She's trying to sneak rawhides on the plane!

I was reading "Newsweek" this morning, which I'd like to say is a common occurrence, but I'd be lying.  They had an article about the new full-body scanners at airports, and they showed . . . a picture . . . of what the TSA people see.

I will not be flying again.

This picture is detailed enough that if I have an ingrown hair in a certain area that shall not be mentioned, TSA will be there with tweezers to pluck it out.  It's truly horrifying how vivid these pictures are.

This all made me think about America and how we are often THAT GUY.  You know the one.  The guy who pulls out his turbo-charged, titanium-bladed saw in order to cut a stray thread.  Can someone tell me what was wrong with good old German Shepherds?  They smell everything.  They can be very menacing when necessary.  And you pay them in milk bones.  All we needed at airports are DOGS!  And the bonus would be that they could also let you know if you are pregnant or have a cancerous tumor.  It would be like one-stop shopping.

Sure, people might question whether those sharp noses would catch the knife and the box cutter.  But see, I don't think that's what we need to look for.  The next idiot who pulls out a knife on board a plane is going to end up hogtied with Little Jane's shoelaces from seat 14C and will have Jim, the rotund man in 17A, sitting resolutely on the idiot's back.  Roy, 2B, who needs some anger management classes, might or might not kick the idiot in the shins for the heck of it.  We've seen what happens in a post 9-11 world when someone pulls out a knife.  It isn't pretty for the idiot.

So, until Fido is my TSA guard - I will either not be flying or will write a big F U on my stomach in magic marker just to let the guards know what I think of their snazzy version of a turbo-charged, titanium-bladed saw.

All right, Mr DeMille, I'm ready for my close up.

I've made some interesting discoveries recently.  I haven't solved world hunger, nor have I found the hidden world that all the lone socks migrate to from the dryer, but I've made some strange, if silly, discoveries.  And I've decided it's these little things we should enjoy and celebrate - no matter how mundane they seem.

Here we  go:
1.  I do one hell of a Norma Desmond impersonation.  We are not quite sure WHY I'm able to mimic the former silent star slash nutcase who buries her pet monkey in a child's coffin - but I am. I view it as a cross between Katharine Hepburn and someone who has smoked 4 packs a day for 20 years.

2.  If you say "poop" to our dog, his ears will perk up.  He doesn't really seem to know what it means, but for some reason that word really gets to him.  And makes us giggle.

3.  My cat is basically a mean two-year-old toddler who can jump 5 feet in the air.  The kind of toddler who cuts off her sister's hair for fun or holds the goldfish in her hand for 10 seconds outside its bowl.  This is her best description.

4.  There is nothing butterflies and a pink stuffed doggie can't beautify.

5.  People who annoy you will always somehow know, internally, when you are stressed out and have hit the moment before your bucket of water overflows.  They will then pour half a can of Sprite into that bucket of water to cause a deluge.   Perhaps the cat is also one of these people.

6.  Puppies smell like . . . puppies.  It's hard to quantify.  Even if you DON'T know what the smell of puppy is supposed to be, you will immediately, when faced with a cute bundle of furriness, know the smell and identify it as "puppy."

7.  Nothing is as sexy as a man holding said puppy that smells like puppy and cradling it with love.

Those are my discoveries.

Have you made any fun ones lately?

The problems with technology

So, I ran into a problem this evening. It's not a REAL problem, just a fussy, little, silly problem. The kind of problem people roll their eyes at and say "MUST be tough." But, here it is:

After fighting it for a year, I finally gave in and got a Kindle a few months ago. I am a bookworm. A lexiphanic (and using the term lexiphanic is my proof). I love reading. I have loved reading ever since I was a child and just devoured books. Luckily, my aunt worked at Scholastic, so I had all-you-can-eat buffets. I think there were years people didn't hear me speak or see anything but my forehead, bent over the pages.

I still love books - though I don't have as much time to read as I used to. The Kindle allows me more time to read. I bring it with me everywhere. I can use it at work and read the paper - or at least pretend I'm reading the paper. I can take it on trips with me and avoid paying the airline charge because of the 5 lbs of books in my suitcase. But, tonight, I discovered the one place my Kindle cannot go. The bathtub.

No worries, I didn't test this. It just seemed like common knowledge. Something I was tempted to try, but knew that the concern I already felt was the foreshadow of disaster.

