The Box

"Mom.  I found your box."

"What box?"

"You know what box.  And it's very disturbing."

I had been Face-timing Kimmy from a cruise port to see how everything was going at home.  And she apparently found my blog box.

"What was in the box?" I asked.  I wanted to be sure we were talking about the same box.

She may have found the box containing my school pictures, which also would have been disturbing.

Or the box containing my toenails.

Just kidding.

"Where do I begin?" Kimmy replied.  "Barbie doll heads, poop play dough, mustache bandages.  Here. I'll show you."  She walked into my bedroom where the box was atop the bed, its contents overflowing.

"That's my blog box," I said.  "Don't mess it up."

Which is pretty funny considering the fact that for the past seven years I've been shoving blog props into the box.  I have to sit on it to get the top to fasten.

"I should have known," she said, removing a very expensive item.  "Is this your wine bra?"  

"Yes!  That's my Wine Rack Sports Bra.  You can use it if you clean it afterwards."  

Kimmy looked closer at the cloudy, mold-infested wine bladder that is virtually impossible to clean.  "I think I'll pass," she said, wisely.

She asked how my cruise was going and I told her about Miles, the creepy senior citizen who kept telling me how "youthful" I looked and followed me around the ship like a puppy dog.

Kimmy returned her attention to the box and removed another treasure.  "Here's a Barbie doll with no feet.  She's got band aids around her stumps."

"Oh, that's Handicapped Barbie," I said.  "She donated her feet to my Barbie Doll Foot earrings.  Be nice to her."

"Right.  And what the heck are these?" she asked, holding up a pair of baby socks with dust mops sewn to the bottom.

"Those are Kevin's.  For when I want him to sweep the floor."

"No comment.  What the heck?" she said, holding up my inflatable bra inserts.  

She said she was glad I didn't bring them along on my cruise.  Miles might have had a stroke.

Kimmy then held up a can of Poop Freeze and I explained to her that it makes Kevin's poop easier to pick up when it's warm outside.

"Freezes it right on the spot," I added. 

Kimmy had nothing to say about my Poop Freeze. 

"What is this?" she asked, holding up what looked like an unraveled ball of black yarn.

"I'm not sure," I said.  "It looks familiar."

She examined it more closely.  "It looks like the yarn is attached to fishnets."

Of course.  My hairy leg fishnet hose.

Damn!  I should have packed those.

Miles might have been following around some other youthful guest.  

Who shaves.

I'm Lou and this is my aha moment

The Mutual of Omaha Aha Moment people found me through my blog.  They thought I might have an aha moment I could share in their 34-foot Airstream mobile film studio as part of the 2015 Aha Moment Road tour.  
 

These guys travel the country and film people talking about their aha moments.  How cool!

Me?  Have an aha moment?  Damn right I have!  

I’ve written 375 blog posts.  I’ve got at least 375 aha moments.  

But how could I possibly pick just one?

The Aha Moment people sent me a link to all the aha moments they’ve taped over the past 6 years in their around the country mobile studio.  I decided to take a look.

Oh dear.

They are all sappy.  And inspirational. 

The bullied child.  The woman who lost her child.  The lady who climbed a mountain. 

Did they even read my blog? 

It’s a damn good that I did my research.  Here’s what COULD have happened yesterday.

I step into the mobile studio and meet Jessica, the interviewer.  She asks me to have a seat, get comfortable, and tell her my aha moment.  The camera is running.

“Hi.  I’m Lou and this is my aha moment.  I learned that you can make earrings out of Moose Poop.  Who’da guessed?!!  When I head about those earrings, I said, aha!”

Jessica laughs politely and says,  “Lou, do you have another aha moment you can share?”

And I say, “Sure!  I have 374 other aha moments”

“Go ahead.  Pick one.” 

“Hi.  I’m Lou and this is my aha moment.   A few years ago I was trying to set my husband’s underwear on fire on the driveway with Barbie  roller blades and it didn’t work.  You see I accidentally used Dry Shampoo instead of Hair Spray.   Duh!!!  Now THAT was an aha moment.”

Jessica says, “That’s such a good aha moment.  Can you think of another one?”

“Oh, I know!  When I first got my  Wine Rack Sports Bra and decided to try it out with Diet Coke instead of wine and I filled it up too much and, well, it was really cold on my boobs, and not very comfortable, but the worst part was when I tried to take a sip out of the secret straw it sprayed Diet Coke up my nose.  OMG was that ever an aha moment!”

