A Noble Birthplace

Seeing an empty seat next to Maloof on the bus, and steeling my nerve for another strange confrontation, I sat down.

"Good morning, Noble!" I had to shout. His hoary ears pivoted toward the sound, "Oh, hello!" he said, as if he were shocked to see me even though he had watched me climb aboard the bus and pay my fare.

Sitting next to his slight body, I felt him tilt away as the bus took the corner.

He ventured to say, "Lovely weather this morning." I fired back with a chipper, "Yesterday was beautiful, too!" There was nothing he could say. We were at a standstill in the conversation and I had no intention of helping him out, despite my natural feminine desire to ease the tension.

As we turned another corner he began again, this time in earnest, "We got weather like this in England. Cool and with a breeze and all that." "Oh, were you born in England?" I've been waiting a year to ask him that question. "Oh, no," he looked embarrassed, "I wasn't born there." Pause. "So, where were you born?" I asked. Then Noble responded in one of the most classic of all human responses. He said, "Where do you think I was born?" I laughed out loud. "I have no idea where you were born, that's why I'm asking!" "Well, I was born in Cairo. In Egypt. That was a long time ago." Here he modestly shook his head and looked out the window. And I thought about the distance between him and his place of birth. Removed in space and time from this bus. I wondered if I would ever end up so far from the place I was born.

While I was thinking, Noble made yet another offer, "You should come up to my place some time for tea and you can look at my paintings." 'The Noble Collection,' I thought. "Ah, yes," I said, "I remember you telling me that you paint. What medium do you use?" "Hm?" he queried. "What type of painting supplies do you use; what medium?" He resonded with, "Well, they're not all my own paintings of course. A lot of them are French or Dutch." I wasn't sure why this mattered, but in the world of Noble, it obviously did.

"So you were raised in England?" I asked, hoping to prompt a further exposition into the antiquity to my left. "My father was a Colonel. He was stationed in Cairo when I was born. then we moved to England" "Ah, so he was in the military!" "No, no, he wasn't in medicine. No. He was a lineman." "In the Army?" I clarified. "Yes, of course! In the army!" Noble's patience with my stupidity momentarily wore thin and he glared out the window to collect himself.

I ate a mint and stared straight ahead.

He finally resumed the conversation. "So, you work downtown, yes?" "Yes. I get off at the same stop you do now." I'm still not sure why I volunteered that information. I even told myself not to. "What?" asked my favorite deaf man.

"The same stop as you. That's my stop now."

"Oh really!? You'll be getting off at that stop! That's... that's, ok, good." He was practically beaming. He was delighted. He smiled as we pulled up to our stop and followed me off the bus at our stop.

And so we wandered along the boulevard, talking and laughing; the air rich with warm summer breeze and the promise of love.

Photo of the Day, Everyday

Via National Geographic Magazine so you know they're good!

Googlecentechelon

The debate continues.

Naughty Girl

Katrina continues to destroy the Gulf Coast. This photo was taken yesterday of downtown New Orleans. Full story here.

Why Are Yawns Contagious?

(essay received today via email)

Did you yawn just reading this title? We yawn not only when we're sleepy, but also when we see someone else yawn, read about yawns, or even think about yawning. Sneezing, coughing, and burping aren't contagious. What is it about yawns that can set off a chain reaction? Scientists are still trying to figure that one out. But they have some ideas.

What is a yawn?

Scientific American defines yawning as a "stereotypical reflex characterized by a single deep inhalation with the mouth open and stretching of muscles of the jaw and trunk." It's involuntary. We aren't the only ones who yawn. Cats, dogs, and even fish yawn. The average yawn lasts about six seconds, and your heart rate can rise as much as 30 percent during a yawn.

Why do we yawn?

Yawning could be a signal of changing conditions within your body, Mark A. W. Andrews, associate professor of physiology at the Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine, told Scientific American. That is, we yawn when our state of alertness is changing. That is why we yawn when we're tired and when we wake up.

It was once thought that we yawned in order to suck in more air when oxygen levels were low in our lungs. But scientists now know that the lungs can't sense oxygen levels--so that theory goes out the window. Besides, fetuses yawn even though their lungs are not ventilated. And there is absolutely no credence to the idea that we yawn when we're bored.

So why are yawns contagious?

