Things That Make Me Go Hmm

I think I think too much. I tend to ponder things a little longer and perhaps a little more in depth than the average person. I like to find reasons for the way things are in life. Answers to unasked questions. Information on subjects that few would venture into researching. Below are 10 questions that have been on my mind as of late. Don't ask why, they have just been floating randomly thru my head. Perhaps I've had too much free time in ponder life's little obscurities. Some may find the questions I am about to ask to be unimportant and unworthy of serious attention. You may group these things as inappropriate, silly and maybe even a little childish in nature...but that's the fun in it so lighten up stuffy britches. No matter how trivial these 10 questions may seem to you, for me these are things that make me go hmm.

Growing up with 2 sisters has taught me much about the female mind. For the most part, my first hand observations have left me with a pretty good understanding of how this beautiful and sometimes complex creature called women works. However, like any good scientist, I still have some lingering questions that remain to this day. Questions like...

1. Is it true that within the first 10 minutes of meeting a guy, a woman knows whether or not she would sleep with him? (Wait, let me rephrase. Not that she would sleep with him immediately, but she sees potential there down the line and she makes that decision within the first 10 minutes of meeting him? Talk about 1st impressions - wow!)

2. Are there unspoken pee rules women follow? Like how guys know to skip a urinal between them, do women feel the need to skip a stall between them? Or does it not matter if another girl pees beside you because you are separated by a wall and locked behind a door? Also, does "pee shy" exist in women, ever?

3. When women go in groups to the bathroom, what are you really doing in there? Seriously.

4. Why do women give other women that "bitchy look"? I see this happen all the time, even between total strangers. One woman will look another woman up and down and make a face. Hard to describe, but you know what I mean. Is that an insecurity thing? A competition thing? All I know is that it's a thing you never see 2 dudes doing.

5. Is it true that women dress nice to impress/get the attention of other WOMEN and not really to impress/get the attention of men?

6. Have you noticed that most girls will notice a hot girl even before a guy does? True!

7. Are bras uncomfortable?

8. Do you ever wish you had a penis, or are you happy you don't?

9. Why do the sweetest girls always seem to date jerks? And why can't they see how great they truly are and how much better they could do?

10. Lastly, most guys would ask this question but this I figured out years ago. So guys, I will share this info with you. You may wonder why a woman asks if those jeans make her butt look fat. Naturally, your reply should be no (even if it's a lie). You see, she doesn't want your fashion insight. She doesn't even want your honest opinion. What she wants is reassurance from you. She wants to feel sexy, confident and needs you to compliment her. Get it?

Bonus FYI for Men - When a woman says she's not mad at you, trust me, she is. If you have to ask her if she's mad, you have much to learn about the XX chromosome.

For a clearer understanding of the sexes, check out this past post.

• 08/07/05 I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Is Emotion Tied To Scent?

Can a scent that captures the nose, also capture the heart? Some say yes. In fact, it has been scientifically proven that pheromones play a significant part when it comes to falling in love. But what about flowers? Can receiving flowers evoke this same emotion? What about giving them? When it comes to love, all of the 5 senses are involved, including smell. So what if you were just to smell flowers, would that conjure up memories or cause feelings to "bloom"? I don't know if emotions could bloom just from receiving, giving or smelling flowers, but I do think that some familiar scents can definitely awaken the senses. To bring forth memories that were nearly forgotten. When the smell of fresh lilacs traveled in the air, found me and took me back in time.

I'm a sucker for a woman that smells good. When she passes by and her scent lingers, I can't help but turn my head. It's one of my weaknesses. At times I even find it difficult to concentrate at work if a female co-worker has perfume on that is to my liking. So when it comes to the question of whether or not emotion is tied to scent, I say without a doubt, yes. It is often said that the lilac scent creates a calming sensation in people, which explains it's usage in aromatherapy. However, I hear it is difficult to find candles with a lilac fragrance. The reason being is that a real lilac fragrance is difficult to duplicate. Perhaps this helps explain the popularity of fresh cut lilacs, the scent's rarity? Often replicated, never duplicated. The same could be said about love - often replicated, never duplicated.

