Project: Projectile

The only thing better than owning your own catapult is being able to say, “I made this myself,” and meaning it. Now you can build a variety of archaic weapons, enabling you to get ready (which, as you remember, Jesus wants). Gird your loins, guard your lawn, guide your launch, and you’ll have gored your landlord (or anyone else who’s getting a little too close, or cross, for your comfort).




















Didn’t work? Don’t get upset—make your own trebuchet, which is often much more accurate than a catapult, for obvious design/engineering reasons that you’d be able to see if you had a more technically agile mind. This weapon can toss an object up to twenty feet, and is capable of smashing walls as well, giving it a double-pronged approach that makes it almost impossible to overcome.

So you start out with the catapult and trebuchet in your encroachment for rapprochement (because you’re really a lover, not a fighter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not intent upon winning).

















Then, once you’re in a little closer, pull out the ballista, which you also made. It specializes in rock-hurling with accuracy, but not much distance. But by this point, the battle’s past its decisive point, and you’re undoubtedly triumphant.

Your secret weapon—how you got close enough to use the ballista—was that you’d also built your own siege tower. These were used for protection of people and weapons. You line up all your guys and your weapons behind what resembles a medieval-themed take-out window, then commence the attack. With careful aim, you can shoot your trebuchet or catapult through the window as you start out, get out the ballista when you’re closer, climb your hidden ladder (sold and built separately) and be o’er the ramparts before dawn’s early light, gallantly streaming.

I'm a driver/Memory Lane #3

Something about a rainy Saturday afternoon always takes me back to childhood. (Or possibly it was that spritz of Happy Childhood Memories breath spray I took a little while ago.) I’m missing some of the vehicular toys of my youth, such as the Car-Plane. You could sit quietly in the back seat and learn to be a pilot, making the plane climb, dip and dive, looking at both the plane’s action and your ultra-modern remote control. See how the plane yearns to join those in the sky? Kind of a lot of symbolism for a kid’s boy box. I’m glad I saw it differently back then.

And it really was perfectly safe, as long as you were inside the car, and the windows were rolled up, as shown. Maybe not so safe for pedestrians or if you let it fly in the window, as I often did.




















Here’s a close-up. Yeah, that’s what a remote control used to look like, and it was attached to the object it controlled—a heavy-handed version of remoteness, but it felt very jet-age and cool at the time. Interesting that we had remote controls for toys way before anyone thought about using them for TVs.












Another way to have fun in the car (or at home, as the box so aptly reminds us) was with this just like real Kiddee Drivette car seat with driver training wheel. The strange, Baby Huey-esque outfits were sold separately, but were not optional. This was all right for back-seat play, but I always got really embarrassed when other kids saw me sitting tall in my oversized baby-seat and huge dress, turning the corners along with Mom. But the idea has stuck around, as anyone who’s seen the Simpson’s opening sequence can attest. We should still insist that kids wear hideous clothing while learning how to drive. What’s sauce for the goose!

Here’s the car-related childhood toy that breaks my heart. Why did we ever let it go by the wayside? I want to bring this one back, immediately:





















Oh, Buddy L, where are you now, with your quarter-a-gallon gas, including all taxes? I’d give just about anything to encounter you again. I love you, Buddy L! If you can't make it here, at least give me an address and I’ll visit. Double pinky swear.

Let's go!

Talk about life-altering. These guys thought of just about everything. For way too many years I’ve been making do with a plastic t.p. dispenser that does absolutely nothing for me, except sometimes hurl the toilet paper to the floor and then refuse to re-engage in its little unit. Well, those days are over!

Toilet paper? (always at the top of the list/too important to overlook) √
Source of music? (a superb touch) √
Clock? (time’s a-wastin’) √
Flower holder? (perfect for leather roses) (or feather roses) √
Alarm button? (hey, you never know what’s going to happen) √

They forgot a cup holder, but I plan to push my alarm button when that need arises, and summon someone to hold my cup. Other than a switch that pre-heats the seat, an automatic flusher and a page-turner for whatever reading material you’ve brought along, I think they’ve covered all the bases. Mine's on rush order.




















This product modernizes the concept; the toilet paper dispenser allows one to plug in an iPod and listen to music through four moisture-free speakers—this is just because there’s a lot of moisture in the bathroom, not any kind of commentary about your aiming skills. I’m not going to attach mine to the wall—not with all the other places I’d like to take some toilet paper & a few tunes. I’m thinking camping trips, long commutes, sleepovers, parties at other peoples’ houses—because don’t we all prefer our own brand of toilet paper and our own good taste in music?

There’s technology put to good use and technology put to bad use, and I think we can all agree that both of these products are performing technological feats of the highest order. Bravo!




















But wait! While we’re traipsing through the toilet paper accessories aisle, let’s not forget the talking toilet paper holder. You can record six seconds of anything you like, and a motion detector within the roll holder (another fabulous modern detecting device) lets it know when to start playing your message. Change your message often to keep 'em guessing. Today my toilet paper appears to say, “What did you eat?” After that's worn out its welcome, I’m thinking of recording a few of Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts, and there’s this six-second scream thing I can’t wait to try. I love it when someone calls me and says, “Hey, whatcha doing?” and I get to answer, “Recording messages on my toilet paper dispenser.” Talk about evocative.

Stick-to-it-iveness

Fruit Stickles Tropical Flavored Skewers allow you to add tropical flavor to anything you opt to stick them into, presumably fruit, although we beg you not to limit yourself in any way. Tropical combines well with many other flavors, such as natural, ocean, and “not cat box.” Made of natural ingredients and tocopherols, they contain no calories, but loads of flavor. Also wood, one assumes. Mostly wood.

