Worst Day of School

I spent a great majority of my school years in the Tennessee school system. No, it wasn’t one room, no it wasn’t on a tobacco farm, yes there was a pair of cousins that were caught kissing in the bathroom. For reals, it happened.

I’ll have you know TN schools are 21st century.

Due to a recent virus outbreak at my job, this post was prompted by conversation about it. What was going around? That I do not know, it could have been introduced by anyone or anything. It’s a proven fact according to TLC’s show Hoarders: Buried Alive that anyone can live in deplorable conditions and not even the closest of friends know. Anyone, that lady with the hand sanitzer on her desk, a cover up. She has jars of urine and feces decorating her house because her bathroom is full of magazines, because that’s where they should go, duh. I will accept this as long as it’s not Woman’s Day, which we all know, it is.

 Me wuv cupcakes!

Which brings me back to 2nd grade. My teacher, Mrs. White, bless her kind heart wherever she may be.

I must have gotten a stomach virus, possibly from contaminated Kid’s Cuisine, who knows. I made it half way through the school day when I began throwing up, and didn’t stop. I became a Garbage Pail Kid. The school tried to call my mom, who wasn’t home. No cell phones…so they tried the emergency contact list, whoever the hell that was. I was stuck at school, vomiting relentlessly. Because I’ll assume before caller I.D. people just didn’t answer the freaking phone.

Sorry I missed the call hon, I made this cool hat with our phone.

During a game of “heads up seven up” which is a “quiet game” and should be called ”heads up shut the fuck up”, I increased my gross sick kid factor to the tenth power. It was like this:

My teacher grabbed a trash can and put it beneath me but a little too late because it was all over the floor. When I looked up this kid named Matthew was pulling the scotch tape off her desk and taping his nose going, “Oh God! It stinks!” Which made me laugh and then puke more. Sensing the possibility of me grossing out other eight year old kids, igniting a puke chain reaction, she ushered me to the bathroom.

Right now, as and adult, I know what this lady was thinking, “Where the fuck is your mother kid? So help me, if I get sick, I am taking a week off. If she gets anything on my denim jumper with apples on it, I’m gonna be sick.” Well, she helped me wash up and splashed cold water on my face, like a saint that she is.

But this is my FAVORITE denim jumper.

I get back to see the janitor with the dust cleaning up my mess. I know what he was thinking too, “All this from one fucking kid? Did she have a massive head trauma? Six Flags doesn’t clean this much puke up!”

Well that Matthew kid had used the entire roll of tape on his face which became a mask or sorts. Only, he couldn’t get it off. My teacher then had to pull this hastily devised respirator off while he screamed, “It’s pulling my face!” I laughed and of course puked more, this time in the trash can. I’m sure she went home and drank a bottle of whine before zoning out to  Family Matters.

He’ll never give up on Laura even when she files a restraining order.

Well, the fiasco wasn’t over, I had to ride the bus home. I had not quite emptied my gastric contents however, ohhh ho ho no, not quite. I couldn’t get close enough to the front of the bus and I guess being like eight, I didn’t think to tell the bus driver, Ms. Ruby, she had those super high bangs. I know she rocked out to Poison all day, every day. Well, I almost made it home but not quite. I ran to the front of the bus but threw up on a kid right before the trash can. He was this red-headed little asshole so I feel karma was at work this day.

If he had this on it would be huge SPLAT yes!

He screams and Ms. Ruby slams on the breaks. I almost go flying into the windshield. At this moment, I would have welcomed the embrace of dead relatives as they guide me to a bright light. Heaven is very well lit, you never strain your eyes reading there.

“This escalator takes you to Dillards”

Well, I throw up at the bus stop too and the children disperse but not before screaming “Ewww! Don’t touch her!” Now I know how a leper felt in the days of yore. It was rather isolating. I make it home and my dad is in his usual television after work attire, a white t-shirt and shorts, with slippers. He has no idea I’m sick but he suggests I lay on the couch and watch Cheers, which I think made me sicker.

Everything this guy says still makes me nauseous

My mom finally came home and rendered aide. She got the ginger ale out and a cold rag for my forehead. I swear this magic combination is sheer alchemy only mother’s know, because I was fine soon after. I still don’t know where she was, M.I.A. during that fateful phone call, but I’m going to assume drugs. Yep, drugs. She hid it well, I always assumed the track marks were because she said she had a “diabetes habit”. I hope you all know I jest.

