Evolution Got It Right

 I've long thought about this before, and frankly, I'm sure many have, but sitting in the drive-thru, yesterday, fumbling through my wallet as the line of vehicles built up behind me, "I wish I had a third arm."

A third arm would be handy and hell, pardon the pun.  I bet texting while driving wouldn't be an issue anymore as two hands would always be on the wheel, while the third thumbed through social media.  Of course, your eyes wouldn't be on the road, likely, so maybe we, as humans, need to grow a third eye, as well.

Unpacking vehicles alone wouldn't be such a nuisance anymore.  No need to ask for someone to lend a hand, as you'd already have a third hand.  Waving to people would be extra celebratory.  Even jazz hands would be exciting to watch.  Watch...  Hmm.  You could wear a wrist watch on that extra arm.  Okay...  That one is a little silly.

The only drawback would be getting dressed.  I have no idea what the strategy would be for putting on apparel.  Nor have I thought of where the third arm would be situated.  I always figured growing straight out of your chest, but that would be unattractive.  Most of us, myself included, aren't very attractive sans clothing, so adding a protruding arm into the mix, would undoubtedly be somewhat frightening.  Plus, it'd likely get in the way in an industrial setting, and third arms would be getting lopped off left and right... and center.

I guess it could be coming out of our backs, but then how would we sit or sleep.  Most sleep on their side, but turning over would prove impossible as the third arm growing out of your back would act like a kickstand.  Handy if you're one of those adrenaline junkies who climb cliffs and mountains.  You could sleep on a mountain edge without fear of rolling off because of your built-in kickstand.

Speaking of adrenaline junkies, that third arm would impede parachuting apparatus'.  Bungee jumps would be okay, but wingsuits would be impossible, too.

As helpful as that third arm would be, I guess I haven't clearly thought out all the pros and cons yet.  Like which way would the hand fold.  Would it vary from person to person?  Two left folding hands to one right folding hand or vice-versa?  Would it be ambidextrous, meaning it could fold both ways?  That could be handy, again pardon the pun.  Fornication would be interesting...  Good god, can you imagine what the pornographic implications would be?  Shocking to say the least.

As inconvenient as it is, two arms is best.  The people behind me in the drive-thru are just going to have to be more patient.  Evolution got it right!!

Bugbear

Do you know what the speed limit is within a parking lot?  Would it surprise you to know that it is 15 kilometers per hour?  I think I am one of the only people to, not only know this fact, but who practices it also.  Yet people on foot, will constantly run in front of or behind my vehicle then turn to chastise me for "moving too quickly".  These are usually the same culprits who will then climb into their vehicle and speed out of the parking lot at a velocity of sixty or seventy kilometers per hour.  These people are among the many pet peeves that seem to plague my everyday life.

A "pet peeve" is described as: A particular and often continual annoyance; A personal bugbear.

My life seems riddled with pet peeves, the afore is a minor one.  Though it seems to occur upon almost every visit to the nearby Home Depot, it has little or no effect on me, personally, but has become tiresome, all the same.

I've tweeted my major peeves, which have been commented on as being shared by many.  The most frequent being that I will sit through a barrage of annoyingly repetitive commercials only to realize that the program I'm watching is recorded.  Even with the remote control in hand, my thumb placed firmly over the fast-forward button, I will often mutter profanity to myself about the irritating commercials, all the while forgetting to depress the button under my opposable digit.

Another exasperation of mine is sitting down to watch a program, whether it a mere sixty minutes in length or a movie that is more than a couple of hours long, and falling asleep.  I'd prefer to see the show in it's entirety, avoiding revisitation.  Earlier today, it happened to me twice while watching the (Christopher Nolan) Batman Trilogy.  The movies are not boring in the least, yet I found myself slipping into deep slumber about an hour into each movie, only having to skip back ninety minutes to rewatch the full movie.  This also occurs whenever I sit down to watch any of the Star Wars movies, although I rarely bother going back to watch the full stories over again.

Probably one of the biggest pet peeves I have, nowadays, isn't one that's come into fruition until as of late.  It does not occur very often, yet when it does, it sends me spiraling.  It has occurred when I'm climbing into my vehicle.  When I'm climbing into bed and (earlier tonight) settling down on the sofa to watch a movie.  Breaking wind.  A split-second before I plant myself firmly in my seat, a minor fart will slip out.  Minor in it's simplicity, yet major enough to almost bring me to tears.  The smell nearly harsh enough to drop a moose out of the sky.

