The Mother Load

Last week, I posted a video that had such a potential for disgusting people that I offered multiple warnings before embedding it.  People, I've found something more disgusting than an exploding whale. It's even more disgusting than the Candwich. Today's video is more disgusting than an exploding whale eating a Candwich while cuddling a placenta teddy bear. (Aw! Placenta teddy bear! First Stupid Product ever!)

I'm not warning you away from this video. In fact, it's something I think every man, woman, and child in America, nay, the world, should see.  What's disgusting is the realization that the happy meal you ate as a kid is probably floating around in your intestines, pristine as the day you ingested it.



The most oft quoted Mother Load line in my house comes from an Outrageous News story I posted about a UK mother suing McDonald's over a cigarette in her child's meal. Richard likes to say, "Your honor, my client is suing the defendant because they put something toxic and thoroughly unhealthy in her very small child's meal." "McDonald's food?" whenever one of the kids suggests we eat at the alleged restaurant.  Those words have never felt more true.  After watching this video, I think our language will be a bit stronger.

They blew up that whale because it was rotting, as dead meat is wont to do.  They should have just taken it to a McDonald's.

(Thanks to Michelle E., of La Verkin, UT, for alerting me to this video.  Michelle runs Phazes Fitness and knows a thing or two about healthy eating.  Click on the Phazes button to the right to learn more.)

Mom today I learned that, contrary to my excited hopes, the Miniature Market down the street...



...does not carry only miniature products.



Not at all.

Mom, today I learned that people need to be more specific about their instructions...and that I'll never get those 30 minutes back.

Mom, today I learned that if it weren't for the internet, I would never know how intense this is.

Mom, today I learned what metrosexual androids are called.

Sometimes, I wonder if the day will come when I won't be able to lampoon a Stupid Product on The Mother Load...if on some dark day, I'll realize that I've profiled them all, that there are simply no more Stupid Products to be found in the world.

It's people like the makers of the Snazzy Napper who bring a measure of peace to my life. We're just never going to run out, because there are people in the world making products like this:



Oh my.

I've mentioned here before that I suffer from a bit of claustrophobia, so this product is stupid to me by default. Exactly seven seconds into this commercial, I knew I would never, ever use this. Cover my face with a blanket, and you'll be turning the plane around to kick the crazy woman off. Where do I snazzy nap? Where would you like your nervous breakdown induced kick to the face?

But my need for space and air do not a Stupid Product make. I'm sure the vast majority of my readers have no problem at all with confined spaces or objects blocking a bit of their airflow. For those readers, I submit the following:

Point A: The Snazzy Napper is not snazzy. Pardon me if I'm wrong, but at what point does the need for a nap reduce an adult human to an infantile state? This is a baby blanket with straps and a nose hole.  They couldn't make it in a nice, unassuming black? I think they left their snazz at the factory, because I see none here.

Point B: Most of the material on the Snazzy Napper is superfluous. Sure, an abundance of light may make napping while traveling hard, but a simple sleep mask will take care of that problem just fine. I've never not been able to sleep because there was too much light on my neck or chest. I keep wanting to stop the commercial and say, "Snazzy Napper, my eyes are up here."

Point C: This product has a major security flaw. Anyone else notice the woman snuggling down behind her Snazzy Napper and leaving her purse available for the taking? Hello? Sure, it has pockets for small items (completely negating the "lightweight" selling point, I might add), but who enters an airport without a carry on? WHO'S WATCHING THE CARRY ON?! Does the NTSB know about this threat to our national security? (And why isn't she wearing her seat belt in that moving vehicle? Shame on you, Snazzy Napper!)

Point D: It's expensive. I could make one of these with dish towel and some scissors in about five minutes. I wouldn't want to, but I could. Anything more than $5, and they're gouging the public. Actually, I'd be willing to pay them $5 just to stop making this product.

Point E: It looks ridiculous. It's like someone ripped apart a diaper bag and tried to make a burka without knowing how. (No offense intended to the burka wearing public. I'm sure they think this looks ridiculous too.) Do the makers of this product really think people are going to enjoy a private nap while onlookers point and laugh and take camera phone pictures of themselves next to the crazy, diaper-bag-burka-wearing napper?

