Anatomy of a Move

I’ve found that moving to a new residence affords me an opportunity to try and better organize my belongings, and discard unnecessary detritus. But this move, as I carted three+ vanloads of crap to my new domicile, I’ve paused to take stock of my belongings, and see the story they tell about my life. Here are a few things I learned:

1. Washers hate me, and have been eating my socks at an alarming rate (a plethora lack companions).

2. I don’t polish my shoes as often as I’d like to think (judging by the used toothbrushes dwelling in my shoe care box).

3. I’ve donated a helluva lot of blood. Enough to fill two large drawers with blood donor t-shirts.

4. I’m a total cheapskate, but also really good at getting out stains–I have shirts that are 14 years old. That makes them older than some of my students!

In the course of moving I’ve also found out, by their absence, what items I would have difficulty living without. They include:

1. Nail clippers.

2. A nose-hair trimmer (thanks Dad, I’m just waiting for that golden day when one of them turns white, and conspires with my height to draw all attention to my nostrils).

3. Dress shoes. I may be a cheapskate, but I like looking like a professional.

4. Fresh underwear and socks. No double wearing, or going “commando” for me. I need some…”structure” to prevent painful chafing. I know…TMI.

5. My favorite recliner. It’s been with me my whole life, and I forever claimed it for my own by christening it at the tender age of three. Left alone in a dark family room, watching The Wizard of Oz, I was terrified by the flying monkeys. Being the prodigy I am (even then), I made the rational choice to surround myself with a pants’ load of comforting warmth–one that would also surround me in a defensive layer of stink. Oh you can try and abduct me, flying monkeys, but you’ll pay a terrible price!


Buttless Wonder

Over the weekend, I helped chaperone a religious retreat, and during the break periods the Olympics were invariably viewed. One of the other adults–a huge fan of Michael Phelps–informed the group that scientists had studied his body, and discovered that it was ideally suited for swimming. Among the many features that give him an edge is his lack of a butt. Less drag and the like…

What they won’t tell you is that his butt was surgically removed and replaced with a top-secret outboard motor (fueled by the 12,000 calories he consumes daily). Who knew?!

Now that he’s won all his medals, I get to stop hearing how cro-magnon man is “so hot”. Honestly, in the words of that Irish guy from Braveheart, “He can’t be [William Wallace/Michael Phelps]! I’m prettier than this man.

Ladies, it would be one thing if you had a crush on him because he’s an incredible athlete who seems really down-to-earth and is great with kids. But no, that’s not the feature on which I’ve heard you focusing. Just goes to prove that if a man is famous and/or sufficiently wealthy, women will go ga-ga over him no matter how ugly he is*. And we’re the shallow sex?!

*A phenomenon I refer to as the “Mick Jagger Effect”.

I don’t understand…

…nude beaches.  I’m watching the Olympics, and a commercial comes on featuring a nude beach, leaving me with the question, “Who wants to risk sunburn on their sensitives?!”

A housemate said in reply, “You can wear sunscreen.”

But who wants their sensitives reeking of sweaty flesh and sunscreen?  Not this guy…

We haven’t even addressed the nudity.  I wouldn’t be able to look at anyone–I’d be too embarrassed for them.  To have people compare their bodies against my naked glory…it’s not fair to others.  Nude beaches are just a bad idea.

Baby Got Book!

Growing up, no mixer was complete without Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”.  It’s one of two songs I’d Karaoke (the other being “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”).  

Today a housemate introduced me to a Christianized version of the song.  Totally clean, and totally hilarious! 


I’ve recently come across a number of hilarious ninja related vids.  The “Afro Ninja” has been around for some time.

And now the reason I must one day own complete ninja garb (warning, one f-bomb uttered near the end, and a gratuitous shot of a [clothed] girl biking in too-short shorts):

There is a sequel (Urban Ninja II), but it piles on some cheesiness at the front and back ends.