Well, drugs or Thigh Master 

I didn’t go to school the next day, much to Mrs. White’s relief I’m sure. I got to play Barbies and listen to my Paula Abdul tape all day, weak, but much better. I got back to school and I was made fun of for about a week straight. That red-headed fuck on the bus never spoke to me, nor made eye contact. I mean, I did  throw up on his Starter jacket. Sorry asshole, I’ll have you know my puke looked better than your freckled face! I hope you also know I jest. He was an asshole though. Worst school day ever.

Hey Ipecac! Toss your cookies lately?! Ha ha, we’re funny, let’s go play with slap bracelets.

Eye Feast

Hello WordPressonians,

I have been negligent indeed. I’m not fit for blogging. Either way I wanted to share some really neat Nashville graffiti and my own personal work I’ve done recently.

Located in the Donelson (close to the airport if that helps) area of Nashville, TN is Phat Bites, a really neat restaurant. What makes Phat Bites awesome is it’s a deli that provides a much, much healthier alternative to fast food as in they actually serve vegetables. What makes this deli unique is that it supports the local arts, even buying the car wash next door turning it into a legal graffiti showcase. They have art shows and display local artist’s work within the restaurant.

That’s the inside, of course, here’s the awesome graffiti!!!

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I’ve been sort of busy too I made this:

These are collages I made for my sister and her dorm. This is her freshman year in college and it’s just days away. If I haven’t mentioned before and I don’t believe I have… decoupage is one of my favorite forms of art. I love taking pictures and figuring out how to make a funky piece out of it. I suppose I should post the rest of my collages now huh?

I also made this:

This is paying homage to one of my favorite actors of all time Robert DeNiro  and perhaps one of my favorite movies of all time, Taxi Driver. This was my first go at pop culture. If you do make art you probably discovered (unless your mad talented) that famous faces are hard to do. The nose alone was agonizing for me b/c any deviation and you haven’t captured that person. I’m not saying this looks like a photographic image of Mr. DeNiro but I hope I’m in the ballpark. He has a face I just down right admire, it’s so full of character. I love his movies and if you haven’t witnessed Awakenings, you must, must see this film.

I hope to make a return to the blogging soon, like later today, that soon. I must admit I’ve had a touch of writers block (anyone got some Adderal? No? dang). Until then, I need some space, it’s not you WordPress, it’s me.

Google Search Users Don’t Understand Kids

Yesterday, I wrote about kids, specifically my kid and the children of the Industrial Revolution. My spawn, as I like to call him. I tell him all the time I am so happy I hatched him. He looks at me with wonder, love and trepidation mostly trepidation. I’m sorry I’m so weird son. I’m also sorry that I’m going to be embarrassing when you’re a teenager.  Please just know I love you, bear with me.

Well, I couldn’t fit this into my post yesterday as it didn’t fully fit the format. Today I will share with you some of the jacked up Google searches I found for children while researching child labor.

All of these began with: WHY DO CHILDREN…. 

1. Scream for no reason?  I tend to agree, have you taken a child to a birthday party? For fuck sake, it’s like a scream fest where they get together and scream, eat cake, only two bites, waste the rest and then scream more.

First a circle scream, then we’ll stand in a line and scream

2. Join the Taliban? Well given it’s optional, it’s probably like summer camp…that teaches suicide bombing and kickball.

3. Souls stay behind? Not all of them, just the souls of poor kids.

soul

4. Overgeneralize words? All children always do this all the time, times infinity.

5. Always stare at me? I like to believe their giving the “evil eye” trying to evoke misfortune in the form of The Black Death to my family and famine to my crops, killing my goats. To counteract this I recommend a vial of lizard blood and skullcap.

6. Play with their poop? It’s organic play-doh

7. Fail in school? Because learning is dumb, duh.

8. Have to suffer? I hope this person shook an angry fist at Google when they typed this rhetorical question. WHYYYYYY????!!!! Damn you!

It’s not fair! Answer me!

