Like many other people nowadays, the husband and I are very concerned about our health and personal hygiene, which is why we spend a lot of time getting information on these topics while sitting on the couch eating Cheetohs and watching TV.
There's a lot of stuff to be absorbed, so following a commercial, we will typically have an in-depth discussion about what we've learned.
"What the hell was that all about?" we both said at the same time after one advertisement.
It featured an older man and either his daughter or his under-aged wife, who were sitting at the dinner table eating.
But this had something to do with promoting nutrients in your diet and how everyone should have a "variety of colors" of food on their plate.
"Cheetohs are very colorful," I observed out loud as I reached into the bag and pulled out one of the puffy bright orange sticks. "Do you think that's what they mean?"
"Nah," the husband disagreed. "I think they're talking about things like M&Ms, Skittles, LifeSavers and gummi bears."
Candy...it's not just for Halloween anymore...
The man on the TV also kept looking at his left wrist while he ate.
"Why do you keep looking at your watch?" his dinner partner demanded to know.
"Are you scheduled to shoot a Geritol commercial next or something?"
"I'm looking at my watch because by eating more slowly and monitoring my food intake, it will add 20 healthy years to my life," the man explained. "And it takes 20 minutes for the stomach to signal the brain that it's full."
I wondered if this applied to other bodily functions as well.
"What about sex?" I asked the husband "Every woman knows that sometimes that only takes five minutes to register..."
The Husband wasn't quite sure whether to be offended or not.
"Not that anyone should be staring at their watch or anything," I quickly added.
Husband-head ignored me and played with his Cheetoh instead.
Our most recent personal hygiene lesson came from a commercial that introduced the "ManGroomer" - a handy, dandy little device that "painlessly" removes unwanted hair from a man's back.
It is apparently an electric device equipped with a 1 1/2-inch blade that you put behind your shoulders to shave your upper and lower back.
"Good Lord," I said as I watched the demonstration. "I thought the nicks from shaving my legs were bad. That thing could take out an entire artery!"
Husband-head looked rather aghast.
But the device, which sells for $39.99, promised improvements in the romance department by using it.
"Start up that spark in your relationship or marriage by surprising your partner with a smooth sexy back - not the ape look..." it said.
Personally, I don't have a problem with male hair. Men have hair - that's what they do. Maybe not so much on their head as they get older, but it's generally under their arms, on their legs, chests and other places.
Now men with stubble on their backs - from skipping a session or two with the ManGroomer - would kinda freak me out.
But the makers of the ManGroomer insist that being a "hairy guy" is not a good thing and should not be displayed in public.
"Shave your back privately, easily, quickly, painlessly and inexpensively with ManGroomer before going in any public venue your back may be exposed, such as the beach, pool party or a sporting event."
We assume this would especially be true before rushing off to the emergency room at a hospital where one is likely to don a backless robe.
"I know I'm bleeding out of my eyes and ears, but I have to shave my back before we go!" a hairy man might insist before seeking medical attention.
The Husband and I decided that we really weren't into healthy habits or hairy backs.
So instead, we made some popcorn instead.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Psst...is that guy sleeping?
With spring coming up, travel on some of our nation's large commercial airliners are picking up. Where I'm sure people will become religious just prior to take-off...Just stuff I was thinking about.
"What if you die on a plane?" I asked the husband as I read an article in the travel section of the newspaper. "I wonder what happens..."
"You mean, like, in a crash?" the husband replied. "I think everyone dies. You pretty much put your head between your legs and kiss your butt good-bye.."
"No, I mean, what if you die while you're on the plane?" I clarified. "What do they do with you?"
The husband looked at me as if I had three heads.
"You're weird, you know," he said simply. "Nobody thinks about things like that."
But with thousands of flights in the air every day, somebody, somewhere must have died on an aircraft and now that the thought had crossed my mind, I wanted an answer. I just couldn't let it go.
"If someone croaked in the middle of the flight, say, from a heart attack or something, do they just leave them sitting there?" I persisted. "Do they have to fasten their seat belts when the little light comes on? Although I don't see why because it really wouldn't matter anymore..."
"They would probably land the plane at the nearest airport, I imagine," the husband suggested rationally.
But what if it was, like, a long flight over the Atlantic Ocean and there was no airport nearby...
"They'd probably put the person down in the cargo hold where it's cold," husband-head said.
"Gross...you can't just shove someones loved one in the cargo hold," I disagreed. "How rude. Besides, that's where they put the pets and a dog might gnaw the person's arm off."
Husband was getting a little disturbed at the conversation. I could just tell.
