The Junk Drawer

The Junk Drawer is branching out. Not only are readers submitting photos of Food That Looks Like Stuff, now we have Stuff That Looks Like Stuff!

One of my dear, faithful readers, Babs of Beetle’s Memories ‘n Ramblings sent me this fluff of wool that she removed from a pair of slipper socks. She says when she set it aside, this little cutie revealed itself.

Click to enlarge

Now, here’s the question: What exactly does it look like to you? I see a moose. Babs sees “an elephant’s back half and a head with huge ears.  It might be carrying something on its back.”

I’m sorry, folks. Not only do you need to look for food that resembles something. You’re going to have to examine everything you come in contact with during the day. You didn’t have anything better to do with your time, did you?

Babs, thank you for your submission! I’ll send you a Junk Drawer magnet if you’d like one.

And check out Babs’ other blogs if you’re looking for some new, fun places to visit:

The Cream Team: “A place for people interested in the arts & entertainment.”

Beetle’s Photos: Some stunning and beautiful nature and animal photos.

Simplycats: “My Beautiful Cats - Past and Present.”

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pinhead: (pin‘hed’) n.

1. dumbell: an ignorant or foolish person.

2. Slang. A stupid person; a dunce.

When I was little and looked at old black and white pictures, I thought it meant that there was no color.

Not that there was no color film. Rather, that there was no color in the world.

I’d ask if anyone had a more stupid idea in their heads, but I don’t think it’s possible.

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I’m paying reparations today for a picture I posted yesterday with a story about poo. I thought I’d try to erase that foul image in your heads with a pretty picture of a planter I assembled a few years ago.

When you care to plant the very best.

Oh, and this is what the same planter looks like this year after completely ignoring it and using it as a garbage can. Hey, I never said I had a green thumb. And you all know how lazy I am. Is it any surprise it looks like this?

When you just don’t care anymore.

And just when I thought I might be OK with my laziness, I find this post by my friend Jeff from View From the Cloud. He wanted to replace a swinging bench out in his backyard.

So he built one just by looking at a picture of one he liked. I hang my big, fat lazy head in shame.

Why, Jeff? Why must you torment me?

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Anyone who works in an office environment comes to expect certain things:

1. Staff will always be a little slow-moving on Monday mornings.

2. Meetings will always run later than expected.

3. No one ever wants to make the next pot of coffee.

4. The copy machine needs paper the second you’re about to use it.

5. Staff don’t clean the kitty litter box often enough, which is a shame because everyone knows cats will go anywhere they please when it’s not kept spotless.

Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.

My sister Marlene works at what I thought was a cat-free, poo-free insurance company. When she sent it to me, the first thing I wrote her was “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.”

She reported back, “We found it in our office this morning. No one knows how it got there.”

I replied, “Who disposed of it, and more importantly, can I blog about it?”

Marlene replied, “One of the guys picked it up and Gina sprayed Bath & Body Wash on the spot, but we have no Lysol….Yes, you can blog about it, in fact, the lunch bunch said you would have a field day with this….”

She and her colleagues have two theories:

1. A cat or other animal got in somehow - maybe Louie - he’s a cat that roams outside. Somebody in one of the buildings of our industrial park feeds him, but he’s allowed to roam.

2. The cleaning people brought their pet.

My money’s on Louie. All I’m gonna say is they should be real happy that Louie left his calling card in an obvious, open space. Otherwise, I’d hate to be the poor soul who sits down at his desk Monday morning, bleary-eyed from the weekend, only to find a fresh Tootsie Roll next to the keyboard.

What’s that saying? All the world’s your litter box?

Oh, and God bless the person who thought to take this picture. I love that it was the first thing someone did before cleaning it up. There’s a Junk Drawer magnet for you if you want it.

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Today we have the first ever Food That Looks Like Stuff submission from my sister, Ann of the Shampoo Bag.

I give you, The Muffin Man.

Do you know the muffin man?

These little blueberry guys are given out to post-surgical patients where Ann works. I’m guessing it’s so they get a quick energy boost after not having eaten prior to surgery.