9. Vomit at night? Ugh, what the hell is wrong with that kid? I bet because he played with his poop all day and didn’t wash his hands.

10. Use private speech? So adults have no idea that they are plotting when and where they will start screaming, that way it appears unprovoked and spontaneous.

“Why does this happen?”

11. Need vitamins? Those too? I got to feed and water this thing as well? Gah! Can I trade it for a Chia Pet? I’m glad a parent felt the need to research this…

12. Take Xanex? Because lacking responsibilities is stressful.

13. Cry in their sleep? They’re whimpering, probably dreaming about chasing rabbits and squirrels, right? I mean they’re legs are moving like they’re running.

Or because monsters know kids are delicious.

14. Feel the need to access guns? You can’t join the NRA without a gun. You can’t be American without a gun. I’m as proud as a bald eagle.

15. Hate you? Don’t take it personal, they hate all adults, hence the real reason they are constantly screaming.

Lastly a search that did not fit in with the searches above:

Why do Tom Cruise’s kids live with him? 

Fear.

Back In Someone Else’s Day…

I believe children are the future, why? Well, because chronologically speaking they are, duh. I have a kid of my own. I try my best to provide a happy childhood all the while preparing him for a productive, industrious adulthood. I surely don’t want him living in my den, eating Cheetos, and wiping his orange powdery hands on my furniture as he watches Walker Texas Ranger all day. Cringe.

OF course you have to lick your fingers, who wants this crap on their fleshlight?

I for one do not let him have his way all the time, often times it’s not even a democracy in my house. As he gets older I plan on negotiating more but at five, let’s face it kids that age have terrible ideas. For example drawing all over their legs before pictures are taken.

Because tattoos are way cooler than marker, what are you a frat boy? Bro!

One weapon I have in my arsenal goes beyond the starving kids in China bit. For one thing, they can only have one kid…is it really that hard to feed one mouth? I wonder if their dinnerware is as toxic as the materials used for the goods they export to us. Always using lead paint and shit…’Merican made that’s the way to go. I love guns and the ten commandments, U.S.A.!

“How many stars?” “I don’t know, like 15, get to work or they put us in the pit of many shames!”

I want my kid aware of how shitty his predecessors had it, not so much me or my parents, not really even my grandparents (poor, but not destitute). Nope, I had it pretty cake and they didn’t necessarily suffer. Plus, my dad got to be a cool ass greaser. His hair was truly awesome.

My dad still breaks into choreographed song and dance , gets into knife fights, and drag races like, every day.

I think maybe Industrial Revolution Era children had just cause for insolence , dying their hair black and refusing to turn Depeche Mode off repeat long enough to eat family dinner.

“Leave me alone mom! I gonna sit in my room and draw pictures of fairy girls that are  prettier than me!”

In 19th century London, children as young as three years old were put to work. I am going to say right here: I better have made more wages than a toddler. The exploitation of child labor was regulated by four inspectors for all of  England . At least in 1831 the Whig party reduced the average child’s work day from 16 hours to 12 hours maximum, what a relief.

“I don’t care if you don’t know how to read I need you to edit 12,000 reports by Friday, and I don’t care that it’s Thursday! Yo Gabba Gabba? Forget it!

Without OSHA and an over enthusiastic dork of a general manager, there weren’t many safety regulations (My first manager would double thumbs up a job well done and actually say “Thumbs up, guys thumbs waaaay up!” Cringe.) It was not unusual for children to lose appendages, inhale toxic fumes, and die from injury and related illness. Yeah, school doesn’t look so bad. Doing a report on Hernando De Soto beats being crushed to death by a four ton mining cart full of coal.

“Yeah…If you could not maim yourself in our faulty, unsafe machinery…that would be great.”

I can’t wait to drop this tidbit of knowledge the next time my kid complains that I am taking to long deciding on bow-tie or elbow noodles. I mean, these kids were probably pretty miserable.

Yep. Except for far left, he’s the company cheerleader.

This kind of makes my dad’s tales of having to help build a stone wall and early life without television seem well, lame. I believe these kids walked barefoot in the snow, to punch that clock. So the next time my son whines, I may just drive by a local factory and tell him to wait in the car while I get him an application. I think he’ll change his tune.