Their companion, Seasoned Skewers, flavors meat from the inside out, and is available in irresistible combinations such as Honey Bourbon and Mexican Fiesta. Marinating meat is like giving it a cold, flavorful bath, but nothing adds flavor the way puncturing, piercing, pricking, perforating and penetrating all the way to the core does. These skewers are 100% natural, largely because they’re made of wood with some spice on it.

Coming soon, before the end of the year, there will also be flavored sticks for your coffee, tea and cocktails, called Minglirs.

I like to think of all of them as oversized flavored toothpicks, allowing me to combine the sensory pleasures of food consumption with the dental benefits of tooth-picking (and wood gnawing). And since they’re all natural and fat-free, there’s no guilt involved. In the morning, I’m a stickler for Fruit Stickles (with pickles). Later in the day, there’s nothing truer than a Seasoned Skewer to make me a chewer (with a small shot of Dewar’s). And before bedtime, make me a tingler by handing me a Minglir (and maybe some Pringles). You are what you eat, and I’m feeling good with all this wood.

Make my day

You’re now capable of combining two, count ‘em, two, of life’s most sublime pleasures, namely watching television and shooting guns, with the gun remote control—do we not all wish we’d thought of this? A lot of you are protesting, “I did, a long time ago!” Next time, don’t let the dreamslayers in your life keep you down when you get an idea they find unconventional or unseemly. Then you’ll be the one laughing all the way to the bank with your chunky royalty checks, and they can keep their opinions about what’s stupid to themselves. End of life lesson.

Imagine the joy of aiming at the TV and shooting to get rid of Vince, the strangest spokesperson ever, as he hawks his ShamWows, or that sportscaster who’s talking about your team losing, or the next Kinoki or Ped Egg ad. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, because we all know there’s a whole lot more coming out of your television set that you’d like to shoot. And then some.





















After a while you’ll have that aim thing down to something resembling a science, so we’ll throw in a sheriff’s badge—you’ll have earned it. Have a rootin’ tootin’ TV-shootin’ good time, officer!

Slitherin' succotash

With just 2 AA batteries and this fantastic lifelike plastic you can protect your worldly goods as well as Brinks or ADT, and for a fraction of the price. Your family, friends and enemies will be lulled by its quiet lack of motion and comforting color scheme, but if they get too close, its eyes glow red, it hisses, tries to bite, and rattles its tail. Wait ‘til you hear the screams! Perfect for deterring a pesky younger sibling who won’t stay out of your room, or that snoopy spouse who’s bound and determined to find out why you keep the door locked every once in a while, or that mean teacher who’s clearly had it in for you since day one, even if it does result in a trip to the principal’s office. A little retaliation of the serpentine variety goes a long way and is rarely forgotten by the avenged.

The animated striking snake—it really is striking, no?—communicates without saying a word, and we could all learn a lesson from its example. You’d warm up to it if it would let you.

Give yourself the finger

Another of those “man, I wish I’d thought of this” gifts, the Up Yours finger-shaped nose hair trimmer. Or, similarly

The Finger nose hair trimmer. What can we say? Sometimes more than one person has the same great idea at the same time. I kind of prefer this one because its finger is more realistic and does not appear to be wearing nail polish, but maybe some men prefer the idea of a female finger up their nose. And in their ears. And…well, let’s just say you’ve probably got some unwanted hair going on in other places as well, places where you’d also prefer a light female touch.





















They’ve cheated a bit with the in-use photos, don’t you think? Because you know you’re going to need to jam that finger much farther into both orifices, not only to get the job done properly, but just to see how you look with a fake finger up your nose.

And don’t it make your brown eyes blue? I thought this was the same guy in both photos, but I guess I was fooled. It’s just the happy, well-groomed face of this product’s typical user.

A final helpful hint: this thing really can do double duty if you use it in the car.

It's for you

Ever feel like time’s going by much too quickly? One minute you were feeling rather modern with your Selectric typewriter and a copy machine that didn’t require cranking or the use of purple ink; the next, everyone had computers and cell phones and Segways, and now they have so many new gadgets and gew-gaws that life’s just not the same any more. What’s this I hear about some kind of digital television transition and how it’s going to ruin my old Zenith? Doesn’t anyone see how close to technology’s slippery slope we’re getting? Could just one small feature of modern life remain un-modern, please? Some of us can’t do the transition thing this quickly.

Well, the folks who make this product have heard my pleas, appreciated the ‘please,’ and set out to appease. Now you can re-create youthful hours spent happily chatting on your real, solid (now vintage) telephone, trapped in the kitchen, slowly trying to uncoil the cord and/or winding yourself up in it, with the Please Hold Vintage Cell Phone Handset. You know you always feel like your big manly hands are overwhelming your tiny delicate cell phone, even if you’re a woman. Also, the mouth-to-ear distance is all wrong on a cell phone unless you’re a bit of a pinhead. Relish a return to human scale and an experience that feels more personal, if only because plastic is a better conductor of the smell of stale saliva than whatever it is cell phones are made of. If you jiggle the cord, you can even get that old static sound. Call me!

Do you believe in magic?

Natural Magic products claim to absorb and eliminate odors, and all you have to do is un-lid the container for the natural magic to begin. The gel absorbs odors and “converts them to non-toxic compounds,” which is not quite as scientific as it sounds. I hadn’t known these odors were toxic. Am I in danger when my house smells like old dog? I thought I was just grossed out. Can anything with an ocean scent cover the smell of fish cooking? I should know in a few hours.





















