Quirk & Logic Posts

The subject recently came up, ‘what would be the best last name to have.’

Here’s the deal – you can use any logic you like!  Would you choose the last name of a famous person and go for the ‘I’m totally related to them,’ angle?  A notable scholar?  A famous person from history?

All very solid choices – and I applaud you.

That is not where my conversation with Matt (my husband) went.  Now, I knew it would have to be a name that could be spelled, because between my maiden name and my married name, I have been spelling my last name 147 times a month since I learned to spell.  And despite spelling it to everyone who will listen, people still constantly spell it wrong.  So, in addition to all other requirements, I do insist that my ‘Best Last Name Ever’ be spelled phonetically.  All that aside, the whole equation changed  while back.

You see, several months ago, I ran across the last name of someone I do not know (and cannot remember where I saw their last name), but it was so awesome, I have thought about it since.  And that name was ‘Fightmaster.’  Oh yes.  Its just SO COOL.  I think, though, if your name is Fightmaster, there’s probably some kind of obligation to get your kids martial arts lessons.  Likely for their own good, cause everyone would want to take down the Fightmaster.

I would not have changed my name when I got married if my last name was Fightmaster.  In fact, I think I would have insisted that Matt change his name.  He actually agreed with that.  So, if the time ever comes that I have to change my identity to escape my enormous fame and fortune as a writer (yes please), I’m going for Fightmaster.

I thought that was it.  Problem solved!  But no.  Matt and I. . . . we . . . . I don’t even know how to say it.  We DISAGREE.  GAH!   You see, Matt contends that he best last name to have ever is ‘Asaurus.’  Think about that for a minute.  Add your own first name.  Would it be Dave Asaurus?  Wendy Asaurus?  Heinrich Asaurus.  Well, poo, I think he might actually be on to something.  Endless giggling opportunity.  I should probably point out we have been deep in dinosaur country for the past 4 years (nothings cuter than hearing a 3 year old say ‘I’m going to be a paleongologist.’ – Yes, I know that’s not correct, but he was three, cut him some slack.)  The only thing that could even possibly make it better would be if you happened to marry someone who’s last name was Rex, and you decided to hyphenate.  Kim Asaurus-Rex.  Dang, I concede.  That would, indeed be the coolest last name ever.

Do you have a better one?  Speak up!  I dare you.

Kim Asaurus-Rex (in my mind)

Quirky Thoughts

I can hear you saying ‘ewwwwww’ you know.  Its not what you think.  Ok, its partly what you think, but not entirely what you think.

I will not be discussing grody toenails or fungus infested toenails, or my dad’s weird toenail that he ran over with the lawnmower one time and now seems to be made of concrete.

Well, except for that sentence – I did discuss those things in the sentence above where I said I wouldn’t.  But I’m done now.

Ladies – I am going to just fess up and admit I don’t get pedicures.  I mean I don’t get them (I’ve never had one), and I don’t ‘get’ them.  If it makes you happy to get one – please know I completely support you and wish you all the foot-related happiness in the world.  Just please don’t invite me because the idea of it completely gives me the heeby-jeebies.

Now, part of this is the fact that I consider toenails along the same line as my lawn.  No fuss, no muss, just a regular trim from time to time and you’re good to go.  I really don’t want a professional to every gaze at my toes and then look at me with ‘that look.’  I assume they have ‘that look.’  I don’t really know, but I have a good imagination, and in my imagination they do.

It is summer now, and while I absolutely flaunt the toes in sandals and flip flops from the time the frost leaves until the time it returns, y’all are just going to have to deal with boring, naked feet (unless you never ever look at anyone’s feet because you are secretly terrified of feet because one time you dreamed you were an ant and that mean kid from next door was coming ever closer to your precious anthill and . . . . . . oh, not that, ok).  I see what appears to be every other woman in existence showing off perfectly polished painted piggies (Yay Alliteration!).  Sometimes extremely elaborate paintjobs too.  Once again – if this is you, I promise not to judge you if you don’t judge me.  Let’s just agree to disagree on the painted toenail front. I support your right to groom your feet however you choose.  Question – how do you choose the color?  What if you get a pedicure and it doesn’t match your outfit the next day (or really 6 days out of 7)?  Is that just cool?  I don’t know the toenail color etiquette, so forgive my ignorance.  Or – do you just plan all your outfits around the color of your toenails for the duration it is there?  This is why I can’t do it – this is *actually* how my mind works, and I would be stuck in an endless cycle day in and day out when trying to pick out my clothes.

Recently I heard about fish pedicures where you stick your feet in the water and fish eat the dead skin.  Seriously?  No way my feet are going anywhere near a tray of water wherein dwell carnivorous fish of undisclosed hunger. Besides, I assume others have also stuck their feet in that same pan of water (I also assume it is not possible to sanitize fish).  That’s just more than my mind is able to wrap around.

On another toenail related, but not pedicure related, note: why do my husband’s toenails appear to be made out of titanium?  The man has broken toenail clippers.  Sometimes when they are freshly cut, his foot bumps mine in the bed, and I have to make sure I’m not bleeding.  Maybe we should start growing them out, and he can get into the Guiness Book of World Records!  Because of all the things that are kind of gross about toenails, the fact that there are groups of people competing to have the longest (for years at a time), might just take the cake!

I apologize for inadvertently linking cake to toenails.  I hope it does not ruin cake for you.

Enjoy your personal toe-expression this summer!

Quirky Thoughts

From time to time, you will find posts relating to some logical issues I have found in movies, books, tv, and other popular culture.