Don’t call child services on me, I know child labor is no longer legal. That’s why he’ll make me money as a pageant kid, they have boy competitions too.

No one will EVER pick on this kid in school

A Positive Outlook on ObamaCare (This is, like, a current issue)

I am not sure what exactly to think about ObamaCare. To be honest, it’s like what non flammable substance would be best to put out a raging inferno. The raging inferno (or disco inferno) being the mess our healthcare system is right now. However, this is not a political blog ( back zealots!). No platforms here and no opinion other than this; I must find the key to unlock eternal life and beauty, hide the secret, rule the world as a beautiful, perpetually young tyrant that is forever trendy as well.

White pants are a very bold fashion statement

Well now before this does take an unintentional turn toward debate, I simply want to point something out. ObamaCare may or may not be good for our nation but it will probably be better than MedievalCare.

Let me expound unto thee:

DOCTORS

Today, when you go to a doctor, you understand they went through excruciating, soul sucking hours of medical school to earn that degree. You’re pretty confident they know how to read, write, and properly diagnose your ailment and touch you in the “okay” way your parents told you about. Right?

Buuuut I mean you CAN touch my no no zones…

How about the doctors that practiced in the days of yore? Neigh wench, they were not always so handsome, nor as competent as an actor that plays a doctor. Generally, back in the day, healthcare was governed by wealth. Meaning, only the Housewives of Great Yarmouth could afford a physician actually educated in a real school. Of course it seems that a proper school taught such things as; “hyenas are hermaphroditic animals, and elephants are only afraid of dragons.” Below physicians come surgeons, who apprenticed but did not have the formal education of the aforementioned. The poor, infirm, and vagabonds kind of got your “backyard doctor” so to speak, they guy who “know’s whut tha hell he’s doin’”. The working class went to see a barber for a good old “blood-letting” or tooth pulling. Barbers would routinely perform these procedures without any real prior training. They marked their practice with a red and white pole (yeah, yeah like the one’s you see today) to mimic the appearance of bloody gauze that has been washed and hung out to dry. We all know reusing bandages is an awesome idea. If the average Joe was fortunate, he might get to receive treatment from a monk. These guys could at least read medical text, and had enough understanding that some infirmaries later  grew to become hospitals. Perhaps you knew a “wise woman who was a lady who knew some sweet ass herbal remedies and chants to aid in prolonging your life to well, thirty-something. Which is elderly back then. Of course the religious folk started burning them at the stake for witchcraft.

Pssshhhh! Witch, PLEASE!

HOSPITALS

I had to stay overnight in the hospital when I had my kid. I can’t complain, they gave me a shit load of ice and kept the pain pills a poppin’. I’m not a fancy gal, so hell, it felt like being pampered to be honest. So while you may not get the most extravagant room, it’s probably going to be pretty clean. Hospitals loose their ass paying for nosocomial infections (disease directly received while at the hospital) that they have a pretty stringent infection control policy.

Hot damn! Come ooooooon gall bladder obstruction!

Hospitals in shit times, um I mean, Medieval times were nothing Beyonce and Jay-Z would approve of, far, far, from ballin’ so to speak. Nope, hospitals were large rooms where all the sick were placed together. So while you don’t get a private room, your ass didn’t even get a private bed. Hospital beds used to hold 4 to 6 sick people. If you pushed your call light for assistance to bathe, well you got a portable rolling bath tub full of water that is shared with other people in the hospital. Yeah, that dude with syphilis so bad his nose fell off? Well, it’s in the fucking bath water. Who’s got the Calgon? What’s worse is no one could come bring flowers or those blasted Mylar balloons that never deflate. The hospital was dangerously contagious and family usually had to wait until granny got better or died…yeah died.

How on earth are 4 to 6 people going to agree on whether to watch the WB or another Ab Glider infomercial?

TREATMENT

The drug companies are pretty evil in my opinion. I don’t think doctors prescribe simple, natural treatments nearly enough. I also feel that disguising an ailment with a pill only lends to worse disease….whew…okay. Enough. Nonetheless, however Satanic Pfizer may be, their pills pretty much do what their prescribed to do (along with a rigmarole of side-effects). We can agree there right?

“Ya know…I think I’ll test drive them first, doc.”