But why does that fragrance make me so happy? I would answer that by saying it's tied to nostalgia for me, but according to one author, the lilac is a symbol of the first emotions of love. So given the fact that the first woman I ever gave flowers to would of been my Mom when I was a boy, would that of been my introduction to love? (Not in the sick twisted Freudian sense of course.) To find a lilac blossom with 5 instead of 4 forolla lobes means good luck. Some say the purple color denotes sadness and mourning. Like love, the lilac can hold both happy and sad connotations. Also like love, the lilac can be both simple and complex. It conjures up a variety of emotions and a mixture of different meanings. Both the lilac scent and the feeling of love are difficult to capture. Although one thing I'm almost certain of, both conjure up emotions that are tied directly to the heart.

Lilacs Will Lead You Home

Memorial Day weekend is upon us and with it comes long summer nights. A night like tonight, where the air is warm long after the sun has set. Warm enough to leave my bedroom window open, inviting the wind to exhale past my windowpane. In the air travels the scent of a fresh cut grass, blowing from the outside in. In the air travels the scent of fresh cut lilacs, blowing from the inside out. It was literally days ago that I spotted the lilacs growing in the wild. They fill the path I run on everyday. Now they are filling a clear glass vase on top my dresser. I've always felt that flowers picked by my own two hands, rather than a florist's, were always much more meaningful. There is something so beautiful about a flower that plants itself by nature, rather than a tiny gardening trowel. A wild flower is like an unplanned pregnancy. An unscripted life.

Amongst green maple trees and several berry bushes, the vivid purple caught my eye. It wasn't the running that took my breath away, it was that familiar scent. A scent I grew up on. A scent that took me home, literally. Every year just as school was finishing up, I picked the lilacs that grew between the Fitzpatrick's and our house. I did it quickly as to not draw attention to myself. I didn't want my friends to see. I didn't want them to think I was being a sissy for picking flowers for my Mom. For surprising her, just to see her smile.

I would grab them by the fistful. Shove them into my backpack and fling it over my right shoulder like I was just re-adjusting my books. They knew no different, until they caught a whiff of the sweet scent and questioned. I denied it and quickly changed the subject. After that mistake, I learned to walk two steps behind the guys. Allowing the wind to act as my shield. A nose barrier that would cause the sweet scent to trail behind me, casting away from them.

My Mom would fill the house with vases of overflowing lilacs. I remember lying on her bed one Saturday morning and feeling a deep sense of comfort. Back then I would of associated it with the fact that it was a safe place for me to be. Today, I think it had a little something to do with the lilac smell. It did something to me. It calmed me. It made feel like there was no other place I wanted to be. But right there. At home. With the people I loved. My family. I can still close my eyes and see my Mom's eyes light up in delight. She watched as tiny purple pedals would begin to fall from a beaten brown canvas backpack. She knew what awaited her.

California awaited my sister. It was time for her to leave. A week long visit is all she had with us. Prior to her leaving for the airport, I wanted to give her a little departing gift - the lilacs I picked an hour before. Just like when I was a kid, I went overboard and picked too many. So many that I had to put half in that clear glass vase on my dresser. "They won't let me take those on the plane" she said with a heavy heart. "That's probably true", I told her. "However, nobody needs to know if you put some in your backpack." I couldn't promise her the lilacs would survive the long flight, but I am pretty sure anytime she is homesick, the smell will lead her back home...just like it did me.

From Life Comes Art

It's what happens when technology is applied to a canvas. DNA portraits are created through an extraordinary combination of science and art. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece. DNA 11 creates unique, high-end digital art from your DNA. Using a non-intrusive collection method, the company utilizes the latest technology to capture genetic fingerprints and transform them into an artistic representation of a person's life code. The abstract art is a custom piece, as original as you are. It's created on the highest quality canvas and is available in multiple color schemes and sizes. As you know, no two DNA strands are the alike. Therefore, no two art pieces will be the same. You can't get more unique than that!

The process begins with the DNA being collected, depositing your saliva into a tube. This sample is then sent to a highly secure, certified laboratory, where the DNA is extracted. A unique genetic fingerprint is created using a technique that takes advantage of the variation that occurs among the DNA sequence of every individual. The end result is a group of different sized pieces of DNA (unique per individual), which are "run" on a gel, such that each strand of different sized DNA is separate. The DNA is then stained with a fluorescent dye and illuminated by UV light, which then glows, giving off a fluorescent signal. A special camera captures the image which is then digitally enhanced, cropped and color adjusted by adding colors and filter effects.