Jessica smiles and says, “Thank you, Lou.  I think we have enough.” 
 

But thankfully, I DID my research and I had one blog, out of 375, that could possibly work.  The   French Braid that changed my life.

I wouldn’t call it sappy.   Or inspirational.

But Jessica seemed to like it. It was "original".

Now THAT was an aha moment.

Finding the Flawless Flask

Every now and then I would like to be able to drink wine from a straw originating from a concealed flask.  

Just for special occasions.  (Like art gallery openings, lectures, hikes, etc.)  

I could always wear my Wine Rack Sports Bra.  But unfortunately, it has a major flaw.  

It is really cold.  

And who wants cold wine pressing against her rack?  

Not me.  

I could, of course, purchase a Beerbelly, the sister (or should I say brother) product of the Wine Rack.  But it's so unattractive.

And at the risk of appearing vain, I don't want anyone thinking I could not step away from the Easter candy.

My friend Jennifer recommended the Baby Flask.  Which I loved!

But then I thought people might start gossiping.  Whose baby is that?  Did Linda have a baby?   

Or Lou?  I KNEW she was putting on weight.  I thought it was from Easter Candy.

I decided to do more research.  

I discovered the Tampon Flask, which had very positive reviews on Amazon.com: 

I love a good bloody Mary on Sunday, but sometimes the sermon in church just drags on and on and cuts into my cocktail time. That's when these little beauties come in handy. I can have my bloody and still wear my white choir robes with confidence!

But there's no straw.  And I want my flask to have a straw.

I kept looking.

The Freedom Flask showed great potential.  Until I saw how you fill your glass.

 EUUUUUU.  

I decided to go back to the Beerbelly.   So what if someone thinks I've put on a few pounds.

Unless.  

I just had the most scathingly brilliant idea.

Who needs a Beerbelly, when you can have:

The Pregbelly.

At Your Fingertips!

When my friend Cortlin told me about the Cleavage Caddy, I was completely inspired.  

Please don't accuse me of exaggerating when I say the Cleavage Caddy is the best invention since sliced bread.

Seriously!

Imagine a bra with pockets that allow you to carry all your personal items discretely tucked beneath your blouse!   No need to go rooting through your purse or hunting in your pockets.

Just reach into your bra!

The advertisements suggest that you can tuck away your keys, credit cards, lipstick and more!  OMG!   The possibilities are endless!

(But then again, you don't have to go overboard with your Cleavage Caddy.  I don't know about you, but I think this Japanese rice bowl bra, My Chopsticks Bra, is a bit too functional.)

The Cleavage Caddy sells for $29.95 plus shipping and handling.  Being the cheapskate creative genius that I am, I decided to make my own version. 

Except I'm changing the name. 

I like Boob Bin way better.


 

And I absolutely love my Boob Bin.  Look at all that it can carry!  

I modeled my Boob Bin around the house and found that everything I needed was at my fingertips.  Except....

That's when I had my epiphany.  
 


Introducing the Boob Bin Wine Rack.    

Life.
Is.
Good.

Stop Drop and Snorkel

I wish I'd thought of this first.  I'd be a zillionaire.

But the Toilet Snorkel was invented 40 years ago by an undisclosed innovator. 

Let's call him "Dr. Privy".

Apparently, there had been a rash of fires in high-rise hotels in the early 1980s.  Dr. Privy, being both an engineering and marketing genius (like myself), identified an unmet consumer need: to breathe while your hotel room is in flames.

The Toilet Snorkel is a quite simple device.  All you have to do is insert the breathing tube (figure 2 #21) through the water trap of the toilet in your hotel room.   The tube will (hypothetically) reach to fresh* air from a vent pipe connected to a sewer line of the toilet.  

(*The air may not be "fresh" in the literal sense.   It will not, however, be smoky.)

Once the tube is in place, stick the other end into your mouth (figure 2 #18) and begin to breathe.  If you start inhaling toilet water, you probably didn't push the tube far enough.  Stop breathing and push the tube deeper into the toilet.

If you are still inhaling toilet water, push the breathing tube even deeper into the toilet.  

You should stop trying once your face is submerged in the toilet water.  The party's over at that point.
 
Unless....

Unless you packed your Wine Rack Sports Bra!  Simply attach the wine catheter to the Toilet Snorkel and breathe.  