Well, it was common for a Medieval healthcare provider (I hope they went to their primary for a referral or they will pay out the ass in shillings without a referral) to just go grab some herbs grind them up and see what happens. If you thought to yourself “Gee, didn’t a lot of people die?” Yes, like all the time even before the plague thanks to leprosy and God striking your evil heart with St. Anthony’s Fire or scrofulla…that will teach ye to have unclean thoughts about thy local merchant and pillaging his anally goods.

For example:

Bruises: Cover them with bacon fat and flour (sounds like a fanfuckintastic gravy to me, did Paula Dean prescribe this?)

Internal bleeding: Wear a dried toad in a pouch around the neck

Ringworm- Wash your hair in male urine

The Plague- Drink an alchemist special mix of molten gold, leeches, blood-letting (ya know cut someone and the bad blood is expressed…) place dead animals about the house, eat powdered emeralds

Skin disease- Cover the spot with the skin of a wolf

Kiss eczema goodbye.

Insanity- Trepanning which is drilling a hole in the head for the crazy to escape.

Unkown- Cauterization- get a hot ass iron poker and jab the affected area.

Lastly, if all else fails make peace with God who decidedly smote you with the disease to begin with because you’re a sinner. The church freaking said so.

See? It could be worse right? Glass half full playa!

Opening Acts Don’t Get Love

Greetings and salutations fellow blogonians. Quick show of hands here, how many of you have gone to a concert for the opening act? Did you raise your hand at the computer? Sheesh.

Okay so, the answer is going to vary from yes to no, the opening act is balls. I lean way more towards the last statement. For example, I recently went to a Bush concert. I did feel rather old and uncool when I stood in line with thirty somethings in Affliction shirts with their fancy jeans. By fancy jeans I mean these unisex (I think they’re girl pants but bitch dudes and Brazilians wear them) jeans with distressed stitches and bedazzled crosses on the back pockets.

There are actually vagina magnets in the pockets

I also stood in front of a guy who, I am very sure, was the most annoying guy in a line, ever, ever in the history of human kind…like since we walked upright. He was not only a cell phone loud talker but a conversation dropper too. He kept trying to nerd his way in. I didn’t want to talk to this Taylor Hicks look alike and his monotone droning about how important his job is. He wanted the whole fucking line to know he had something to do with promoting the concert. I didn’t know you got paid to stand in line, buy tickets, and dork down the general area only to return to your wood paneled house and eat beanie weenies straight out of the can.

“Sometimes, I get sharp pains on my left side when I eat burgers too fast.”

It doesn’t matter, I saw Gavin Rossdale’s obliques. His shoulders were so cut up that I wanted to eat them like chicken cutlets. I may or may not want to drink his sweat…just saying. He’s beautiful in photos and he is statuesque in person. Drool.

Hands off bitches!

The concert was badass by the way. Now, I need to get on topic. The opening band was one that is probably pretty new. It had the emo kind of sound going. I don’t want to age myself here, but I hate it as much as I hate dude’s in skinny jeans ESPECIALLY fat dudes in skinny jeans. No guy should have a muffin top it screams “Hey, I have an inordinate amount of estrogen in my system!”

It just doesn’t do it for me DAWG

So they played and the whole time I patiently anticipate sexing Gavin with my eyes. I wanted those guys to hurry up, no offense, but I was there for Bush.

This ties into a conversation I had yesterday, about TV shows from childhood. The show Captain Planet was brought up. I’m not sure if you all remember this gem but this show was lame, in copious amounts.

Ah bloody hell, is Judge Judy on instead?

From the picture, I immediately have questions. Why is this blue man only wearing underwear and a middriff? Is it a suit that happens to be the same color as his flesh? Did he have a “flesh pants” fashion faux pas?

I’m so confused..

Then there are the Planeteers, kids from all over the world, even Soviet Russia (in Soviet Russia the planet saves you), that are chosen by and underground magic woman to save the world. These kids had magic rings that controlled elements, which is pretty scary to give kids given their capacity for recklessness and risk taking. I’m not sure I want a developmentally inadequate pubescent able to summon fire when all he really thinks about is boobies and Skyrim. Also, I am glad there was a ginger added for diversity.