Each piece is carefully processed to ensure the highest level of quality and then printed as a Giclee fine art piece. The art is made using high quality acid free polyester-cotton canvas, using pigmented inks designed to resist fading. It is then sealed with a non-yellowing protective varnish to further prolong the print life. Each piece is then visually inspected and signed in the back by the artists at DNA 11 to ensure authenticity. The result is a high-end piece of art that can never be replicated (and at $400 to $1,300 a portrait, it's not a bad way to make a buck either). When asked "who is the artist?" The answer is simple - you are. It's your "life code" and yours alone. DNA determines who we are and how we look. So even if you aren't beautiful, at least your DNA will be.

I first saw DNA 11 on a show called "I Want That" which airs on the HGTV channel. Needless to say, I want that! I'm going to get one done and hang it in my home office. Just a small suggestion for anyone out there reading this who plans to commit murder or some other heinous crime, you might want to hide your painting when the cops swing by your place. It probably isn't the smartest thing to have your DNA mapped out across the wall screaming "CONVICT ME"!

Look, Pick, Click...Again & Again & Again

This may very well bring you hours of entertainment, seriously. You could probably waste an entire workday on this site. It's mosaic madness! It's addictive. The looking. The picking. The clicking. It never ends. Never! Good thing carpel tunnel exists because if it wasn't for that hand crippling syndrome, the entire human population may spend the remainder of their lives trying to see what else could possibly lie beneath this weird man's nose pore. Good stuff. Check it out. (You'll need the Shockwave plugin to view/interact.)

Enter The World's Largest Mosaic

I Cracked The Da Vinci Code

Hey, did you know there is this little film out. It's called "The Da Vinci Code". I bet this is the first time you are hearing about this, huh? The film was made from a book. Well, not really FROM the book. They didn't turn paper into video. However, they may of turned water into wine? No, wait. I think that is what the book/film is about - the debate of turning water into wine. Or maybe it's about Mona Lisa's smile or lack there of? Perhaps it's about a hacker that cracks the password to Da Vinci's e-mail? Ok, it's obvious now that I don't know what I'm talking about. All I know is that the film is causing a huge stir and I want to see what all the hype is about. Besides, the main reason I go to the movies is for the popcorn and the hot make-out sessions in the back of the theater. Alright, so I'm not 14 anymore and I don't make-out with girls in the back of a dark theater. However, I still order popcorn. Yes, movie theater popcorn is my weakness. Something about that fake buttery grease that comforts me. Actually, I wouldn't call it "comforting" after it digests. I would call that regret. I would call that stomach rage. A state of hell my body goes into when an excess amount of junk food is indulged upon a body that is use to eating healthy. Anyway, enough about popcorn and Pepto. Back to The Da Vinci Code...

I'm going to confess. I'm probably the only sole alive that has never read The Da Vinci Code book. Is that bad? Should I be ashamed? Believe it or not, it was going to be one of my New Year's resolutions, to sit and read that book. However, another resolution was ahead of "read The Da Vinci Code" on my list. The resolution was "don't procrastinate". As you see, I didn't make it to the book reading. I seem to of gotten hung-up on committing to the resolution just before it. Actually, that's a lie. I didn't even really compose a New Year's resolution list. Is that bad? Should I be ashamed of that too? The way I see it, if one of your resolutions is to not procrastinate and you fail to even write down the words "don't procrastinate", well then you are fucked anyways so why bother with the rest of the resolution list? Ahh, genius! See, I knew I would find an easy way out of this mess.

In all seriousness, I am not a slacker. In fact, sometimes I think I need to slack more often. So tonight I am going to do just that. I'm going to slack. I'm going to zone out with a big tub of popcorn on my lap for a solid 2 1/2 hours. (Can I even sit still for that long? That's a job in itself.) When the show is over, I won't blog about it. Why? Well if I blogged about it, that wouldn't be slack-like of me and that is the goal for tonight. Besides, I don't want to spoil the ending for those of you that haven't seen it yet. On second thought, what am I saying? Everyone and their Mother knows how it ends, EXCEPT me. I don't even know the beginning or the middle. I'm the only illiterate fool that never read the book. Hmm. Maybe one day I'll pick it up just so I can "fit in and look all smart and shit" when people stand around discussing The Da Vinci Code. Actually, scratch that. I would pick up the Cliff Notes if I wanted to go that route, or even better, see the movie...and so I will do just that. Now nobody needs to know I didn't read the book. Well "nobody" doesn't include you reading this in Blogger Land. Just a FYI, if you spill this secret to the "outside world", I will hunt you down and kill you. Not a threat. A promise. (insert big hug)

Ok, I'm off to read a book now. The new Victoria's Secret catalog just came in the mail!

