Ode to Swedish Fish

Collectively, you are yummy, gummy sea creatures from Sweden.

Even though you were made in Canada and distributed in New Jersey.

Deliciously, soft and chewy, your bag claims you are a "fat free food."
Even though you still have 31 grams of sugar per serving.

You come in a variety of colors and sizes, although the large, red ones are my favorite.
You are full of flavor from head to tail.

Your corn syrup and red dye #40 blends nicely with your carnauba wax,

and I love you.

Please Keep your Dog (and/or child?) on a Leash

Troy and I were flying home from Washington D.C. last week and we had a two hour layover in Milwaukee. We parked ourselves in some chairs close to the window and were enjoying our dinner from the airport's Chili's To Go when we were interrupted by an obnoxious woman with three equally obnoxious children. The oldest was a boy, whom I was lucky enough to sit next to, who couldn't have been older than 6. The next child was a girl, maybe 4 or 5 and the youngest, who seemed to the most difficult for this woman to control was about 3. This was a woman who clearly needed a parenting class. She "controlled" her children through bribery, making deals, and my personal favorite, leashing her youngest.

Now, I do not have any children myself, but I do have two cats that Troy and I consider part of the family and I have to admit that we did at one time put a leash on Olivia. I should preface this by saying I am super embarrassed about this because she is a cat and regardless of the cat lovers out there who leash their cats, it is a completely ridiculous act. However, Olivia loves to be outside. The only problem is when she gets out, she immediately runs up the tree in our back yard and then can't get down, so we need to climb up after her. We thought we would get a harness to allow her out, and also keep her from running away. She hated it. When we would put it on her, Olivia would look at us like we were nuts (valid assessment) and then roll over on her side as an effort to wriggle out of the harness. Not only that, she didn't understand the concept of "being walked" and we would either have to follow her or drag her (which we didn't do, so don't call PETA on us.) Finally, we realized this is stupid --Duh-- and this brings me to my point. Leashes are not a one-size-fits-all accessory. And just because we add a friendly looking monkey or backpack to the harness, does not mean we should then strap it to a child and drag him/her all over kingdom come.

I feel like this woman should have just tattooed to her forehead, "I don't feel like controlling my children so I am going to let this safety tether do my job." Well, she would probably have to use really small print to fit all that on her forehead. It does seem like the parents who opt to use the leashes tend to have little-to-no control. I guess there is a small (extremely small) part of me that see how these would be beneficial. Obviously if you are in a crowded area you don't want your child getting snatched up, but what happened to using strollers or holding hands? **Side Note: Don't you wish they made strollers for adults? I would love to be pushed around like that all day. Just take a little snoozer when you get pooped, wake up and have a snack on your little tray. It would be awesome.**

Moral of the story, if you are leashing your child like a golden retriever, stop. You look ridiculous and yes, we are laughing at you. I mean, the leashes are worse than the "Baby on Board" sign that you posted in your car window. Thanks for putting that up, because I was going to crash into your car so that I could possibly injure myself and have to fix my car--BUT since I saw your plastic, sun-worn sign, I won't.

Did I tell you about . . . . ?

I have a problem that most people under the age of 75 don't have. When I am telling stories, I can never remember that I have already shared that idea. I came to this realization after I got married. I would literally tell Troy a story and honestly think it was new information to him. He would sit there, very patiently, and when I was all done he would say, "Yep, you've already told me that." To which I would usually smack my forehead in disgust.

After doing further research, we realized that the retelling of stories was brought on by "triggers." For example whenever I hear a song by Madonna, this is a trigger. I am immediately brought back to 1989 where I am hula-hooping in my neighbor's garage and thus feel the need to talk about this moment. Or there is the AmericInn trigger, which will force me to tell you about how my family and I stayed there one time and when I went to un-bungee my duffel bag from the roof of my mom's Dodge Durango, I realized that I had left a zipper open . . . . the one that I put my underwear in . . . . which were now flying all over I94.

The problem doesn't just end there. I also seem to have a hard time recalling who was at which events. I will tell stories to Troy or my sister, Laura about something I did last week or a month ago. After I'm done, they look at me with worry and annoyance and proceed to tell me that they already knew about it . . . . because they were there. Oh man, those ones are the worst. That is when I worry that I might have Alzheimer's. This led me to do a little research. I looked up symptoms and there were a list of questions that were associated with the disease. They say if you detect these signs in someone, you should seek medical attention. So, let's go through them together, shall we?

1. Does the person ask repetitive questions or retell stories within minutes of the first mention?

Well, it isn't quite that bad, but the examples I listed above don't really help my case either.