Today, I need to talk about Frozen, because this has been bothering me for a very long time.

Let me be clear. I LOVE Frozen.  Its probably one of the top 10 movies EVER for me.  Its fabulous and yes, we totally rock out to the soundtrack at home.

Here is the basis for my concern.

The premise of the movie has us believe that Anna has been stuck in a castle for about 13 years, bored out of her mind.  Ok, sure.  However, after Elsa’s ice magic is revealed (uh, spoiler alert, I guess), the first thing Anna does is send for her horse.  The one she is absolutely capable of riding up a mountain.  Her horse – as opposed to ‘a horse’ – the one specifically assigned to her.  Ok.  Call me crazy, but if they reduced their castle staff to around 6 people, I’m guessing one of them is not devoted to picking up horse apples in the great hall.  That girl has been outside.  I guess you could argue that there’s a courtyard or some other inclusive area where she exhaustively practiced horseback-riding on fake snow-covered mountain-simulations.  It is possible.  However, I would like to argue here that Anna HAS been out of the castle, probably on ‘tours of the kingdom’ with her parents.  She probably didn’t get to interact too much with others or she would probably not be so desperate to do so.  After all, I interact with people constantly, and my dearest wish is to be ALONE.

Anyways, my point is – she’s been outside the castle riding her horse.  Probably doing something boring, but still.


Second issue, also relating with the sending for the horse.  Arendelle must have the most efficient grooms in the history of everything.  Anna says ‘bring me my horse.’  She walks about 10 steps, and LO!  There is the horse.  Saddled, waiting, and someone has fetched her cloak as well.  Ok, I am not really a horse person, but my understanding is that saddling a horse requires the horse to be brushed, then comes the saddle blanket, then the saddle, all the girths and buckles need to be checked and re-checked, and the stirrups adjusted.  If the horse is -ahem- stubborn, you may also need to knee them in the gut to make them exhale the breath they are holding to make the girth too loose.  Then comes the bridle, checking the hooves – OH! and it was summer 10 seconds ago, so you know that horse isn’t wearing ice shoes.  I smell a plot hole.  Still, in my efforts to find some kind of logic in this (hey, its one of my favorite movies, I’m going to give it the benefit of the doubt before I call shenanigans).

1. The grooms in the palace in Arendelle are as bored out of their mind as Anna.  After all, there are very few staff and their rulers are hermits.  Not a ton to do.  So, they have invented their own version of either the Olympics, or an elaborate drinking game (same thing, right?).

2. The first groom, let’s call him Larry.  He times Gunter (the other groom) to see how fast they can do all the above steps, and get the horse to the courtyard.  Gunter then times Larry doing the same.  This continues day by day, continually trying to better their time.  And to see how much they can confuse the horses.  Also, you can see how this devolves into a drinking game pretty quickly.

3. This gets boring, so they start inventing new twists to their little game.  Like who can invent the underground elevator to get the horse there the fastest.  Who can create the most ridiculous hair-do for the horse – you see where I’m going with this.  Seriously – what’s with that horse’s hair. . . . I’m off topic.

4. Where does the cloak come from?  Ok, you got me here.  I am going to assume old butler dude just always carries a lady’s cloak with him at all times (even though it was summer 10 seconds ago), because that’s just kind of his thing.  Works for me.


So that’s that.  Its the most logic I can come up with to explain the unexplainable.


Until next time!

Movie Logic

Ok, so this is my very first blog post. I’m a little nervous. I mean, this is the foundation of my entire blog, and potentially the beginning of a writing career.

Serious stuff.

I mean, someday I may need to reference this in the dedication of an actual published book. So, of course, I needed to write about something very thoughtful, serious, and full of impact.

Today, I am writing about underpants.

I am the proud mommy of a 6 1/2 year old boy and a 3 1/2 year old girl (if you have kids or know kids, you know the 1/2 is really important). As it turns out, underpants factor into our conversations pretty frequently! My son Owen, for example, appears to have underpant amnesia. It is a chronic, yet treatable condition where the individual routinely ‘forgets’ to wear underwear. I actually discovered this situation on laundry day a couple months ago. Being a creature of habit, I do laundry the same time every week. Since Owen showers 4-5 times a week (it wasn’t summer yet), and changes undies after his shower, as well as each morning, I expect to find around 11-12 pairs in his laundry. On this very special occasion, I found 2, which is less than 12 (I am good at math). That’s a whole lot of commando going on. He was pretty cool about it. He just let me know he ‘forgot’ and went about his business. There’s a pretty simple solution. It involves either Mom or Dad asking the child whether or not he is, in fact, ‘fully dressed’ after each and every change of clothes from now until the end of time.
But, you might say, surely its easier with your daughter. After all, her fabulous undies are covered with the most desired Disney characters available. Fairies, princesses, and Doc McStuffins abound in her underwear drawer (and no, we never, ever call them panties because for some reason it weirds my husband and I out). Today, she decided to wear a dress. Once Lucy decides something, that thing typically happens. We had a lengthy discussion about KEEP YOUR DRESS DOWN! Today after dinner, she came and stood in front of me and said ‘I took my undies off. Because . . . . because I didn’t want to wear them anymore.’ Oh. Well, ok then. I suppose I’m just grateful they don’t just run naked through the house – as that still happens from time to time.

I would here like to point out that both my husband and I are avid underpants wearers. Seriously, I promise.

Tomorrow I promise not to talk about underpants.

Quirky Thoughts