Then there was the weird kid “heart” with the monkey. How is heart an element and what does it do? Well, it made animals like help destroy factories and shit. Thanks Planeteers, the laborers that cannot feed their family are eternally grateful because “heart” will put food on their table. Not to mention Captain Planet encouraged teenagers to do untold property damage and vandalism.

At least they were more productive than the “occupy” movement

Their leader Gaia the underground R & B singer who has “planet vision” to seek out pollution and uncut soda can rings. Capatain Planet appears when shit gets too real for the kids and they combine rings. He has a grass mullet. He does some floating around and molecular manipulation of his body there’s even some like sparkles and flashes when he fucks stuff up, trees are saved. I want to know what he does until he is summoned with the rings. Bath house, a dirty, lewd, and lustful bath house.

Smooth operator…Smooooooth operator…

I mean based on this, never seeing the show would you watch it? Hell no. That is why I would only watch Captain Planet while waiting for something more awesome to come on. By that I mean the last few minutes like “Ahhh, Captain Planet is still on! Let’s make fun of the planeteers until Spiderman is on!” Which is what my brother and I did every time. That show was the suckiest suck that ever sucked.

sucked

It must be rough being the “opening act” so to speak. It reminds me of high school when a dude dated me just to date my friend. It’s all good that’s typical high school drama, but I remember that was pretty humbling none the less.

Have a good day, and enjoy this…

How is a sleeveless t-shirt sexy now? Well it is.

An Announcement!

Hello bloggers, followers, readers, dubstep fans and pod people. I recently blogged about my art show. Some of you may or may not know this. It doesn’t hurt my feelings if you missed it, I just cry quietly at night wishing I was recognized by strangers and long to be a  high school cheerleader.

Someday….

Anypoop, as promised I got to work on a page in which to showcase my work and sell it. I am still working on Etsy, where I plan to post my actual original art work. Right now I have a deviantART page up and running. It’s got a little bit so far and I need to add the rest but I’m too exited to keep this on the DL too long. I’m not so good at keeping secrets it seems.

Aaaaaand boom goes the link: Click these words right here, stop reading them and click them. Why are you not listening to me? Fine, do what you want. 

Well, that’s the big announcement for today, and might I add because it’s so neccessary;

R.I.P Andy Griffith, I grew up with family that just adored your show. Before my grandfather passed he requested, specifically, The Andy Griffith Show to watch and the family bought the box set. I miss him and you have a special little place in my heart, I’ve whistled that infamous tune who knows how many times to my pet cockateils (they half assed it but I guess it was good for a bird). There’s several fond memories of curling up next to my dad a.k.a. “The Big Cheese” and watching this show, laughing at Deputy Barney Fife!

Facts About The Penes

Today I’m taking you to school, penis school, the plural of penis is penes (pronounced like weenies). Today you will learn facts, facts that make you smart, almost as smart as me. Let the smartening commence:

Fact #1

Diphallia, penile duplication (PD), diphallic terata and diphallasparatus are all acceptable names for a very rare medical condition that results in a male being born with not one, but two penes. I like to call this condition, “Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Double Trouble” or “La Hydra“. By rare I mean, 1 in 5,500,000 menfolk suffer this condition and uncomfortable briefs in America.

While you can make a sweet “helicopter” action, you may also suffer from sterility. This is not be confused with genital bisection which happens to be an elective procedure for absolute weirdos that want their penis to look like a hot dog bun.

Look at all the dicks in this picture!

Fact # 2

Nature has the sense of humor of a twelve year old. The Penis Plant, the Penis Cactus or less commonly known Trichocereus bridgesii looks like, well, a pot full of human dicks. Right now I’m online trying to purchase one because let’s face it, this is going to be hilarious to give to grandma on Christmas Day. What’s better is  in Germany, this plant is classified as a Frauenglück which translates to “women’s joy”. I love Germans, I love their level of weird too.

Fact #3

In New Guinea, it’s tradition for the native males to don a koteka, or a penis gourd over their genitals. Fashioned from dry gourds they are held by strings. One tribe wears two gourds, no they do not have Diphallia, they use the secondary gourd to carry their belongings like wallet and cell phone? Yep.

