The Mother Load

Mom, today I learned that the secret to true inner peace and tranquility lies in meditation...and good bbq.

Today's You've Gotta See This video is 2 minutes and 36 seconds of pure, unadulterated awesomeness. I've watched it no fewer than 10 times, and my five year old is now rapping all over the house.

I've driven a series of minivans since 2001, and I've never felt it makes me uncool, so it's extremely gratifying to see my momly vehicle portrayed in this way.

Minivan moms, let's get our swagger on.



(Thanks to Rickey B. of Riverton, UT, for introducing me to today's video...and for being my boss way back when and giving me a promotion and a raise and teaching me the true meaning of swagger.)

Mom, today I learned that God has a sense of humor.  And...that a light dusting of snow is all Michael needs to dig out his snow pants and boots again and refuse to wear anything else. 

Sometimes, I come across an Outrageous News story just a day or so after I've posted my story for the week and think, I don't care if it's not Monday. I have to post this!   So far, I've managed to rein in my excitement, and I've either waited until Monday to post the news piece, or I've found something equal to it or better that is more recent.

Today, I don't care that this story is from May 19th.  I must post it. If you've never heard of these French celebrities, you're in good company. I'm certainly not up on my French TV of the 80s trivia, but I guess twin brothers, Igor and Grichka Bogdanoff, were quite popular in their time. Today? Well, they're still making headlines. However, the news surrounding them is that Igor and Grichka, once handsome and human in appearance have been rendered unrecognizeable by too much plastic surgery.  (Sit down before you click that, okay? Maybe say a prayer for strength, too.)

Holy...oh, there are so many ways to end that phrase.  Holy Cat Eyes, Batman!  Holy Skin Stretch!  Holy Protuberant Lips of Doom! 

I look at that picture, and I want to cry.  I understand that not everyone wants to grow old gracefully, but when did our search for eternal youth get this out of hand?  These guys look like they missed a turn on the way to the fountain of youth and dived into the swimming hole of scary.  Did they want to look this way?  Are they happy with the results?  Or are they trying to rise above and do the best they can with an awful situation?  Who knows?

Here's a video of the twins (can we really call them that anymore?). It's over four minutes long, and it's in French, so there's no need to watch it all.  I just wanted to give you a better idea of the way in which their faces behave while they speak (read: their skin never moves).  I wonder if that hurts.



Of course, there's only one thing I see when I look at these men.



When Jim Carrey as The Mask is easier to look at, you know things have gone too far. Readers, let's form a pact.  Let's all agree to never do that to our faces. I promise to accept wrinkles and sagging skin in the service of not scaring the snot out of my future grandchildren. 

I'll keep a copy of this picture around until then, so my grandkids can thank me for this later. 

Mom, today I learned that I don't have uterine cancer. 

Mom, today I learned that Michael and Richard are dead. (According to Michael, dead people have their tongues sticking out.)

With Father's Day less than a month away, you may be wondering what to get the men in your life. Stop searching, shoppers! I have found a product that screams, "Dad, I don't think you're smart enough to shave anymore. Here, try this." He's going to be so HAPPY!

Take a look.



Now, I've never had to shave my face, so I can't say that I know how difficult it is to create facial hair fashion. Maybe men everywhere are throwing their razors down in exasperation and shouting, "If only there were a better way!" (If there are men out there saying this, I'd sure like to hear from you.)

I have a few questions for the makers of the GoateeSaver.

1. Do you really think a goatee, which is the facial hair configuration of choice for nearly half the men in America right now, can be considered a "declaration of individuality?" Really?

2. If there is a mouthpiece to secure, why does your goatee model have to hold the GoateeSaver with his free hand while he shaves? Wouldn't a hands free design be more convenient and effective? Does the mouthpiece only serve as some kind of torture device?

3. You do realize that "Heather" makes a weird face right after saying that the GoateeSaver creates a "fantastic look," don't you? If you're going to have a hot chick in your commercial whose sole purpose is to look adoringly at a goatee, you might want to choose one who isn't squicked out by them. Just saying...

4. Is it really that hard for men to shave around the hair they don't want to shave, or did you create this product in the hopes that men would suddenly THINK it's hard to shave around the hair they don't want to shave? (Is it working?)

