Not so cute…..

It has come to my attention that a poll must be administered. It’s a first here at ThingsThatAre, so let it be wonderful and relevant.

 

THE MUSTACHE POLL

yesss.....some more please.

noooo....doesn't that slow you down?

 

I’m on the fence about the whole ordeal.

Case and point.

 

 

 

 

So what is it then? Should we judge (not that you’re a judger) a mustache-rocker by the particular style, maybe by the rocker’s personality, or, perhaps, by the context in which said mustache is rocked.

 

 

I’ll leave you with this.

 

DAMN CUTE

awwwwwww.......

His name is Nougat and he weighs 3.5 pounds. Need I say more?

too sexy for my costume…

Ok, I think America is a little hopped up on hormones.

Today, I took a trip with a friend to a seasonal Halloween costume shop. Of course, there are aisles of wigs and devil horns, scary masks and fairy wings, but along the back wall is really where it’s at. I kid you not when I say there were 90 or so options of the trashiest costumes I’d ever seen for women. Here they all were, pictured and numbered so all you had to say was, “yes, can I see number 87, the slutty fire-woman costume please?” (for the record, I tried number 87 on) (also for the record, I looked like a slut in it).

Case and point…..

Really?.....total slore*

This is apparently how you make that sweet little Alice…you know, the one who gets lost in Wonderland…into a raging whore who looks like she’d rather get trashed with the Mad Hatter, get high with the Caterpillar and sleep her way through the Queen of Heart’s army, than find her way home.

Despicable.

I apologize if any of you were planning on wearing this lovely piece of polyester this year, but you’re going to look like a ho.

Just to drive the point home….

I’m fairly certain this is historically inaccurate.

Nobody’s looking at your feather, sweetie.

When did Halloween become a contest about who can wear the least clothes?

*shout out to Midge for slut + whore = slore (use it and abuse it)

embarrassing

where were you today, sir?

I hit an orange cone in broad daylight.

In my defense, there were no warnings that I was approaching a “construction zone.” I put that in quotations because three guys standing around chatting next to a service vehicle with an empty flatbed apparently trying to decide whether or not they wanted to construct there, does not make a construction zone!

It was an errant cone anyway….far far away from it’s original position, in line with it’s other cone buddies.  I’m not bitter. Nah, there wasn’t a line up of cars behind me to see me run right over that sucker. In fact, I’m over it. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore.

despicable…

I fight the urge to say Me, but it’s totally true.

For those who have missed all things that are….so sorry for my absence.

 

absurdly adorable

Baby Elephant at the San Diego Wild Animal Park

Meet Chuck*. He is a baby elephant. He was born this spring at the San Diego Wild Animal Park. He weighed something like 268 pounds at birth and has been gaining a pound a day since.

Big log, little legs

Chuck’s still learning how to do stuff. This log, for instance, was a bit of an obstacle.

I'm stuck guys....no, seriously

It was touch and go there for a bit. Trial and error. Eventually, however, he managed to get over the log. Phew.

Poor ol Chuckster

Little dude just can’t catch a break, though. His friends were bullies and, I’m sure, taunting him about the log situation. Chuck was clearly embarrassed. I think he considered retaliation, but instead….

zzzzzzzzz

Nap. Done.

Also…..

This lemur cleaning his tail.

*this is not his real name, but since I’m not sure he has one because he was just born, I’m sure the keepers at the park would find it fitting.

my life

This is pretty much a spot on example of how I conduct my lessons.

Seriously. It’s pretty clear that mama otter is Red Cross certified. First, I drag them in, by my teeth, if necessary. Then, on to floating. First on your tummy, then on your back. Swimming is next. Personally, I think mama otter could afford to teach some of the other strokes…butterfly at very least. Finally, diving. They use sticks, we use sticks. We do prefer towels to underbrush, but I’m digg’n the post lesson nap.

slightly scary

Superman

I went to Six Flags Great America this weekend!

I know what you’re thinking. I’m posting about being scared on a roller coaster. Well….you’re wrong, so suck it.

Despite the fact that it’s been reported Six Flags is out of bankruptcy and now managing their debt, this weekend was pitifully empty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining that we waited no longer than 10-15 minutes for a ride, but they’re not gonna make enough money to live on selling $5 water and Batman capes (however cool they make you seem).

This post does have a point. Stop rushing me.

So, we’re standing in line for our last ride on the Raging Bull (a steel coaster that will rock your face off) and we get all the way to the front so we’re the next group to get on. The group in front of us loads and there’s a woman, who is fairly large, and unfortunately happens to carry a lot of her weight in the stomach region, whose security bar thingy won’t lock because she can’t pull it in tight enough. So the ride attendant attempts to assist her by pushing in and, in the process, actually slips down into the coaster! Yes, kids, he falls down INTO THE RAGING BULL. CRAZY! One of the other attendants pulls him out. He’s doing his bestest not to cry, but he’s clearly hurt. Meanwhile, the ride controller has hit the emergency stop button, locking everyone on the ride in and requiring maintenance and supervision to come to restart it. We wait. The EMTs come, security, the higher ups, the higher higher ups. We wait. Finally, they let all the people on the train off and, because they didn’t get their ride, give them front of the line vouchers or something. They had to then let off the people who were on the two other trains, and had been waiting this whole time to be brought in. We wait. They ran some ghost runs and milled around a bit. 20 minutes later we’re let on the ride.

So, it was, of course, FREAKING OUTRAGEOUS!

When we got back, though, I was surprised to see the heavy woman still standing at the exit waiting around for some reason. If I was her I’d have gotten the hell out of there.

I would just like to say that I have nothing against heavier people and typically I would feel sympathy for this woman, but there is a test seat at the entrance to the ride for a reason. A test seat, ladies and gentleman. Use it.

P.S. The amount of people who were dressed completely inappropriately for family theme park was out of control. Put your ass cheeks away.

anticlimactic

suck it

I spent the ENTIRE weekend at a Red Cross lifeguarding/CPR training course.

22 mind-numbing hours later I walked out with piece of paper (that promptly got wet in the rain) that says, and I paraphrase, “this paper will have to suffice as proof of certification until we can send out the official card…in June.” Seriously, Red Cross? Don’t pull out the champagne or anything.

It was bad enough that the average age in the class was 16. Do you remember how not awesome you were at 16? How awkward the boys were and how ditzy a girl would be to try get a boy’s attention? Imagine now that everyone is in their bathing suits and has to practice water rescues on each other…..

I’m poking my eyes out with your No. 2 pencil, Red Cross.

On top of all that greatness, I now have bruises on my knees from administering CPR on a tile floor to a plastic head and a minor case of the sniffles because apparently it’s vital that we watch a video on EVERY one of the various in-water saves meaning, at least twice, I donned a cold, wet bathing suit.

So, no, Red Cross, I’m going to need my card asap or, at the very least, a balloon.

orthodontic

I have almost no words for how creepy this is. I keep flashing to commercials and movies that try to give animals smiles that resemble our own. It’s weird there, it’s even weirder in real life.

http://blogs.nationalgeographic.com/blogs/news/chiefeditor/2009/06/fish-with-humanlike-teeth.html

I mean, get it together, fish, you have some serious gingivitis.

And, I know those fangs are just a scare tactic, “Vampire Fish”. I don’t fool easy.