There’s also a natural magic odor air-magnet, which is a solid gel, as opposed to the gelid gel used in the odor absorbing gels. An air magnet seems more capable of dealing with odor elimination than a simple absorbing gel, does it not? Anything capable of molecular bonding has a real edge in the field of odor elimination.




















There’s a special product just for the smell of a used litter box. Oh, it may claim to eliminate other household odors, but this one’s focused pretty narrowly, and often gives other odors a free pass because it doesn’t find them nearly as repellent. It has a fresh clean scent, but no one can say exactly what that scent resembles, other than "not cat box." Scent-naming can be the most difficult part of manufacturing and marketing products such as these. The original odor absorbing gel, above, comes in a scent called natural. That’s what I always tell people my favorite smell is, after ocean.




















Maybe you noticed, with that razor-sharp steel-trap of a mind, that most of these natural magic products promise to absorb and eliminate odors, but not for any specified amount of time. With Odor Blaster Super Deodorizer spray (curiously enough, available only with no scent) you can permanently eliminate unwelcome odors—we don’t care if they’re pleasant or unpleasant, just get them the hell out of here, pronto. This is a great product. Non-scented smells even better than natural, ocean and "not cat box." Suddenly you just smell…nothing. That’s some pretty great natural magic!

L is for lips

Chapped lip season is right around the corner, and I recommend Lookin’ Good for Jesus lip balm, available in virtuous vanilla. Notice that the product advocates three tenets very near and dear to Jesus’ heart: “Be worthy,” “Be noticed,” and “Get ready.” What do you mean, you haven’t heard any of those? You’re not familiar with Jesus’ “be noticed” campaign? They’re paraphrasing, okay? Those might not’ve been his exact words, but they’re close enough. So maybe he didn’t say “get ready.” He might’ve said “be prepared.” (or was that the Boy Scouts?) In any case, if it’s good enough for lookin’ good for Jesus, it’s good enough for your lips.

As you undoubtedly observed, these not-particularly-wholesome women are trying to look good for Jesus wearing rather heavy eye make-up. He’s not interested and turns his gaze heavenward (or he could be wondering how that little hole appeared above his head). Jesus doesn’t want you to wear a lot of face paint and tart it up; he just wants a little vanilla flavor on your soft lips. And who wouldn’t want to look good for this Jesus? He’s certainly lookin’ mighty good for us.

Brett bucks

The Brett Favre touchdown record photo mint is the perfect gift, because it’s money. It comes with two 24-karat gold coins; a Green Bay Packers coin and a Lambeau Field coin. This is a limited edition set, issued by the NFL, and it’s fully accredited, matriculated, authenticated, and ratified as real U.S. money. However, no actual value has been assigned to the coins, so you can spend them extra-craftily. What store would dare refuse to accept anything with the NFL seal on it as legal tender? A friend of mine bought a new computer with just his Lambeau Field coin.




















Brett’s extreme popularity has quickly led to his becoming cold hard cash in more than one format. This is the Brett Favre JFK Half Dollar, issued in 2007. You might’ve thought there had to be a picture of JFK on a coin for it to sport his famous initials, but you were wrong. It’s just that the BF Half Dollar didn’t quite have the same amount of consumer appeal. Watch out, because this coin is highly spendable, particularly at casinos.




















Yes, of course, there are also Brett Favre quarters, although they don’t fit in most vending machines. Not sure what the tie-in is between Brett and U.S. statehood quarters, but that’s okay. Wisconsin is now willing to share Brett with the rest of the country, and we’re all grateful.




















Brett hasn’t limited himself to coins. When the store clerk says, “Are you sure this is real?” display amazed incredulity, then inform this person that Brett’s meant to be spent, producing your certificate of authenticity. Studies show that many people find Brett more attractive than George Washington, and find spending his dollars to be exceptionally enjoyable. I’ve been leaning heavily on an ATM card as my primary means of parting with assets, but I think I’ll really have fun making the changeover to Favre units of currency.

Deep Pockets

When I said I thought the Mr. T in your Pocket product could use some companions, I had no idea how wrong I was. Turns out the guy has a lot of friends. Your pockets could be emitting different voices every day of the week. Better yet, carry at least two with you at all times and let them converse.




















It’s kind of a tough crowd, though, so don’t expect polite conversation with Scarface in your pocket. “Every dog has its day,” and “Me, I always tell the truth, even when I lie,” are two of its statements. Mr. T responds, “Shut up, fool,” because he can get away with it.




















You know Rocky would be comfortable palling around with Scarface and Mr. T. One of his six phrases is, “I am not as dumb as you think I am,” and that alone is worth the price of several in your pocket toys. He also declares, “All I wanna do is go the distance,” and usually about then Mr. T tells him, “Quit your jibba jabba.”

Notice that Rocky’s phrases eat thunder and crap lightning. None of the other pocket toys makes this claim, but the next time there’s a big storm, I’m going to make sure Rocky’s nearby.





















How did Fred Rogers get caught up in this crowd? This is so not his milieu. He sounds vaguely modern when he tells people, “I think I’ll make a snappy new day.” But he won’t do anything of the sort. Soon it’s back to “Please won’t you be my neighbor?” and “I like you just the way you are.” Mr. T’s response is almost invariably, “Don’t make me mad,” followed by that inimitable Mr. T growling sound.




















Another rather unexpected member of the club is Dirty Dancing in your pocket. Its name probably delivers more fun than the product itself. Phrases include, “Butt out, Baby,” for which you’ll undoubtedly find many uses. Less serviceable is, “Spaghetti arms! Would you gimme some tension, please?” Usually at this point Mr. T breaks out his trademark “I pity the fool” line.