This reminds me of the last time I tried and failed to donate blood. I have hard-to-find veins and, try as they might, the folks trying to get blood from me just couldn’t do it. I left the chair disappointed, and wanted to leave, but they require you to sit down in the refreshments area and have cookies and juice.

I shamefully ate my snacks, glancing around at those who actually bled for their food, thinking I had no business eating my allotment of Vienna fingers. It was the only time in my life I felt guilty shoveling fistfuls of cookies in my pie hole.

* Advanced apologies to anyone who clicks that photo caption and has the song in their heads the rest of the day.

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Dearest sister Ann,

I know we share the same dentist, but I didn’t know you had an appointment with him yesterday. I also didn’t know you told him we auditioned for The Amazing Race.

Yeah, well, I had an appointment for a cleaning with him today.

Here’s how our conversation went, if you can call it that:

Dr. M.: So, I hear you hung out with your sister this weekend.

Me: (mouth pried open, jaw aching, sucky thing hanging out of my mouth) Uh?

Dr. M.: You’re trying out for The Amazing Race!

Me: Aaggh, yah.

Dr. M.: I think it’s great you’re doing this! Most people just say they’re going to try something wild like that.

Me: Mm-hmm.

Dr. M.: So how’s that work?

Me: Wewwl, oo fiwl ow aa abblicashun and mayg a vieeodabe.

Dr. M.: No, I mean, how do you run the race?

Me: Oh, wewwl, oo run fum sheckpoin do sheckpoin doing crachzie dasks ‘n puzzlesh tying do bead all da uddu teamsh bag do da sheckpoin.

Dr. M.: That’s nuts!

Me: Wewwl, we yike do shink we can do ut.

Dr. M.: That sounds like a friend of mine who’s training for a triathalon. You have to be kind of crazy for that, but I really admire her.

Me: Aag, shash grade!

Dr. M.: Do you think you have a chance to get on?

Me: Bobbabby nod.

Dr. M.: Well, I still think it’s awesome you’re trying.

Me: Shanks.

Dr. M.: You have a cavity. Spit. Rinse.

Thanks a lot, Ann, for giving Dr. M. something to talk to me about while I’m at my most incoherent. It was so much fun for me.

Sincerely,

Your mumbling, drooling, cavity-head sister.

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I wrote on Monday that my sister Ann and I planned to audition for a spot on the reality show The Amazing Race.

With visions of stardom dancing in our heads, we drove to Lancaster, PA early Saturday to take our spot in line for the craziest thing we’ve done in our lives.

Finding the Place

Getting there was a breeze, thanks to Ann’s Garmin GPS, which gave us spot-on directions to the park where the audition was held. Problem was, there were no signs pointing us to the audition spot. We drove aimlessly for ten minutes, imagining if we were picked for the race, we’d be doing a lot of the same: driving around and around not finding anything.

Eventually, we spotted pairs of people walking toward a bandshell near the park’s entrance. We crash-landed the car, stuck our Amazing Race Pass in the window, and headed over to where a half dozen people had collected themselves.

You Slept Where?

Upon arrival, we chatted up other teams and marveled at how far some people traveled to get there. One team came from Rochester, NY and slept in their car in the park (!!!). Another sister team came in from their respective homes: one from California, the other from New York City. A brother/sister pair flew in from Florida and Georgia, respectively.

We thought our 1.5 hour trip was the shortest, until we met another team who rolled out of bed an hour before and drove five minutes to the park. The locals weren’t allowed to complain about anything.

Biding Our Time

The two-hour wait went fast because everybody in line was fun, friendly and excited to be there. What puzzled us was that only about 80 people showed up by start time. Ann and I expected 500 or more.

At one point, a dog belonging to one team ran up to me and started barking its blessed head off. I remembered what you guys advised me to do when this happens, and held out my arm and yelled “Stop!” Twice. Didn’t work. The dog kept barking until its owner came to retrieve it. Home, Lancaster, anywhere. Dogs apparently hate me.

An hour into the wait, a woman running the event instructed everyone who parked in the regular lot to move their cars to an area designated for a barbecue being held far away in another section of the park.

Everyone who had to move a car, including Ann, groaned as they grabbed their car keys. But as they returned from moving their cars, those of us still in line cheered them on back to imaginary checkpoint mats, just like we’d do on the race.