This, of course, gives me an idea.  Readers, I have an assignment for you. The first person to catch someone wearing one of these in public and send me a picture gets a free Perfect Brownie Pan from me. I'll send you some brownie mix to go with it if you manage to get yourself in the picture while you take it.  I'll be checking around, so don't think you can just copy and send something you pull off Google Images.  I want actual, unpublished photos of actual people. (Published people, however, are not excluded.)  Now go, my readers. Make me proud!

(Thanks to Mother Load reader, Tami C., of Washington, DC, for the burka covered heads up on today's Stupid Product!)

Mom, today I learned that there are people in this world who think pubic hair grooming is a matter of "fashion." I also learned the same people who have decided the "new style" is for women to no longer make themselves look like prepubescent girls can't seem to keep themselves from talking like one.

Dear Cosmo, it's called a vagina, and it's none of your business how I care for it. Thanks.

Okay, maybe this post is less of a "You've Gotta See This" and more of a "You should watch this if you want to, but be aware that the words 'exploding whale' are not a metaphor, and if you're sensitive to the carcasses of large sea mammals being obliterated by dynamite, you might try watching a funny cat video instead."

I stumbled upon this video the other day and wasn't sure what to make of it. It really happened, and it's really quite a treat to watch the humans involved make a decision that most humans today probably wouldn't. What's more funny? Watching them reap the consequences of that decision, blubber style.

If you're squeamish, please reread the first paragraph. The video aired on television in the 70s, so it's not overly graphic, but there's a whale...and it explodes...so, you know, there's flying whale parts everywhere.

Seriously...I've warned you. If you post angry comments, I'm just going sigh and wonder what part of "exploding whale" you didn't understand. Don't be that person, okay?

Mom, today I learned that if you don't like what comes in your dollar store surprise bag, making a cool mask out of it will almost make you feel better.

Remember that time you went to that class/health fair/presentation?  Or that time you read that book/article or watched that news segment/public service announcement?  You know the one. The one in which you were told to never, ever refer to medicine as candy because your child might seek out medicine bottles and overdose?  Apparently, the people at a Walgreens in Hudson, New Hampshire, didn't quite get the memo.

Walgreens employees gave out candy filled prescription pill bottles to children at a local fair, no doubt hoping their parents would see them and think, "Hey! Walgreens medicine goes down like a spoon full of sugar!  And now that my candy crazed child has finally been given the motivation she needs to break through the childproof cap, she can open my pill bottles for me! I should get all my medicine from Walgreens!" 

The parents at the fair who saw their children desperately trying to open pill bottles were, understandably, shocked.  The company has issued an apology for the promotional stunt, and parents are, understandably, still angry.  One mother was quoted as saying that the company should have asked around, maybe done a poll before deciding to do that.  Or...you know...maybe they could have used their brains.  Either way...

No word yet on whether any of the children who were given the pill bottle prizes have been caught raiding their parents' medicine cabinets and overdosing on Zoloft and Metformin. One can only assume lawyers for Walgreens have already begun preparing their defense for the lawsuit that will occur if this does happen.

Mom, today I learned that, contrary to what you might expect, you won't find huge piles of money on this street.



But you will find this priceless treasure. Awwwwww, yeah!

Mom, today I learned that one look at a sign like this, and I'm making the honey-do list of a lifetime: babysitting, pedicures, grape peeling, and a head on a platter.  Wonder whose it should be...

Mom, today I learned Michael starts kindergarten a week later than the other kids (and I) start school. Perhaps I should find a sitter...

If you hadn't already heard, "The Social Network," aka, "the Facebook movie," is hitting theaters in October of this year.  I can't help but admit that the trailer for the movie has me looking forward to the moment it hits our local dollar theater, so Richard and I can go check it out.  If it weren't for Facebook, many Mother Load readers would still be in the dark about the very existence of this blog, so I kind of want to give back...to the people who made the movie...wait...

Yesterday, I learned that the moment the trailer for "The Social Network" hit YouTube, clever filmmakers started shooting parodies of it.  My favorite is about YouTube itself.  Here are the trailers for "The Social Network," and "The Video Website" so you can compare.  I think the parody is spot on, and it leaves me laughing every time I watch it.  What did we do before YouTube, people?  WHAT DID WE DO?!

Mom, today I learned that, when looking at this picture, I don't know whether to stand up and say, "More power to you!" or collapse into the fetal position and thank the heavens I no longer have a uterus. It might depend on the day...and the state of kids' rooms.