South Park in your pocket tries to fit in, but isn’t sure whose side to be on. “I’m not fat, I’m big boned,” it protests, in Cartman’s voice, and “Drugs are bad, mmkay?”, in Mr. Mackey’s. Let us not forget who captured Mr. Mackey on his drug-laced trip to India: The A Team! Hmm, I sense some Hollywood inter-connectedness going on here. Six degrees of Mr. T, or something. “Don’t gimme no backtalk, sucka,” Mr. T says, clearly in control at all times.

Also available in your pocket: Dr. Who, Reservoir Dogs, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, Stewie from “Family Guy,” and Catherine Tate. As long as they keep hitting all the highlights like this, the concept works for me.

Welcome to our world, won't you come on in

We’ve been trying to decide on a new doormat format. I wanted to stray from the stale traditional mats that either say nothing at all or offer up only a simple welcome; I wanted something fresh, something new. But we couldn’t agree on the mat’s personality. Did we really want to appear to be warmly encouraging visitors, or couldn’t this become a beautiful opportunity to keep the world at bay? (No surprise here: I was the one occupying the latter category.)




















So this mat kind of appealed to me, with its literary reference and truth-telling. It doesn’t quite say “come on in!” but it’s not too off-putting. I thought it hit a proper middle-of-the-road tone of neutrality.




















Whereas my so-called better half prefers the outright enthusiasm and come-hither siren song of this mat. I said if that was going on the front porch, I’d put this one beside it:




















Or this one:
















Then he found, and fell in love with, this doormat. To him it seemed the very epitome of a welcoming image. I told him I thought it might scare the neighbors and that I didn’t want to step over it every time I came home.















I counter-offered this mat:




















I thought it seemed welcoming enough; at least the sentiment is there, despite its lack of strength. I also appreciate the honesty.

To which his response was to get a little funky with it:















I just gave him the look. “What?” he asked. Instead of explaining, I offered up what seemed to me like a sincere effort at compromise, a mat with a sense of humor:












But he said that was really funny only if the person at the door was a female wearing a dress or skirt, and how often does that happen chez nous? Very, very seldom.

His idea of humor was something a little more helpful:



















“No way,” I said. I don’t like being told I’m here, what can I say?

By this time we’d wasted hours, but we finally found a compromise.





















The doormat of denial. It looks great, too. Coordinates very nicely with the house colors.

But I secretly bought this one when he wasn’t looking, and I’m going to put it on the back porch:


















Maybe if I tell him “feck” means shoes in Finnish…think he’ll buy it?

Mr. Fix-It

This might be the most practical do-it-yourself gift a man could ever receive. It’s a known and well-documented fact that men hold onto their underwear for an ungodly amount of time, often considering them suitably broken in only after the entire crotch has split open. I retrieve underwear from the dryer that’s not much more than an elastic circle with scraps of fragmented cotton hanging limply in the areas that haven’t completely eroded. Some look like they’ve been dipped in battery acid. If I try to throw them away, they’re miraculously in the laundry again the next week.

So, since you guys aren’t willing to ditch these beloved companions, how about a little effort at maintenance? The kit comes with a manual, duct tape, white out (ewww), iron on patches, an elastic band, and some actual sewing accessories. “I like mine the way they are!” you’re thinking, but in all honesty, they’re in such bad shape that you’d better do at least a little bit of upkeep or it’ll all go downhill rather abruptly. One day you’ll either find yourself wearing nothing but the elastic band, or (I’ve actually seen this happen) you’ll be walking somewhere, doing nothing particularly rigorous, and those sad tatters of cotton will give up the ghost when you least expect it, fluttering down your pants leg and onto the floor, or worse, grabbing onto your ankles and taking a ride. Occasions like these tend to result in painful life-long nicknames and are impossible to live down. So think about it. At least grab a stapler, or something.

That Funky Monkey

Got a monkey on your back? Don’t like to smoke alone? Maybe you just like to light fires around the house, whatever. Something made you buy this, and you’re glad of it. There’s something curiously endearing about this little guy. He comes with his own pack of incense cigs, so his smoke can diminish the effect of yours. He’s got a pleasant demeanor, he never complains, and his hat is very fetching.

Meanwhile, over on the other side of the room, his mother is going crazy.

She’s the Monkey Groan Ball. When you give her a little squeeze she emits the groaning sound made by an angry mother monkey who’s just caught sight of her only son lighting up. It’s not as if she didn’t warn him about the dangers of smoking. In fact, she set the perfect example and never even tried one. He’s clearly oblivious, though, and her groans only seem to make him smile more. Sometimes he’ll even chain smoke just to listen to her go on.

The detection continues

You know how sometimes you get that feeling someone’s watching you? You check the room several times, appear to be alone, try to settle back down, but can’t shake that uncomfortable sensation. Okay, now get real, because most of the time that’s just you being paranoid and thinking the world cares a lot more than it really does. In all probability, the vast majority of you don’t fascinate anyone even slightly, and the rest of you are semi-compelling for maybe a few weeks, then your thrilling level subsides. Only you care as much as you think everyone else does. So try to stop thinking anyone would take the time and effort to install a hidden camera in your house. Reality TV is bad enough, thanks. No one wants to watch.

On the other hand, some of you know a few of the wrong kind of people, or work for overly suspicious and/or perverted employers, or are not trusted by your partners. Life's full of wrong place, wrong time scenarios, many of them riddled with hidden cameras. We’ve all had that unpleasant sensation while trying on clothes, or in one of those dirty gas station bathrooms by the highway, right? Your inner sensors go off and you can’t help but start looking for where the hidden camera might be. Or maybe you’re relaxing at home, about to seduce the nanny, when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. And how many times have you almost had that coveted department store item in your pocket and then thought better of it because you couldn’t shake that sensation of being watched? Plenty, if you’re like most of your peers.