2. Does she forget the names of recent acquaintances or younger family members, such as grandchildren?

I wish I could say that I was so cool in high school that I didn't need to bother learning people's names, but that is pretty far from the truth, however; I can hardly remember the names of those people now. It could just be a suppressed memory. I was a bit of a lame-o at Carl Sandburg High, but one time in college, I was getting drinks with a friend of mine, when this chick from high school came up to my table, apparently really excited, and said, "Pam! Oh my gosh, how are you?" and then listed things that we apparently did at school. It wasn't until I asked my friend I was with who this gal was that I remembered her. That can't be good. As far as younger family members go, I am okay with that. I mean I have a younger sister, who's name escapes me at the moment, but just give me a minute . . . .

3. Is this forgetfulness unusual for this person?
Let's see here . . . . now what were we talking about?

Alright, I shouldn't joke about a serious disease, but what the heck is wrong with me. Maybe it is genetics. My mom retells her stories all the time and so does my grandma. Maybe I need a little more excitement in my life so I can share new experiences. Maybe I should keep a journal on me at all times, cataloged with my stories and then jot down whom I've shared them with and the date. That is probably the most efficient strategy.

Oh, that reminds me, did I ever tell you that I have a problem that most people under 75 don't have? Yeah, I retell my stories. The funny thing is, I seriously think that you haven't heard them before. My husband and I think they are set off by triggers. Like if I hear a song by Madonna . . . . . . .

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Mascots

Troy and I are in Washington, DC and one of the items on our to-do list was to go to the White Sox vs. Nationals game. (By the way, doesn't the W on the uniforms look like they are supporting Walgreen's? Just a random side note.) It was a lot of fun and a really nice park, but the best part, hands down, was the chosen mascots.

The mascots were George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt. These mascots were huge. The head of the person controlling them only came to their neck, so they had to support this giant head with their own. You would think they would be really unstable, but our friend, Kasey was telling us that these people go through rigorous try outs in order to be a mascot. Their training was apparent because Tom did not have a problem cutting up a rug before the game. Abe became a poor sport while he was on the dance floor and Troy challenged him to a dance off. When it was obvious that Honest Abe had no game, he stormed off the dance floor and down the stairs to the lower level. What a poor sport.

Our goal before the game was to get a picture with each of the presidents. I will be honest, I felt a little self-conscious about it at first. I guess there is something unattractive about a 20-something plowing kids over to get a picture with a deceased president who has a giant head made of a polyester blend, but after my first picture with Teddy, it didn't phase me. We made our goal and so I have of course added those pictures.Better than the pictures, though is the part of the game when the presidents race each other. Kasey, recorded the whole thing and let me put it up on the blog.

The best part is that Teddy totally cheats the other presidents, racing out before them, but karma catches up to him and he proceeds to trip and perform a face plant allowing the George, Tom and Abe a chance. Oh my gosh, this is hilarious.

I looked online and Forbes had an expose of top ten mascots, and unfortunately, the Presidents did not make a list, though their friends, the Milwaukee Racing Sausages did. I still think they are my favorite mascots. How about you? What is your favorite?

Snuggle . . . Mmm, No Thanks.

Snuggle. The "spokes-bear" for the Snuggle Fabric Softener commercials. Let's face it, that is one, freaky bear. I feel like recently, when I have seen him on TV, he has given me the heebie-jeebies. I think it's his movements that freak me out. There is something about the way his arms and head rotate that make me want to take cover under a blanket . . . or change the channel, which would be the more rational option.

As a kid, I remember the commercials for the Teddy Ruxpin doll. He wasn't as bad because only his mouth moved and not his appendages like Snuggle, but he still freaked me out. I think in the back of my mind, I was worried he would come alive in the middle of the night and mess with my Barbies or wander around my room. Neurotic, maybe, but what 8-year-old wants to take that chance. Needless to say, Teddy Ruxpin never made the cut when it came to composing my letter to Santa. Just leave that under the tree at the next house, St. Nick, thanks.

I have added the link to one of the creepiest Snuggles commercials. I'll probably have nightmares tonight just for adding it to the blog, and now you will too, but we'll be in good company.

For Here or To Go?

