Right now in Pattaya, Thailand couples have been kissing for more than 33 straight hours all for the chance to win a diamond ring worth 50,000 Thai Baht and a 100,000 Baht cash prize.

Wow! A hundred and fifty thousand  Bahts? Where do I sigh up, you ask?  You could use that kind of dough and have a Valentine to smootch?

Well, here’s the thing (a dampener, if you will), it’s not that much money really. Roughly, it translates to 5,000 total U.S. dollar.  I mean, five thousand dollars isn’t anything to sneeze about, but as a prize for outlasting the other kissing couples? Hmmm . . . I pass. I need more money. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband but five thousand dollars?  The prize would have to be somewhere around fifty thousand to even get me to consider it.

And here’s why: ( the rules of this crazy game).

1)      The couples lips can never part. Not even when drinking. They get to sip through a straw. Nice. Very nice. (Just in case you missed the sarcasm, I write this sarcastically).  

2)      No sitting or sleeping. Oh, that’s a toughie. And per the Associated Press article I read, this rule was considered “the harshest.” I beg to differ. Let’s take a look at rule #3 shall we.

3)      They even have to remain embraced while taking bathroom breaks all while monitored by a Contestant Official. Ummm . . . that’s a deal breaker for me. But obviously not for the Thai couples.

Maybe in Thailand 150,000 Bahts is a big deal. Maybe that’s like a kazillion U.S. dollars to them. Let’s sure hope so. Good luck Thai couples. Keep on kissing. As for me, well, I’m going to give my husband a peck and call it good.

So here’s some more weird Valentine’s Day news for ya, since I know you love all things weird.

A farmer in Albert Lea, Minn. decided to create a very unique Valentine’s Day surprise for his wife. A gigantic heart in their barren field made completely of manure. Yes folks, you read it right—MANURE. And guess what? She loved it. Check it out here:  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35369276/ns/us_news-weird_news/

What a crappy way to say I love you (a pun, because I’m funny like that).

As for me, well I prefer chocolate.

Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day!

And please, for all that’s good in the world, don’t give your honey a heart made of poop unless you have 150,000 Bahts to go with it. 

Are you a smart hand washer? Are you really?

It was just the other day, that I was washing my hands in a public restroom, thinking I was doing it just fine, when I noticed a sign on the wall: How to wash your hands and look smart while doing it.

I quickly scanned the bathroom, because the last thing I want to have happen was to look stupid while washing my hands.  No one wants that. That would be embarrassing.

Thankfully, I was alone. Phew. Good thing.

Smart is something I strive for (shut-up, yes it is), so I checked out the sign for further instruction. I didn’t want to be caught unawares again.

First: Wet your hands with running water.

Check.

Second: Apply liquid, bar or powder soap.

Double Check.

Third: Lather well.

Okay. Now that’s just overkill with unnecessary details.

Next: Rub your hands vigorously for at least 20 seconds. Remember to scrub all surfaces, including the backs of your hands, wrists, between your fingers and under your fingernails.

This is good stuff. Now I know that 19.9 seconds just isn’t enough hand washing time. (I wash my hands for 26.4 ½ seconds. I timed it. I’m just kidding. Who does that? That would be weird).

Now: Rinse

Are there idiots out there who squirt soap on their hands and then just leave it like that? Do they like the slick feel? The smell? Hmm . . . maybe this why there is a sign—it’s for the soap stealing, non-rinsing hand people.

Lastly: Dry your hands with a clean or disposable towel or air dryer.

Is that what those are for? I thought they were hairdryers for really short people.

And one final tip: If possible, use a towel to turn off the faucet and to open the door.

I’ve been doing that to avoid germs, but now I’m thinking they suggest this because of those soap stealing, non-rinsing hand people (they make handles slippery).

I’m smart! I’m smart!

Really? Do we need a step-by-step guide on how to wash our hands? Really?  A simple “Wash your hands” sign I think would have been sufficient.  I could see a step-by- step sign in a family oriented, child based establishment  like Chuck-E-Cheese where little kids need this reminder (kids are horrible hand washers, their nasty). But in an adult environment where children rarely, if ever, need use of the restroom facilities seems weird. Real weird. That was exactly where I found this sign.