And if that doesn't work?  

You could always stop drop and roll.

A Boost to Bosom Beauty

I looked at the photo in disbelief.  Was that what it looked like?

I shook my head.

"OMG!!", I thought. 

Somebody has invented a Wine Rack Sexy Lace Bra.

What a great concept.   

I mean, don't get me wrong.  

I love my Wine Rack Sports Bra.  It is exceptionally functional. 
I not only grow two cup sizes when I wear it, I can hold  25 ounces of adult beverage in the secret polyurethane bladder catheter thingee. 

But it's not exactly what you'd call sexy.
 
Wait a minute!!  This Wine Rack Sexy Lacy Bra has 2 straws!  

Are you stinkin' kidding me?    That means you could drink Chardonney from one side and, say, Margaritas from the other.

That is one genius inventor, I thought. Why didn't I think of it first?

Then I realized my mistake.
 
This was not a Wine Rack Sexy Lacy Bra. 

It was a 'Trés Secret' Inflatable Bra, from the 1950s.  Its makers promised the bra could give any woman "a boost to bosom beauty".  According to their advertising materials, "Do it yourself. Make the most of you. Blow up!! To be the size you want".

I was dumbfounded.  Disappointed.  

Until I realized what that meant: The Wine Rack Sexy Lacy Bra has yet to be invented!

So I'm heading out to the Dollar Store.  All I need is lingerie and a balloon.
 
Make that 2.

Feeling Good on the Chest

They have done it again.

Those Japanese entrepreneurs are truly amazing, solving one unmet consumer need after another.

Women, I know you have been waiting for a product like this for years.  Something that will help "maintain your firm bust even while you are sleeping, meaning you wake always looking and feeling good on the chest".

It's about time somebody invented a product for those of us who wake up not feeling good on the chest. 

Introducing the Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra: The Bust-Keeper for Sleeping.

I know what you're thinking.  It looks a bit tight and uncomfortable.

But it's not!  

 In fact, according to the marketing materials, "The Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra is not tight or uncomfortable, and yet still keeps everything youthful and from drooping flat when you are asleep."

Drooping flat?

OMG.  I certainly would not want the girls drooping flat!

But, wait.  There's more.

"It's non-wire so you won't even notice it's there but everyone else will notice the difference during the daytime!"

Now THAT'S a brand promise.

The Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra sells for $79 plus shipping on the Japan Trend Shop web site (I know- what a shock).  I really want to maintain a firm bust while I'm sleeping, but the Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra is a bit out of my budget.

But you know what?   

My Wine Rack Sports Bra is just as effective as the Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra! 

Plus it has an additional benefit that the Oyasumi Goodnight Keep Bra lacks.

A built in sleep aid.  

The Multi-tasking Miracle

I will concur that the Wine Necklace is a functional piece of jewelry. In fact, it's the most utilitarian accessory since the advent of the cell phone rendered the watch obsolete.

Sure, you can carry your Chardonnay around your neck, eat appetizers and chew gum at the same time.

But it's a pretty ugly piece of jewelry, in my humble opinion.

I know what you're thinking. Can Lou make her own version of the Wine Necklace that is not only functional, but attractive?

Of course I can.

I cannot take complete credit for the design. I found a pattern on the internet. I carefully selected fabric from my immense inventory of incomplete sewing projects and got to work.

(Forgive me as I slip into song, to the tune of Old McDonald) 

"A Snip snip here. A Stitch Stitch there. Here a thread, there a thread, everywhere a band aid."

And voila!

But something was missing. Sure it was attractive. Way more attractive than the one above. But it needed something.

A mustache.

So, not only is the Incognito Nerdling Wine Necklace as functional as the original Wine Necklace, allowing you to carry your Chardonnay around your neck and eat appetizers and chew gum at the same time....

It also acts as a disguise.

Except for one problem.

One teeny, tiny usability issue.

When I tried to drink out of the glass with the mustache against my lips, the wine poured down the front of my shirt (since the mustache is at the far side of the wine glass rim.)  Oops.

Then I had my a-ha moment.

I can have my hands free Chardonnay and a mustache disguise without the Wine Necklace.

All I need is my Wine Rack.

And for those readers who have no idea what my Wine Rack is, read the posting to the left: Test Driving the Wine Rack.

Turning and Spinning....Turning and Spinning

I never thought I’d need Dramamine for a play.

