humor

Day Forty: 13 Mouth Facts

| Aspergers Girls

 

Each and everyday, many people in the blogging realm are typing in the search terms 13 or mouth. Guess one place their glorious search takes these inquiring minds? Yep! You’re such a smart cookie! Right here: the happy little place of Everyday Aspergers.

Because of the lovely search term mouth, my Proverbial Foot in the Mouth post keeps ranking in the top five out of all my blog posts.

I can understand the obsession with the awesome number 13. Who doesn’t love number 13 facts? But why are numerous earthlings searching for the word mouth? Is it something to do with the Mayan calendar?

My middle-son offered studiously, when queried about the blogging-mouth-hunts, “It’s quite obvious, Mom. They are looking for a good dentist, and want to see what type of job the dentists are doing.”

Great thinking. But when I think of people searching for the word mouth, my mind doesn’t go in that exact dentist-handy-work direction.

One can only hypothesize.

Because I cannot control the search term mouth from boosting a post’s ranking—a post I consider mediocre in comparison to the other grand knowledge found  on this mighty blog—today I have spent many, many hours searching for 13 intriguing mouth images and  13 facts about mouths.

My favorite part was Googling: “Do Hippos Really Fart through their Mouths?”  I still don’t know. Although, I found some disturbing YouTube videos on the subject matter. Okay, without further nonsensical ado, I present a one of a kind list of 13 Mouth Facts.


13  Mouth Facts

People whose mouths have narrow roofs are more likely to snore.

It takes food seven seconds to go from the mouth to the stomach.

In Pennsylvania you may not catch a fish by any body part except the mouth.

A jellyfish passes waste material through its mouth.

An average dog’s mouth exerts 150 to 200 pounds of pressure per square inch.

A person cannot taste food unless it is mixed with saliva.

The crocodile bird flies into the open mouth of a crocodile and cleans its teeth for it.

The snail’s mouth is no larger than the head of a pin, but it can have over 25,000 teeth.

It takes more muscles to frown than smile.

Your tongue is the strongest muscle in your body.

Some moths never eat anything as adults because they don’t have mouths. They live on their caterpillar energy.

When a person pees a small deposit of urine enters the mouth through the saliva glands.

Just as we all have unique fingerprints, we all have unique tongue prints.


The Geek Posse Chimed in on more random facts “we” found while surfing the net.

Sir Brain: 80% of the brain is water.

LV: You cant’ tickle yourself!

Prophet: The sentence “The quick brown fox jumps over a lazy dog” uses every letter of the alphabet.

Crazy Frog: A group of frogs is called an army.

Little Me: Scientists say the higher your I.Q., the more you dream.

Phantom: A duck’s quack doesn’t echo. No one knows why.

Elephant: One pound of peanut butter typically contains up to 150 bug fragments and 5 rodent hairs.

OCFlea: A female flea consumes 15 times her own body weight in blood every day.

Crazy Frog cites the example of this anomaly as a side lesson: A frog when dropped should move towards the ground. If the frog remains in mid-air, the levitation would be considered an anomaly. Or considered super darn Matrix-Cool!


Sam Craft's Mouth. Or I guess, teeth!


Note: I have not confirmed all of these facts to be truthful. Please never rely on the validity of the Internet or the validity of Crazy Frog. 

 

Day Thirty-Nine: Squirrel, Calvin and Bob

| Aspergers Girls
Click to see where image was found

Is there something wrong with me, if I get excited about looking up images of flattened squirrels?

I almost ran over a squirrel this morning. Upon seeing the little sport dash out in front of my van, I slammed on my brakes to save the critter’s life. Afterwards, I looked in my rearview mirror to make sure there was no one behind me. Nervous and preoccupied, from a near miss, I failed to make a complete stop at the stop sign, which caused a not-so-happy neighbor to honk at me.

After the honking incident, I was a bit perturbed, all the way to my sons’ school. I had wanted to stick my head out the window and shout: “I always make complete stops. But I was saving a squirrel and got nervous!”

Give me a break.

