Ashes to ashes

Today my niece becomes a teenager, and as I wish her well and look back to my own teen years, the first thing that comes to mind is this terrible woman who had the unfortunate task of teaching me what was called “Language Arts” the year I was 13 (and fully convinced that I’d already mastered the language and all its arts). She somehow managed to include the phrase “Neil Diamond” in every sentence of our grammar homework, every day. She sported visible dandruff, immense amounts of polyester, terrible shoes, and my intense scorn for an entire school year. Worst of all, she kept this jar on the corner of her desk. To scare us, I assumed.

I was fully convinced that she wanted me to become part of her collection, especially because I managed to make fun of Neil Diamond in every writing assignment, and managed a few sly remarks about the way dandruff shows up on polyester in an improvised speech. Even now, when I hear the phrase, “Those who can’t do, teach,” this individual pops into my head. I assume that when she retired—for she’s surely retired by now—she returned those ashes to the parents of hundreds of obnoxious teenagers throughout the area. Frankly, I’m still relieved to have escaped her clutches. Meanwhile, Happy Birthday to a special girl.

She dug her gift

Today’s my best friend’s birthday; we’ve been bosom buddies, if you will, since first grade, and we like to kid ourselves that nothing’s changed over the years. However, time’s been elapsing and we’ve been collapsing – our mirrors (and kids) tell us so, and yet we persist in our mutual delusion.

My birthday comes first, and I’m a few months older than she is, which she never fails to flaunt. On my birthday I found this














in the mailbox. No note, but I knew exactly who was responsible. She thought she was so clever. Toss these “parts” in some water and they grow 600%. “Look, there’s even a new liver, just like you need,” she shrieked. “And it’s your size!” (I thought it was a brain, and that it was her size. We’re still arguing over that.)

Anyway, I figured I’d show her who had old parts!

This morning when she got in her car, the long bra was waiting for her. No note, but she’ll know. And she’ll claim not to have tried it on the next time I see her, but she’ll be lying. It fit, too, didn’t it, birthday girl?

Coming soon: moustache panache

Flair Hair = truly irresistible. My weakness for faux tresses is apparently endless, and this particular brand really appealed to my inner Guy Fieri.

Yeah, him. He heartily approved of this purchase. But if you’re not blond and into the flame thing, like me & Guy, don't worry. Flair Hair is available in a variety of colors and visor styles, as well as children’s sizes. The hairdo, however, is non-negotiable. If you’re going to wear a visor, this is de rigeur. Perfect for those days when you’re just a little short on time and taste, Flair Hair! Allow it to take you to places you’ve never even envisioned.

How'd they do that?

Not long ago someone told me about Farm in a Jar, with its compelling combination of facts, trivia, games and activities. It sounded like a great present for some of the younger people in my life, many of whom seem not to know things like where food comes from or how to behave in public, although they’re very helpful to have around when the computer breaks. I decided to order one for an upcoming gift-giving occasion.
















Then came the requisite six to eight weeks of down time, during which my mind was all a-flutter, trying to picture as many farm games and facts as I already knew and hoping for more of the same (because farm fun is enjoyable at all ages). You may well imagine my disappointment, then, when instead I received



















fart in a jar! They must have been right beside each other on the shelf, or someone was in a rush, or something. I thought of returning it—unopened, of course—but as it turned out the gift was quite well received.

Happy happy joy joy

Damn, it has been a rough and rugged year, hasn’t it? I actually allowed things to get to me, and not for the first time, may I add. Fell into kind of a rut-like brown study, and before I knew it discontent, worry and a seemingly unending stream of celebrity deaths made it easy to stay on life hiatus, occupying an angsty limbo of vast proportions. Sometimes it can be unreasonably difficult to pull oneself out of these funks, and even more difficult to think of a reason for doing so. I’d even given up my beloved shopping therapy.

But this morning the sun was shining and I felt marginally better, so I headed down my favorite emporium where I purchased this lovely Boo Frickin’ Hoo Have a Cocktail and Get Over It apron. Maybe it’s the stitching on the pocket or the flared hemline, but something about this apron got to me, touched me somewhere deep inside, somewhere probably close to my liver, and reminded me that life’s too short – you’ve got to take the bitter with the sweet, the sour with the umami and the cocktail with the extra shot in it if you want to get through this rat-maze we call modern life. Bottoms up!

The yolk's on your stress

Over and over the headlines tell us the same story: stress is a health hazard in addition to being one of life’s major annoyances. We know we’re not supposed to let things get to us, but we can’t help it—a lot of things are trying really hard to get to us and doing a great job of it. We’re all aware of methods of relieving stress, so that once things have gotten to us, we can attempt to purge ourselves of the resulting stress, but that cathartic moment of feeling truly stress free never seems to arrive. In fact, most people trying to negotiate modern life find themselves served up huge and unending portions of stress at nearly every turn, and it starts to accumulate in unsightly areas. Many eventually find their old standby techniques—deep breathing, overeating, exercise, vast quantities of alcohol, etc.—incapable of making even a small dent in the stress onslaught.