Yet, it bothers me. I love to take baths at night with a book to relax. And while, yes, I can still pick up one of the paper versions that we still have all over our house, my Type-A personality fights the idea of starting another book while I'm still reading one on my Kindle. It creates disorder and confusion.

So, the end result of this was that I need to invent some type of Kindle-bathtub-protection kit. Something that allows you to see the page, change the page, but still protects it from the accidental slip of fingers into the steamy water.

Tonight, though, I quieted the Type-A voice screaming in my brain, and settled down with the newest sequel to one of my favorite childhood series, "Bunnicula." Somehow, talking dogs and juice-sucking bunnies managed to keep the order - and I returned to the Kindle after my bath.

You can now all breathe a sigh of relief.

Excuse me waiter, there's a turpitude in my drink.

In my job as a hired gun, I deal with a lot of legislation and statute. And, honestly, it’s usually terrifying to see legislation made (as they say, and I paraphrase, you never want to see the making of sausage or laws). But today I came across and interesting dilemma. The definition, or lack thereof, of moral turpitude. What exactly IS moral turpitude? It was not defined in this piece of legislation, so I am sent back to statute - which seems to show that moral turpitude depends completely on where you are in statute and your job. Now, I’m sure a lawyer out there would tell me this is something solved in case law, but I still find it fascinating. Which of course indicates the extent of my dorkiness.

Now, I completely understand that everyone has a different view of what is moral and immoral. But isn’t law supposed to be black and white and not necessarily left up to the observer? And shouldn’t what the state considers immoral behavior be the same for everyone?

Sorry for my random musings here. Just very glad there aren’t any morality requirements for lobbyists. We’d all be out of a job.

Superwoman

We've decided that I just might be a superhero. With useless powers. But a superhero nonetheless.

There are two reasons for this:

1. I heal frighteningly fast. In fact, I've had doctors just go on and on about how quickly I heal and they've never seen anything like it.

2. I have a frighteningly and annoyingly strong sense of smell. I'm the human version of a bloodhound.

While #2 sounds like very exciting and useful superpower (I could probably detect cheating husbands from the smell of perfume on them and know if there is a fire four floors up in someone's kitchen), it is actually a pain in the ass.

I can smell a smoker (without him actually smoking) from 10 feet away. And the smell of stale cigarette smoke gives me migraines. My car is currently STILL driving me crazy because last weekend Hubby brought pizza to his parents house. The pizza was in the car for 10 minutes. It did not get anywhere. I can still smell it. I may have to put a moratorium on food in the car.

The superpower also has the scary possibility of ruining my very happy marriage. As it seems to grow stronger, I have trouble eating next to my husband because the smell of the Tabasco he puts on EVERYTHING makes me nauseated. I have to leave the room if he eats any kind of fish - and, of course, he's one of the 4 humans in the world who LOVES canned herring.

So all of this leads me to wondering, what will happen when/if I am ever pregnant. Will I be able to leave the house? Or will I be forced to stay enclosed so that my superpower doesn't eat away at me and cause the insanity only known by superheros who have learned/heard/or, in my case, SMELLED too much?

The Truckstop Cupcake

So, I have always joked that I should put together a book of the best desserts in Denver. Because . . . well . . . I have eaten them all. So I think that is how I need to start this blog which I think will be a random mix of delicious desserts, cute puppies, strange stories, and really who knows what else?

To start off today, aside from the wonderful DQ blizzard with heath bar that I had today (in my defense, I was shopping with three pregnant women and they MADE me do it), I also had Steubens' chocolate cupcake. Steubens has this incredible slice of cake called the "Truckstop Chocolate Cake" which is just layers of chocolate cake mixed in with buttercream frosting. It's pure heaven. But it's huge. Little secret they don't often tell you, the cupcake is the SAME chocolate deliciousness, just in a smaller size.

If you are looking for a chocolate cake, you just can't do better than Steubens.

So, I have to admit I'm in a pickle because, as you can tell, I have a special passion for desserts. I think there is a little area in my stomach that is "dessert only." Hence, why there is always room for a sweet delight, even if I've eaten 3 lbs of food. The problem is that I'm also trying to lose weight.

I have solved this dilemma by eating about 1/4 of my meal in order to allow for true, non-guilt, enjoyment of anything that includes sugar, cream, and butter. Somehow, I don't think this is what the folks at Weight Watchers had in mind . . .