5. Commenters on YouTube say the same result could be achieved by shaving with a plastic drinking glass placed over the goatee. What say you?

6. Do you ever start to think about what a weird word "goatee" is after you've written it too many times? Yeah, me too.

7. Any plans in the works to invent a "BikiniLineSaver?" (No, I'm not going to ask if it will have a mouthpiece, you pervert.)

(Thanks to Laurie T. of Sacramento, CA, for today's Stupid Product idea!)

Mom, today I learned that I CAN keep myself from jumping up and down and screaming at my daughter's band concert.



And I learned that even flute playing 5th graders can be rock stars!

Yesterday, as I was registering for Fall classes at the University of Utah, I was surprised to learn that I didn't need as many credits as I had previously thought.  Prior to my recount, I had thought I was due to graduate in December of next year.  The numbers told me otherwise.  In August, I'll officially be able to call myself a senior and will be applying for graduation in the spring.

Unfortunately for me, no one showed me this video before I decided to go back to school.  Had I known my limits sooner, I might have been able to prevent the hideousness that surely awaits me.  Now that I'm only a year away from my degree, it's just too late. 

I'm truly sorry, Mother Load readers.  Take a good look at my picture.  That cute, sweet, fragile little thing is soon to be no more.

Women, if you don't have a sense of humor, you're better off not watching this.  I think it's terribly funny, and I was raised by a feminist.  (She'd probably think it's terribly funny too.)



(Thanks to Camille W. of Riverton, UT for today's You've Gotta See This video!)

Mom, today I learned that germs are tyrants.  Who knew?

Dear readers, I have an exciting announcement to make to you today.  I am an artist! While I like to sketch, and I'm not bad at it, I've never considered myself a true artist until I read today's Outrageous News story and realized I've been creating art in my house for a decade and a half.

I'm very proud. I should call my mom.

According to today's news, Christian Boltanski, a contemporary artist from France, has created art in the Park Avenue Armory by piling 30 tons of discarded clothing into a 25 foot mountain surrounded by 45 rectangular plots of similarly discarded clothes.  A 5-story crane continuously picks up clothes from the mountain and then drops them onto another part of the mountain as art enthusiasts watch.  A recording of human heartbeats acts as a soundtrack for the experience.

Whoa, man.  That's deep.

The exhibit by Boltanski, called "No Man's Land," is supposed to highlight human identity, memory, and loss.  The artist describes the crane as a metaphor for "change and the finger of God."

For those of you without the means to travel to New York to see the big rock clothing mountain, here's a peak (snicker).  Please, breathe quietly, so as not to disrupt the energy of the display.



Moms, I know what a lot of you are thinking.  "That looks just like my bed/folding table/family room couch/laundry room floor."  Who knew slacking on your laundry folding duties could turn your mundane house into an art gallery?  I know who knew.  Christian Boltanski knew.  He probably stopped by his sister's/mother's/brother's house one day, saw a pile of clean clothes on a chair and thought, "Aha! Art!"

I don't know about you, but I'm getting in on this act. 

I have an exhibit currently on display in my master bedroom.  There are at least three loads of clean laundry in a pile on my bed.  Since learning of this news, I'm now calling it "No Mom's Land."  Tickets for the exhibit go on sale this week.  I like to think it represents every mom's struggle for meaning in the droning monotone of daily existence. 

I don't have heartbeats for guests to commune with, but there are usually at least two purring cats nestled into the clean clothes mountain.  I also don't have a crane, but I do have a "change and the finger of God" aspect to my laundry mountain.  Each day, I move the clothes from the top of my cedar chest to the top of my nicely made bed in hopes that its presence there will force me into folding it before I climb into bed for the night.  Each night, I look at the mound of laundry, decide I'm too tired to deal with it, and then shove it back over onto the chest.  The laundry changes and I pray every night for the finger of God to come down and fold it all for me.

Tickets are $45 each.  Children are welcome, but only if they're willing to fold ten garments apiece.  "No Mom's Land" will be on display in my bedroom for the next 13 years, at which time my youngest will be moving out and all five of my kids will have created laundry mountains of their own.