We've begun dance rehearsals for Grease, and we're learning those fun 50's partner dances like the Cha Cha and the Lindy Swing. You know...the ones they did on American Bandstand with all the turning and spinning. And the turning and spinning. Did I mention the turning and spinning?

I’m a wee bit worried about history repeating itself.

I’m referring to the infamous wedding scene from Fiddler on the Roof a couple years ago. During the very emotional wedding vows and the heartfelt  “Sunrise Sunset” one of the younger girls (let’s call her “Patty”) lost her cookies. Not once. Not twice. Three times.

Patty puked volumes.

I was on stage at the time and remember thinking, “What is that noise?"  It sounded like bucket of water had been poured from a 10 foot ladder.

Then the smell began to waft in my direction and I had to suppress the urge to join in with Patty’s puking. All I could think about was that, at the end of the song, we were choreographed to dance (with our street length costumes) up and down, back and forth across the stage. Exactly where Patty’s puke prevailed.

You’ve heard of the "Miracle on 34th Street", right? Well, this was the “Miracle on Bull Street.” By the time the wedding glasses were smashed and the Mazeltovs were said, the puke had been cleaned up by a cast member to whom I will be forever indebted.

 Seriously.

I am bound and determined to prevent a “Fiddler Purge” from occurring on the stage of Grease. To that end, I have developed a new product concept.

I haven’t yet worked out the mechanics, but it will most likely involve a funnel and a tube. My preliminary design had the tube emptying into a collection box that would sit next to the dancer’s mic pack.

But you know me. I am a genius at marketing innovation and am constantly looking for ways to raise the bar. To that end, I have developed an alternative design which seems extremely promising!

A reverse Wine Rack.

Admittedly, I have to work through the costume implications, for the dancer’s bra size would increase as it fills, causing costume stress. But it’s better than the alternative: costume mess.

(For those who have not heard of the Wine Rack, it is a sports bra that discretely dispenses wine through a rubber straw. Read the blog to the left of this posting.)

But the more I think about it, and the physics of vomit propulsion, it may be even most effective if the puker’s dance partner were to wear the funnel....or the Reverse Wine Rack.

Now that would be true collaboration.

I can’t wait to pitch this idea to the Director.

No pun intended.

Test Driving the Wine Rack

As I prepared to take my dog Kevin for a walk this morning in the sweltering heat it occurred to me that my recent "Wine Rack" purchase might make the walk more enjoyable. For those of you not familiar with this item, the Wine Rack is a drink dispensing sports bra that is advertised to increase your bust line by 2 cup sizes. 

My Wine Rack arrived in the mail earlier this week in an innocuous brown envelope containing a sports bra and a plastic canteen with a long tube (straw) attached. At the end of the tube is a twist-top to be used to open and close the straw. It came with no directions (or warning labels).

I had been waiting for just the right time to test drive it. Since it was 10:00 in the morning, I decided to pilot my Wine Rack using Diet Coke, rather than wine. 

So, I filled the plastic boob shaped canteen with Diet Coke. "This is fabulous!", I thought. "How easy can you get?"

Next I put the sports bra on and attempted to situate the Diet Coke-filled falsies in place. 

Then came my first ah-ha. It would probably be more natural looking (and feeling), if I hadn't filled them to the tip-top.

My second ah-ha followed. Chilled beverages really cooled down my rack. 

I looked a little unnatural, but I wasn't planning to leave the house in just my Wine Rack. I pulled a t-shirt over my head and strung the drinking tube through my sleeve. I looked in the mirror and nodded my approval. I was definitely looking hot.

Then I untwisted the twist-top to take a sip of my Diet Coke. 

It was like a fire hydrant going off in my mouth. I raced to the bathroom sink as fast as I could, further shaking up the bottles, as Diet Coke squirted out of my nose, my ears and my eyeballs. It was like taking a shower in Diet Coke. 

Third ah-ha: the Wine Rack is not appropriate for drinking carbonated beverages. Especially when filled to the tip-top and shaken up. (I can only imagine what would have happened if I had been practicing my pogo-stick/jump rope trick at the time). 

In the end, I was completely covered in Diet Coke. Apparently Kevin was embarrassed by the scene I caused and refused to go on a walk with me. 

To hell with him.  I sat on the porch and finished my drink.  It was too hot to walk the dog anyhow.