Professor Andrews told Scientific American yawns may be contagious because we human animals are trying to communicate changing environmental conditions to others, possibly as a way to synchronize behavior. Obviously, this would be one of those caveman-type mechanisms that is no longer needed that our bodies remember and still do.

When we yawn, we draw in more oxygen and remove a build-up of carbon dioxide. Larger groups produce more carbon dioxide. So one theory holds that we yawn when we're in large groups of people to purge the carbon dioxide--and in so doing, we set off a chain reaction. But Robert Provine, a psychologist at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, tested the theory and says it's bunk. Giving people additional oxygen didn't decrease yawning and decreasing the amount of carbon dioxide in a subject's environment also didn't prevent yawning, notes the How Stuff Works Web site.

Whatever the reason for yawns being contagious, How Stuff Works reports that 55 percent of people will yawn within five minutes of seeing someone else yawn. In addition, blind people will yawn after hearing others yawning. (Dude, that is crazy!!) And we're sure that reading and writing about yawns is enough to induce one!

--Cathryn Conroy

Fashion Update

Fashion Week is coming up so I thought I would round up a few of the hottest looks so we can all stay current. Let's take a look-see!













This season's look is skinny and bored. If you aren't skinny at least try to look extremely uninterested in everyone and everything around you. If you have a cat, use it as your model. Of course pairing a look of utter boredom with a wraith-thin body screams high-fashion, so try to shed those last one hundred pounds of excess body fat and muscle. Whatever you wear, remember, emaciated ennui completes any look!

Judging by the most recent ads in this month's Vogue, bad posture is very chic this season. Nothing sets off an elegant evening dress like a dehabilatating slouch. Being extremely skinny is a fun way to spice up this shlumpy look as you wander around looking like a starving cripple. Try slouching in the mirror. When your back hurts that means it's working!

"Being a fashion icon is hard work and I just need a break!" That's what you'll be saying as you glide ass-backwards onto couches, beds, boats and doorknobs this season. Nothing's hotter than a woman who's too hungry to stand. So get your thin on and take a nap!

Hall of Shame

I burnt another bag of popcorn in the microwave at work. As I rushed to the smoldering microwave I made a plan of action: I whipped the door open, inhaled a lungful of smoke, pinched the bag shut burning my fingers and staining my hand and rushed out of the office, down the hall and out the back to the construction dumpster. I chucked the billowing bag of smoke up onto the heap and walked back to my desk. The construction workers were laughing and applauding. I smiled and bowed.

Now my office reeks and my fingers make me look like a chain smoker.

5 packs a day. Popcorn habit.

Tara drew me this picture:

Caption Contest!

Just when you thought I would never post another Caption Contest*, HERE ONE IS! Get ready to battle it out to the verbal death for a chance at Fabulous Prizes** and Eternal Glory!

Ready, Set, Go~

(*Photo courtesy of Handknits for Young Moderns. **Fabulous Prizes is a trademark of the k_sra blog machine.)

Kuci Kuci Cooh

On Sunday, Miss Elizabeth Harper of Upminster England married Senator Dennis Kucinich, 31 years her senior and several inches her shorter. He says, "It was love at first sight." She didn't say much of anything. His third wife remains a mystery to the public. We know they met in his office and that he fell instantly in love.
I wonder if she knew she didn't have to marry a leprechaun to get a Green Card.

Cats Dislike Men With Beards

Scientific Study Proves It

Question

Color of Cola. What is this mystery pop? See below.

Answer

A bottle of ThumsUp cola, bottled by the Pepsi Cola company in India, shipped to the US and sold to Indian immigrants in fine Indian food retail shops everywhere.

Waiting for a bus in the rain.

An Explanation by Phone with an Amusing Link

Tara's Meeting

As a prize for winning last time's Caption Contest, Tara requested a song written on the topic of meetings in her office. So I came up with this.

Happy Raksha Bandhan!

I'll be incommunicado today for the most part so I want to wish everyone a happy Raksha Bandhan and a good weekend! : )

Shitafal?

It doesn't taste that bad, actually. It has a mildly sweet taste. I don't know if it's "best in taste" because I have nothing to compare it to. A quick Google search hints that shitafal (usually spelled 'sitafal') is a kind of apple-like fruit that grows in the tropics...