Sadly, hidden cameras are an unpleasant yet omnipresent aspect of modern life, and they’re sold in such an increasingly clever variety of shapes and sizes, it’s becoming a real nuisance trying to keep up. Almost as much of a nuisance as it is to stay within the letter of the law.

Now, finally, you don’t have to do either. Here’s another detecting device – a wonderfully sleek, silvery and modern hidden camera detector. You’ll be absolutely certain that no one’s watching you unless it’s by pre-arranged agreement between consenting adults. It’s also fun to use. Make an appearance, reach for your trusty P3 hidden camera detector and sweep the room. If the blinking lights indicate a camera’s within range, you can get that look of intense concern on your face and leave. The hidden cameras will be inconsolably forlorn without you, but you knew that.

Toucan be a crowd

The latest in simulated vultures, this wild-eyed and sharp-beaked creature is a real multi-tasker. Glue it to a post in your back yard and it’ll keep birds away better than those fake owls. Perch it on your front porch and watch the number of solicitations decrease. And the next time a family member isn’t feeling well, display it in a prominent place. When it seems to get lonely, and it will, buy a companion. Black vultures are one of the few species who mate for life, and they’re miserable when single.

Here’s the perfect soulmate. The two make a lovely display or table centerpiece, and if they don’t turn out to be conversation starters, they’ll start a discussion of their own. “I’m the hen-pecked one, sick of cowering beneath your dirty looks,” says the second vulture. “What dirty looks? I’m simply displaying disapproval, you old buzzard,” responds the first. Typical vulture culture; they do a little bit of sniping at each other, go out for a leisurely dinner, then come home and have hot make-up sex. Mating for life -- it's not for the faint-hearted.

Synthesizer

When you’ve become bored with your Elvis sideburns and need another accessory to go with your chest wig, or your mullet cap, Cowboy Boot Sideburns come to the rescue. There’s something deeply, deeply intriguing about the kind of man who enjoys specially shaped facial hair.




















Facial hair kits that contain soul patches are the coolest. This one looks great with a tux.




















Or you could go for the more professional Theatrical Hair Disguise, made of 100% human hair. See how many looks you can create with just these two strips? That’s the magic of theater!


















The impressive four-way Character Costume Kit transforms you into the man of 1,000 faces, practically. But note: it’s quite difficult to make the eyebrows arch, as shown in the moustache illustration. One must have finely trained facial muscles to perform that kind of feat.




















You can also try to track down one of these historical toys, and truly be the man of 1,000 faces, at least as long as your head is approximately the same size as Hugo’s. It takes the concept to an entirely different level, and isn’t for everyone.

















We suggest starting with these ultra-realistic muttonchop sideburns, which are selling like hotcakes. Then just see where that leads you. Some may find them a little too realistic, but is there anyone who doesn’t want to look like this at least once, and if so, why? C’mon, break out of the mold for once and make your hairdo a dare-do.

Keeping it clean, part 3

Sells itself, doesn’t it? Except possibly for the small caution at the bottom of the package mentioning what to do in case the product ever gets stuck. Regardless, over 95% of men who receive Weener Kleener soap as a gift buy themselves a replacement bar within three weeks. Meanwhile, women endure the drudgery of soap that’s not designed for our pleasure. But at least we don’t have to soak in cold water because we’re adhered to our insipid soap. We secretly laugh at our men when we catch them doing the cold soap soak, but boys will be boys.

Chew on this

Just got back from my first-ever trip to Europe, and I was so glad I’d brought a variety pack of transformational chewing gum with me (don’t think I forgot my breath sprays either). First stop was Edinburgh, and as I was out walking and admiring the sights, someone tried to pick my pocket. Thinking quickly, I popped a piece of Angry Scotsman gum in my mouth and within seconds I was furious and able to express myself in a torrent of brogue the likes of which that town may never hear again. I then gave that pickpocket the trouncing of a lifetime.















Then I spent a little time on the French Riviera, which was lush and lovely, but the humidity was doing a real number on my hair. “When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I thought, as I took out a piece of Instant Afro gum. Minutes later my hair was a tight mass of curls, and with just a spritz of hair spray I headed for the beach. The style held for hours, even after swimming.















All too soon it was time for a quick trip to England, where I had tickets for a show at the Globe Theatre, followed by an evening at a local pub. When the crowd started getting pushy and rowdy, I inserted a piece of Shakespearean Insult gum into my mouth and began to spout some of the most erudite and intricate insults I’ve ever uttered. “Thou odiferous scurvy-valiant strumpet!” I chided the barmaid when she was slow with a refill. And when a drunk guy bumped into me, I yelled out, “Thou beslubbering toad-spotted scullion!” “Thou villainous hedge-born malt-worm!” I said to the bouncer as he tossed me into the street.















It was just as well that I left that particular bar, because at the next place I went to someone slipped me a stick of You Have a Great Ass gum, and I shimmied the night away, or at least long enough to pose for several photos that I found in my digital camera. The rest of the evening’s a blur.















When I woke up the next morning, my Jewish Mother gum gave me a huge guilt trip. “You should be so lucky, taking trips to Europe! You’re killing me with these late nights! You got schmootz all over your face. Like a drunken bum on the street, this girl. Oy, and you smell like the bottom of a dirty ashtray.” Talk about a buzzkill. I ditched her at my earliest opportunity and enjoyed the rest of the trip.