I know not the recent exuberance of flatulence, but I suspect it may largely have to do with the ingestion of tomato-based foods.  I did have pizza yesterday and lasagna today.  Decrease the intake of such foods and I'll be less likely to fart on myself.  So better consciousness of my surroundings and my pet peeves will likely decrease.  If only it were so easy...

Trouser Snake

At first mention of the words, trouser snake, one's imagination goes to a male's genitalia, which in this instance you'd be mistaken.  To what I refer to in this blog, today, is going to be much much worse and far more offensive.  So be warned before reading on, and if you indeed choose to continue reading, you've been forewarned and cannot blame anyone but yourself.  So that being said, I will continue my tawdry tale.

Last weekend was Thanksgiving for Canada.  I don't know why our Thanksgiving Day is more than a month prior to that of the U.S.  Canada probably wanted a long weekend in October, is what many of us have speculated.  I know in the last few years, there was a holiday proposed for February, although I don't think it's recognized in all the provinces.  (I'm talking about YOU, Quebec.  You suck, Quebec!)

So after stuffing myself full at my mother's house, she was gracious enough to send me home with a mountainous amount of left overs.  I don't know how much, per se, but upon warming it up the other night, I'd speculate that it was, at least, a pound in weight.  The left overs contained pretty much everything that had been available at the dinner table, except for the beets, which my mother announced she wouldn't include out of fear it would turn everything purple in colour.

So Thursday night was the night I'd decided to heat up and devour this huge meal.  This was not the easiest of tasks, by any measure, but like a trooper, I forced it all down as I watched wrestling (TNA Impact Wrestling) on Spike TV.  Later that night, I suspect due to the tryptophan in my system, I slept one of the most restful nights in a long long time.  I hadn't been sleeping very well in the nights preceding, so the slumber was welcome.

The next day, work went on as usual.  No issues.  No nothing, other than the usual setbacks and shit.  After work I needed to speed across town to sign some documents, then afterwards, I headed to the Home Depot, in search of a specific tool that I want to purchase for my brother-in-law for Christmas.  While looking around, I suddenly found myself needing to visit the washroom.  I don't normally like to use public facilities, as they are usually pretty f*cking gross, but this being a newer Home Depot location and in a decent part of town, I didn't think the washroom would be in too terrible of disarray, and quickly hobbled in it's direction.  Plus, judging from the impending doom, whether or not the bathroom was a disaster, I had one locked in the chamber and the safety switch was slipping.

Sadly, someone was in the handicapped stall, the spot I usually like to occupy as it has lots of leg room.  I don't necessarily need to stretch out as I "drop the kids off at the pool", but it's like a life jacket on a boat.  It's nice to have, just in case.  So I squeezed myself into the other available stall and unleashed the fury.

Actually it wasn't so furious, thank god!  Nothing is worse than having an atrocious bowel movement and having to clean up the mess with that sandpaper they call toilet paper.  Am I right, people?  It's like wiping with a cheese grater.  It might do the trick, but it doesn't feel good at all, nor are you left in a very happy place afterward.  But thankfully, this was not one of those horrific occasions.  Nope!  This one slipped out quite nicely.  Like a basketball through a hoop with nothing but net.  Phoof!!!

I took care of the aftermath and turned to flush when I noticed the gargantuan specimen looking back up at me from the porcelain bowl.  I'm not bragging, nor is this anything to be proud of, but I am a little impressed at the slick torpedo that was laid to rest in the tiny toilet stall at the Home Depot.  By my estimation, it had to be between 14 to 16 inches in length, and it wasn't coiled.  It was straight as the crow flies, nestled comfortably at the bottom of the bowl.  I was almost tempted to take a picture of it with my phone, but quickly decided against it as I don't know of anyone who would be as impressed with this feat as I was (and am).

I flushed and forever lost the evidence of my visit to the Home Depot, but the memory is still in my head.  I remember leaving the confines of the tiny bathroom thinking, "That was one helluva trouser snake."  It was then that I knew I'd have to share this with the world, via my blog, Brain Matter!