Fun Fact Friday - Urine Luck

I never apologize for puns. So you're welcome. But today's fun fact is about urine. I learned a shocking number of really disturbing things about pee today, so just be thankful that I'm bringing you this fun fact instead of some of the other gross shit people used to do with piss.

Fun fact: Women used to ingest turpentine because they thought it made their urine smell like roses.

And yes, turpentine is poisonous and now found in paints and liniments. But apparently Roman women back in the day were into having sweet smelling urine. Because really, who doesn't want that?

But more importantly, who the fuck discovered this perfumed urine magic? And why? It's like mayonnaise. I mean, when the first person accidentally made mayonnaise why would he/she have said, "Hey! This thick white stuff looks delicious!" and put it in his/her mouth? It is a mystery of life! As is scented urine.

Yup. I want that in my mouth.

I now have all sorts of odd visions of Roman women talking to their friends after a particularly sweet smelling piss...

Agrippina: Claudia! You will never believe what just happened to me! Before, I licked this resin off a tree and now my pee smells delicious!

Claudia: Holy shitballs, Pina! That's awesome. I want my urine to smell good, too! I spend too much of my time peeing pee that just doesn't live up to my high expectations.

Agrippina: I'll show you the tree! It did make me feel a little sick, though...

Claudia: Who cares? Wait until Flavian smells my pee now! He won't be able to resist!

Claudia and Agrippina discussing their important discovery.

There you have it: a fun and very mysterious fact about piss. So if you would also like your urine to smell like romantic flowers and would also like to possibly to poison yourself, may I recommend some varnish?

Thoreauly Thursday

I once dreamed about a man named Henry. We were in love. It was a fanfuckingtastic dream.

That Henry was not Henry David Thoreau. I have never dreamed of Henry David Thoreau, and I probably never will. But I do have to take a two and half hour class on him and Ralph Waldo Emerson every Thursday.

Henry David Thoreau looking his handsomest in hopes that I will dream about him.

I would not describe learning about transcendalists as my favorite activity. Also, I feel there is too much irony in reading Emerson and Thoreau telling me to have an original relation to the universe instead of relating to the universe through the writings of people before me. But I digress.

From my ass to seat melding afternoons on Thursday, I have born a new coping mechanism: more limericks. So today, I bring you a new perspective on Henry.

There once was a man named Thoreau,
Who wanted to learn and to know.
So he learned of the trees,
But the birds and the bees
Was actually all he needed to grow.

And I do mean grow.

The Nerd Chronicles - Volume 1

I saw it from across the table in the middle of the windowless classroom: a ray of hope. By which I mean a vaguely cute boy with a fossil embroidered on his backpack. I felt my lady balls drop as - with a sudden gust of sociability - I asked, "Is that Archaeopteryx?"

The boy glanced up at me then down at his backpack as he realized I was, in fact, speaking to him.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I think it's called Arcteryx," he said, "but yeah."

I crinkled my eyebrows. I didn't think I was mispronouncing the name of the first known bird. Sure, it had been awhile since I had discovered my love of dinosaurs, but I didn't think I had forgotten the name of the creature that had finally made the shift from dinosaur to bird. It's not everyday someone shows you a slide of a transition fossil! But with a sliver of doubt now lodged in my brain, I shrugged and muttered, "Oh, maybe. I don't know."

We settled into our seats as class began, but I made a mental note to spend some time on my dear friend, the Google, when I got home. I had to be sure.

Archaeopteryx dancing. Or so I assume.

Archaeopteryx's fossilized form flickered onto my screen. It was Archaeopteryx. What the fuck was that guy talking about? With further detective work and a few more minutes on the interwebs, I discovered Arc'teryx is an expensive brand of athletic mountain wear. I had not found a fellow nerd in my class. I had found instead my school's typical fare of rich white male and been deceived by the fossil on his backpack.

But fear not. I will move on from this crushing dinosaur related disappointment to nerd another day.

Fun Fact Friday - Warren G. HARDing

After an unintentional week long hiatus, I have returned to deliver yet another unnecessary fun fact. After the fervor surrounding the conventions the last two weeks, I feel obligated to provide some sort of presidential fun fact. Also, I fucking love presidential fun facts.

Fun fact: Warren G. Harding allegedly had sex with a young woman in a coat closet.

First of all, how the hell did I not know this until tonight? This is the kind of fact I live for! Which makes my life sound pretty damn nerdy. Which it is. But I am still not as bad as Nan Britton, the aforementioned coat closet sex lady.

Just look at those smoldering eyes!

Apparently when Nan was a teenager she obsessed over Warren G. Harding and hung pictures of him all over her walls. Then he boned her in a coat closet, she became pregnant, and she spent the rest of her life telling people about how Harding fathered her baby.

Harding's wife (because there's always a wife) apparently tried to break down the closet door when she discovered that her husband had not just gone in to look for his beloved overcoat, Harold.

Harding and Harold out on the town.