Two things you need to know about me before I begin this blog. Number one, I need coffee to function in the morning. Number two, I hate waking up early. Naturally, because of these two issues I have been happily bringing my coffee to work with me in one of the stainless steel travel mugs that looks really stealth and quite possibly like I swiped it from Batman. However, I also have a fabulous collection of Starbucks mugs. (Not that I am prejudiced to any other coffee establishment, but I like how Starbucks mugs are super giant and can really hold like three cups of coffee in one mug.) Every morning I would eat my breakfast of champs--a bowl of Honey-nut Cheerios--and then fix my coffee to my liking--sugar free french vanilla creamer with two Splendas--and head off to work, but I felt like I could hear my mugs calling me from their organized place in the cabinet. These mugs were generally reserved for Saturday mornings when I had the time to lounge around and sip my Dunkin Donuts coffee that came from the extra-large bag my husband stocks up on for me at CostCo. Still, it felt like a shame to use these fun mugs only once a week.

One weekend my sister, Laura came to visit. She decided to leave Monday morning instead of Sunday night and so we had coffee in the morning before I had to leave for work. It was so fun! I loved just chillaxing (Chilling + Relaxing = Chillaxing) before hitting the grind. So, I started getting up just a little bit earlier and forced myself to sit down and enjoy my delicious coffee in my super fun and giant Starbucks mugs. I have to say, it is the best part of my day. This morning I was so enjoying my coffee moment, that I thought I would take a picture of the cup of coffee that was so delicious and helped me get my buns perpendicular for the day. I should add that is one of the few mugs that is not from Starbucks. This was a birthday present to me from Anthropologie, which by the way, has super cute mugs too.

While we are on the topic of coffee, I would like to give a shout-out to all my straight up coffee drinkers who prefer it black. You are my heroes and although I may not have told you this, there is a part of me that thinks it's super cool that you go raw-hide like that. Now, I add cream and sugar (or sugar-substitute, I should say) to my coffee. I was actually told once that I was not a true coffee lover because of this apparently blasphemous act. But I say, "nay!" If you cut me, do I not bleed? If there is moisture in the air, will my hair not frizz? If I add cream and sugar to my coffee, do I not enjoy my cup of joe? Anywho, maybe I will take this time to warn the coffee snobs out there. The next time someone tells me I am not a true coffee lover, be warned, I will kick you in the shins. Then I will run away to a safe location where you can't find me to retaliate and there I will laugh at my act of revenge. Consider you all warned.

California Cheater?

If you were to ask me if I am a fan of sushi, I would enthusiastically say, "YES!" However, there would be some fine print attached to that statement. Remember those old Micro Machines commercials where the spokesman would come out and talk super fast about how awesome the Micro Machines were? I would need him. The thing is that I haven't tried much sushi but I am borderline addicted to the California Rolls, which makes me wonder if I am a big, fat, sushi cheater?

Here's what I know about sushi: the word sushi is actually referring to the rice but has come to be more commonly known as the Japanese finger food made of raw fish or shell fish. Now, California Rolls have delicious-yet imitation-crab rolled in them, but it is not raw nor is it even Japanese! It was created in California to appease the American pallet.

So, this is why there is a part of me that is totally embarrassed to admit that I like sushi because there is a part of me that feels like I am living a big, fat lie! Here's where you get to respond. Am I a California Cheater or would you consider this delectable creation sushi?

(Imagine from The Rickshaw Corner Restaurant in San Diego, CA. http://rickshawcorner.com/menu)

Pipes

A few weeks ago, Troy rented the movie, Inglorious Bastards. This turned out to be too gory for me so I only watched about twenty minutes of the movie, but I was able to see the beginning scene when Christoph Waltz's character, Col. Hans Landa, is in the french countryside searching for Jewish families in hiding. Col. Landa is making himself at home inside this humble cottage and pulls out a massive pipe and proceeds to calmly talk about his plans with the farmer. I couldn't really watch much more of the movie after this as my stomach and bloody movie scenes don't mix well; however, I have not been able to get that pipe out of my mind.

Which brings me to the topic of this blog: why are pipes so awesome? My sister and I have had this conversation many times. In fact, when we see "Joe the Plummer" smoking a pipe and enjoying life, we immediately text each other to share the fabulous scene. Now, I am not a smoker. I think it's gross and to be honest - ignorant considering the well-known health effects, but there is something about pipe smoking that is so cool, that I make an exception. Maybe it's because it's borderline nerdy since pipe smoking (in my mind) is reserved for smoking rooms, complete with a Hugh Hefner silk jacket. Maybe it's because it is a dying habit since most smokers focus on cigarettes or cigars.

I wish I could find a real looking pipe that blows bubbles. That would be phenomenal. It would be the best of both worlds! I would look sweet with my pipe and have a better chance at a longer life span. I have a few friends who like to enjoy a cigar every now and then. I would love to pull out my bubble pipe and pretend to stuff it with my pre-packed Palmolive dish soap and then blow out a few delicate bubbles, then nonchalantly continue with the conversation as though this is perfectly acceptable - which in my opinion is. I had a pipe as a kid that would blow bubbles, but it was a plastic, fluorescent orange piece of junk . . . nothing sweet like Col. Hans Landa's pipe.