When I told hubby, Richard, what I planned to write about for today's Outrageous News story, he responded with a puzzled, "Who?" I wasn't surprised. I'm sure a good number if my readers reacted the same way when they saw the title of this post. Let me help you out.

Levi Johnston is a nobody...with little sense...and wayward sperm...and somehow, that makes him famous. More specifically, Levi Johnston was the teenage boy who got Sarah Palin's teenage daughter, Bristol, pregnant. Ta-da!

Ever since he was suddenly made "famous" as the VP candidate's daughter's baby daddy, Mr. Johnston (and I only refer to him as such because the existence of a child, and another on the way with yet another girl, proves he is physiologically a man) has been riding the wave of his "celebrity" with a smile and doing whatever he can to milk his 15 minutes of fame for every penny they're worth. Take a look:



Aha.  Ahahahahahahaha...*sigh*...*eyeroll* (I can only imagine he has his last name tattooed to his arm because he's in the habit of frequently forgetting what it is.)

Johnston's newest attempt to extend his nebulous fame comes in the form of a reality TV show called Loving Levi: The Road to the Mayor's Office, in which camera crews will follow the "star" as he seeks to become the new mayor of Wasilla, AK, in the 2011 election.  Right, because being a promiscuous and irresponsible 20 year old fame whore qualifies you for public service.

That someone would pitch this show and that others would think, "Hey, that's a great idea!" were enough to make my husband declare the end of our world as we know it.  The show was also enough for the current mayor of Wasilla to mock Johnston's candidacy. He's telling Johnston to get a high school diploma and to keep his clothes on, referring to naked pictures Johnston had taken for Playgirl magazine. (No, I will NOT link to that.)

All of this is enough for me to praise the heavens above that I don't live in Wasilla, Alaska, that I don't have television coming into my home, and that if Levi actually goes through with this and actually becomes mayor, World War III will happen shortly after and then my Jesus will be here to take me home.

Mom, today I learned that my kids will gladly eat ketchup and ice cream on a dare if the reward for doing so involves a free day from chores.



I learned my sister (you know the one) will do it just to satisfy her curiosity.



Curiosity satisfied. Taste buds? Not so much.

Mom, today I learned that I can beat my husband at Scrabble. I also learned that when you do something this rare, you have to take a picture.

Today's Awesome Product comes from The Mother Load's newest sponsor, "BOW"dacious Boutique. Federal rules require me to tell you that I've received bows for all three of my daughters as a part of this sponsorship, so here you go: Everyone, I've received three absolutely fabulous bows from Ms. Kellie Burch of "BOW"dacious Boutique, and I couldn't be happier about it!  Aren't you glad the government is protecting you from me? I know I am!

Kellie makes all sorts of cute and "divariffic" bows and hair accessories, but the product I'm most excited about from her line is also the most creative thing I've seen in a long time.  Readers, I give you the "BOW" K.

Mom, today I learned that beverages need clothing. Ugly clothing.

Growing up in the dead center of the U.S., my only experience with sharks for the vast majority of my life was the time I decided I was brave enough to watch "Jaws."  After viewing the movie, I quickly learned that while I was brave enough to sit through the whole thing, I was not brave enough to take a bath afterwards without constantly looking behind me for approaching fins.

My only other encounter with sharks occurred at South Padre Island, shortly after my family moved to South Texas.  A nice trip to the beach ended quickly when a woman approached our group and said, "Hey there, ladies. I thought you should know that man out there's fishing with blood bait and probably attracting sharks.  If any of you are on your monthlies, you might wanna stay out of the water."  I was not, ahem, on my "monthly," but my ocean swimming was finished at that moment.  Thank you, Mr. Blood Bait, for ruining my day.

So yeah, maybe I don't have enough experience with sharks to understand how gentle and kind they really are, and maybe that makes me unqualified to write this Stupid Product review, but holy mother of maneating craziness, would you take a look at this:



This, dear readers, is the ChumBuddy, a plush and poofy sleeping bag created to look like a shark, a seven foot long, hand sewn, $200 shark.  This sharky sleep friend is made of fleece and felt and is filled with 30 pounds of polyfill.  You know, for that lifelike, "I'm about to be eaten alive," weight on your abdomen.

