Mahna mahna

Don't worry if you can't pronounce the title - that problem will be resolved in a few moments.

To begin: "The question is, what is a Mahna Mahna?" (Don't worry - you won't have a clue by the end of this posting either.)

Before reading any further, proceed to this link, and crank up the speakers (and watch ALL the way to the end):

http://www.devilducky.com/media/7452








Holy heavens - I'm addicted. HA! Good luck getting that one out of your head - I've been singing it for 4 weeks straight until I found the actual footage of the skit. It's like auditory heroin - I can't get enough of my fix of manhamanha!! My internal theme song now has no words, only 5 syllables smooshed together. (Now I have a glimpse of what the inside of our beloved "W's" head must be like...do dooo de do be...)

"Mahnamahna" kind of reminds me of how I sound at work in the morning...frustrated with the world and wishing I was back in bed. And if you try real hard, you can work the word "mahnamahna" into almost any conversation. (Note: the inflection of the "mahnamahna" will change depending on the situation and its relative intensity.)


Your coworker says good morning, and you reply: (in a grumpy, gravelly voice) "Mahnamahna." (followed by a grunt). "I don't want to be at work today."

Or maybe you respond with...(Angry voice) Go away or I'll kick your mahnamahna to next week!

Another example:
When walking down the street, using your best "outdoor" drunken voice (since obviously, no one can hear you): "My mahnamahna and your mahnamahna sitting by the fire...my mahnamahna said to your mahnamahna I'm going to set your flag on fire...(name that movie). (At this point in time, you would have tripped over a trash can and face-planted in someone's rose garden, thus hurting your mahnamahna, which now requires medical attention.)

For fun:
Try to impress your friends by saying mahnamahna 5 times really fast. Try typing it 5 times in a row - it'll F*** with your brain...so many m's and a's and n's and h's -which order do they all go in? There's so many lumpy letters they all run together! (Seriously, try it - you'll find yourself scratching your watch and winding your butt [name that movie!]...or maybe that was just me).

Ok friends, take delight in the "mahnamahna," which will steal your sanity and replace it with little pink dancing puppets.

And yes, I did dig out the lyrics for you and your eternal enjoyment:

Chorus:
Mahna Mahna
Do doo be-do-do
Mahna Mahna
Do do-do do
Mahna Mahna
Do doo be-do-do be-do-do be-do-do be-do-do-doodle do do do-doo do!

(Improv. piece by the Mahna Mahna)

Repeat Chorus

(Improv. by the Mahna Mahna)

Repeat Chorus

(Improv. by the Mahna Mahna)

Repeat Chorus

(Improv. by the Mahna Mahna)

Repeat Chorus twice

Phone rings...

Kermit: "Hello?... Just a second... It's for you..."

Mahna Mahna!

Wallace: "The question is, what is a Mahna Mahna?"
Statler: "The question is, who cares?

Love it. Love IT. LOVE IT!

(Though, my real question is - what the heck are those pink things?)

Wireless technology woes

Wireless technology certainly has revolutionized the way we do business and live our lives...It's awesome. Today, I feel like a quick story on cellular telephones is due. We certainly have come a long way from the days of Zack Morris on "Saved by the Bell" - the shoebox-sized gray phone with an antenna the size of a dry-erase marker, carried around in a suitcase, with sound quality about as good as getting channel 20 through rabbit ears on a TV. Now we have things that are the size of a matchbox and get ESPN on it while digitally recording your grandma's birthday party (also, mind you, the phone lit the candles and blew them out for her). Bells, whistles, downloadable ring tones, professional grade digital cameras, this stuff is crazy - I can't keep up with what all's out there, much less figure out how to use it before it becomes obsolete. I just figured out how to take pictures on my phone. Sometimes I forget how if I haven't done it in awhile. Now ask me if I can send them - yeah freaking right. I'm getting there...I'm sure once they put Photoshop on a phone I'll have figured out how to push send. Then you've got the phones that have something called Bluetooth technology - I don't know what it does, but only know that it freaks me out. There are headsets, earpieces, headpieces, earsets, push to talk speakerphones, walkie talkies and other crap that when others are using it, makes me think you're either crazy and talking to yourself, or trying to start a conversation with me. AAAAAAAAAAAAND here's where I get into trouble...

You ever walk down the street and some random person is just starting a conversation with an earpiece in, but you don't know it? As she said "Hi" on the phone, I said Hi back, and the person looked at me funny, and continued her conversation on the phone. I wanted to pull my coat over my head and hide from the embarrassment. Then the anger set in - excuse me, miss, but you're the one who looked to be starting the conversation with ME and didn't give me the signal that you were on the phone. How the heck am I supposed to know that? The point of the earpiece is for me to not see it and for you to be hands free...And you expect me to read your mind that you are on the phone. Horse crap. Don't look at me - avert your eyes or something. Wear a sign on your coat. Point to your earpiece so I know you're either hearing impaired (and can make a bigger jackass out of myself by shouting back louder) or are on the phone. It is funny how we also talk a bit louder on the cell phone, especially when there are people around...So it annoys everyone else and is another indicator that you may be trying to talk to start a conversation with someone nearby. Alas, you are again on the phone, and I know what you're having for dinner, how your husband's prostate is doing, and how Janie tried to ask out the UPS man last week (he's the hot one - what can brown do for you...oooohlala). Obviously, having acquired this information, I can now finish the day, fulfilled and happy. Yippee for me.

