Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Here ye! Here ye!

April 1, 2009

This weekend as my friend was barbecuing us some pork chops, he said, “Did you hear those reports on the radio about the pigs they were killing while they were still alive?” My first thought – which I kept to myself, because I try not to be an ass – was, “How else would you kill a pig?”

OK, maybe I did say this, because he responded with, “I mean, they were butchering them while they were still alive.” I told him I had not heard this, and he said it had been all over the news for days. We agreed it was a horrible thing.

Then yesterday morning a friend told me over coffee about how this major Swedish chicken company was recalling thousands of tons of frozen chickens because they had discovered crushed glass in them. My friend said they suspected sabotage from animal rights groups. I had not heard this either.

About a week ago I did actually try to watch the Swedish evening news, but it felt so old-fashioned, like I was watching a town crier. I thought, “You mean, I just have to sit here while this guy stands there and talks the news at me? I can’t skip ahead or click on that interesting link about 10 Things to Never Say at a Job Interview?” He lasted about five minutes.

It wouldn’t really hurt me to know more about what is going on in the world. I’ve begun to realize that there is a tiny information gap in getting all my news from The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and skimming the micro headlines of Yahoo! News when I log out of my account. Not that I don’t enjoy hearing pigs scream, or eating glass, but I don’t want to look like a doofus in front of my friends, do I?

When bad things happen to good blogs

March 25, 2009

Yes, the blog has been suffering. If The Sugar Pea Express were a Tamagotchi, it would have long since been buried in some digital pet cemetery (one hopefully not built on the site of an ancient Indian digital burial ground, causing the Tamagotchi to come back with a taste for digital blood).

Of course, I’ve never actually played with a Tamagotchi. It was one of those fads that passed me by in the late 1990s while I was mistakenly using my time to learn Swedish, be married, and deliver newspapers at four in the morning with a young Norwegian man. He, in turn, mistakenly used his time by telling me all about his church, which from what I could make out from his Norwegian had something to do with Moses.

Not that I am able to take care of living things either – aside from my son. But he’s a bit more persistent than a Tamagotchi, I would imagine. Unless Tamagotchis are now being programmed to kneel beside you on the bed and shout in your ear, “Get up, pappa!” I would totally buy one of those, because my poor son with his one mouth is only able to shout in one of my ears at a time.

Plants, on the other hand, have no place in my home. My plants wonder not whether there is a God, but why he has forsaken them. I leave them for months to die slow, dry deaths until one day I do hear their prayers, then immediately cut off all their vital parts and drown them in water. My plants mistakenly believe they are in the Book of Job, where suffering is eventually rewarded with 140 years of life. In actual fact, they are smack in the middle of Kübler-Ross’s On Death and Dying.

The Sugar Pea Express being both a train and a blog, I’m not quite sure how I would kill it. In the made-for-TV version of this blog, they would undoubtedly load it with explosives then send it full-steam ahead down Terror Canyon, where it would jump the curve at Dead Man’s Gulch and explode spectacularly in mid-air. Since this is the low-budget blog version, I would instead kill it by filling it with recipes for low-fat cheesecake.

Spit = love

February 4, 2009

A moment ago I was taking my son in his stroller to daycare, and when we got just outside the playground I held out my hand and said, “OK, now give me your gum.” Don’t worry, it’s the good kind of gum, not the kind that gives you cancer (according to my younger health-conscious sister there are two varieties of sugar-free gum: xylitol – no cancer, the other stuff – cancer). So he leans forward and spits out the gum into my hand, then there is a fraction of a second pause that gives my brain enough time to think, “Huh, what is going to happen now?”

What happened is that he spit out whatever saliva he had in his mouth into my hand on top of the gum. I could tell he was trying to be helpful and follow instructions. For him, the sentence “OK, now give me your gum” means, “Please empty your mouth of all its contents into my hand.” Which, by the way, is a very useful sentence to know, particularly at your dinner parties when you forget to buy dessert but want to wrap things up anyway.

Standing outside the preschool this morning, though, I thought that there are worse things that could happen than having my hand filled with the warm spit of my son. Still, I think it is time I teach him that spit is not only a verb, but also a noun.