of a pickup truck (designed to feature the similarities in wind-blown facial expressions) to the participants and their dogs at a tea party (featuring similarities in table manners). Eventually, the crown in the competition went to an elderly man and his Saint Bernard named Elmer.
So, you dream analysts: what's it mean?
Posted by Anna at 10:21 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
May 02, 2005
Botanical Wish in 4 Lines
Dear pink blossoms nestled in my pot,
With Miracle-Gro maybe you'll thrive.
But an esteemed horticulturalist I am not,
So just please, oh please, survive!
I'm not much of a gardener. Matter of fact, plants seem to wither immediately when sensing my presence. But I'm trying yet again to keep a plant alive.
Flowers, day 1:
I'll try to keep you posted. My guess is that the photograph I take in a few days will look significantly less green and much more brown. We shall see, though. I'm sure you can't wait.
Posted by Anna at 03:22 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 09, 2005
Don't Say I Didn't Warn You...
I'm out of original stuff to blog. I feel like I have to post something, though, and I came across some really dumb warnings on packages in my apartment. Of course, this sent me into a mission to determine other warnings that seem obvious yet are printed on items everywhere. Here are a few of the weird warnings I saw today:
1. There's a coupon inside the plastic wrapper of a frozen pizza. On the box it says, "Remove paper coupon before cooking product. Do not eat coupon."
2. On the back of my body wash, there is a warning that says, "Use of this product may cause some surfaces to become slippery."
3. On my deodorant: "For external use only."
4. My package of disinfecting kitchen cleaning wipes warns, "Product not suitable for baby care. Avoid prolonged contact with skin."
5. On my digital camera's box: "Consuming camera batteries may cause fatal injury.
6. The back of a bottle of liquid drain opener says, "Do not soak skin in this product."
7. I just got a new box of colored permanent markers. The box says: "Markers will discolor skin and stain clothing. Do not use for personal ornamentation."
Are some people really this dense? OK, so here's your part: what kind of stupid warnings have you seen lately?
Oh, and I discovered that there is a website devoted to these irrational warnings called, appropriately enough, Dumb Warnings.
And though this picture isn't exactly a warning, it made me laugh and wonder exactly why it was required:
Posted by Anna at 09:00 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 28, 2005
Rainy Day, Go Away, Don't Come Back Another Day
Driving in the rain is NOT fun.
Especially during rush hour. And when the school buses are out. And when the people in the housing project dart across the street like they always do without considering that they are hard to see when it's pouring. And when wacko drivers don't seem to notice that the roads are wet and therefore come this close *holding thumb and index finger close together* to broadsiding me because they decided to go ahead and try to make the red light.
Sometimes people are dumb. *sigh*
Posted by Anna at 12:10 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 25, 2005
Ain't Gonna Do It
I refuse to pay $2.19 for a gallon of gas. I just won't.
So tell me this...why do I agree to pay $2.99 for a gallon of milk? Shouldn't milk, which is a renewable resource, cost less than gasoline?
Maybe it's not gas prices I should be ocncerned about.
Posted by Anna at 10:16 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Seen on the Bus
Since I go right downtown to get to campus, I see multitudes of public buses every day. When I'm stopped at a stoplight, I always enjoy looking at the advertisements pasted on the sides and back of the bus. Usually, they're not particularly noteworthy. The ones I saw today, though, raised my eyebrows.
On Bus #17, the back of the bus had an ad for a casket company. Although I realize this is a critical aspect of life (actually, death), seeing it on the back of public transportation is rather disturbing. Maybe it serves as a warning to the people behind the bus to keep their distance. Maybe it's just an ad. Either way, I was not comforted with the casket ad and the words that are supposed to bring comfort like "we're here when you need us." I found it just a little disconcerting that a casket and funeral service purchased advertising on a source of public transportation.