Ann came in third out of a dozen people. Way to go, Ann! Maybe we wouldn’t get eliminated after the first leg!

Assessing the Others

While waiting, you can’t help but size up the other teams to see where you stand against them. The brother/sister team, who I could see getting picked for the show, were in excellent shape, gregarious, and attractive. The camera would love them. Another sister team sounded like they’ve been everywhere and seen everything. One is a Rockette, and the other is a roadie for big musical acts. She flies to Norway next week to set up for a Rod Stewart concert. What am I doing next week? Maybe getting an eyebrow wax and haircut. My life runneth over with excitement.

Another team, each wearing matching pink tops and matching pants, were instantly assessed as the “Didn’t Read the Instructions Team” by all of us in line. More than one of us read a tip sheet on preparing for a reality show audition. Wearing matching outfits is tops on the “Don’t Do” list.

One team, dubbed “The Biker Chicks,” was a walking advertisement for Harley-Davidson. Others were seniors. Some were frat boys. And, of course, there was one plastic model-y team. But most were normal, everyday people just like us.

Let’s Go to the Video Tape!

When filming time arrived, we were ushered to a small tent where the camera and lights were set up. The “director” told everyone in line to be as animated as possible, tell why you want to be on the race and why you’d make a great team. You had two minutes to plead your case.

We had a plan, but when the camera’s on you, a whole lot of stuff flies right out of your head and you just hope for the best.

Since we were 4th place in line, we could watch only three other teams go before the camera. On one hand, we wanted to watch more people go ahead of us to see how they handled it. On the other, we were glad to get it behind us quickly.

We noticed the first teams were not very animated and stared straight at the camera. We thought “We can do this, and do it better than them!”

Suddenly, it was our turn. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!  We walked under the tent and were handed microphones and told “Hold these close enough to your mouth, but don’t swallow them, OK?” This made us laugh and loosened us up a bit.

I couldn’t remember everything we said if you held a gun to my head, but we basically told them how we were the “real people” the show was looking for, how we’re not twins, but we’re very twin-like. We practically read each other’s mind and “often (Me:) finish each (Ann:) other’s sentences.” And then we busted a gut laughing.

Ann said we’ve traveled together, gotten very lost, but always find our way to our destination. I said we were in this to entertain the home viewers, who could identify with us. I suppose we rambled on for another twenty seconds, laughing the whole time, and then handed back the microphones.

Even though we didn’t say everything we planned to, we were sure we were animated enough. We often talked to each other, instead of staring dead into the camera. That we engaged each other is perhaps one thing that set us apart from the few who came before us, and maybe a bunch after.

Stellar performance? Hardly. Fun to say we did it? You bet!

That’s Gotta Hurt

One sad note about the brother/sister team. We found out while waiting in line that they’d already made their audition tape at home. We weren’t sure why they showed up at all, since they could have just sent their applications and tape to CBS through the mail. We suspect they thought appearing at an open audition gave them an edge. It didn’t. Instead, I’m sure it gave them a massive headache.

I barely made out what the check-in people told them, but it was either they shouldn’t bother making a new tape, or they couldn’t make a tape if they planned to send in their other one. This meant that they each hopped a plane to the middle of Pennsylvania for no reason whatsoever. Ouch. We pitied them as they walked away, heads hanging low.

Someone Bring Champagne

So what happens now? We wait for the phone call to go to the next round in New York City. Don’t worry. We’re not delusional. Pretty sure it’s not going to happen. But if it does, watch out. It’ll be total pandemonium in The Junk Drawer!

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Last one over to Humor-Blogs gets eliminated!

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As many of you know, I’ve been trying to lose weight for months and months. Strike that. I’ve been thinking about losing weight for months and months.

The problem is I have very little will power and therefore, the scale laughs at me each and every morning. Oh, Kathy, Kathy, Kathy, we’re not going to do this again, are we?

Tomorrow might be different, because today I had a guardian angel keeping me from eating all afternoon and he didn’t even know it. I estimate he saved me about 1,000 needless calories.