Had I been given this sleeping bag as a child, my reaction would have been a firm and immediate, "YAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHHH!"  I'm sure I would have happily run out of my Oklahoma home in the middle of a tornado rather than use this as a protective device in my closet or hallway.  I certainly would have never, and I mean never, been willing to crawl inside of it.

On the web page hawking this toothy beast of a future psychological complex, the maker states that she made the ChumBuddy because sharks, her favorite animals, are misunderstood.  I guess I could get behind that.  I used to think the elephant seal was beautiful.  And then I turned 12.  I just want to know how she thinks a picutre of a human being with the characteristic letter X for eyes, which even my five year old knows denotes death, is going to raise understanding.

And it must be said that the price tag is kind of crazy.  I don't know. Maybe all seven foot long plush animals cost this much. Three guesses how many such animals I have in my home.

Note to self: Santa does not make seven foot long plush animals. Also, Santa does not make toys that eat people and cause life ending heart attacks.

Thank you, Santa.  Give a ChumBuddy to Mr. Blood Bait for me, will ya?

(Thanks to Michelle E., of La Verkin, UT, and of Phazes Fitness, for the heads up on the ChumBuddy. Michelle, I do plan to start running again once my doctor gives me the okay. If you run after me with one of these, I'll run a lot faster. Just...so you know.)

Mom, today I learned that if I had Pay-Per-View, I could watch this on Sunday. I don't know why I would ever want to, but I could.

Today's edition of You've Gotta See This is dedicated to my husband, Richard, who found himself in the Mr. Mom role twice in the last two weeks while I enjoyed the rest and the abundant air conditioning of the hospital. (Okay, I was also enjoying pain, nausea, and abundant fevers, but I still think I had the easier go of things.)

It's not easy being the parent of five kids, and that's coming from someone who got to know them one at a time over many years. Richard met my brood all at once during the Thanksgiving holiday in 2006, never imagining at that time that he'd someday be stepping into a parenting role. (This is despite the fact that my Cate told him then, a full year before Richard and I even started dating, that he would be her stepfather.)

I don't know if he fell in love with them first or with me. What I do know is that he loves us all as if he's been the go-to man from day one, and I know he'd do anything for his family. He takes good care of all of us.

I love you, Richard. You're doing great! I promise you can have the next surgery, okay?

Mom, today I learned that checking the level of your smoothie against that of your sibling's is not only important when you first receive it, but after each sip.

Raise of hands: How many Mother Load readers have been to a county fair?  How many have tried to leave a county fair at the end of the day's festivities?  How many have felt some frustration while sitting in the endless line of cars trying to exit the fairgrounds at the same time?

How many of you have smeared someone's car window with a poopy diaper in a fit of fairground road rage?

Oh, come on, now.  There are many, many mommies in my readership, so I know you have access to the weapon of choice in today's Outrageous News story.  You mean to tell me that none of you has ever lobbed a diaper bomb at an offending vehicle? Nobody?

Aha. You're all too high class for that kind of thing.  (Or you all dispose of dirty diapers in the proper receptacles immediately after changing them, rather than carting them around in your car, so you've just never had them available at the right moment.)

Well, a woman in Connellsville, Pennsylvania is being charged with harrassment (no pun intended, of course) after she took fecal matters into her own hands during an altercation with another driver.  They, like thousands of other fair-goers, were stuck in a traffic jam.  Unlike thousands of other fair-goers, Jessica Hollis decided to vent her frustration by smearing baby poop on the rear (heh) window of the other driver.

There's not much more to the story than that, folks, except for the fact that Ms. Hollis has not secured herself an attorney at this point.  I'm not an attorney, but I can't imagine any laywer wanting to take on this case, knowing the way in which Ms. Hollis likes to retaliate.

Reporters have been trying to reach Jessica for a comment, but her phone appears to be disconnected.  No word on whether or not the windows of her local phone company are in need of an antibacterial cleanup.

(A special thanks to my 7th grade best friend, Marianne G., of Ohio, for making me aware of today's Outrageous News story.  I'd also like to thank her for never smearing poop on anything I owned, despite being a 7th grader when we lived in the same Oklahoma town.  I'd also like to thank her for threatening every boyfriend I had at that time with harm if any of them hurt me in any way.  I can only assume flying fecal matter might have been involved had she needed to make good on those threats.  Marianne, G., everyone.  What a pal!)