I looked up pipe smoking online and found the best picture of a sea captain smoking a pipe, complete with a guide to smoking pipes which focuses on beginners. I am adding the website because it is funny as all get-out and perhaps one of the three people who read this blog would be interested to know how one should get such a dying art (no pun intended) started. I also added the picture because it is fantastic and I wish the sea captain was my grandpa.

Guide to Pipe Smoking featuring The Sea Captain who would make a Sweet Grandpa

So, keep your eyes peeled for those few, proud Americans who aren't afraid to smoke their pipes outside their libraries or dens; those who boldly walk amongst us, sans the Japanese, silk, smoking jackets and laugh in the faces of those common-folk who smoke the cigarettes and cigars that are so beneath them. And when you see these folks, you stand up straight and give them a salute!

(Image of Col. Hans Landa retrieved from Wikipedia from http://search.creativecommons.org/ This image is a screenshot from a copyrighted film, and the copyright for it is most likely owned by the studio which produced the film, and possibly also by any actors appearing in the screenshot. Image of smoking sea captain from http://www.notsoboringlife.com/pipe-smoking/guide-to-pipe-smoking/)

To be Furry or Not to be Furry

Troy and I have two cats. Olivia is three and Molly is one. We got Olivia right after we were married and she is basically the best cat ever. She loves to snuggle and greet visitors at the door, with whom she instantly befriends so she would make a terrible "guard-cat." Molly is basically a sweet cat; she likes to force you to pet her by shoving her head in your hand. She has a ton of energy since she is still has a lot of kitten in her and besides the fact she likes to poop right outside the litter box, we love her too.

Now that the background knowledge is out of the way, our cats have recently spurred on another moment of "Pam-sense." Wouldn't it be weird to be completely cover in fur? I mean, part of me feels like I would kind of know what it's like since I have a lot of hair myself and on humid days, it seems to procreate, but still weird, right? I mean Olivia and Molly have hair everywhere but inside their mouths, their eyes, their noses and their paw pads. They even have hair in between their toes! I can't even go three or four days without shaving my legs!

My husband is an avid Blackhawks fan so he grew out a playoff beard. He was so relieved when after a month he could finally shave it off. I wonder if pets ever look up at us and think, "Geeze, it's hot in here. Could you pass me your razor when you're done with it?" If Olivia and Molly knew that women shave their legs and underarms, I wonder if they would want a crack at it. I would probably keel right over if I came home and their armpits and legs were totally shaven while the rest of their body was still furry. Ha ha!! That thought makes me laugh right now!! Moral of the story: maybe offer your hair-removing tools to your pets-let them decide: to be furry or not to be furry.

Blinking Sound Effects

Yesterday after work, my husband and I were exhausted so we enjoyed a little afternoon catnap that turned out to be more like a short-night's sleep. Since we had completely missed dinner and even surpassed a respectable time when dinner is eaten, we decided to go out to a local restaurant for a quick bite instead of rummaging around in the fridge. Now, I was still a little groggy while I was sitting at the table, munching on my chips and salsa, but I noticed that my eyes felt really wide when I was staring off into the distance. Furthermore, blinking felt like a more strenuous, slow-motion movement which almost seemed to have a sound effect linked to the action. This spurred a moment of "Pam-sense." Wouldn't it be funny if in moments like that we had the cartoon sound effect for blinking? It would be even better if those close to you could hear it also. You know the sound I am talking about. It is generally reserved for times when a cartoon character is shocked or stunned, like after the road runner tricks the coyote into falling into one of his own traps, or someone says something that is bizarre. I posted an old Flinstones' episode that shows a good example of the blinking sound.

Pam-sense

So . . . I feel like I am generally thinking of pretty random things fairly often during the day. If you're lucky enough to be a friend of mine, then you know that I don't usually use a filter and these nonsense thoughts come tumbling out. (Thus the title of the blog.) I have yet to have someone say to me that I am a complete idiot or weirdo for thinking these things . . . well, at least not to my face. My theory is that most people are thinking the same thing I am - they just keep it to themselves, and what is the fun in that? Anywho, I thought heck, I bet there are a lot of people who think about weird things to or at the very least might be mildly entertained by my random yet thought-provoking wonders. Since it seems that blogs are all the rage right now and I am in need of a hobby, I put the two together. To be honest, I don't really know who would read this anyway, except maybe my husband or my mom . . . so if that's the case, Troy, Mom, enjoy!