Self described as science abuse, if you’ve ever watched Brainiac you’ll know that it’s mostly just an excuse to blow up more stuff than Mythbusters.  It never fails to teach me something though:

1. Don’t microwave your cell phone, your microwave (and cell phone) will explode.
2. Microwaving a crab (a dead one, in their experiment) has a similar effect.
3. Dropping a milk truck makes more noise that dropping a skip full of plates.
4. Custard is Britain’s squirtiest food.
5. Celebrities will allow themselves to be electric-shocked for  … uhm …. science?
6. Chlorine Gas and sodium glow, they don’t blow.
7. Blowing up an aquarium isn’t as impressive as I thought it would be.
8. Putting your thumb in your mouth and blowing on it without letting any air escape slows your heart rate. (Yeah, very weird, need to get me a heart rate monitor to check that out)
9. You can run through wooden fence panels.
10. Cats will walk on tin foil.
11. Belly button fluff can be fibers that migrate up from your pants, a possible reason why it’s often blue.
12. Saving cheese may actually be the best way to fake a smile for a photo.
13. These guys have a seemingly endless supply of caravans and old cars to blow up.

All vital discoveries, I’m sure you will agree 

Beavis as The Great Cornholio

Hunny as The Great Cornholio

The resemblance is startling

It may not be true for everyone that the best things in life are free, but I can think of a sensations that never fail to make me happy to my core, and I thought I’d share them with you.
In no particular order:

1. 10 extra minutes under a warm duvet on a cold rainy day
2. A long hug from my Hunny on a stressful day
3. Smooth legs between fresh sheets
4. Warm puppies and milky puppy breath
5. Being able to calm my horse when he’s really freaked out
6. The open road, in a car or on a bike, stretching out in front of me
 Much cheaper than retail therapy, and they can’t make you feel fat

I like the idea that my blog makes no attempt to hide who I am. I didn’t set out with that in mind, but when my Hubby registered domains for us both he didn’t leave me an option really! Taking responsibility for everything I publish on this blog makes me feel quite noble. Because of the domain name thing any one of my family members (well, maybe not my Dad, he’s technology illiterate) or friends could find this blog, and if they read it I’m quite sure they wouldn’t find too much that would surprise them.

Some days though I do wish I had an anonymous blog that I could spill my unkind and traitorous thoughts onto. I do have them: ugly jealousy, bitter self-pity, raw anger and soul-squashing depression are parts of who I am also. Not my favorite parts, and I’m continually working on keeping them at a minimum, but parts of me that not everyone wants or needs to know about.

Obviously I could start another blog that gives no indication of me as it’s creator, but I don’t get around to updating this one often enough so having two would just be impractical. Which means that for now my evil thoughts will roll around in the privacy of my car and the seclusion of my head. I hope they don’t rot the upholstery ….

I have quite an active imagination as far as dreams are concerned. I have some very whacked dreams at times, I have died or been murdered twice in my dreams, I have narrowly escaped dying at least a dozen times. I have killed and flown and leapt over houses, fought of lions, disposed of corpses and been folded into and mailed in an envelope. All of these quite surreal and easily distinguishable as fictional (I promise – I don’t think real people melt like plastic when you attack them with a blow-torch)
This past week though I have had a number of snippets of dreams that are too plausible. I dreamt the antique shop down the road from my folks was demolished to make way for some apartments.  I dreamt my boss told me that my  shirt was too low cut. I dreamt Wimpy forgot to put the avocado on my cheese bacon & avo burger. Oh no wait, that wasn’t a dream, that actually happened … damn.
Some folk would think these kinds of mundane activities in my dreams are preferable to the weird and often macabre dreams I usually have, but this is messing with my head! I drove past the antique shop yesterday and wondered what it was still doing there, and I’m feeling a little offended by the comment I know my boss wouldn’t have made.  What it boils down to is I am having some trouble distinguishing between these realistic dreams and my everyday reality. I’m walking around waiting to find out what else didn’t actually happen.
Tonight I think I will take a sleeping pill to make the dreams go away altogether. Doing all this normal stuff in my dreams is proving tiring, I think last night I even did some ironing …

Dear driver of the white Mazda that jumped the queue at the Allandale Main Road intersection this afternoon by turning right from the straight only lane:
What is it about you that makes you so much better than the rest of us? Please fill me in on your secret. Once the true reason is out in the open I’ll print you (and all your like-minded driving buddies) a bumper sticker that explains your reason to the person you just pushed in front of. After all, if we know what your reasons are, and I’m sure they are a valid reasons – it can’t just be that you are an arehole, the rest of us law abiding road users would be more than happy to oblige you by allowing you to push in front of us with less fuss and hooting.
Or is it that that you think we must be idiots for obeying the rules. You are obviously significantly more intelligent than us to spot a way to not have to sit in traffic when the rest of us idiots do?
Either way, please let me know? At least it would put me out of my misery, and perhaps make me less inclined to plant my bull-bar in your boot the next time I meet you on the corner of Main and Allandale.

Lucy hates disappointments. Well obviously no-one likes disappointments, but Lucy seems to hate them more than most. When she was 18 Lucy decided not to hope for anything anymore. Hope too often leads to disappointments you see. If you start hoping that something will come true, you can start imagining that it will. And once Lucy has imagined something coming true it really knocks the wind out of her sails if it falls through.

Lucy admits she is probably a control freak. At work she struggles to delegate tasks, especially if the ultimate responsibility is hers. It’s not that she doesn’t think anyone else can do a better job that she can, she knows plenty of people who are more skilled in her line of work than she is, but most of them don’t share her sense of responsibility towards her projects. If Lucy turns in something that’s late or faulty she feels like she has let her clients down. Lucy hates to let people down.

Even in her personal life Lucy hates to rely on other people. Enough disappointments taught her that something that is important to her is not always a high priority on other peoples lists. And not everyone else hates to disappoint as much as Lucy does. Whenever possible Lucy will do everything she can herself. She will ask the help of a select few, but only people she knows are aware of how much she dislikes being disappointed. If Lucy asks you to bring a potato salad to the braai and you rock up with coleslaw Lucy will be sad. Her plan was for you to bring potato salad, she’s not angry with you, Lucy just likes things to go according to plan.

Lucy makes her plans carefully. When Lucy spoke to her manager in February about a change in career path, and Lucy’s manager told her that July was probably too soon, December was better, Lucy started making plans. Not cast in stone plans, but plans none the less. Lucy started to put a little hope in those plans, she had no reason to believe her manager would lie to her.

Today Lucy’s manager’s second-in-charge started talking about next year July. Lucy is sad. Sad and more than a little disappointed. To Lucy, her manager (through her second-in-charge) just lost credibility. She said December, now she’s saying July. How can Lucy believe that July will happen if December wont? Lucy needs a new plan, one that does not rely on her manager.

(Classic Savage Chickens: for more great cartoons about chickens on post-it notes go here.)