Mom, today I learned that I'm perfectly fine posting the unflattering photo Richard took of me in the ER last week...



...as long as I get to post the picture I took of him.

Mom, today I learned the hospital hasn't changed much, and that I'll be here for a day or two to get this post surgical infection under control. But they have crackers and Sprite...and Wife Swap...so that's good.

Mom, today I learned that contractors are not afraid of people who mistake descriptions for commands. They should be...but they aren't.

During the days before hubby, Richard, and I figured out that this "just best friends" thing was a total lie and we officially (and terrifyingly) proclaimed our love, he sent me this video, telling me I had to watch it and report back to him on whether or not it was the best thing on YouTube in the history of YouTube.

Alas, my own computer went wonky, and I was not able to watch it. Shortly thereafter, we both forgot about it, and I didn't think about it again until my friend, Catherine, posted it on the MOFia message board where I converse with like-minded and like-crazied Mormon mommies.  My memory was, of course, immediately jogged, and I laughed through all six minutes and pounced on Richard the moment he came home to tell him that it was, indeed, the best of the best in the best category of bestness.  (By laughed, I mean made a high pitched, shallow lunged sound that approximated laughter but didn't hurt my still recovering abdomen.  By pounced, I mean, waited until he leaned over my resting body to kiss me hello.)

Anyway, it's a lot of fun, and if you're as old as Catherine and I are, you'll feel even older watching it.  (And you'll feel really silly for having done many of the moves at some point in your life.  Don't act like you didn't, Mr. Running Man Champion of the School.)





(Thanks to Catherine P., of Phoenix, AZ, for reminding me I needed to watch this silly video and for being the least crazy of all us crazies.  Thanks to Richard C., of my house, for being the best of the best in the best category of best husbands.)

Today's Outrageous News story has me trembling with excitement.  Maybe I'm trembling with fever. I don't know.  But I assure you, I am excited to share the story with you.  Why, I haven't been this excited since that clump of Elvis's hair sold for $15,000.

Today...oh, gosh...someone bought...wait for it... Winston Churchill's dentures!  Someone fan me! Why are you not fanning me?

Yes, folks, the Prime Minister's false teeth were on the auction block today in England, a country not known for its dental health.  (Sorry, England. Someone had to say it.)  The choppers were expected to go for a mere 5,000 pounds, but a bidding war ensued (and why wouldn't it?), and the price for the falsies climbed to over 15,000 pounds.  That's $23,770 to us Churchill loving Americans.

Here's a news clip, so you can see the teeth in all their glory, perched inside a jewelry case like the rare gems that they are.



As you heard, the buyer of the dentures also owns a Churchill microphone.  I believe this man is already standing in front of his bathroom mirror, smiling a big, Churchill smile into that microphone, and telling himself to "Never, never, never give up."  Well, good for you, Mr. Someone Else's Teeth Buying Man!

A second set of dentures that was donated to the Royal College of Surgeons is likely going to be used for procedures like appendectomies, tonsillectomies, and the births of half vampire children who are a reluctant to chew themselves out of their mothers' abdomens.

I don't know about you, but that last use sounds downright fortuitous in this era of Team Edward devotees.  A few successful births of bloodsucking babies in the bag, and our obsessed mommies will likely defect to the lisping, cigar smoking, war ending bliss of Team Winston.

What a lovely day that will be.

I learned that the most painful part of my surgical experience was taking off my wedding ring. (What are you talking about? It fits just fine as long as I leave it where it is.)



I learned that these are the best part of any hospital stay.



And that this is the best "waiting to be wheeled into the operating room" game.



I learned that hospitals now have the Coca Cola hook up...and I should have been asking for more than just ice chips and pudding.



I learned that pre-surgery jitters would make me think I could find a joke about this.  (Alas, post surgery brain power has been lacking.)



I learned why the chicken at the hospital tastes like Tasty Wheat.



And where they send the soiled utility staff.



I learned that my hallway looked like every other hallway on the floor.



And that this didn't help me find my way back to my room.



I learned that in hospitals, spelling is relative.



And that this is the reason I'm happy not to have TV at home.



I learned that broken things don't work. (Who knew?)



And finally, I learned that my bosses and coworkers at Datawise know exactly what a girl needs when she gets home from the hospital. Also, that one of these lasts exactly 4.2 minutes in my house.