So now I’m back home, missing the pizzazz and panache of my world travels and the gum that heightened so much of the trip. I’ve ordered this:





















which I hope will help re-create some beautiful memories. Who knew gum was made of guinea pig pellets, melted condoms, a big bag of cocaine, and peppermint flavoring? No wonder my ass looked so good.

Detecting devices

Hey, a portable lie detector! You’ve always had vague suspicions about how many people are lying to you on a daily basis, but with the De-fib-ulator you’ll soon learn (with 65% accuracy) that virtually everyone you encounter is lying to you. Better yet, the device hooks up to a cell phone, enabling one to detect even remote lies. All your suspicions will prove true, and most users report heightened misanthropy and chronic inability to trust others within days of receipt.

Next time your spouse calls to say, “I’m working late,” or your daughter says she’s going to the movies with her best friend, you’ll know better. You won’t know the truth, but you’ll know you’re being lied to. The machine uses a clever Demonochio figure whose nose grows in proportion to lie size, so you can even distinguish between white lies and outright whoppers.




















Another useful modern detecting device, the Multi-Tector identifies personality types, allowing you to learn which of your friends are dorks, which ones suck, who are the geniuses, idiots, liars, and crazies. Don’t be surprised if a few of your friends turn out to have multiple personalities. Never aim this device at yourself. And keep it away from the portable lie detector, who insists that the Multi-tector has a chronic inability to tell the truth.




















There’s even a God detector on the market. The Yo-God detector allows one to ask God for a sign, and if the arrow moves, well, there you have it! No, it’s not a compass, but it might point you in the right direction.






















Finally, we have the T2 Metal Detector, capable of locating coins buried up to 15 inches underground, and any jewelry, belt buckles or fillings on a body buried up to 3 feet. Whatever it is, wherever it lies, if it’s metal, you’ll be detecting it in no time, breezing by the guys at the beach with their wimpy old-fashioned metal detectors, laughing while they waste time digging up pop tops and metallic rocks while you go straight for the real treasure, as displayed on your spiffy LCD display.

It’s time to stop walking around in ignorant, unaware mode! Some people are wearing t-shirts that can detect wi-fi, breathing into private breathalyzers to detect their level of drunkenness and using love detectors on their phones to determine who really cares. Don’t remain in the dark days of radar and smoke detectors. Get with the program and back on top of your detecting. You’ll be glad you did.

Why lettuce entertain you?

Freak shows aren’t very popular in today’s PC world, but there was a time in the not too distant past when we could all feel a little better about ourselves via self-comparison with the aberrant members of society. That kind of vicarious pleasure can still be had, albeit in a diminished, plasticized way, with these Lil’ Sideshow action figures (the action is pretty much kept to a minimum, so maybe just calling them figures will do). Frog girl and Lobster boy are here for your pleasure and enjoyment, but even the manufacturer seems to question the concept. Why, indeed?




















Ditto Bertha, the bearded lady who also happens to be grotesquely overweight, but refuses to be billed as such. Truth is, studies show most kids relate to her more than they do Barbie, but she still gets a (big fat) why?





















Yet there’s no reason to question the strong man, no why? on his platform background. He’s a member of the show, & collects his paycheck like all the rest of ‘em, but he certainly does not consider himself a freak, so be careful what you say when he’s within earshot. (His barbells are removable, so if you have any objects in your house with similar dimensions, the strong man can appear to hold them aloft, which is mighty compelling.)

Instead of why, my question for the strong man is: does he have an extra set of mini-arms that spring from his biceps and hoist their own set of barbells, or is he standing in front of a strangely-angled mirror?

Defying the laws of physics

Really, any liquid, instantly? Think of all the liquids you’d like to solidify in a second. From that pesky driveway puddle to this morning’s pet stain to your cubicle-mate’s flavored coffee, there’s no shortage of liquids we’d all like to stiffen up. Better yet, and I kid you not, this product is currently being offered at absolutely no cost (limit one per customer) while supplies last. That’s because the manufacturer has already made a whopping profit from Stiffy Stuff and can’t be bothered now, as they’re finalizing the design and marketing campaign for a product that will instantly liquefy anything solid. It’s going to cost a lot more money than Stiffy Stuff, which, after all, can merely coagulate, congeal and curdle, and should be available early next year. Meanwhile, Stiffy Stuff for free? Count you in.

Going ballistic

All this talk about old toys got me nostalgic. Remember the old Magic 8 ball? I never personally owned one, but found them fascinating.




















Sometimes positive, sometimes negative, sometimes unsure of itself ("Reply hazy, ask again" was one of my favorites), this ball never tried to hurt your feelings or put you down in any way, and was at least honest when it didn’t have a clue (roughly 1/3 of the time). We don’t have the patience for that kind of uncertainty any more! Now Magic 8 has a new cohort, the Sarcastic ball.




















Get a clue! Who cares? Clearly not the Sarcastic ball. Some of its other answers include: "Whatever", "Yeah, and I might be the pope" and the ever-popular "You wish." With a companion like the Sarcastic ball, it’s not surprising that many people find themselves turning to the






















Affirmation ball to soothe their feelings. The Affirmation ball doles out what it deems to be inspirational messages ("At least I love you" and "Who says you’re stupid?" are two of its relatively unimpressive attempts at affirmation). Okay, it could maybe be a little more affirmative. But at least it’s not being all snide and snarky like some balls we know.




















Dr. Freud’s therapy ball is a natural response to the neuroses and anxieties caused by over-exposure to the aforementioned balls, when one needs a little more reassurance in the ball department. Freud’s ball offers up mostly encouragement, ("You’re making progress") although it does contain a remark or two that might ruin an over-sensitive type ("Are you taking your meds?" and "Who am I talking to now?"). More than one person has broken this item when confronted with the "Sorry, time’s up" message.

