Friday, August 30, 2013

The Un-Egg Sandwich

I was waiting for my breakfast of eggs and a biscuit when I noticed the menu.

"What's an Egg Sandwich?" I asked the cook.
"Eggs on a biscuit," he replied.

Being the cheapskate mathematical genius that I am, I noticed that the Egg Sandwich was $1.50. I was usually charged $2.50 for my breakfast of eggs and a biscuit. 

When I got to the register, I flipped open my to-go box and told the girl (let's call her "Matilda") that I had an Egg Sandwich.  

Matilda rang up $2.50.  "Your eggs are next to the biscuit," she said. With a straight face"That's not an Egg Sandwich,"

I smiled.  "Seriously?"

"Your eggs have to be on the biscuit to be a sandwich," Matilda said, confidently.

I tried to reason with her. "It takes more work to make an Egg Sandwich than to place the eggs next to the biscuit." 

Matilda shook her head.  "$2.50, please."

"You have to cut the biscuit in half and put the egg on it." 
I said, in case she didn't understand the engineering involved in making Egg Sandwiches.

Matilda just stared at me, with a know-it-all look on her face.  

I attempted to wear her down. 

"Cutting a biscuit in half takes significantly more effort than putting eggs on the plate next to the biscuit."  I felt certain that she would come to her senses.

But Matilda would not budge.  "That will be $2.50 for your eggs and biscuit."  Then she smirked. 

So I grabbed a knife, cut my biscuit in half and made myself a stinkin' Egg Sandwich.

Matilda studied my creation for a long moment.  

"That will be $1.50." 

It was a small, but meaningful victory.  

Egg-actly what I needed.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Preserving the Pee

When I turned to page sixteen I gasped.

That's how you do it!

For years I'd been struggling with this monumental question.  How can I convert my urine into an environmentally safe gel?

And there it was, in black and white.  In my newest book: "283 Useful Ideas From (you guessed it) Japan." 

The Urea Pot is similar to the Go Girl and the Stadium Gal, in that it is a portable urinary device.  

But the Urea Pot comes with a side pouch containing chemicals which turn urine into a gel that you can later flush away or dispose of in a nearby garbage pail!

It's hard to believe this book was written in 1988, a quarter of a century ago.  Which begs the question, why isn't such a universally appealing product not available at Food Lion?  Or Target?

Apparently, the inventors of the Urea Pot lacked the marketing vision necessary to successfully launch this product.

I know this will come as a shock to you, readers.   But, I know how to make the Urea Pot a household name.

The trick is to enhance the benefits of the product.  My Nerdling Urea Pot will not only convert urine to an environmentally safe gel.

It will allow you to USE the gel.  

And not just for the treatment of jellyfish stings.

Since the Urea Pot’s roots lie in the Japanese culture, I think it only appropriate that it be used as a beauty aid.

Introducing the Nerdling Urea Pot Hair Gel!

Coming soon to a mall kiosk near you!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Nerdling Fountain of Youth Strategy

I used to be concerned about growing old.
I did not want to look older.  I did not want to feel older.  I did not want to get older.  Period.

That was before I had my epiphany.  My scathingly brilliant idea related to aging. 

Nobody will ever be able to guess my age as I implement my Nerdling Fountain of Youth Strategy.  A technique involving no plastic surgery.  And no wacky Japanese beauty products.

I know what you're thinking.  How can you possibly accomplish such a feat?

I will simply become more immature with each successive year!

I know.  It's stinkin' genius!

I do realize, I will have a fine line to walk.  In fact, I can see a point in my future when some annoying Gen Y-er will likely confuse my immaturity with Alzheimer's Disease.

"Nurse, why isn't that woman in the dementia unit?"  Christina will ask.

"Oh, that's just Lou.  She doesn't have dementia."
"But she's wearing wax lips!"
"She's just immature."

Christina, having significant experience working with Alzeimer's patients will remain doubtful.  "Oh come on!  Who in her right mind would ...wait a minute.  Are those toilet paper earrings?"

"Yes.   Aren't they great?   Lou's always been like this.  But she's sharp as a tack"

I, of course, will smile at the compliment.

Christina will circle me suspiciously. 

"But why is she wearing a headband over her crotch?  She's nuts.  Transfer her to Ward D!"

"That's her Camel Toe cup.  I think it's rather clever.  It hides her camel toe."

Christina will shake her head in disgust.  "Oh my God!" she will say as she looks at my legs.  "I have never seen an 80 year old with such long leg hair!"

"Thank you!" I will say, proudly.

But Christina will not understand the nature of her compliment.   I will actually be closer to 100. 

Perhaps she's the one who should be transferred to Ward D.

Friday, August 2, 2013

The Bees Knees

When my friend Brian mentioned that he had taken up Beekeeping as a hobby, I seriously considered running away like a little girl and taking cover under my desk.  (In case one of his bees hitch-hiked into the office in Brian's lunch box.  Or Blackberry.)

You never know.

Then I thought about Nik Wallenda, and how he crossed the gorge over Niagara Falls on a tight-rope wire, facing death with each step he took.   He was so stinkin’ brave.  Why do I have to be such a wimp? 

I inhaled deeply, then breathed out slowly, like a seasoned yogi. I asked Brian to tell me about his bees.  He told me about the bee class he'd taken, about purchasing his bees and equipment, introducing the bees to the hives, and how fascinating his bees are to watch.  "And they are very well behaved,"  he added.   

I raised an eyebrow.  Well behaved bees?

Then I remembered the time I was stung by a bee while driving.  I had stuck my left arm out the window (don’t ask), and it hit a bee.  Or perhaps the bee had flown into my arm.  Either way, that bee was not well behaved.

 “Have you been stung?” I asked suspiciously.


I thought about other brave souls.  Like Evil Kneivel.  And Bruce Willis in Die Hard

I wanted to be brave like them.

I gulped and I said in a shaky voice, “Can I come see your bees?”   I added, "I think it might make a good blog." 

We set up a visit a few weeks out.  I needed the time to mentally prepare. And work on my bravery.

I must admit I was a bit unnerved when Brian told me to wear long pants and socks.  He said I would have to tuck my pants into my socks.  (“That way the bees won’t crawl up your pants leg.”)  Oh boy.

When I got to Brian's house he helped me into my bee suit.  I looked like (Driving) Miss Daisy wearing an astronaut uniform.  Adorable.

 The bee suit completely protected me from misbehaving bees. 

And as backup, Brian pulled out his secret weapon: a smoker.  Apparently you just puff some smoke at unruly bees and they become docile, which made me wonder.  Would that work on teenagers?

And just like Nik, I faced my fears and walked down Brian's long back yard to meet his bees.  

At first I stayed back as Brian lifted the individual frames out of the hive. 

They were crawling with bees.
But they were well behaved bees.

And from the safety of my Miss Daisy astronaut bee suit, I completely forgot about the fact that they could make me cry. I actually got quite close to them.

Then the spirit of Nik Wallenda entered my soul and I became even braver.   

Who's afraid of these damn well behaved bees?  Not me!

In fact,
who needs a bee suit?  Not me!

I decided to take off all my clothes and tend to the bees naked.

That's when Brian shot me with his smoker and made me docile.

But I learned something about myself on my beekeeping field trip.  I am braver than I thought.

In fact, I can't wait to start working on my bee beard.