While Harding was protected by a member of the Secret Service and a closet door for that encounter, Harding's wife, Florence "The Duchess" Harding, may have gotten vengeance. She allegedly poisoned Harding as revenge for his many indiscretions.

While Harding's cause of death may be unclear, I think the real mystery here is the closet: Which closet? Why closet? And, perhaps most importantly, was Harold jealous?

Fun Fact Friday - Once in a Blue Moon

Why, hello! I'm going with another space fact tonight, but not because of any cool achievements in the world of Science, just because of the accidents of calendars.

Fun fact: Tonight's full moon is a blue moon!

Now, I need to qualify this because there are a lot of different definitions of blue moons:

a) A blue moon is the second moon in the month, which this one is. But some people don't think double moons in a month count as blue moon, so fuck if I know. Apparently this blue moon definition has something to do with not messing up the folk names of moons.

b) A blue moon is the third full moon in a season with four blue moons, which this one also is. So even if the first definition is fucked, I can still do my ritualistic naked time blue moon dance.

c) The phrase blue moon also comes from the Old English word "belewe" meaning "betrayer." If an extra moon appeared before Lent, it was called a betrayer moon because apparently Jesus doesn't like the moon. They have an awkward sexual history together, okay?

d) Sometimes the moon actually looks blue. If particles in the air are larger than the wavelength of red light, then the moon can look blue. If you want to see that blue moon, I recommended hanging out near volcanoes or starting a forest fire. Enormous smoke clouds help.

Also, in pursuit of my blue moon knowledge, I again came across information on how long it would take me to drive to points in space. Apparently on my epic space roadless trip, I would only take 130 days to drive to the moon. No driving speed was given, so I can only assume that there are speed limit signs along the way.

Bonus fun fact: Elmo thinks olives are a once in a blue moon food. And that is just one of the reasons why we are in love.

The love of my life on the moon.

Happy mooning!

Recommended Reading - Pro Status

Nancy and I spent a lot of time together in my youth. While you could interpret this to mean that I had an illicit sexual relationship with someone named Nancy, I more meant it in the sense that I read a lot of books conceived by a middle aged man who may have had an unhealthy obsession with lithe, titian haired (his words) young women and channeled that into writing young adult fiction under the lady name Carolyn Keene. This is a rather convoluted way of saying that, yes, I was a fan of Nancy Drew.

For those of you who may not have spent your childhoods reading about how Nancy fought robots (because she did fight robots in one of the books), you only really need to know that Nancy Drew never failed. Sure, sometimes she got chloroformed or tied up or assaulted or thrown in the trunk of a car or trapped in motor boats or involved in awkward situations with seemingly animated puppets, but she always worked her way out of it with a clever plan. Nancy Drew carried a change of clothes in the trunk of her car. She spent an afternoon figuring out where to put her feet on a staircase to prevent it from squeaking as she climbed. She dated Ned Nickerson for fuck's sake!

I am not sure why I have retained so much of this information because it is - like so much of the random information thumping around in my head - completely useless for leading an adult life. Well, almost. While I may never need to know that Nancy Drew has a plump friend named Bess, she has some useful life lessons. For those of you who don't have time to read the series, by which I mean the original collection of once racist and a little bit sexist books that at least happened before 1980's Nancy Drew turned into some kind of fucking Danielle Steele precursor for kids, I would like to recommend a book called Nancy Drew's Guide to Life by Jennifer Worick. It has some great tips.

The awesome magnifying glass is so you can look for clues as to why you are not as awesome as Nancy Drew.

As I vaguely consider myself the Peter O'Toole of relationships (outdated cultural reference alert!), today I would like to offer you this gem from the book, which I plan to use all the time now that I am back on a college campus and surrounded by more than a few young men from wealthy families: "After receiving an electrical shock to the system, find as many men as possible to vigorously massage you."

Oh, Nancy, I will. I will also fight the encroaching robot army.

Fun Fact Friday - Sex Does Sell!

You know I like to keep things topical, dear reader. And what could be more topical and discussion worthy than a naked man in Las Vegas? Well, I just don't know.

Fun fact: Tourism inquiries into Las Vegas vacations have gone up 123 percent since Prince Harry bared his bone.

This according to hotels.com, which I assume has something to do with hotels. Another travel agency type company, Virgin Holidays, which is in this case a rather incongruous name, reports only a 30 percent rise in interest in Las Vegas holidays. But the takeaway point is that nudity works.

Las Vegas tourism even published an ad pertaining to the naked time, which while it presumes outrage, is sure to stir up a little more excitement for Sin City.

We can all learn from this. While the economy may be improving slowly but surely, with the popularity of poorly written porn (re: Fifty Shades of Grey) and the strip billiards tourism boost, I think it's time we all return to the old ad adage: sex sells. We should not ignore this anecdotal evidence! Nudity apparently shrivels the consumer's propensity to save! The answer to all our economic woes could be a package made of a whole lot of stimulus... we just need to sack up and embrace it.

Also, while I am certain I could have also upped my readership by including an image of a Harry penis, I have opted out. I like to keep it classy. That's why all my dicks are hand drawn.