That's pretty much all I can gather. I think this powder is used in desserts, but in what capacity, I don't know.

"Armpit Mole" Googlecentechelon

It's a quote about Gwen Stefani. (third down)

There Is No "I" In Stupid

Give

Give: 10th listing on 10th page of google search.

Me

10th listing on the 10th page of google search for 'me' produces this.

Feedback

10th listing on the 10th page of google for 'feedback' gives me this.

Rhinotillexomania

Word of the day!

Take a Random Photo Day

Yes, today is take a random photo day. I celebrate by pointing my camera at nothing in particular in downtown Cleveland and squeezing off a shot. Enjoy!

Chicken Chuckin' Check In

Chuck the Chicken. Go ahead. You know you want to...

ALL THE WORDS I DON'T KNOW

Having found a pocket-sized 35,000 word Webster's Dictionary, I perused it in order to ascertain how many words were not yet in my compendium. Here were my findings:

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, L, M, N,

To You, To You, To You! Olé!

So, my 28th Birthday has come. I am excited. I have never been 28 years old! I have no idea what it's like to be 28. Anything could happen! I can't wait...

And because my readers are so great I wanted to offer a little token gift to my girl readers too! (Yes, Marie, there is a Santa Claus) I went out and bought some summer gifts for the girls, so if the chicas want to cash in on my birthday gifting please email me an addie (don't worry about cost, please, I'm happy to do it) and and I will mail you a little gift.

Happy happy, Everybody! : )

Pick A Color

I'm Not Blonde

Nope. I'm a brunette again. You can't avoid your roots.

Happy Rakhi!

There is an upcoming Indian holiday called Raksha Bandhan. On this day, sisters take brightly colored or beaded laces or bracelets and tie one onto their brother(s) wrist(s) in a show of respect. The brother who receives a rakhi, as they are called, is compelled by this reminder to protect and care for his sister and offers a token gift in return. The purpose of this holiday is to strengthen the bond between siblings of the opposite sex. This year Raksha Bandhan falls on August 19th.

I have two brothers by birth and two by marriage. All four are wonderful men whom I am proud to call family. I will be offering rakhi to them this year as a token of my esteem (provided I can find the rakhi. Cleveland isn't the most international place!) And, in fact, I would like to offer rakhi to all of my male readers (I'm not afraid of sending them overseas, either). Send me an address via email and I will send one out to any and all of my blog "brothers." I adopt you all!

Do You Know Poutine?

Poutine may look unappetizing, but it is one of the solid contributions of Canada to our world. It is a tasty fries/gravy/cheese dish that is eaten with a fork. Usually served in foil boxes or paper trays. Recipes vary from region to region. The best, in my opinion, are in good old Vieux Quebec where even McDonald's serves Poutine.

Do you do this?

I know I'm guilty. Found at Toothpaste for Dinner, of course.

Soldiers' Memorial

Some photos I took last Friday at the Memorial Service held downtown.

In Loving Memory

Here lies dearly departed Cockroach. In life he was a nasty varmant who crept into the building through the sewer grate. In death he is a sweet reminder of why we pay pest control the big bucks.

Amen.

I wouldn't call those nice...

Here's a body builder who informs the public on how to get nice abs. I don't see any abs there, but I do see some lovely beef jerky.

The 411 on 420

It looks like shite to me, but apparently some people eat/smoke/whatever this stuff. I wonder if I could get arrested in a giant world wide sting for linking to this page!

The Traffic Cone Preservation Society

For Cone Enthusiasts.

Elevated Strangers

I spent all morning looking for a victim. I must have ridden the elevator in my apartment three or four times.

Nothing.

So, when my lunch break came I dragged along a friend, planted him outside the door of the elevator on the ground floor of another building near my work. He waited. And as the doors opened at the bottom he snapped the picture. There were two pictures of me frowning. I was all alone. But finally. Finally. Paydirt. As the elvator opened for the third time I leaned into the tall, broad gentleman who lucklessly got in with me and then I walked out and away from him, the elevator and my friend with the camera. I bet he's still wondering who I am and whether I work for his wife.

(Congrats, Marie!)

Black Knight - (An IRS Game)

Would'st Thou Like To Smash Some Things?

Introducing the Hipster PDA

I bet I can afford this new Hipster PDA and that's what makes me want one.

