Off To The Races

 

What does that saying really mean?  "I've got to piss like a race horse!"

Most people feel a tickle, I suspect.  An inkling of an idea that they may have to visit the restroom at some point in their day, but I'm not of that school.  It's rare that the urge to relieve myself ever comes as a gentle notion, but as an outright emergency.

It never seems to fail.  I'll have some free time between tasks and I feel fine.  The moment I decide to dedicate myself to a project, that is when I feel the urgent pressure to relieve myself.  Then it's a mad scramble to make it to the washroom on time.

A few minutes ago, I passed the washroom headed for the kitchen to prepare myself a light lunch.  The minute I punctured the can with the opener, I was overwhelmed with pressure.  It was like my bladder was about to explode.  "Oh shit!" I muttered aloud, "I gotta piss like a race horse!!"  That phrase makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever.

What differentiates a race horse from any other horse?  Because it has an actual vocation, does this civilize the horse from it's more wilder distant cousins?  Like do those Budweiser Clydesdales have their own facilities?  Poop in a giant toilet rather than dropping road apples on... Well, the road?

Quite the contrary.  If people really are having to "piss like a race horse", then I'd imagine more people would be dropping trou, assuming the position and squirting in the streets.  That paints a helluva picture, doesn't it.  Kinda like all those picture of Chinese tourists pooping in Japanese streets and public transit.  Gross!!

It's funny..., not funny ha-ha, but funny strange, where these crazy quotes originate.  I haven't the time nor inspiration to do a deep dive on this silliness.

In the meantime, I will, undoubtedly, continue to race to the bathroom when nature calls, likely uttering those words "piss like a race horse", under my breath.  There's no changing that, I suppose.  Stupid.

Gross!!

Sensible Values

When I die, I'd like to donate my brain to science.  Unfortunately, I wouldn't benefit from the science of learning what makes my mind tick, the root causes of why it meanders and thinks about the random shit that it does, but I'm sure it'd be an interesting read, nonetheless...

The latest random thought to pop into my nugget and stay like an unwanted house guest, refers to the "Little Red Riding Hood" story.  I have a plethora of thoughts that root themselves in my head and, thankfully, I have this avenue (Jeff's Brain Matter) to discuss and investigate these thoughts, and I promise to eventually get to many of these thought-provoking-subjects, but today, let's stick to Red Riding Hood.

Everybody knows the children's story of "Little Red Riding Hood".  Grandma's sick, so Little Red ventures out through a scary forest in a bad neighbourhood, wrought with hungry carnivores, with a basket full of baked goods, bound for granny's house.  She interacts with a terrifying wolf, who instead of viciously attacking a helpless little girl, comes up with an elaborate ruse to disguise himself as her grandmother, in order to capture and consume the unsuspecting youth, but before his plan can come to fruition, a local woodsman breaks in and (SPOILER ALERT) slews the hungry wolf, thus saving the day.

I question the logistics of the story.  One, irresponsibly sending a small child through a dense forest to grandma's house, alone and unprotected.  The story was written in the 17th century, so it's not as if mom and dad could've tossed Red into the back of the Honda and driven to grandma's, but surely people possessed some kind of common sense in relation to child safety.  Two, the riding hood.

Think about this.  Her name literally contained the garment that she wore, which I surmise means she wore that f*cking cloak ALL THE TIME, and why wear a riding hood?  Probably because she rode a horse and rode it A LOT.  This being said, why didn't she ride the horse to her grandmother's house?  The same dangers would exist, but she'd have a little more security riding atop a spirited steed.  But she didn't.  I suspect because Red's parents placed more value on the horse than the life and safety of their beloved daughter.  That's pretty f*cked up!!

The whole story sounds iffy, at best.  Even for a fabled story, written centuries ago, there's no lesson to be learned, but I have learned a thing or two: (i) Wolves are stupid and over-think every situation. (ii) Breaking and entering was an allowable offense by an axe-wielding maniac, if there's a life to be saved; which I think my be acceptable today. (iii) Parents in the 17th century, lacked sensible values.

**If grandma is prone to sickness, why the hell is she living in the middle of nowhere?