I don’t know. These are the kind of things I notice, the kind of things that stick in my brain and cause me to pause.  Obviously, it doesn’t take much.

But now to tie this into something of use, because there is a point to this random story, and here it is:

Okay, you caught me there was no point.

But it’s my blog and I can write whatever I want to—blah. Here's a hand washing song just for you. In case you didn't get enough. Or if you happen to be a soap-stealer and need to learn to rinse.

My first shout out goes to the Grammar Diva’s www.grammardivas.com. The URWA hosted a grammar workshop this past Saturday in lovely SLC. Just so you know, I hate grammar. I do. I suck at it. (And why, yes. I do have a BA in English, but that doesn’t make me no grammar expert. I still hate it. I barely passed. But I have the degree and there’s no take-backs).

Want to know about comma usage? Ask the Grammar Diva’s. Need to know what the heck a misplaced modifier is? Ask the Grammar Divas. Showing vs. telling? The Grammar Diva’s will “show” you how (see my nicely placed pun?). The class was free (paid for by the URWA) and I walked away with a packet (well over a hundred pages) with examples of grammar mistakes and ways in which to fix them for grammar dummies such as myself.

Grammar isn’t fun. It just isn’t. “Let’s learn grammar!” Yeah, no one’s going to that party. But I’ll tell ya, the Grammar Diva’s were not only smart and well versed in all things grammar related, but they were funny to boot. Check them out for any and all grammar related questions. If you need to know where to stick your comma, contact them and they'll give you the answer you're looking for. (They know EVERYTHING).

My second shout out is to Josh Weed  and his blog cleverly titled The Weed www.joshweed.com.  I mean, just read his subtitle and tell me you don’t think this is good stuff: “A Mormon father who isn’t afraid to talk about vibrators, drugs, sex and feces. (But who is afraid to swear. Usually.)”   

He is a writer, a father, a Mormon, has ADHA, and works in mental health counseling. That's good stuff right there.   

I read his current blog entry and I was literally laughing out loud. I know people type lol all the time and they’re really NOT loling at all. More like IAMARN (I am mildly amused right now). But really, in all seriousness, I was laughing so hard I was not only crying but I almost peed a little too.  Oh, and make sure you check out his “Body Deformities” tab at the top too. Don’t miss that for anything. You will be so happy that you did. 

Seriously, if you need a good laugh, check him out. You will not be disappointed.

Thirdly, and if not more importantly, zombies make everything better. I’m a GLEEK (Lover of all things GLEE). I know. I know. But I really like that stupid show for reasons unknown to even myself. But last night’s episode, shown after the Super Bowl (way to go guys in the green pants, what were their names again? Ha, I know they were they the Seattle Seahawks. I’m not stupid), was AWE-SOME! I mean, if you want to make something good (GLEE) and make it even better, just toss in some zombies. Dancing zombies that don’t bite, but who sing super well, are the best kind of zombies around (ever see Thriller, baby?).

So I say if you want to make something great even better, such as movies, songs, novels, recipes, toss in a zombie or two. That’s what I did. A Young Adult Western Romance isn’t much to brag about, but I threw in some zombies and WAH-LA—it’s better.  

Thank you Glee for making your show even better just for me.

My book club is funner than yours!

And no, the wigs had absolutely NOTHING to do with that month’s book selection.

So what kind of funky book club makes you wear ugly wigs? Well, it all started like this . . .

The month before at our last book club, one of our members mentioned how she had a horrible haircut just days before she was to go on vacation to Hawaii with her husband. The haircut was awful, so she said. Devastating and tear enducing.

Her solution was to purchase a wig.

She told us all about this wig, how easy it was to maintain, how natural it looked, and how much her husband liked it. Well, we had to see this wig for ourselves (who wouldn’t?). She told us she would wear it to the next meeting.