So I was in a public bathroom the other day, and from the stall next door I hear "How are you doing?" Imagine my surprise...Well geez, I'm taking a leak, how do you think I am? Relieved, that's what. Do you answer a random person who asks you a question in the bathroom? Talking with random people in a bathroom is a no-no already, in or out of the stall, and for heaven's sake - why would you ask how they're doing on the can? I froze up - stricken with a fear I had not ever experienced before. The whirlwind of thoughts - how do you answer your overly curious (or psychotic) neighbor? "Who is this person next to me - is this the way to meet new people?" and "Why do they care if I sprinkle when I tinkle as long as I'm neat and wipe the seat?" and "Are they looking under the stall divider?" After quickly glancing down to ensure I was indeed alone in my stall, these are the things I quickly pondered in the squat position (obviously, you never sit on the seat of a public potty - you never know who's dirty rear end has been on that thing; also it's a wonderful workout for your quadriceps). So when her conversation continued, you can imagine how much better I had felt (for several reasons) - the moment of sheer terror and panic had passed. Now I am assuming that she was on the phone - there is always the possibility that the conversation was continuing with herself - that would have been rather interesting. But, let's say for argument's sake that she was on the phone. That poor, unlucky person on the other end of the line - all that person hears is tinkle tinkle or plop plop - either your throwing rocks in the rain, or are talking from a restroom. That's not really the background music I want to chat to. Anyway, it was an awkward moment when we met at the sink a few moments later - I pulled the ol' "Hey, I'm going to avoid looking at you and pretend that you didn't just scare the heebeejeebies out of me" move. **(Boys - I'm sure it's all different in the men's room - someone will have to fill me in).

There really is no moral of this story. Technology rocks - it's great and it keeps getting better. But it has an evil flip side in that there is no real defined etiquette for how to handle it. We all sort of know what annoys us about blackberries and cell phones and PDAs, etc. but we never, as a bunch of people (a.k.a. "society"), say "this is how we should act so as to not freak people out" (i.e. what's ok to do and what's not). Friends, this is an undertaking that I'm ready to embark upon. So keep your eyes open and your earpieces to the ground as I establish the "PublisheR's Guide to Etiquette in the Wireless Universe". Until we get to that point, let's make sure that this technological problem NEVER rears its ugly head in a public bathroom - it can terrify others and may even cause them to develop "stage fright". Not that I know this from personal experience. But, I mean, I've heard it could happen to anyone. Seriously. Happy squatting to the ladies, happy standing to the gents!

Sorry, man on the metro

The crowded morning commute on the metro is always an adventure, and usually involves plenty of uncomfortable, and mostly accidental, touching. The design of these trains isn't really conducive to maintaining personal space, if you know what I mean. Most people have an aversion to the mid-point of the center aisle, and refuse to be trapped, I mean, stand, in the points farthest from the doors. Hence, you get the door crowding problems, where you have to weave through approximately 25 people to get out of the train. And, if you happen to have the misfortune of sitting near the doors (YES, MISfortune), you're face is about the height to fit snugly into someone's derriere. You are in that awkward position whereby the neutral position of your head (i.e. looking straight ahead/on the same axis), the only thing you can look at is people's crotches & cracks. yucky. Hence, if in that position, I either put my chin to my chest to stare at the floor, or violently flip my head back to stare at the ceiling. You may want to try that little hint. Turning to the guy next to you doesn't really help - that just freaks them out and they try and increase the 1 cm gap between the two of you.

Back to the weird body contact. The thing is, most everyone tries to avoid this awkward touching - deliberate body movements and facial expressions are seen as people (including myself) can hope to exude their dislike of the situation. Exaggerated, twisted body movements to get out of the way of people say to me: "Can't you see the effort I put out to not rub my ass against yours as you tried to exit the train?!?" Well, it didn't work, but thanks for the impression of giving your all. I know that you were subjecting yourself to additional uncomfortable touching just for my sake. So thank you for throwing your knee into that woman's back. Of course there are those sickos who look down at you as you shimmy off the train - just wanting to see if you notice how firm their...Ok well, you get the picture. I actually saw a sketchy looking guy lick his lips at this pretty girl had to carve a pathway through the passengers (he being one of them in her path). Hear that sound? That's me retching. Ugh. Wait, one more time. Ok, now that's better. Oh geez, not again...Ok, that one was only to the top of the neck and back down - I think I'll be ok now. Exiting the train: No one would part the people sea, so, I kid you not, I had to crowd-surf. I jumped on the "door people" as I now refer to them, and they carried me to victory. I felt like Rudy at Notre Dame. Except I was dumped onto the "platform people," which is not one bit of fun. They don't give 2 craps, they just want to get to the uncomfortable, suffocating inside of the train, and become one of the door people. They know they're about to enter the "zone of pressed bodies", and they are running and pushing to be the first one it - I don't get it! Anyway, they dropped me. And tripped me. And left me for dead as the train pulled away. Just kidding, they left me for dead while the train was still there.