This product was brought to my attention by two Mother Load readers on two separate occasions, and I've been trying to decide whether it's Stupid or Awesome ever since.  Today, I'm ready to leave the debate behind and go the way of the P-Mate Female Urinal  and  Booty Pop Panties.  Yes, folks, we have another Stupid Awesome Product!

Take a look.



Having been married twice, I know a thing or two about the silent and the deadly.  I have to say, though, that I think husbands are getting a bad rap in this commercial.  You all learned from my post about my visit from a census worker that my dear husband is not the only person who passes gas in bed from time to time.  Women are just as likely as men to disrupt the serenity of the marriage bed with their gas.  Ladies, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.  Everyone farts.  Everyone.  Pretending like women are the only victims in this situation makes this a Stupid Product.

But wait!  What if it works?  I don't know much about the science behind this blanket, but if it's real, then I have no choice but to rate it Awesome.  I mean, we've all been there, right?  A bad case of the stomach flu, and your spouse is ready to sleep outside until you're over it.  If this "military grade technology" is all it's cracked (snicker) up to be, then this product is, indeed, Awesome.

But what about covered wagons?  If your husband lets one rip and then traps you under the blanket with it, no amount of technology or chemical weapons research is going to save your nostrils from the onslaught.  Stupid.  (Let it be known that only one of my two husbands has ever done this.  I'm not married to him anymore.  Go figure.)

One more vote for Stupid goes to the commercial's suggestion that this blanket be given as a wedding or anniversary gift.  I'm sorry...but do you remember your bridal shower?  Would you have wanted to open one of these in front of all of your friends and family?  I don't think so.  Giving this product as a gift is a great way of saying, "Your fiance/spouse has been talking, and we know about your little problem."  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So, it seems the Better Marriage Blanket is leaning heavily on the Stupid side, with a dash of Awesome for possibly providing a service most marriages could benefit from.  I'll leave it to my readers to decide what they think.  If you have real life experience with it, and you're not too embarrassed to share, let me know how it worked.  Maybe I'll buy one for my census worker. 

(Thanks to Lisa R. of Eagle Mountain, UT, and Corey O. of Orem, UT, for the heads up on this product!  No word yet on whether or not either of them uses the Better Marriage Blanket.  I do know they're both happily married.  Take from that what you will...)

Mom, today I learned that sensitive gynecologists fill their waiting rooms with pictures of Zion National Park to make you feel more calm.  Also, I learned that I've never wanted to climb inside a picture as much as I did today.  (I also learned that when you update your facebook status about this fact, six out of six people will think of other types of pictures a gynecologist's office might have on the wall and get all weirded out before they read the rest of your update.)



I learned that fuzzy stirrup covers are the second nicest thing a gynecologist can do for a patient.



Giving me a DOOR I CAN ACTUALLY LOCK while I'm changing is the nicest.  Hallelujah, and where have you been all my childbearing years?!

It's no secret to most Mother Load readers the levels to which I hate math.  In fact, my very first "What I Learned Today" post on this blog chronicled my hatred of Algebra.  When my dear, sweet, longsuffering husband tried to tutor me through my math classes, we eventually ended our sessions in order to avoid major marital repercussions.

Here's what a typical tutoring session sounded like at my house:

Richard: Okay! Let's do the next one! (Please infer a tone of utmost enthusiasm, as this man has an extremely unhealthy relationship with math.)
Me: (Labored sigh) "Stupid Sally left the stupid train station going stupid 75 miles per hour..."
Richard: (Laughs politely)
Me: If the stupid train jumped the stupid tracks and everyone on it died a horrible, fiery death, I wouldn't have to do this stupid problem.
Richard: I don't want to be here anymore.

I'm happy to say that I've managed Bs my math classes AND my marriage is no worse for wear. (Right, Richard? I love you...)  And you know? I did it without today's Stupid Product, The Choculator, a calculator that looks and smells like chocolate but is not chocolate.

To give you a better idea of what the Choculator looks like, and because I think these girls are adorable, here's a homemade commercial for the product.



And here's what I think about The Choculator:

Why, in the name of all things beautiful and cocoa related, would I want a piece of chocolate I can't eat?  When I smell chocolate, I want to EAT chocolate.  I don't buy truffles and say, "Aren't they beautiful? I think I'll just stare at them all day...maybe give them a little smell...mmmmm."  No, when I buy truffles, I go to a secret place inside my soul and commune with God as the chocolatey goodness restores my life force and makes me want to be a better person.