Part of my job as a computing consultant is to install and update software on a PC that gets mirrored to 36 other computers in one of our labs in the building. The gentleman who saved me today asked me to install some software for him, which I did last week. Before I sent it out to all the other PCs, I needed him to come to my office and thoroughly test it.

He arrived at 2:00 and tested for three straight hours. In an office the size of a walk-in closet.

How did that help me? His presence just a few short feet away kept me from diving into the following things, which I was too self-conscious to eat in front of him:

One Peanut Butter Balance Bar: 200 calories

One snack bag of White Cheddar Cheez-its: About 250 calories

Ten Caramel Hershey Kisses: 230 calories

Half a dozen Goetze’s Caramel Cremes: 260 calories

My office is more a candy store than a place to conduct business. There is a candy dish that sits at the front desk next to a trim and fit woman who makes sure it is always full. God bless her. She allows herself one Hershey’s Kiss per day, if she’s been careful with her eating the rest of the day. I’d kill for her discipline.

The bowl is very small, however, so rather than emptying it out in one visit, I go straight to the source and take directly from the drawer where the big bags of it live. It’s the other junk drawer in my life. I do replenish what I take, but I don’t know why I bother putting new bags in there, because I’ll be taking it right out an hour later.

Somebody please help me! Would anyone consider being my food guardian angel? You’ll never see a better deal in your life because I’d pay you to do absolutely nothing.

You’d come to my office, pull up a chair and sit and stare at me so I don’t eat. I would occasionally talk to you, but we don’t have to speak if you don’t want. You can bring reading material if you like, or I’ll give you a laptop and you can watch a movie or surf the web. Popcorn and candy obviously prohibited.

It’s either this, or the junk drawer has to go. Do any of you have struggles with an abundance of goodies in your office? Have you ever suggested a moratorium on junk food and been successful?

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So my sister Ann got this insane idea that we should try out to be contestants on The Amazing Race, a reality show that pits teams of two against each other in a race around the world. Prize if you win? One million smackaroos.

Teams compete by performing weird and difficult tasks while making their way to pit stops along the worldwide route. Contestants have to fly, drive or take a train or bus on their own throughout the race. If you’re the last team to arrive at a pit stop, you get the ax.

You must be able to manage your time, follow clue directions, do crazy physical and mental stunts, and find places you’ve never been before.

We can do none of these things.

And that’s our “hook” for getting picked at an open audition being held this weekend in Lancaster, Pa. Our shtick will be “We suck! We’ll be eliminated at the first pit stop, but our pathetic attempt to get there will entertain your viewers. You want us. You need us!”

As proof of our horrendous planning and traveling skills, Ann and I spent a good amount of time trying to decide if we should drive two hours to the audition the night before and stay at a hotel, or just leave really early Saturday morning and pray we get a good spot in line.

Keep in mind, teams on the show are given what seems like nine seconds to make their travel plans. Our planning took us four days and we changed our minds three times during the process. Hotel the night before, drive that morning, hotel the night before, drive that morning.

Do you think it has anything to do with our travel preferences?

1. I wanted in-room Internet access so I could keep up with email and my blog.

2. She wanted an onsite restaurant so we could be sure to get food in the morning. A continental breakfast won’t cut it.

3. I didn’t want to drag all my toiletries with me overnight. Instead I just wanted to shower up Saturday morning, hop in the car and go.

4. She is not a morning person. She’d prefer beaming herself to the destination.

5. I have a hard time falling asleep in strange places.

6. She didn’t want to get lost getting from the hotel to the audition location.

For the uninitiated, these are basically the opposite of all the requirements for the race. Oh, and did I mention we’re both directionally-challenged? Even with her GPS, we’re not sure we’ll get there. We know we wouldn’t stand a chance actually running the race. Getting to the audition will be challenging enough.

I’ll be blogging about our mini-adventure upon our return. That is, unless they pick us for the race and tell me I’m forbidden to write about it.

You never know. If you’ve been to The Junk Drawer before, you know crazier things have happened to me.

It could happen. Right? Right?