"Well, you can't just leave them sitting there for the remainder of the flight, either," he pointed out. "Besides, if it was a long flight, they'd start to smell..."
I imagined the dead person sitting in the middle of the center row of seats as the flight attendants attempted to haul the body into the aisle to put it someplace.
"Excuse me...pardon me..." as they dragged the deceased under the armpits by the other passengers.
"Maybe they strap 'em up in a chair near the cockpit where the attendants sit for take-off and landing," husband-head said, I'm sure he was wishing I would just drop the whole subject.
"Kind of like that 1980's movie, 'Weekend at Bernie's' where they prop him up and pretend like he's still alive," I agreed.
Of course, I suppose you could always lock 'em in the lavatory...
"I wonder if you were sitting next to the dead guy if they'd give you his peanuts?" I continued to contemplate.
"You really are strange," husband said, shaking his head. "Have you been drinking or something?"
I recalled a time when I had been on a flight and somebody got really sick. The flight attendants had asked over the PA system if there was a doctor on board.
"I was just happy they weren't asking for a mechanic," I told husband.
Later that evening while we were in bed reading, I pointed out another article about a survey which reported that many people say a prayer before they fly.
"They're probably the same people who only go to church at Christmas and Easter," husband retorted. "Now would you stop talking about this nonsense and just go to sleep? I'm going to have bad dreams..."
He switched off the light and we laid in silence for a few minutes.
"What if you died while you were on a cruise?" I piped up in the dark. "I wonder if they throw you overboard and feed you to the fish..."
"You know, I thought your family was weird, but the nut doesn't fall far from the tree," was all husband said as he turned and put a pillow over his head.
"What if you die on a plane?" I asked the husband as I read an article in the travel section of the newspaper. "I wonder what happens..."
"You mean, like, in a crash?" the husband replied. "I think everyone dies. You pretty much put your head between your legs and kiss your butt good-bye.."
"No, I mean, what if you die while you're on the plane?" I clarified. "What do they do with you?"
The husband looked at me as if I had three heads.
"You're weird, you know," he said simply. "Nobody thinks about things like that."
But with thousands of flights in the air every day, somebody, somewhere must have died on an aircraft and now that the thought had crossed my mind, I wanted an answer. I just couldn't let it go.
"If someone croaked in the middle of the flight, say, from a heart attack or something, do they just leave them sitting there?" I persisted. "Do they have to fasten their seat belts when the little light comes on? Although I don't see why because it really wouldn't matter anymore..."
"They would probably land the plane at the nearest airport, I imagine," the husband suggested rationally.
But what if it was, like, a long flight over the Atlantic Ocean and there was no airport nearby...
"They'd probably put the person down in the cargo hold where it's cold," husband-head said.
"Gross...you can't just shove someones loved one in the cargo hold," I disagreed. "How rude. Besides, that's where they put the pets and a dog might gnaw the person's arm off."
Husband was getting a little disturbed at the conversation. I could just tell.
"Well, you can't just leave them sitting there for the remainder of the flight, either," he pointed out. "Besides, if it was a long flight, they'd start to smell..."
I imagined the dead person sitting in the middle of the center row of seats as the flight attendants attempted to haul the body into the aisle to put it someplace.
"Excuse me...pardon me..." as they dragged the deceased under the armpits by the other passengers.
"Maybe they strap 'em up in a chair near the cockpit where the attendants sit for take-off and landing," husband-head said, I'm sure he was wishing I would just drop the whole subject.
"Kind of like that 1980's movie, 'Weekend at Bernie's' where they prop him up and pretend like he's still alive," I agreed.
Of course, I suppose you could always lock 'em in the lavatory...
"I wonder if you were sitting next to the dead guy if they'd give you his peanuts?" I continued to contemplate.
"You really are strange," husband said, shaking his head. "Have you been drinking or something?"
I recalled a time when I had been on a flight and somebody got really sick. The flight attendants had asked over the PA system if there was a doctor on board.
"I was just happy they weren't asking for a mechanic," I told husband.
Later that evening while we were in bed reading, I pointed out another article about a survey which reported that many people say a prayer before they fly.
"They're probably the same people who only go to church at Christmas and Easter," husband retorted. "Now would you stop talking about this nonsense and just go to sleep? I'm going to have bad dreams..."
He switched off the light and we laid in silence for a few minutes.
"What if you died while you were on a cruise?" I piped up in the dark. "I wonder if they throw you overboard and feed you to the fish..."
"You know, I thought your family was weird, but the nut doesn't fall far from the tree," was all husband said as he turned and put a pillow over his head.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
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