And then there's the Excuse ball, offering up twenty excuses, including "I was mugged" and the all-purpose "Mexican food."


There’s also the Mystical Orb ball, which is pretty much a Magic 8 ball with different, yet strangely similar answers, the Wall Street Guru ball, dispensing top-notch financial advice, and the Smart Fortune Cookie ball! And in a newer format, there's the Fortune Water ball, which is basically a die floating in some liquid inside a ball. It has an even cooler cousin, the Hi Bounce Fortune Water ball,






















which is also pretty much a die-in-ball thing, but updated, upgraded, ready for the 21st century. Responses include "Fo Sho", "Not Guna Hap'in", and "True dat." Plus, it’s like a super ball filled with viscous liquid! When you’re finally ready to branch out and allow more than one toy to inform you about your future, we’ve got your balls right here.

My brother: Wow, who knew there were all those responsive question/answer balls out there? Although I like the thought of being told something modern, like "bitch, please" to some of my modern ball questions.

Let's face it, the days of Lite Brite style questions have given way to Wii and internet related questions...you need an answer ball that speaks your language, not some archaic lingo.

Sounds good to me/Memory Lane #2

Back when we were kids things were so much simpler. Manufacturers knew our still-forming, often-distracted brains were twice as likely to want toys if we could remember what they were called. As a result some of us grew up with wonderful toys whose rhyming, singsong titles were often half the fun. Everyone wanted to play with















Feeley Meeley, “the game that gives you a funny feeling.” Note that the game is appropriate for ages eight to adult, because once you hit eight you’re always ready for a funny feeling. The blond man on the box seems to be really enjoying his funny feeling, doesn’t he?













Who could forget Pretzel Jetzel, “the jet-age pretzel making toy”? Makes me feel sorry for kids who don’t get to make their own pretzels. In fact, I don’t see many food-making toys in today’s world. Where are the Easy-Bake ovens, the chocolate factories, the













Big Burger Grills? I guess once we got out of the jet age kids just started making their own food instead of playing with food-making toys. How unfortunate!

Sorry, got off topic. I’m blown away by the Big Burger Grill. It’s a good thing I didn’t know these existed when I was young, because I never would’ve stopped begging for one.





















Back to the rhyming toys of yesteryear. Many little girls wanted Rings ‘n Things, which allowed us to fill the house with the smell of burning plastic and to wear the very un-jewel-like results. We were adored, adorned, scorned, and sometimes scarred. It was the best.




















And for the boys, Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots. This one’s still on the market, popular after all these years. We all know why, too: knocking your opponent’s block off is simply full-fledged no-holds-barred fun for all ages. Plus, it’s fun to say Rock ‘em Sock ‘em. Bet you just said it.




















Let’s not forget the Sooper Snooper, which allowed us to spy over walls, behind ourselves, and in any other direction, while remaining cleverly camouflaged to avoid detection. Too bad we couldn’t stop giggling, which usually gave us away. Then some of us got a little older and found exciting and wonderful new uses for the Sooper Snooper, didn’t we?













There was also bango! bango!, the game that was not too hard and not too easy, a porridge-like just right. Even a three year old could tell Santa he wanted this toy. You always hear people saying, “They don’t make ‘em like they used to.” To that I’d like to add, “They don’t name ‘em like they used to, either, and it’s a damn shame.”

Unemotional baggage

Today we’re featuring a special on pre-bagged products. Some damage may have occurred during this bagging (we have an angry bagger), but don’t let that detract from your enjoyment, particularly of the hardier items, which won’t have sustained more than minor bruises.

Here we have a bag of magnets. I know you’re thinking of what these could do for both your toilet and your thinking putty; you’re right on track. And since you just never know when additional magnet needs or wants may arise, having a bag on hand is simply common sense.

The bag of motors, more specifically “hobby motors.” A dream come true for certain gift recipients, providing hours of geeky enjoyment. Oh, the things I’ve motorized! And the list of projects I’m about to start keeps growing. I’m probably going to need several more motor bags before the end of the month.

The bag of lenses. (Remember what we said about possible damage? Just a little heads up, that’s all.) A bag of lenses is nothing to belittle, and turns out to be surprisingly enjoyable. I’ll bet you don’t have one.

Bet you don’t have a bag of prisms either. Yet.

Or a bag of optical components. The ad text promises at least twenty-five of them! Please don’t find fault with the filters, ridicule the reticules or patronize the polarizers until at least ten minutes after opening the bag. Pair it with the bag of lenses and make your own glasses!

For the more advanced, a grab bag of solar cells (bag not included). You get a whopping forty pieces of cells that have somehow been broken. They can be soldered together for greater voltage and current! What happens next is entirely dependent upon your knowledge of solar cells and their voltage/current capacities, and possibly the flammability rating of your carpeting.

This special will end at the stroke of midnight on the day of this month’s partial lunar eclipse. Order now and we’ll throw in a bag of plastic gears in assorted sizes!

Stoolin' around town

The motorized bar stool is capable of speeds up to 30 mph, and turns corners on a dime. Now there’s no excuse for bar tardiness, and you can probably even drive yourself to the restroom. These (and, of course, motorized coolers) are doing their best to take drinking and driving to a new level, full of thrills, chills and spills. And since they’re not really street legal, you might even make it home without getting a DUI. Then again, maybe not.

And, hey, wouldn’t you rather have one of these than a wheelchair or a scooter? When I get old and driving seems scary, this is going to be my ticket to sweet freedom.