Bus #8 had a completely different message, and I was not happy to see it either. There's a company in Nashville called Pull-A-Part. It's basically an automobile junkyard where you go and find parts you need to fix your car. That's innocent enough, but their slogan is "Best Strip Joint in Town." And, of course, when most people think of strip joints, they think of large-breasted, scantly clad women...which is exactly what Pull-A-Part uses as their spokesperson. I always have to change the channel when their commercial comes on because of all the sexual innuendos, and the bus was no better. It was practically pornographic. The ad was so large that the spokesmodel busting out of her bikini was massive. I can't even imagine what parents must feel when they're driving with their kids and this bus pulls up next to them. I was disgusted. Maybe it's a good tactic for catching men's attention (hey, sex sells), but I think it's just obscene.
Posted by Anna at 12:00 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 23, 2005
Don't Mail Your Blood
I opened a Priority Mail envelope from our friends at the United States Postal Service. I send and receive those cardboard envelopes all the time, and I don't know how I missed this warning:
Do not send blood in this envelope.
Boy, that was really a consideration of mine. I have to restrain myself from mailing my O+ all around the world. *rolling eyes*
Kinda reminds me of a half-gross, half-funny, half-heartwarming (oops, that's more than 1 whole, isn't it?) story from a kid when I student-taught.
Melvin was a third grader in the class where I did my student- teaching. Melvin (no, that's not his name, but he had an equally old-fashioned name) and his family had immigrated from Malaysia in Melvin's infancy. He was a pudgy little guy (maybe the term would be more polite if I used "stout" or "solid") and was overly sensitive to everything. One cross look and he was in tears. He also kept a very messy desk, which plays a role in this story. I student-taught during the fall semester of 2001, so I was hard at work during the September 11th crisis. Melvin had, like all the other kids that semester, been overexposed to planes crashing into buildings, seeing photographs of the victims, and heard the pleas for supplies, blood donations, etc.
Since papers were messily sticking out of Melvin's desk, one of my supervising teachers asked me to help him clean and organize it during recess. He loved the attention so much that it didn't bother him to miss recess, so he was very pleased that I was sent to help him and visit with him. We had a good talk while we were pulling everything out of his desk...until it happened.
Out of his desk plopped a Ziploc sandwich bag. It was about an eighth full of reddish goo.
Me: Hey, Melvin, what's this? (holding up bag, assuming it was the remnant of a science experiment before my arrival)
Melvin: Blood.
Me: (immediately dropping bag) Blood?! Why?
Melvin: Because they said I'm not old enough to donate blood to the people in New York, but I wanted to give them some anyway.
Me: Where are you getting this blood?
Melvin: Anytime I scratch a scab, I squeeze the blood into my bag.
Me: Oh. Oh, my. Um, I'm gonna have the teacher talk to you, OK?
I don't know how Melvin's bag disappeared; I'm sure the teacher had to wear gloves and dispose of it in the nurse's hazardous biowaste bin. Yuck. Yet, the little guy cared so much and was so troubled that he wanted to donate his blood even though he was only 8. Sweet kid.
But that brings me back to the original statement: don't mail blood through the US Postal Service, at least not in a cardboard envelope, OK?
Posted by Anna at 08:53 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 09, 2005
It's a Small World After All...
Yesterday I bought a sprig of fake flowers for my bedroom. Today I was cutting the tag off to stick them in my vase, and I discovered they were manufactured by Teters Florist.
This means little to any of you who haven't lived in southwest Missouri. But in little ol' Bolivar where I went to college, there is a flower company called Teters. When I lived on campus, I spent a semester across the street from their factory. When I got my first real apartment, I lived across the street from their store.
So who'da thunk I could move 9 hours away and run across a sprig of fake flowers manufactured right across the street from where I used live? It really is a small world.
Posted by Anna at 04:26 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 07, 2005
Send in the Clowns
Somewhere in Nashville there must be a circus. Somewhere in that circus there must be clowns. I know because I can tell you where the clowns are: my apartment building.
I stepped out of my apartment today to head to the grocery store. Down the hall came three clowns, complete with red nose, big lapel flower, and massive shoes.
I don't like clowns. I'm not sure I ever really have, but I had an undergrad roommate that was clown-phobic. Some of her terror must've rubbed off on me because I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I contemplated ducking back into my apartment, but decided I wasn't that scared. So I followed the group down the stairs.