And if there's anything worse than having chocolate I can't eat, it's having chocolate I can't eat paired with math.  Did you SEE the tutoring session example above?  Can you even IMAGINE what that would have been like had I been forced to smell chocolate the entire time without any actual chocolate to drive away the math demons?  People, it wouldn't have been pretty.

Choculator, you mock my pain.  I know, I know..."Life is pain, Princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something."  Lucky for me, I don't have to buy it.

Mom, today I learned that not everyone appreciates the sound of an alto saxophone.  Also, I learned my husband looks hot when he plays the alto saxophone.

Mom, today I learned why I wake up so tired.

For today's "You've Gotta See This" post, I'm giving you two videos. I liked them both so much that I couldn't decide between them. After watching each a few times, I realized I didn't want to.

Bonus for you!

Just when you thought it was safe to fly again, someone tries to board a plane wearing vibrating shoes.

According to today's Outrageous News story, a Pakistani man named Faiz Mohammed was charged with "keeping an electrical circuit in his shoes" for trying to board a Thai Airways flight while wearing "Good Vibrations" massage therapy shoes.  The man thought he was doing something good for his feet.  Security officials, on the other hand, saw nothing but a bomb in the making.

Officials think they've probably made a mistake, especially considering the man had nothing else on him that would be considered dangerous, but Mohammed is being held anyway, pending an investigation into the shoes.  I'm assuming by "investigation" they mean a chance for everyone in the office to try the shoes out.

It seems from the story that the authorities aren't sure the shoes are an actual product.  An amazingly fast Google search of them found me this review of Good Vibrations Shoes, along with many others.  I guess the people at that airport don't have access to the internet.

I feel bad for Mr. Mohammed in all of this.  Poor guy's feet hurt, and now he's in jail while the shoes that used to help him are cut open and rendered useless.  And will he be reimbursed for the cost (or for his lost flight, time, or the pain and suffering of his false imprisonment)?  Likely not.  I know this because my brother-in-law was recently detained in an airport for nothing more than being the guy they decided to detain that day, and he was sent on his way with a "better luck next time" attitude from his captors...I mean, the airport security officials.

I guess this story can serve as a word to the wise.  If you have massaging shoes, don't try to wear them onto a plane.  Airlines have strict policies in place about the comfort of their passengers (as in, they're not allowed any unless they pay extra for it).  If you try to be more comfortable than your counterparts, you'll be branded as a terrorist for sure.

And then the airlines will have won.

Mom, today I learned the identity of the saddest elephant ever.  Poor guy.  Someone should buy him.  For me.

Mom, today I learned that there is nothing more exciting to my kids than riding an escalator.



Unless it's another escalator.

Mom, today I learned what the girls want for Christmas.



And I learned that...



I'm going




to need




to



take out




a loan.

Dear Consumers:

I have been reviewing Stupid Products on this blog for just over 7 months now. While I enjoy this line of work and receive lots of warm fuzzies from knowing I've saved the masses from buying stupid things, there is a definite downside. Specifically, I believe the frequency with which I smack myself in the forehead over what you buy may lead to permanent brain damage.

Case in point:



*SMACK* Ow.

One viewing of this infomercial was enough for me to know the Slender Shaper is useless and will never do what it says it will do. How do I know this? Because weight loss isn't effortless. Because fat doesn't burn that way. Because I've been using a hand held massager on my shoulders for years, and they're no thinner than the rest of my body. Also, because I'm not dumb.

The testimonials toward the end of the commercial are somewhat hard to understand, owing to the thick accents and the forked tongues. Allow me to provide you with a transcript and translations.

Testimonial #1: "Slender shaper is the best! I love it!" Translation: "Getting paid to lie is the best! I love it!"

Testimonial #2: "It's incredible! I lost my three dress sizes, and my buns look much better now."
Translation: "I have no idea how substantial a three dress size weight loss is or I would never claim this. It sounded more believable than 30, which is what they wanted me to say."

Testimonial #3: "I can't explain the feeling of the fat melting away. In one short month, I lost 2 pant sizes. Quite a difference, huh?" Translation: "I can't explain a feeling that doesn't exist, so I won't even try. In one short month, I sold my integrity for a paycheck and a chance to hold up fat pants on camera. Quite a feat, huh?"

