How To Succeed in the Dentist Chair

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I went to the dentist this morning and faced my biggest fear ... nose hair. Mine.

That's right. In a recent survey, 9 out of 10 people said dental pain is nothing when compared to pain of social embarrassment. The tenth person simply twitted, "OMG! I just wet myself at the dentist and I feel fine." (This survey must be true; I read it on the Internet. After I wrote it.)

So why should I fear nasal follicles, especially mine? It started a couple of years ago when my body crossed that half-century mark. Seemingly overnight, random nose hairs - once slow-growing and stealthy-black - began mutating into a rapid-sprouting shade of white known as "mistakable thin slivers of snot".

I groomed them several times a week. But even with an industrial-strength weed-whacker, my trim job didn't cut it. If I were bald, a week without trimming would give me a handle-bar comb-over guaranteed to gross out the best of you.

I wasn't worried about reclining in the dentist's chair. My embarrassing worry was of a wayward hair or five waving frantically at the dental technician while I tried to breath and she tried to clean my teeth. All I could imagine was her thinking, "Why can't this unsophisticated idiot clean his nose?"

So I decided on a brilliant tactic of diversion. Just before the appointment, I ate two boxes of Oreo cookies.

With the creamy white filling scrapped off.

My plan worked very well. By the time I clogged the suction tube for the 3rd time, they had the vacuum pressure turned high enough to pull my belly button inward.

More importantly, the dental hygienist didn't say a thing about my nose hairs. Not only did she not look towards my nose, she hardly looked at me at all.

Although it was a bit awkward when she tried to floss my chin.

Let me predict the royal birth

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Judging from the news, billions of people are obsessing on one life-changing event, an event that doesn't even involve them: When is the birth of a certain baby?

It's not like we are talking about the start of the second coming, or the arrival of an expected savior (or destroyer) of our species. No, an awful lot of people (at least in the news and entertainment media) are rather excited about the continuing lineage famous for living rent free these past centuries.

The world wasn't this excited about your birth. Or about mine. (Although "royal" was often used to describe me, always with the word "pain".)

But let me try to help. Being the skilled mathematician that I am, I would like to offer my prediction. I base my almost-always accurate forecast on real data, this time provided by United Nations and the World Health Organization.

Over the next 12 months, our human race will grow by 143,328,412.6 babies. This means the Middleton/Williams offspring will be born … whenever it's ready along with millions of other squalling infants.

Why are billions of folks obsessing over the birth of one unrelated child? Couldn't they just act like the soon-to-be royal baby and get a life?

Run for the border? Nah, you go ahead.

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According to the latest news, one country now has the honor of being "fatter than the United States". Congratulations, Mexico.

We in the United States shouldn't be surprised. Sure, I could shed a pound or 50. But who has the time and motivation. If someone asked me to travel 100 mile in the hot sun with little or no food for three or four days, I would have to say, "You go ahead. I'll catch up with you later. In fact, why don't I stay here and mind the food that you're leaving behind."

Traversing the US–Mexican border is not for the faint of heart. While you don't have to be a triathlete, you do have to give up a several servings of donuts and put in a several days of cardio.

So we're dealing with simple math. As the more motivated, athletically inclined Mexicans moved north and their fluffier counterparts stayed behind, Mexico became a weightier nation. Hurray for our side.

Will our hefty Hispanic neighbors ever migrate this way? Not if Wal-Mart is any indication. Have you seen our large North-American associates get around the aisles in those electric shopping carts? "Run for the border" would be more of a motorized crawl. Not much of a chase for the Border patrol (as long as they're in shape).

Don't worry. Mexico's achievement is temporary. The ambitious will continue their momentum and travel north into Canadian lands. The really ambitious will overshoot Canada, skidded pass the north pole, and stop their rushin' in Russia. The number of skinny folks in the US will drop and we will regain our title as "Fattest Country of the Solar System".

USA! USA! USA!

What are you heffer?

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In the realm of udderly sad news, a cow falls through a roof of a Brazilian man, Joao Maria de Souza, and lands in his bed ... on top of Mr. de Souza. As romantic as it might sound to certain people, Joao later died from the injuries.

To be clear, the cow did not leap into the roof from the shock of getting a Brazilian. It had conveniently "wandered" from its job as a lawn moo-er and on to Mr. de Souza's thin roof, which collapsed under the cow's slim one-and-a-half-tons.

Coincidentally, unofficial news report say Mrs. de Souza and the cow left the scene to escape grilling by the police - a mis-steak by some accounts.

A few rumors have the couple in a romantic tryst in the India. But that would be udder nonsense.

While it is reported that Mrs. de Souza enjoyed the company of 25 varieties of black Angus and of 25 varieties of white Charolais, this story is not about the 50 shades of graze.

How do you get to space? One Grasshopper at a time.

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"Grasshopper, when you can land accurately on a single pebble, it is time for you to leave."

Get the Kung-Fu reference? Anyone? Anyone?

Sorry, I'm in awe on this amazing video of SpaceX's Grasshopper pin-point landing:

I'd really like to have that Hexacopter used to take this video ... hint, hint