Big Daddy Paul

My friend Tracy and I used to sit around a bowling alley drinking beer and coming up with ingenious ideas. This was particularly intruiging considering that, at the time, Tracy was on her way towards revolutionizing the world of women’s health and I was studying to become the next great champion of worker’s rights. Yet, there we were, throwing back Rolling Rocks and figuring out how to design an adult flotation device that would allow people to stay afloat on Lake Shasta while conveniently and safely storing a margarita. Sadly, many of our best ideas were forgotten the next day, ironically the casualty of the very beer that aided in our sudden bursts of creative thinking. I have stopped drinking to excess (at bowling alleys!) and so am more readily available to catalogue some of the ideas that could change the world, if I would only get off my ass and make them a reality. Today, I will share a few with you:

Contrarian Underpants. Who wouldn’t want a pair of skivvies that would cool you down when you are hot, or warm you up when get chilly? Have you ever heard the expression “I nearly froze my balls off?” or “My lady business is hotter than a half-bred fox in a forest fire?” I have, and contrarian underpants would ensure that you never have to hear them again. How would such amazing undergarments work? Simple, use similar technology to that found in a thermos. A thermos keeps hot liquid hot and cold liquid cold. Just invert to thermos process in your undies, and Bam! A billion dollars, easy. The diaper version would not only give your small one comfort, but also make their various excretions smell like movie theater butter. Maybe a billion is a conservative estimate.

Modeling software to show your kids what they will be like in 20 years. If you are tired of reminding your kids to eat their veggies, say “please” and “thank you” and abstain from random acts of aggression against their peers, then this software could be a gift from heaven. It would be so much easier to show them a picture of what they would look like in 20 years if they don’t change their ways. I’m sure Malcolm would change is behavior if I told him that this was the path he was headed down:

Mind you, the software would obviously be customizable, so if you were worried that your daughter was getting too into body building and sticking forks into electrical sockets, it would spit out this:

Who wouldn’t buy that software?

Lastly, the Iphone needs an application that can sense what you’re feeling like and automatically suggest what it is you should be doing. Consider it a mood ring with kick-ass features. Simply hold the phone, and boom: it will sense that you have cabin fever and suggest an adventure (perhaps a treasure hunt to visit all of the Krispy Kreme’s within 25 miles of you!)  Or maybe you are feeling a little fat, and it will suggest a bike route for you to follow to get to a nearby Krispy Kreme. Perhaps you have recently been dumped, and are in need of some comfort. It could sense this and bring up the phone number for a brand new service that delivers Krispy Kremes, straight to your door! Whatever your mood, it has a solution.

It’s really hard for me to have all these great ideas and lack the time to follow through on them. I am sure that someone who has more of an entrepreneurial spirit will read this and then crush my soul as they become a zillionaire capitalizing on my ideas. If there was only some way I could drown my sorrows when this happens…

I went biking again today. Between the holidays and all the rain in the past few weeks, I haven’t been able to head out for a while. Determined to not the mistakes I have made in the past, I set out for some fun in the sun. My plans were almost shanghaied when my bike had two flat tires and I couldn’t find the tire pump. I knew it was in the garage but our garage looks like the inside of my colon, except with more spiderwebs. After poking around for 45 minutes, I found the pump, pumped up the tires, and decided that cleaning our garage was way overdue. (I remain blissfully ignorant about the ramifications of my colon being in its current shape.)

I started in a bit of a deficit when I noticed that I had grabbed Amy’s biking gloves for my outing. Since they are only partially frilly, I didn’t care all that much. I did feel just a tad extra pretty knowing that I was wearing ladies accessories. When I finally got out there, I had a great time!

An otherwise nice day

My Ipod expertly selected my favorite songs  (which sadly include selections from Twisted Sister, 2 Live Crew, and Erasure) while I nimbly navigated between the hordes of walkers that were enjoying the nice morning. I got a great workout, and knew so because I, for some reason, feel like I need to spit when working hard, and I spit many times during the ride. I also didn’t have to get off the bike and walk up any hills, so the outing was almost a complete success.

Almost is a pretty big word though for me, and I had another one of my moments. Blazing away around a turn singing (out loud) Weird Al’s opus to Star Wars, I encountered two women walking in the path. I announced my intention to pass on the left, but for some reason one of the women hopped right in front of me. Being a bit rusty, I jammed on the front brake. This had the foreseeable consequence of causing me to do a reverse wheelie and ended up ejecting me over the handle bars. I landed with the soft thud a pork shoulder makes when thrown onto the scale at the butcher, but managed to avoid any serious injury. Anxious to prove that I wasn’t hurt, I hopped right back up, looking at my legs to see if there was any residual damage. At precisely this moment, I realized that my fly was down (as it oft is) and immediately took corrective action. I also noticed the numerous trails of spit that had been collecting on my shoulder. I looked at them, they looked at me, and one of them asked if I was alright. I quickly hopped back on my bike, apologized for some reason, and then sped off. I was a tad irked afterwards, but smiled when I considered the story the two women would be relating to their friends:

A chubby cross dresser came barreling around a corner singing about Queen Amidala, screamed, “ON YOUR LEFT!” and then jumped over his handlebars. Then, he stood up looking like a confused monkey, zipped his fly, wiped his mouth on his shirt, grunted, “I’m sorry” and sped away. It was honestly the first time it had ever happened to me.

I think I am going to choose a new path next time I ride. Or maybe I’ll just find something to do that is less embarrassing.