“The Man” or the “Govment” don’t approve of the fashion statement and in the  70′s they attempted to put a stop to this with ”Operasi Koteka” (“Operation Penis Gourd”). This sounds pretty covert and high tech right? Well it seems the government was really trying to encourage the tribesmen to wear modern clothes like gym shorts and t-shirts. It didn’t go over well since the people within the tribe were not used to wearing these items nor were they aware that they should wash them. Kotekas are not allowed in government buildings so you better bust out your best pair of Umbros for the library. Adversely the tribesmen of New Guinea refuse to wear socks with sandals claiming it to be “Like, the worst fashion faux pas ever”.

“I want my gourd back, NOW”

Fact #4

Animals really do bone each other. A baculum is a bone found in the penis of many mamals. Humans, dolphins, whales and most marsupials are some of the few that are the exception to this of course. Not that marsupials follow mammal rules anyway. Hence the duck bill platypus, the animal that gives evolution a middle finger. Like, “Fuck you, I’m a mammal that lays eggs, let your science teacher explain that!” What a troubled genus.

Scientists and like, other smart people believe that humans lost these through the years due to our tendency to copulate less than other primates (hmmm really?). Well, unless your Mormon or a Dugger. Basically, monkeys sex it up all day every day so they can extend their species and they have a built in “Performance Enhancer” at all times. So, no calling in for a free sample of Enzyte for these guys, they’re too busy disfiguring people who try to understand them anyhow.

Fossilized walrus baculum: DAYUMMM!!! 

Fact # 5

The oldest dildo to date is comprised of siltsone and approximately 30,000 years old. It was found in the Hohle Fels Cave of Germany, the prehistoric Hustler. So, it seems my high school English teacher did not own the world’s oldest dildo…though she was ancient.

THIS is educational.

 

I hope you learned a lot today and I also hope you got a mental image of your own high school teachers. Until next time, my fellow penes.

Waterfall Adventure of the Week: Greeter Falls

This past week’s waterfall adventure was Greeter Falls.  This is a small feature in comparison to the 21, 649 acre South Cumberland State Park. This park is located on the Cumberland Plateau and is dense with forestry, natural waterfalls and wildlife. Honestly, one day wasn’t enough but I don’t think a ten day hiatus would provide enough time to explore every feature with it’s due admiration.

I want to spend much more time bonding with this park. Perhaps demanding more time with the park, calling it repeatedly, saying ” I love you” too soon. I want to smother this park with my affection and co-dependency to the point the park feels we should “go our separate ways” offering little condolence saying, “It’s not you Sheena, it’s me…I need some space.” Only then I can use a friend’s Facebook account to stalk the park, gaining knowledge of any new girlfriends. Maybe even driving by to ensure no strange cars are parked there…

So, this trip involved a visit to Greeter Falls.

Wait no…that’s Ryan Seacrest as a fat kid.

Now HERE is a picture of Greeter Falls…

This is what the waterfall looked when I went…

The drought that we have experienced lately has reduced the waterfall significantly, but here is a photo I found of the waterfall in full force.

I am….MUFASA!

The majority of the day was spent right here in this swimming hole because well, Friday the temperature in Tennessee was only 106 degrees. You wouldn’t know it right here in this paradise. The trail was pretty short and easy (at least going down). There’s a huge spiral staircase that is bowel obstructing in it’s dimensions and height, and then a staircase. There are huge rocks to climb upon and great places to sit and share quality time. My friends and I nerded out on nutrition, physics, and urine drinking. You know, it’s funny how much that topic comes up in my life. I even wrote about it. 

What could be prettier than THIS?

Close…but not quite.

Is it just me or is he bulging to the left? His left. Dig the belt. Anywho, this was a fantastic way to avoid the deathly heat of southern summer. Even more interesting is the visitors were from all over the place. I overheard Alabama, Georgia, and Kentucky…maybe even Omicron Persei 8. Who knows.

I want to go back for sure, but I want it to be when I have a couple days to experience more of this park. It’s massive and actual countryside. This is the first time since my first Nokia brick phone that I can remember actually not having service.

I have enough memory for 8 contacts. You made the cut..congrats

The end of another perfect waterfall adventure was with fresh garden fruit and veggies with tons of cold water. Now this is how you survive a heat wave!

Fug that heat wave!