(Found it on Diva Drip's page)

K_sra Fone

Make your selection at any time!

(Here's the original)

And the Winner Is...

HA! I bet you thought I'd forgotten this contest, content to let it sink into ignominy at the bottom of the page to rot in the archives section! But I have not. I would not do that to a Caption Contest. Ever. No. Not ever. (Stop looking at me like that, World! I meant what I said! Ok, so one time I let a caption contest mildew in the cellar. It won't happen again.)

Once again, you are all winners in my eyes (it's just some of you are funnier winners than others) First place wins FABULOUS PRIZES!*

First Place Winners:

Marie said...
Stay tuned for the season premiere of "Charlie's Angels: Warmed and Dangerous."

Tara said...
Fearing that the sisters would be labeled as the "Olzen Triplets", Inga, Erga and Flergh break out and define their individuality.

Runners Up:

Nicotine Jones said...
As he examined his handiwork, Klaus thought that the hats really DID pull the whole outfit together...

Flipsycab said...
Zerga's: For All Your Winter Marching Band needs!

Munchkin Lives said...
"We represent the sock monkey guild, the sock monkey guild, the sock monkey guild..."

Tara said...
The three corporate associates hated each other with every fiber of their beings.

Steve DeGroof said...
The 1968 Winter Olympics hosted the first (and last) Synchronized Semaphore competition.

Honorable Mention goes to:

neilp said...
"Strewth, mate,those Lamingtons look ripper"

For making me look up "Lamingtons" and "ripper."


Congratulations to our winners! And thank you to all of our not-so-winners for not getting angry and demanding guilt gifts. : )


* (Your choice: 1) A random prize selected by k_sra from her local dollar store and shipped to you. [Note: this prize is really random.] 2) A stunt photo of your choosing where k_sra will attempt to create the image of your choosing with random objects and people. 3) A song made up about a topic of your choosing and performed here on the blog.)

Maybach Feels Great

One of the most expensive cars available. On their website you can choose the option of hearing the 'symphony' over your tour of the car. I highly recommend you turn on the 'symphony'. I almost wept.

Also, for stunning amounts of information watch the Maybach Movie. It includes a very serious look at the Maybach history as well as a browser's guide to Maybach features.

One thing that stood out to me: Maybachs are made in one place in the world. That factory produces only 1,000 cars per year (or 'annum' as they say in the hoity film).

Andrew's South African Life

So let's say you're sent away on business to attend a conference and when you get there, instead of receiving a complimentary continental breakfast and a cheap nametag you are handed a truck and a wildlife preserve. Pretty nice, huh?

Andrew snapped these pics from the back of a rampaging rhino.

BILL GATES IS SHARING HIS FORTUNE!!!

"I am an attorney and I know the law. This thing is for real..."

And so begins the email letter about the generosity of Bill Gates as he conducts an email beta test with the help of a few good Americans. I just received this particular letter again today. I can't remember when I first saw it. Which of course made me wonder when it actually started. The letter has no specific dates. Instead it says things like "This took two-pages of the Tuesday USA Today-It is for real!" and "This was on the 9:00 o'clock news the other night so I'm assuming it works." So being the good little internet explorer that I am, I set out to find the origins of this particular web fossil.

First of all, the hoax began as a letter from Bill Gates himself to the good people of the internet back in 1997. He explains in his letter that if this "beta test" reaches 1000 people then all 1000 will receive $1000 and a free copy of Windows 98. (hehehe) Since that early version, the letter underwent many changes: Bill Gates was abandoned for a phony "executive" or sometimes no name at all, new testimonials cropped up including one from the writer's "brother's girlfriend" who's email address is lucklessly included in the letter as a great place to send questions, even the pay rates have gone up over the years for emails sent. This is one email hoax that keeps up with inflation and you gotta respect that.

But as this dinosaur, along with countless others that have seen the insides of countless mailboxes, roams the internet, I have to wonder how easy it would be to create my own hoax and throw it into the void of thoughtless mail forwarding... All I would need was a badly written, urgent promise of fabulous and easily gotten wealth. Maybe from Oprah.

Must. Resist.

The Doctors Are IN

Barnzenen sent me photos from the
OR, where his Caption Contest prize
was undergoing major surgery:












Here the anasthesialogists prepare the patient for surgery.












Surgery begins, and folks, it ain't pretty!












