Mix it up a little, wouldja?

You know how when you make yourself a glass of chocolate milk, or any other beverage involving powder or syrup, it tastes pretty much the same until it’s almost gone? Then the flavor expands with a robust strength, as the chunks that’ve congealed rather than blending in make their appearance. In today’s fast-paced world, who’s got time and energy for the crazy amount of stirring it would take to fully mix the ingredients into a cohesive blend? Not you!

But, hey, I’m not saying those chunks are a bad thing. Many find them to be the highlight of their drinking experience, those semi-crunchy, extra-sugary tidbits, lovely little solid-liquid morsels.

Often ignored: a not-insignificant portion of the population who tend to abandon their beverages so early in the game that they’re not even aware of this tasty phenomenon. These people miss a lot in life, so try to pity them rather than chiding them whenever possible.

And then there are the few, the proud—those who prefer their beverages fully blended. For those discriminating souls, there’s the Moo Mixer. Add your liquid and your flavoring agent, press the button, and within seconds you’ve got a frothy concoction guaranteed not to separate for a full 20 minutes. You’re thinking, “It’s just a blender without a lid,” aren’t you? That’s because you didn’t notice the lack of a cord. It’s just like a battery-operated blender without a lid—now you’ve got the picture! (Product also available in the supreme model, lid included and cup size increased.)

Keeping it clean, part two

Yuck! Who knew that as we sleep toxins are sneakily making their way to the soles of our feet, where they often remain undetected for an entire lifetime? Luckily these toxins turn out to be eager to be leached through our skin and freed to continue their poisonous existence extra-corporeally.

For years I lived in cold climates and slept with socks on, never waking up to find them oozing formaldehyde, ammonia, mercury and whatever other unsafe substances I'd been unwittingly ingesting. Must have been because my socks weren't adhesive! These miraculous, linty-looking stickers somehow have the absorbability and suction that socks and other feet-encasing products lack. Good thing, or we'd be leaking poisons into our shoes and all over our carpets.

When I see the television commercials for these products, I'm instantly aware of being a walking time bomb, full of death-promoting evil. I'd been holding out for something larger, something capable of really doing the job thoroughly, but I can feel myself caving.

Reusable?!? Say it ain't so.

Keeping it clean, part one

Various reasons, most of them accidental, unplanned and unwanted, prevent a significant portion of the population (estimates vary from 15-35% during peak season) from doing a good job of ass-wiping. Physicians project that America's need for these products will only increase until obesity rates plummet and most of the baby boomers are gone.

This is a delicate, highly personal issue, and, quite frankly, we don't want to know how you've been addressing it. We're just offering a few of the many available options devised to assist you in your quest for a cleaner, more societally-approved behind.

And so, without further ado, we present the Bottom Buddy, the Freedom Wand, and the Self-Wipe. All are priced at a user-friendly, affordable level, because this is one of those rare instances in which your problem is also our problem, and believe us, we want to help. Uses are limited only by your imagination, but using your sense of smell as your guide is always a good starting point.

Blow it all off

This is the Airzooka, a hand-held piece of plastic attached to more plastic by plastic, but who cares what it’s made of? The only thing you need to know is that it blows air over 20 feet. That’s right, using only your two bare hands you can send blasts of air at anyone or anything within range. And 20 feet turns out to be a lot farther than you might think. Go get a tape measure and find out! The blasts of air are also nothing to sneeze at.

You’ll never run out of ammo or targets, making this one of those rare gifts that truly keeps on giving. You should see it blow lizards across the back porch, annoy the dog, or wake up a snoring sleeper (via the return-a-snore setting). And, boy, do bees and wasps hate it, especially at close range. Best of all, so far, has been watching a not-too-bright neighbor try using his Airzooka to do yard clean-up after mowing. I haven’t even had mine for a month yet, and already three people have told me that if I use it again in their presence, they’ll never speak to me again. Makes dusting and many other household chores a breeze! Makes a breeze! Less expensive than a fan, cost-free to operate, and guaranteed to last until you puncture the thin plastic, which turns out to be pretty essential. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because I had to learn this the ugly way.

Makin' the most of toast

Inflatable toast, because sometimes one truly needs the proximity of toast, a need so intense that even inedible blow-up wanna-be toast will do in a pinch. You’ve heard the line “you eat with your eyes,” haven’t you? So, dig in already. Toast is one of the most basic comfort foods, and studies have shown that many derive their comfort simply from glancing at its golden glow, picturing happier times—a pause that pleases. Dieters: try it as a space-filler on your plate, giving yourself the illusion of a meal you couldn’t possibly finish. Toast enthusiasts: there’s really no need to explain the myriad uses you’ll find for inflatable toast, is there? I know a guy who papered his kitchen walls with these; words cannot do justice to the effect.

Others prefer the gag gift components of inflatable toast. I had a friend in fourth grade whose mother used to pack these in his lunch when he’d misbehaved. Coincidental as it may sound, I also used to work with a guy who’d put one of these on a paper plate in the middle of his desk and wait for people to ask him if they could have some. In fact, now that I think about it, I also briefly dated someone whose ex-wife somehow used inflatable toast, duct tape, and a tub of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter as a Halloween costume (his inability to stop talking about this led to the inevitable demise of our relationship; I can’t compete with toast, but very few can.) Kind of uncanny, the amount of inflatable toast in my past. Maybe it’s the same for you; I can only hope so. If not, buy some and inflatable toast memories will be warming the cockles of your heart in no time.