A Golden Girl Coped A Feel On Me!

I'm just going to come out and say it. There is no way to sugar coat this. There are no nice, polite, proper terms to state this ugly fact. I have to be blunt. I was molested in public by a Granny. There I said it. I've owned it. That's step one in the healing process. Let the recovery phase begin. Imagine a senior citizen who smells of a mixture of vitamins and BenGay. Arthritic bone fingers. Wrinkly thin, age spotted skin. Bottle thick glasses. Orthopedic hose and shoes. PoliGrip dentures. And even blue hair! Needless to say, she is not my ideal dream girl. The only thing this Grandma was missing was Mr. Peanut's patent cane in hand. However, this was no crippled old lady. Nor was there a hint of her being senile. In fact, this old lady knew exactly what she was doing. She had game! She was slick. She was sly. She was a pervert! This old woman grabbed my ass in the candy section of a local grocery store!

Picture it, Sicily 1935. (Get it? Golden Girls sitcom? Nevermind. Ignore the fact that I watched bad TV when I was home sick from school as a kid.) Ok, it was a Saturday 2006 and I am food shopping for a short weekend camping trip. I am making smoores (believe it or not, even a cooking-challenged bachelor like myself can make those tasty treats). I hit the candy section of the grocery store, looking for the most important ingredient - the chocolate Hershey bars. I see this little old woman pushing her cart slowly down the candy isle. She stops in-between the Almond Joys and Snickers. Just to her right are the Hershey bars. I step around her, politely smile and say excuse me. She pulls her cart to the side as I begin to pass her. I notice her struggling with the one wiggly wheel, as most grocery carts have. "You're good. No need to move. I just need to grab these" I say as I motion to the 8 pack of Hershey bars. I didn't want the old bag to strain herself...and I mean "old bag" in the most kind and respectful way. Just as I lean over to grab my Hershey bars, I feel a grabbing on my butt! Could it? No, it couldn't be the elderly lady...could it?

This is no accidental brush-up. This is no "oops, I'm sorry, I was reaching for something and my hand mistakenly grabbed your tush instead". No, this was a full fledge good handful of ass cheek groping! This was fully intentional on her part. Yes, I was officially molested by a "pretending to be innocent" little old woman! I could hardly believe it. I was totally shocked. Rendered speechless. I turned around and her head darted down to her purse. Suddenly she became very interested in her grocery list inside the Granny bag. Not only did this old timer molest me, now she was going to deny it! She was going to pretend that it was a figment of my imagination. She would, without a doubt, dispute it if I said something. But what could I say? I was at a lose for words.

I'm not all offended that an old woman grabbed my ass, although I'm certainly not thrilled either. I'm pretty sure I won't be psychologically damaged from this incident. There will be no need for therapy, but I did feel like I needed a good hot shower after. I wanted to remove that lingering feeling of old hand on young butt. Yuck. It gives me the shivers just saying that. So of course I didn't enjoy it, but I wasn't going to have this woman arrested or anything. Had she been a hot 20something year-old girl, I would be cheering! However, this woman could of been my Grandmother. She was easily pushing 80 if not older! After it was over, all I could think of was "find a safe warm happy place, safe warm happy place" - something I say to myself when I'm really creped out. A virtual place I can journey to inside my head that helps block out nasty realities, such as this case.

Obviously a crime has been committed. She took advantage of me. She preyed on me like a pedophile. Like I was some piece of man meat! What kind of guy does she think I am, one who will just take that kind of behavior and turn the other cheek? (Pun intended.) Well, actually I don't mind if women want to treat me like their plaything every now and then. What guy in his right mind would object to being a sex object? Duh. Well, I should object in this case because I tend to go for girls who wear thongs and not pacemakers. Sorry, but something about her "I've fallen and can't get up" dog tags around her neck that just don't do it for me. It's an arousal killer. Truth be told, you have to hand it to her. She acted like she was just browsing for candies, when really she was browsing my backside! Whatever made her do it, I'm hoping she enjoyed because there won't be a repeat performance. I'll be on the lookout for her from now on.