Seriously, people. The only reason companies make products like this is that there are people dumb enough to buy them. Comsumers, for the sake of my brain cells, PLEASE stop buying these things.

When you think about it, Stupid Products create a positive feedback loop. The more I smack myself for the stupid purchases of others, the dumber I become, and the more likely I am to start buying Stupid Products myself... Dang.

Note to self: New plan. Start smacking THEM!

Mom, today I learned my prescription is ready.

When I posted yesterday's Outrageous News story about the mother suing McDonald's over a cigarette in her son's happy meal, I knew there was only one video in the world I wanted to post today as a complement to it.

Here's the second love of my life, Mr. Alfred Yankovic, singing his original song, "I'll sue ya." Okay, so he's a cartoon in the video. This is a good thing, because every time I see the real life version, my heart goes all a-flutter and I start to question my loyalty to my spouse.

Don't judge me. You're all swooning over Rob Pattinson and Taylor Lautner. I just happen to prefer a genius goofball to a more traditional heartthrob. (Genius goofballs are better kissers. I should know. I'm married to one.)

Whew! Is it getting warm in here? Okay...on to the song.



(Thanks to Mother Load reader, Julie B., of Mesa, AZ, for informing me that I could, in fact, embed a Weird Al video if I got it from his Vevo page!)

Mom, today I learned that if you hear a knock on your door 2 seconds after your daughter walks through it to leave for school, you should NOT assume it's her and open it without your shirt on.



Because it's probably a census worker.



I also learned that if your basement used to be a separate apartment, the US Government will make you complete two census forms so they can delete one.  Efficient, no?



I learned that when someone asks my husband's race, I can't resist:  "White...and nerdy."



I learned that the government is still telling this lie.



And finally, I learned that if the census worker visits while your five year old is at home, you will hear conversations like the following:

Michael: "Hey! I gotta tell you something!"
Census worker: "Yeah?"
Michael (pointing at me): "She farts in her bed."
Census worker (laughing): "Oh, I think everyone does.  I'll bet you do it, too."
Michael: "No, I PEE in my bed!"
Me: "Thanks, Michael."

This story is from last week, but I liked it so much, I had to share.

Apparently, a young mom in the UK opened up her son's happy meal bag and was shocked and horrified to find a huge pile of money inside!  Wait...scratch that...she found a cigarette inside, noted that it wasn't a huge pile of money, and is now planning to file a lawsuit against McDonald's for not providing her with a huge pile of money.

According to the cigarette in the happy meal news story, the cigarette was unused, and the woman's son was not harmed in any way.  The worker who was handling the meal at the restaurant bummed the cigarette off of a coworker who was leaving and must have accidentally dropped it into the bag while putting his meal together.  The mom has received apologies and offers of reimbursement or free meals from both the manager and the folks at the McDonald's head office, and the authorities in her England city have offered to investigate the restaurant. 

The mother has, of course, refused all of these offers, because none of them involve a huge pile of money.

As a mother, would I be happy to find a tobacco product in my child's happy meal?  Certainly not.  Would I expect the employee involved to be disciplined?  Absolutely.  Would I sue the restaurant over it?  Of course not.  I prefer to reserve my legal battles for situations in which actual harm was done.

I'm trying to consider what her lawyer will tell the judge. 

Attorney: "Your honor, my client is suing the defendant because they put something toxic and thoroughly unhealthy in her very small child's meal."
Judge: "McDonald's food?"
Attorney: "Worse!  A cigarette!"
Judge: "And the child ingested this?"
Attorney: "No, your honor."
Judge: "And the defendant ignored the situation?"
Attorney: "No, your honor.  They offered her a refund and free food."
Judge: "So, we're here because..."
Attorney: "They've got buckets of money and we were hoping they'd settle."
Judge: "And they didn't?"
Attorney: "No. And the only thing judges hate more than money grubbing, sue-happy miscreants is the tobacco industry, so we figure we're good."
Judge: "Good thinking."

Mom, today I learned that even on final exam day...I just can't contain myself. (In case it's hard to read: "You torture me with math, and I'll torture you with grammar.")