I was upset for a full five minutes about the stranger misjudging me. Upset that is, until, on the return trip home, my youngest, the only passenger still in the van, declared from the backseat, in that casual, got your number style: “Mom. You didn’t make a complete stop, again.”

Guess I’m still guilty of those California stops. Can I just blame the error on cultural upbringing?

Saving Squirrel from the grips of death is the highlight of my day thus far. That, and finally deciding to wipe the glob of toothpaste off the bathroom wall; the same minty-green glob I’d been staring down for a good two weeks. I guess I’m the only one in the family endowed with cleaning toothpaste super powers.

I did have an eventful morning. For that I give thanks. Before I was fully awake, I was serenaded by my youngest, when he screamed at the top of his little lungs: “My eye therapy treatments are a waste of your **** money!” He wrapped up his point with a grand slamming of the door.

Have I told you how I obsessively read every Calvin and Hobbs comic book that existed, when I was a young adult, and wished desperately for a brainy, precocious, and adventurous child like Calvin? Don’t’ tell me that wishes don’t come true!

I am chuckling through life, while assuming I missed some news breaking story, because four people accidentally ended up on my blog by using the search term: cheerleader sticks leg down garbage disposal. I stopped myself from Googling for details. Yet, now wondering, if you might.

I could use a good laugh. The Dean of the Education Department has yet to call back about my tuition reimbursement. It will be two weeks tomorrow. I am doing better with the whole not showing up to class thingamajig while still on the university roster. Although, last night, while in the videogame store, I did ask my husband to check my pulse (twice), as I was having heart palpitations.

I adore my husband. He is always looking after me. However, I must share that he is concerned about this Everyday Asperger’s blog. What’s he concerned about? Well, supposedly, I’ve shared way too much about him. (Pausing a moment here, because I still find this so very funny. I’m not thinking, I need to explain why.)

In fact, in scanning through the some 60 pages I’ve scribed, one could infer that my husband Bob was a science major, is a father, was born sometime in February, is turning 50, snores, can count (pulse taking), and acts like Spock. Tons of information, right?

Of course, in knowing he is married to me, you can definitely infer Bob (if that is in truth his real name) has a very high tolerance level! That or he’s on some heavy medication. Happy Birthday sometime this month, Bob!

If I’m not posting anything tomorrow, you can assume I’m on restriction.

 


Day Thirty-Eight: Things That Make Me Go EWW!

| Aspergers Girls

Once a month my boys have late start—a time where they go to school an hour late because the teachers have a staff meeting. This bit of schedule variation sets me up for an anxiety-ridden morning. Everything—the alarm clock, breakfast time, traffic—is a little bit off. And the morning is always a little less predictable.

For instance, my youngest is currently undergoing an eye therapy program, and because we had extra time before school began, he played his favorite eye therapy game with one of his older brothers at 8:00 am. Eye therapy first thing in the morning, instead of the traditional afternoon time, brought about changes. Changes that included Robert, my youngest, standing on the basement-level floor at the bottom of our staircase, knocking wooden blocks off an ironing board by smacking an orange soft ball with a big stick. A ball held by a string hung over the stair banister at the top-level, a string that I balanced, while playing referee and keeping score.

Late start meant that there was time for my youngest, age ten, when finished knocking over the blocks and shouting gleefully, to make himself some scrambled eggs (without asking); so that when I returned from a cold shower, (because all three boys had enough extra time to all shower in a row, which left Mom no hot water), I found the kitchen, I had painstakingly cleaned, covered in eggs, shredded cheese, and what-have-you.

This while my Spastic-Colon (my dog; not my intestines) decided to do that move that all dogs do when there is a clump stuck to their rear. I watched, my hands covered in wet egg, as Spastic-C balanced on her butt, used her front legs like ski poles, hiked up the back legs, and slid across the kitchen linoleum, leaving a line of crap. My oldest, by then groaning and moaning from the disgustingness of the situation, was made (by me) to balance Spastic-C between his legs and hike up her tail, to ensure I had the best vantage point and stability for scissoring off the poop lump.