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The daughter of one of my husband’s cousins is getting married in July. Her bridal shower is next weekend and I got my hands on her registry code for Bed, Bath & Beyond. An online review of the couple’s selections reveals two things:

1. The couple will never have occasion to use half the stuff they requested.

2. People who’ve already fulfilled the purchase of some items are stupid, insane or both.

Why? Because these are the things they bought the happy couple:

	B. Smith 3-Tier Swivel Buffet Server My prediction: Relegated first to closet, then to basement, then to yard sale. Suitable alternative: None. This item is ridiculous.
	Oxo 3-Piece Ice Bucket Set My prediction: Kitchen cabinet, then basement, then yard sale. Suitable alternative: “The ice is in the freezer. Help yourself.”
	Krups 4-Slice Waffle Maker My prediction: Exactly one novelty use, then yard sale. Suitable alternative: Perkins
	Pizza Baking Set My prediction: “Who put this in the registry? When’s the next yard sale?” Suitable alternative: Domino’s.
	Alderwood Bread Box My prediction: Firewood. Suitable alternative: Um? The bag the bread came in?

Honestly, I think the people who help couples choose items for their registry are evil. After the couple picks practical items like towels, dishes and silverware, they start suggesting things the couple won’t have room for and will never, ever use.

Dave and I have done well in 15 years of marriage with the inexpensive, sensible Corelle dinner plates and bowls we got as a gift. They cost someone 20% of the price of fancier dinnerware we received and we use them more often.

I brought the cheap silverware from my single days into our married household and when we needed more, guess where I got them? From my sister Marlene’s stash of wedding gifts she had in her attic that she never used. From 1972.

For the married folks here, what kinds of things did you get for your wedding that you never used? Did you sell them? Give them away? Are they still in your basement? It’s yard sale season, you know. Maybe it’s time to liquidate?

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For those following the Plastic Bag Adventure, I thought I’d update you with a picture today. I want you to know I’ll do anything for you guys.

I stood on the roof of my building to get a closer shot. Yes, there is a wall that kept me from falling to my death, but that didn’t make me feel any safer up there. I stopped taking pictures when my legs got weak.

Wal-mart Bag: Stuck 47 days and counting

I went a step further and filmed it flapping in the wind. It’s a breezy day here in Eastern Pennsylvania, but that doesn’t seem to be helping our little friend get out of its branchy clutches.

Some of you are out of the running for the contest. I’m sorry, but I warned you it would be a while. I’m still guessing November, 2009, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it took longer than that. Good luck to whoever’s still in the game!

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Notice: This post has been edited since its original publish date. I removed the link to the website in question because the person who took my material wrote me last night, made her site private and hopefully removed my stuff. I can’t prove it, since the site is no longer available to the viewing public, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt.

However, I’m leaving this post otherwise intact to remind everyone to periodically check for stolen material. Use Copyscape.com, which is free and will scour the web for places where your material has been republished.

Here is my edited post:

This is going to be one mean, angry post.

There is a woman, a fraud, who is posting my blog material to her Xanga website: [LINK REMOVED]

You’ll see on the first page my bathroom story from the other day. If you scroll to the bottom and click through “Next 5,” (bottom right) you’ll see more stories I’ve written (plastic bag story, First Holy Communion, and so on and so on).

She posted no less than ten of my blog posts, some in their entirety, some not, and some edited to make it look like those were her experiences. I also recognize some of my friends’ blog posts there. I’m disgusted and frustrated.

I’ve written her directly, posted to her guestbook, commented on each of the stolen articles and asked her to remove them immediately. I also submitted an email to Xanga to report the violation of their Terms of Use. Is there anything else you guys suggest I do?

What’s upsetting me the most is that she’s getting tons of comments on those posts from people who think she wrote them. As a writer, this is a most bizarre feeling. To have over 30 people comment to her about what a great story she wrote is extraordinarily painful.

It makes me want to give up blogging if people are blatantly stealing my content and getting away with it. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. I managed to get a MySpace page to “go dark” because I outed another thief.

Please, please, please do not tell me I should be flattered. I am not. I am fuming. Tell me something to make me feel better, and if you have any other advice for me, I’m listening.

—-

Fellow humor bloggers, you might want to see if she stole your stuff, too.