A third surgeon is called in after three hours of gruelling cutting and splicing. An artery was accidentally severed and everything was touch and go for a moment. Thankfully, the doctors were able to stop the bleeding before the patient went into full cardiac arrest.












Finally, all back in one piece, the patient is wheeled out to ICU for a long recovery. A job well done. All the doctors look forward to a well earned six week vacation to the Bahamas!

Bermuda Love Triangle

Congratulations to Koobs who won the last Caption Contest! He chose as his prize a song written about his quote that would include him as the captain. Enjoy, Koobs! This one's for you. : )

Dennis the Menace

I met Dennis.

I arrived late to a memorial held downtown for our fallen soldiers in Iraq. (The national total recently hit 1,800. Thirteen from my state in this week alone.)

Though the main event was over, the feeding frenzy was not. Camera crews and photographers and politicians were in full affect. I went, with a work camera, to pay my respects (or some sort of inadequate honor) to men and women who had entered the service willingly and who had died in foreign lands. I wandered in and among the crowd, picking up bits of conversations, snapping pictures now and then. As I was leaving I saw Senator Dennis in a dark pinstripe. He was being ernestly talked to by another man, also in a dark pinstripe. As I walked past I tried to click a casual picture that he wouldn't notice. It came out horrible. As I walked away, I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't go back and get a picture of him or with him.

The only other time I have ever seen Kuci (in person, not those horrible imp-like posters and TV spots: seriously people, he looks like a gremlin) was on the streets of Cleveland, getting out of the most beautiful Black Ferrari and walking toward me accompanied by a tall, black man in a faded leather jacket. One thing about Kuci, he's not short in person. He's just short in pictures. I didn't say anything. I just walked by.

But today I turned around and walked back to him and the other man in the dark suit. The other man left, but the instant he was gone, a third man in dark pinstripe appeared, touched Kuci's elbow and blustered something. All I heard him say as I approached was, "I'll see you at the sub-committee meeting!" If you wonder why I hate politics (and I do) it could possibly be summed up in that phrase alone. "Sub-committee meeting" makes me dry heave. And I'll tell you why. Let's break it down word by word. First of all, it's a meeting. I hate meetings. I develop MRADD (Meeting Related Attention Deficit Disorder) in meetings. My knee starts bouncing up and down at hummingbird speeds, I grip the sides of my chair or the underside of the table, I fuss with my notepad and write down every word or visual or thought that occurs in my head or in the room around me, I try to bore holes in the speaker's throat with my eyes and render them speechless. I hate meetings. Then add the word "committee," which is the bane of every god-fearing, good hearted American among us. Especially artists. Never tell an artist they have to go before a committee or be reviewed by a committee, or speak to the committee. Hateful, hateful word. Committee's have no place in the daylight world. Committees should be banashed. And lastly the prefix "sub." This means below or under. And what could be worse than being under a committee meeting? The thought is akin to being buried alive.

Long story even longer, I walked up to Kuci, tapped him on the short shoulder and stuck out my hand. He spun around. I pulled out my 'pleasure to meet you' smile and shook his hand, "I really appreciate what you're doing here." This is a lie. I do not appreciate what he was doing there, which was working the political scene as all politicians must do. I do not, in fact, appreciate anything politicians do, which is (I admit) childish and naive of me, but I'm not in the mood to mature on that point just yet. Politicians creep me out. I no likey.
I continued, "Would it be alright if I got a picture with you?"
"Sure," he smiled pleasantly with that bored look all quasi-celebrities get when plagued with pointless intrusions to their day. I searched the area for a victim who could photograph us. A video man from one of the local stations was carting away his equipment. He stopped long enough to shake Kuci's hand and get roped into taking our picture. As I handed him the camera, he set down his tripod, standing it on one end.

"Watch this trick!" He said. Pointing a finger at the balanced tripod, he backed away saying, "Sit! Staaaay!" And then smiled foolishly at me. "Thirty years to teach him that!" He added.

I laughed, "So I guess you can teach an old tripod new tricks."

He fiddled with the point-and-shoot as Kuci put an arm around my waist. I hear he's getting married again. For a moment I wondered to whom. I put my arm around him. He has the slender waist of a woman. The cameraman took three photos.

In retrospect, I wish I hadn't been standing quite that close...