Friday, April 25, 2008

Penguin Wetsuit

I've been called a tree-hugger. I've been called a namby-pamby, puppy-loving, kitten-coddling wuss. Ask me if I give a hoot. Nature, and creatures great and small thrill me to my toes. So see if this doesn't tickle you.

Balding is not limited to humans. Apparently it's an affliction known to strike even birds, particularly a Jackass Penguin named Pierre (no I'm not calling him names, the species is called that due to the donkey-like sounds they produce). Pierre, aged 25 (!) suffered from the chilly condition of a bald behind. The wee bird refused to play in the water since his hair-less exposed his pink ass to the frigid water. Apparently, penguins (which are NOT almost chicken) do not have a coat of blubber and depend on feathers to protect them from the elements. Holy shit! Those must be some feathers covering the bodies of the penguins in the Antarctic.

Little Pierre would sit on the sidelines when his companions would frolic in the pool. What's an Aquatic Biologist to do? Apparently Pam Schaller of the California Academy of Sciences did do something. She had a wetsuit created for Pierre, figuring if the gear protected divers from frigid waters, they could do the same for Pierre.

Oceanic Worldwide created the wetsuit enthusiastically. Said Teo Tertel, company marketing specialist "We were really excited to do it. We heard most of these penguins only live to 20, and our little buddy there was already 25. Anything we could do to help them, we were all for it." Teo Tertel, whoever you are, I love you man.

Schaller's not too bad herself. "I would walk behind him and look at where there were any gaps, and cut and refit and cut and refit until it looked like it was extremely streamlined," she said.

Pierre was outfitted with the suit about six weeks ago. Since then, he has gained weight, grown back feathers on his hind parts and is again acting like his feisty, alpha-male self, reports Newsweek.

Now all we need to do is hook Pierre up with a hot penguin chick. Can't you just see the classified? Wanted: beta female with white and black plumage attracted to experienced males. Must love water, fish and dressing up in a wetsuit.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

When Ladies Lunch



It's a business day lunch. 4 ladies of well repute dine in a busy suited outpost. One good woman, the Bahama Mama will be departing the next day for her homeland. Festive wishes pass around the table.

While ordering lunch, I am reminded of a scene from Airplane! the movie. (Hey, I don't ask where these non sequitar thoughts emerge, I just live this life!) Where the two men of African descent (how's that for PC?) are speaking jive. Hence my all time favorite line from that movie, which is saying a lot since there are so many zingers.

Passenger 1 to Passenger 2: Lay 'em down and smack 'em jack 'em.

This memory causes one of the ladies, shall we call her Carmen? to fondly recall her favorite scene from a Cheech and Chong movie. You won't be surprised to hear it's Up in Smoke

This reminds me of a recent ad recently run by the kind folks at Comedy Central Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay.

Al the fun talk has gotten one of the ladies all riled up. She, let's call her Scorpia, regales us with a tale of weekend exploits at the Pink Pussycat. For those not in the know, it's a fine store in the NYC West Village that sells a vast (and largely pink) plethora of articles de pleasir. Sex toys. Scorpia weighs in on dilgoes, exercise balls (no these are not large and inflatable) and the much acclaimed Rabbit. From Scorpia's gushing retelling, the Rabbit appears to be the winner. Apparently there IS a rabbit you can pull outta a hat...

While we're lunching, and talking and giggling, a parade of waiters scurry around our table. For the record, we ordered very tame fare; sodas and water for libations, salads for entrees. A waiter's dream. Matter of fact, we were apparently quite the waiter's dream for men kept flocking to our table. Of course we were asking these fine gents for assistance.

Oh yohoo. Would you mind taking our picture?

Could we get a refill?

Would you mind bringing 4 spoons?

It's an interesting phenomenon. Regena Thomasauer contends that men want a job. They want to DO things for women. The ladies a-lunching can attest to this truth. Perhaps it was the glint in Carmen's eye. Or the blissed out look on Scorpia face. Or the rejuvenated smile Bahama Mama wore.

Whatever the case, ladies lunch was a hoot!

Friday, April 11, 2008

Farewell Moses


I don't have the heart to tell my parents Moses died. And by Moses of course I mean Charlton Heston. Easter wasn't exactly a festive affair in my childhood. As Protestants we weren't subjected to the self denying ritual of Lent. Matter of fact I doubt my family even knew of Lent, or else they would have gladly embraced the practice of publicly renouncing a worldly pleasure for the designated 40 days.

My family LIVED for self denial. New car? No no. We can do with that 2nd hand 1968 Chevy just fine. Mom actually denied herself food Friday nights in hopes of inducing a pious, penitant state for Sabbath the following day. I think all it induced was fatigue and hunger so rampant that she sat in a dazed hypnotic trance all through Church. When lunchtime arrived Mom would finally eat, and then collapse into the sofa while we did 'sabbath like things'. Such as listen to talk radio, play nature card games or take long naps.

All which explain my rampant hunger for all things wicked and pagan. Self denial, moi? Forsooth. Which is why I snack on teeny dense dark chocolate brownies for breakfast. Why I sip a glass of Kali Hart Chardonnay (or three) while I cook lunch, or dinner, or vacuum for that matter.