You know how the circus always has the little car and about 60 clowns come out of it during their act? Well, they have that experience outside of the circus as well. When the clowns reached the parking lot just ahead of me, I noticed their destination: a Volkswagen beetle. There were already at least 3 other clowns inside.
So my question is this: how do a minimum of six clowns fit inside a beetle? And I have another question: why would six clowns cram themselves inside a beetle anyway? And I guess I have a third question: wouldn't all their noses be honking and lapel flowers squirting? I've never even ridden in a bug car, but I'm pretty positive that six clowns can't fit without some sort of serious ramifications.
Posted by Anna at 06:23 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
February 25, 2005
Does Anyone Know...
Has anyone ever researched the psychology behind how a dog selects the exact spot to use the bathroom? There's got to be some sort of explanation...
More about house-sitting later.
Posted by Anna at 03:01 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 08, 2005
You GOTTA See This
OK, so I've got a video clip you just HAVE to see. This video stumped an entire grad class of masters and PhD students...plus the professor. By the way, you have to have Java Applet on your computer. I can't give you a link because I don't know how to get it; maybe someone can suggest a link for me. And the file is pretty big--7 Mbs--but I think it is well worth it.
Please read ALL of the instructions on this page before you see the video clip. It is important that you know exactly what I want you to do or you will get too confused.
This video will test your powers of observation. In this clip, there are two groups of children passing balls around, the kids in the white shirts and the kids in the black shirts. Your job is to count how many times the kids in the white shirts pass the ball. It gets very confusing, so just paying attention to the white shirts will be a little easier. You can count however you need to: tally marks, counting on fingers, saying the number aloud, however works for you. The key is that you may only watch the video once.
Now, watch the video and pay very close attention to the kids in the white shirts. When you've got an answer, click on to the extended entry to find out if you're right. Ready?
Did you get an answer??
OK, now I want you to watch the video again. This time, don't pay any particular attention to the group of kids in white. Just watch the video of the whole group and see if you find something a little different. UPDATE: Flip helped me realize that you have to drag the little rewind button back to the beginning. It doesn't automatically replay. Just advising you.
Did you see anything interesting?
Posted by Anna at 08:20 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
February 02, 2005
Don't Strain Your Brain, But...
I'm certainly not one to post lots of thought-provoking questions; personally, I think too much at school and I'm not interested in thinking much when I'm blogging. There is an ethical issue floating around my campus, though, and it is very hotly debated. I'm curious about what you think.
In the early 1930s, a group of women called the Daughters of the Confederacy (which was, as you can guess, an organization of women whose fathers/relatives fought in the U.S. Civil War on the Confederate side.) donated a great deal of money to Vanderbilt to build a dorm in memory of the men who had died fighting for the southern states. The dorm was named, appropriately, Confederate Memorial Hall. Since Vanderbilt is no longer only a "southern" university, many people became offended by this homage to a group that supported (or at least didn't ban) slavery and oppression.
Vanderbilt, then, decided to remove the name "Confederate" from the official name. This was met with a vocal group of Daughters of the Confederacy. But the main issue now is that the D.O.C. organization is suing the university for the cost of the building.
Supporters of the university say that having a building with a clear dedication to a topic like the confederate states is offensive to minority groups and is essentially encouraging minority students to attend elsewhere.
The supporters of the D.O.C. take the position, however, that a contract is a contract and that the school has no legal right to remove the name from the dormitory, or, as it is now, somehow remove the words "Confederate Memorial" that are engraved into the building which is a historical landmark as it is.
So I'm curious. What do you think? Do you think it's unfair? (You don't have to post a reply if you don't feel comfortable; I just want you to think.)
I'm kind of on the fence. While I certainly don't approve of slavery or any of the issues associated with it, I've not met a minority student on campus who is offended by it. At least, not until yesterday when I visited with a professor who is very vocal and offended by it.
Just curious. Something to think about.
The dorm in question. Please note that the photo was not taken where you can see the "Confederate Memorial" etched in the stone at the top of the columns.
Posted by Anna at 08:04 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
February 01, 2005
Oh, Give Me A Home Where the Buffaloes Roam...
I found this story rather humorous. Maybe because it sounds like something that could've happened in Missouri with a cow...