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I received a great little item for the Food That Looks Like Stuff collection this weekend. This devilish tomato comes to us from Carla at blah blah blah Blogolicious. She says:

Here’s a picture of a tomato that grew in our garden a few years ago.  We of course adorned it with necessary facial expression.

I don’t know what it is about tomatoes that makes a person want to draw on them, but I did it myself to Weeble Tomato Guy, who was second to appear in the collection.

Anyone who sends me a food that makes the cut receives a Junk Drawer magnet! So please look carefully at your food before you scarf it down. There might be a prize in it for you!

Lycopersicon esculentum diabolus

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I haven’t had many brushes with fame. In fact, only two. Once when Mary Hart of Entertainment Tonight was on our campus at work interviewing Lee Iacocca, she drifted into my building looking for the ladies room.

I was coming down the stairs and was shocked by the woman standing before me. Wearing an exquisite deep blue business suit, perfectly made-up and not a hair out of place, she looked like Miss America.

She asked where the restrooms were and I pointed down the hall. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t get a picture. Just helped her empty her bladder.

The more important brush with fame is that I married a movie star, my husband Dave. Ok, ok. Not a star, per se. But he did appear for about 10 seconds in the 1978 TV miniseries, The Dain Curse. That’s him in his movie costume. He appeared as an extra, an officer handling crowd control in a scene outside a courthouse.

Fast-forward 30 years, he still remembers his encounters with the leads in the movie. Not anything remarkable, mostly glimpses of them walking around the set. But he did say hello to James Coburn, who was pacing around reciting lines to himself.

What that means for me is that whenever we see a movie where one of those actors appeared, I get “I worked with him,” or “I worked with her.” We have a little chuckle over his “acting days” and I think to myself Well, you worked with an actor, but I married one!

So does anyone have more interesting brushes with fame to share? Please tell me you did more than show someone the way to the bathroom.

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Everybody’s famous at Humor-Blogs.com.

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Back in March I introduced a Junk Drawer logo created with a tool called Spell with Flickr. Just type in your letters and it generates a logo based on images it grabs from Flickr OneLetter.

It’s a very cool tool, but something about it bothered me. The letters it grabs from Flickr are likely copyrighted photos and I didn’t want to violate copyright.

Chances are none of the photographers would notice I’ve used their letters in my logo, but that didn’t make it any less illegal. Since I also plan to use the logo on merchandise, the copyright issue became even more important.

So what’d I do? I grabbed my camera, took my own pictures and now the logo is all mine! I would have been done weeks ago, but I was on a hunt for the elusive Perfect K, which I managed to get last weekend. Thank you, Karl Ehmer Quality Meats!

I want to thank my uber-talented colleague, Jason Slipp, for creating this new logo out of the million letters I sent him. The poor guy.

Conversations during the design phase went like this:

Jason: So how do you like the latest version I sent you?

Me: I found a new E last night. It’s a great E. I don’t like the E in Drawer, can you put the new one in The, and the old one in Drawer? And I don’t like the K. I need a new K. This one’s too thin. And I’m worried about having two brick backgrounds with the U and the D.

Oh, and look at how many uppercase letters I have! There should be more lowercase and I’m not sure if I love the first R in Drawer, but it’s kinda cool with the circle around it. Oh wait, I do like the first E. Can you put it back the way it was?

Jason: You’re killing me, woman.

For the record, he was paid for his services, but probably not enough for the torture I put him through.

It was a chore getting this thing finished, but pretty fun, too. For weeks on end, I’d be driving along and a great letter would pop out at me. Pull over, take the shot, send it to Jason, tweak the logo.

It’ll adorn the comments section and stuff I’ve created on Zazzle for purchase or to hand out as blog contest prizes. Eventually, it’ll appear at the top of the blog once I get my theme perfected.

Another big Thank You goes to JD of the I Do Things So You Don’t Have To blog, who slogged all over her town looking for letters for me. She sent me half a dozen signs and one of them made the cut. JD, your wonderful right-corner R takes its place in blog history!

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In other Junk Drawer news, if you’re following the progress of the plastic bag in the tree, it’s still there, and it’s still driving me nuts. Check out the Plastic Bag Tracker box above my picture in the sidebar, updated daily.

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