We have a couple of tricksters in our group (my kind of gals) who decided it would be funny if we all came sporting a wig of our own. Out came the platinum blond wigs, the mullets, and the afros. (I’m the one in front, far left, who looks like the “Church Lady” from SNL—just the look I was going for too).  

Just so you know, the lady standing right behind me in the dark jacket is wearing the professional wig. And BOY was it nice! You’d never know it was fake hair. It looked that good.

It got me thinking . . . I want one too. Not just one either, but a BUNCH of wigs. I’d have me my “Pretty Morning Mom” wig (which would cure my Ugly Mother problem—see earlier blogs); my “Cher” wig, because EVERYONE needs a super long Cher wig (I know you want one too); my “Sunday Best” wig for church and other spiritually related moments in life; my “Blonds have more fun” wig, for reasons you need not know; Oh, and of course my “Lucille Ball” and “Dolly Parton” wigs just because. Maybe I’d even buy me an “I’m-angry-with-you-so-you-better-watch-out” wig.

 “Ma’s got on her angry wig, ya’ll better run!”  (Not sure why I hear “hick-talk,” but it seems right for the moment).

So how was the book, you may be wondering? The book we all came together to discuss? Oh that . . . well, it was okay.

Just kidding, Erica. It was good. Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth (she was featured on Oprah, so it has to be good, right? Oprah wouldn't steer us wrong).  Most of the women enjoyed it and gained something wonderful from the book. A few others, not so much. But we had a wonderful discussion about how we as women see ourselves and the doubt and emotions that tend to lead up to overeating (or to any obsession, for that matter). Overall, we learned that unless we treat the TRUE reason why we struggle with food, we’ll never cure ourselves. Diets will fail (diets suck, I just had to put that in there).  But more importantly, we need to love and accept ourselves. As the book states: "It's never been true, not anywhere at any time, that the value of a soul, of a human spirit, is dependent on a number on a scale. We are unrepeatable beings of light and space and water who need these physical vehicles to get around. When we start defining ourselves by that which can be measured or weighed, something deep within us rebels . . . you already have everything you need to be content.”

THREE STARS


Five Stars:    Loved it. Read it in one day; Couldn't put it down
Four Stars:    Liked it; Read it in a week; Good read; Entertaining
Three Stars:   It's ok. About a Month to read; Average story
Two Stars:     Didn't like it. Took longer than a month, but I finished it.
One Star:        Hated it.Took several months to read. Bored to death.

(All my reviews are based upon my personal feelings, regardless of past or present hype for the book. I don't believe in book bashing either and will do my best to fair in my review).

I love MacGyver. I really, really do—well, my very own MacGyver that is.

This is the update to my replacing the showerhead fiasco that I blogged about earlier (scan down if you missed it).

Anyway, Scott is amazing. It makes me think of cheers from high school, “If Scott can’t fix it, no one can!” or “Give me an S. Give me a C. Give me a O and two T’s. What that spell? SCOTT! SCOTT! SCOTT!”

Well, my man—my MacGyver—fixed the bathroom/shower issue. He researched the problem on- line (all answers can be found on the internet) and also discussed the problem with a plumber friend of ours. The answer: he needed to buy a nipple extractor.  Sounds nasty and perverted, but this is an actual plumbing tool in which to remove broken threaded pipes (You do realize that a man probably named that tool, right?)

 You insert the “tool,” as we will call it from now on, and it will unscrew the part of the pipe that has broken. Well, Scott did it. Buy removing that tiny piece of pipe from the inside of the wall, all Scott had to do was replace the broken pipe, attach the new showerhead and wah-la—a fully-functioning shower without having to bust a hole in the wall and do a full remodel (which in some ways is sad, because a remodeled bathroom would have been sweet, though painful and tedious).

From Scott’s research on-line, it appears (he said) a lot of wives have broken the shower pipe while trying to attach a new showerhead. This isn’t a new problem, which makes me feel better J So technically, I would think it is the whole plumbing design that is at fault here, not me. That is my argument anyway, and I’m sticking to it.

There appears to be nothing that my guy can’t fix. And if ever there comes a time that there is, I will surly blog about it J (There’s some pressure for my husband right there).