RAPID CITY, S.D. (AP) -- A buffalo that escaped from an auction ended up in a dressing room at the Rushmore Plaza Civic Center where it spent a couple of hours staring into a mirror.The buffalo jumped over a steel panel during the Black Hills Stock Show & Rodeo on Sunday morning, went down an alley and got into the dressing room reserved for visiting sports teams, said Brian Maliske, the civic center's general manager.
"The door happened to be unlocked and he pushed the door open and went in," Maliske said.
The crew conducting the Black Hills Classic Buffalo Sale decided to keep the animal locked in the dressing room for the rest of the auction. During its two hour stay, it reportedly became fascinated with the image it saw in a big mirror.
Once the sale ended, a rodeo crew member coaxed the buffalo out of the dressing room and back into captivity.The animal never got into a public area, Maliske said.
---
They're really not particularly attractive animals, I don't think.
And while I'm on the topic of buffaloes, does anyone know the story behind why a buffalo is a sign of blessing? One of my students in Belarus gave me a ceramic figure (it took our entire group of teachers to figure out what it was, though) and said it meant "blessing." Since my students spoke very limited English, I assume he had consulted his dictionary. Another student more proficient in English told us that the buffalo is a symbol of good luck, peace, and blessings. Any ideas or suggestions? If I knew the history, I would be a little more willing to display my buffalo. As it is right now, the figure is rather hideous and I'm embarrassed to put it out without being able to explain its meaning.
Information from: Rapid City Journal, http://www.rapidcityjournal.com
Posted by Anna at 07:02 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
January 22, 2005
Is Less REALLY More?
Do you know what commercial really irritates me? Any of the commercials that advertise Charmin Ultra.
Now don't get me wrong; even though I scrimp on most things by looking for the best deals at the grocery store and reusing Ziploc bags, I'm not thrifty with my toilet paper. As Elle Woods says in Legally Blonde, "All those opposed to chafing, please say 'aye'." I buy only the best--and that is usually Charmin.
The most recent commercial blitz, however, is about to send me over the edge. I find the commercials showing the Bear family in the woods with their toilet paper very disturbing. And it's not the catchy, fun music or the charming animated bears that bother me; most early childhood people like myself really like those things. It's the part in each commercial where the bear squats against the tree and does that characteristic wiggle. Am I the only person who knows what they're doing when they squat and wiggle? They're pooping, people!!
Everyone else must really like these commercials, because the good people over at Charmin keep making them! I think the one that bothers me the most is where both Father Bear and Daughter Bear sit at their trees. So now we're pottying communally?
In case you haven't seen the commercials (and you must live in a cave!), you can see one of them here. Please bear in mind (pun only partially intended) that this is possibly the least troublesome of the commercials. The others are much, much worse.
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I think I'm switching to Kleenex Cottonelle. Somehow, the commercial of the cute puppy nudging the roll of toilet paper under the falling baby isn't nearly as disturbing.
Posted by Anna at 12:07 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
January 21, 2005
Whad'll They Think of Next?
It seems like my good friends over in Hershey, Pennsylvania have done it again.
Pretzels, caramel, peanuts, peanut butter, and milk chocolate. Does it get any better than that?
Well, probably. Today I sampled the Hershey's Take 5 bar.
The good side: with peanuts and pretzels, it's healthy, isn't it? And at least it's kosher, just in case that's important...
The bad side: it was kind of sensory overload. Maybe there's too much flavor? (that's a quote in a KFC commercial, by the way)
I'll let you be the judge on this one. The jury's still out in my courtroom...
Posted by Anna at 05:51 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
January 14, 2005
Your Barn Door's Open
Why do women's pajamas have open flies? I finally changed out of mine today (it's my only day off for quite a while with school and work), and this question has stumped me for quite some time. All of my flannel jammies have an open fly, and I'm pretty sure they're intended for ladies because they have penguins, sheep, or daisies on them. I understand why men's pajamas have them (and believe me, that seems like one of the most convenient inventions ever and I'm a tad jealous), but why do mine have them? Is there some sort of anatomical reason that I'm just not aware of?