Egg-zactly what you want

Since you’ve seen it on TV, you don’t need me to tell you why you want this. With ads running roughly every twenty minutes, most of us currently want a Ped Egg quite badly. We can all imagine the satisfaction of ridding ourselves of about a handful of dried-out, unsightly foot skin, and that’s a very pretty picture, indeed. But the added concept of collecting it so that one can experience the crazy joy of seeing all this skin before throwing it away—that’s the manifestation of a true marketing genius.

Another fabulous feature of this commercial is the use of the old “delicate enough not to pop this balloon” bit. Balloons approximate human skin in American advertising, much like blue water approximates anything which might soil a diaper or a maxi pad, and knives cutting tomatoes approximate extreme sharpness. I don’t know about you, but when I see a product being demonstrated on a balloon, I’m sold, solidly.

Time for more toast

I had no idea the market for toast-related products existed, although I can certainly see the need fulfillment going on here. Inflatable toast was just the tip of the iceberg, and as you can see, it’s clearly toast:fifty-five.
















I love the punny good humor of toasted post-its! Much more fun than those dull yellow squares.


















And speaking of fun, how about playing games with real toast? We all love playing with our food, but food that’s intended for play brings something extra to the table. (Note my special new silver jelly knife!)




















The comfort of toast is welcome on the rare occasion when I part with cash. My toast wallet reminds me not to spend all my bread, because I know where it’s buttered. It also hints that I might want some toast when I get home.
















Aww, isn’t this just precious. Imagine someone bringing you a piece of sentimental, heartsick toast. I think this should be a companion piece.















Because if you also get the heart-shaped egg mold, your love overfloweth.

















You can probably make this toast pay for itself, if you travel around enough and sell only one or two in each county, because how frequently is a sucker born?
















When this product and its intended fan base intersect, the joy is boundless. Popular in the Tampa Bay and Pittsburgh areas, and among many members of the CEO set.

Stylishly inside the lines

Draw your own conclusions, think outside the box, and color your world (in 24 shades, included!) with the crayon apron. Now you can showcase your inner artist and retain a semblance of style that would make Mrs. Cleaver proud. The crayons enjoy their freedom while you create waxy masterpieces without being slowed or hampered by anything but your imagination.

Utter coolness

Nothing says summer weekend like a big blowout party and mine’s tonight! The theme is winter in summer. I’ve set up a sprinkler, a kiddie pool and one of the old, original Slip-n-Slides in my kitchen, and some dry ice, just for effect. (might also be a good time to pull out my FX-A fog machine!) Man, I can’t wait!












I’ve also got the insta-snow powder – it’s going to take forever to clean up, but my entire living room will be transformed into a winter wonderland.

The drinks are going to be really fun, too.



















I’ve got Titanic ice molds, for making “gin and titonics.” Someone’s going to say “You sank my battleship!” before the night’s over, and I plan to laugh as though I’d never thought of it before, because I’m a good hostess that way. Besides, I’ll be pretty far gone by then.




















Couldn’t resist the skull & crossbones ice. Arrrr, matey. If you have friends who like Captain Morgan, they’re going to love these ice cubes. But I’ve forbidden my guests from wearing puffy shirts. Not cool.




















I can’t wait to try the newest addition to my collection, cool jazz ice cubes with reusable handles which do double duty as drink stirrers. But if I catch one person putting these in his/her mouth, that person is going to be asked to leave. Also not cool.



















I think I found these ice cube molds at a yard sale. The ice looks like fruit wedges and comes with a built-in reusable straw. If you pour lemonade or orange juice in them, they’re a little more fun, but this one’s for the sissies and sangria drinkers in the crowd, the people who don’t tend to mind the concept of reusable straws, and for when all the other cool ice has been used up. Always have a back-up plan when you’re hosting a party! (good words to live by)















I’m also the proud owner of dental ice molds—got 'em a long time ago. If you have friends with dentures, ask them to take their teeth out and see how long they can use these—the resulting facial expressions are gut-bustingly funny. Plus, they really keep a drink chilled, and if the teeth break off it’s that much more fun. Sometimes I put a kernel of corn or a black bean or a little piece of pickle in one of the front teeth holes while I’m making the ice. My guests always sit up and take notice! Tonight the game’s gonna be: first one to get a vegetable in his/her mouth gets to be first in line for the















ice luge! Simply apply your mouth to the ice (careful; don’t get stuck!), pour the alcoholic beverage of your choice down the chutes, and the short-lived fun really kicks into high gear. I usually save this for the last hour or two of the party.








Please note, saying yum while using ice luge is optional. You can just think it silently to yourself.

Hope you plan to attend. As Alan Thicke says, the fun starts when you get here!

Say what?

Don’t be a fream! Instead of all that faffing with your spank bank, you could be revving up your verbal skills by taking a cue from the past. Everyone’s continually trying to out-cool each other with newer slang, tossing out words like skeen and phrases like off da chain, then reverting to even newer words almost immediately because slang’s no longer serving its purpose when the even the mompants have got it crabbed. It’s so much more tight to be in orbit, aware of bygone phrases with little relevance in today’s world, particularly if you’re too young to have possibly encountered these words in your own life. So get your jets ready, gather up your nuggets and berries, even if you don’t have the bees, and check these flashcards. Soon people will know you’re on the stick, and then think of how radioactive you’ll be! Everywhere you go it’ll be, like, Antsville, but you’ll breeze off and dust out in your bucket for a night of backseat bingo with your bim. Just close your head and buy these really darb flashcards, and you, too, can know your onions. It’ll be like eggs in the coffee; you’ll pick this stuff up in no time, and that’ll put some spizzerinctum in your life.