Anyway, back to weird contact. We are so willing to give up our personal space along as everyone else is. It's like you're "wearing" the people around you - they become extensions of your own body. You can reach from here to the other end of the train if you really try. Expect ghost limb pains - they're normal. If some guy 3 people away has his toe stomped on, you'll feel it. After all, he is only 6 inches away from you. Again, I digress. SO, this morning...I want to apologize to the man who I was pushed into on the platform. In the mass hysteria to make it to the little turnstyles, because, if you didn't know, you only have 20 seconds to make it up the stairs and through those things or they will bite you, or the fare doubles, or something else really terrible will happen, like not being the first one on the escalator. (now you know why it is extremely important to run to the metro exit...). Anyway, a gentleman in a mad dash for the stairs bumped me into this other man, and the corner of my lean cuisine box rammed right into his tooshie. Not the soft fatty area, but at the chasm...Sorry, mister - didn't mean to shove low fat, low carb chicken enchiladas up your ass. It was the guy stuck to my backside who made me do it.

Loud & Clear

Yes - I hear you when you say: "publisheR, update your dang blog!" I shall, have no fear. That silly thing called work keeps getting in my way. The NERVE!!!

By the way, friends, they changed the price of stamps to 39c. Don't get caught with your pants down on this one.

Na na na na na na na na BATWING!

I never knew this is what that phenomena was called. And that there was a product to cope with it. Gross. Thanks to the climber for the link (and the enlightenment, and the nasty mental image).

http://www.menessentials.com/oxid.php/sid/8917184598e18372d1 dec172b02e0288/cl/details/cnid/25c422e41ca71e266.80894792/ anid/ecc43a971af7060d4.62742385 (you need to cut & paste & take out the spaces - the link is screwing up in blogger.) OR go to
http://www.menessentials.com and search for “balla”

http://www.ballapowder.com/About.html

Also, note the brilliant marketing of this. A material that probably costs ~15-20 cents to make, 25 cents to package and 50 cents to ship, they sell for $15. Now that's a good profit margin. God bless capitalism, where chalkdust can reduce discomfort in high-pressure areas.

(Note: the main ingredient "absorbs unpleasant moisture" and is also found in: "a wide variety of consumer products ranging from home and garden pesticides to antacids. However, the products most widely used and that pose the most serious health risks are body powders. The main ingredient in baby powder, medicated powders, perfumed powders and designer perfumed body powders. Because it is resistant to moisture, it is also used by the pharmaceutical industry to manufacture medications and is a listed ingredient of some antacids. The principal ingredient home and garden pesticides and flea and tick powders. Talc is used in smaller quantities in deodorants, chalk, crayons, textiles, soap, insulating materials, paints, asphalt filler, paper, and in food processing." "Body powder" appears to be a loose term, as it apparently can treat batwing as well.)

Learn something new every day.

Someone's been eating my nuts again.

Dangit. So I have these little tastes of heaven called Jordan Almonds, that I keep in a big bag in my desk drawer. (For those not familiar, that's candy-coated nuts - a sugary delight...). These particular nuts are red, green, and white colored for a sweet holiday-themed treat, and the original bag was a full 3 lbs. Yes, that would fill up a large watermelon, and most likely could nourish a small country for a few days. Now, I took a few days off for the holiday, and obviously my nuts were left in the office. Now, to be fair, I eat a decent amount, and I offer them to co-workers, who also partake. When I departed for holiday festivities, there was definitely half a bag left. (I keep track of these things - both by sight and weight, especially when it comes to almonds & nuts in general).

I returned this morning and I knew something was amiss as I threw the desk drawer opening, jonesing for my daily nut fix. My eyes widened with terror, and my jaw dropped as I gasped: "My nuts! My precious nuts!" Friends, there was only a quarter of a bag left. I know it could not have been me - I have a particular way of folding the bag and clipping it closed, and it was TOTALLY screwed up. I feel violated. And I long for the sweet crunch of those lovelies in my mouth. So anyway, I'm wondering - who ate my nuts? Should I eat the ones that are there? What if someone poisoned them? Why couldn't they at least try to make it less obvious that they stole some? What else have people been eating in my drawers? Alas, here I sit, dejected and depressed, having lost another tiny shred of respect for mankind - the bunch of nut-hungry maggots we are.