It’s about 9:00 am and I’m so ready to crawl back in bed. Only my husband’s big 5-O is arriving shortly, and I haven’t the faintest idea what to buy him. That, and LV is shouting: “Oh my gosh! You’re going to be married to a fifty-year-old! Gross.” (Yes…I know…it’s right around the corner for me, too.)

I thought about making a sweet list, using an acrostic of the alphabet, where I match one item/person/event that I’m thankful for to each letter. For instance, A is for apples, B is for boys, C is for custard. But then I thought (because let’s face it, thinking is what I do best) that I wasn’t in the mood to be some chipper, happy-go-lucky, nothing-gets-me-down, poop head! I’m not a Pollyanna; never will be; never could be. Though that used to be Spastic-C’s name when we adopted her, which in retrospect explains a whole lot.

By the way, my real name means from Mars.

Right now my eyes hurt, my shoulders hurt, and I’m freaking out knowing I’m only about 10% done with this blog. Since I’ve already written about 60 pages. Logically, I hypothesize I will be typing some 600 pages by the time this blog hits the magic 365 Days.  Don’t you even think about erasing me from your blog email list!

There is no doubt I have enough thoughts inside of me to share 600-pages of content.  That’s not the troubling factor. What I fret over is the absurdity that could potentially leak out in roughly 300 days.

There is only so much editing Crazy Frog can do (my lingo button); and there is a limited amount of brute strength I possess to keep LV and Sir Brain from running the show. Then there is Elephant, who likes to clomp over the pages, and Prophet in my Pocket’s extremely profound, lost-in-my-mind prose. Then I have Phantom, who hasn’t even showed herself fully. I can only imagine what she’s got hidden under her cape.

Oh Crap! (I hope that’s not offensive in countries outside of the USA; because where I live, crap is actually quite mild comparatively speaking. I’m stopping myself from using the thesaurus in combination with crap. But feel free.)

I typed Oh Crap because I forgot I had to still take my youngest to school. Don’t worry. He ran barefoot to the van and got his socks and shoes on during the ride, just in time, before he had to sprint to the classroom. Although, he couldn’t wear his new tie-shoes because there was no time for shoe tying. That’s why he said to me as he was bolting out the van’s side door, “Don’t worry Mom. I’ll call you if my shoes fall apart!”

I’m such a good mom.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I’m in an exhausted, wish-I-had-stayed-in-bed mood, I don’t like to read about how grateful people are and how life always has a bright side.

In all honesty, what cheers me up is hearing about other people’s crap and their struggles, and how they’re still doing okay despite it all, and that we’re all just free-styling in some giant pool of life, because know one really knows how to swim the right way.

Here’s a list that would make me happy, if you wrote it. I invite you to make one and post your list in comments. Just right (write) the first thing that pops into your mind. That’s what I did. But you probably figured that out.

Things That Make Me Go EWW! (or bother me)

A: Ants when they crawl out in masses out of cracks in the house

B: Beef on a plate

C: Curds on milk

D: Dentist chairs

E: Egg shells dripping with raw egg

F: Fat around my waist and on my upper arms

G: Goats’ stench at petting zoos

H: Hamburger cooking smell

I: Insides of the toilet bowl rim

J: Jellybeans that are throw up flavor

K: Kids picking their nose

L: Lights that are fluorescent

M: Money; it’s a love-hate relationship

N: Nuts in frozen carrot cake that scratch my throat

O: Octopus on a plate

P: Pigeon poop

Q: Questions that aren’t really questions but disguised insinuations or insults

R: Red coming out of a nose

S: Sunshine factor in the state of Washington

T: Teeth that are chipped

U: Underneath firewood where there are bugs and spiders

V: Vampire HBO series endings, because I want more

W: Wind

X: X-rays of any type, especially teeth x-rays

Y: Yellow in the toilet bowl

Z: Zoos, especially petting zoos

I thought that list would take a long time. It didn’t. So therapeutic! I think my next list will be people that make me go EWW! No. Just kidding.

Here’s a great alphabet list from another blogger that made me laugh! Prawn and Quartered Blog