But don’t succumb to the subsequent health decline just yet. Now there’s a stress reliever that’s fun, fascinating, and can also be used as a teaching aid to inspire young children. (Except we’re not going to explain how that part works. Just show it to them and talk about eggs.) The smash-it egg yolk stress relief splatter water toy sticks to almost any surface and bounces back to its original eggy shape time after time. It’s that simple, but the best solutions always are. There’s just something really soothing about a fake raw egg, or maybe the soothing part comes after lobbing this at your current source of stress. Either way, it's an express trip to Stress Relief City.

Making a list

Get out your long checklist of holiday preparations, because now that it’s December you’re already running slightly behind schedule, and there’s so much to do before the 25th. We’re about to enter that wonderful time of year when our focus becomes even more consumer-oriented than usual…we become slightly short of breath just thinking about it. In order to keep oneself relatively sane and solvent during this intense period, list-keeping is a must. And that’s just the first step. Just think of all the things you need to get done in the next few weeks and try not to cry.

We usually find that even a brief span of time spent on holiday planning and list-making coincidentally coincides with the annual emergence of our

edible candy cane shot glasses. A sip here, a sip there, and the list almost appears to fill itself out. Hours later, bottle emptied and chore completed, the glasses deliver a satisfying minty crunch, and we’re as ready as we can be to usher in another holiday season. If you can’t read the last few entries on the list the following day, just cross them out, because making a to-do list shorter lightens the load, which will give you more time to acquire that holiday spirit everyone's always talking about.

The gift that keeps on giving

Give someone this petri dish of syphilis microbes, and you’ll probably never be far from his or her thoughts. But don’t wrap it up like a regular present; that’s too obvious. Keep your microbes in a warm, moist environment for a few weeks, then unleash them upon their recipient in some sly way—we trust you to think up an extra-clever method, because, remember, you’re not immune.

Take a quick peek inside—you get three microbes, see them? Okay, now slam the lid back on the jar, because microbes are not easily contained, particularly not syphilitic ones.

Also available: gonorrhea, chlamydia, e. coli, malaria, HIV, herpes, and most of your other favorite microbial friends. We’re sure to have something for everyone on your gift list, and can guarantee that by the next holiday season that list will be shorter.

Get caught reading

And you thought Stephen King books were scary. Meet the Necronomicon Book of the Dead Halloween prop puppet—yeah, you read that correctly, this is a puppet. You can put your hand in there and make its mouth move, and there is something really frightening about a big-toothed talking book. I wish I could share it with you in more detail, but Betty, our product model, refused to put her hand inside to give a proper demo.

On Halloween night I’m going to sit on the front porch with my Necronomicon book in my lap, my trusty singing frog candy bowl on a table beside me, filled to the brim with Snickers. My goal, as always, will be to keep at least half the candy for myself. This year I think I’ve got a pretty decent chance.

I never had to babysit again

“Good night, Bobby, don’t let the bedbugs bite. I’m going to turn off the overhead light now.”

“But, Auntie, I’m afraid of the dark.”

“You won’t have to be any more, Bobby. I bought you a surprise yesterday. Want me to go get it?”

“Yes!” (eager bed bouncing and sound of retreating footsteps)

(sound of footsteps returning)

“Okay, Bobby, I’ve got it right here. Hold on a second…where’s that outlet? Got it! Now, let me get this light bulb…all right, you ready, sweetie?”

“Yes!” (more eager bed bouncing)

(click)

(scream, followed by loud crying) “Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off! I want my Mommy!”

(click)

(sound of retreating footsteps)

I'm not really makin' it

ATMitations (bonus points awarded for clever name) make you appear to have over $400,000 in the bank. (In your non-interest-earning checking account, where all the people who have that kind of money keep their spare cash.) You’ll look like a rich-but-maybe-not-the-brightest type; everyone will want to be your best friend.

Actually, these are mostly intended as bait for those who’ll never consider how you should be investing that wad. The package suggests using them to pick up people in bars, for fooling co-workers and impressing friends. For optimum success, reserve their use for complete strangers, those who deal in Favre units of currency, and/or those who have a tenuous (at best) grasp on reality. You can see how happy an ATMitation has made the woman on the package. She can’t believe her good luck—she just met her dream man, and it’s left her a little short of breath. She’s mentally buying a wedding dress, a McMansion and more shoes than she ever imagined. She knew, of course, that she loved him the minute she laid eyes on him, before she had any idea about the money.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.