SILLY PICTURES THAT AMUSE ME

We all know it doesn’t take much to amuse me.  If you’re new to my world, check out my posts on Things Sold At A Home Improvement Store That Sound Dirty, But Aren’t, which prove there’s no level of silliness too low to tickle my funny bone.  That said, I’d like to share some photos on my cell phone that I just won’t delete because they make me giggle.

The Cow Who Drives A Motorized Udder    While the service department made some last minute installations on my new car, I found myself stranded for about two hours in the customer

Who is this cow, and where is she going in the Uddermobile?

waiting area.  So I did what any college-educated adult would do— I made for the toys in the kids’ corner.  What drew me in was a toy I found equally cute and creepy, part whimsical and part perverse:  It’s a cow driving an udder-shaped car.  Truly, this plaything fascinated me.  I studied it, rolled it past the crayons and coloring books on the little play table, and tried to figure out the motivation of a toy designer who sat at his desk one day or woke up one morning struck by inspiration:  a cow driving a car shaped like an udder!  Now I’m sure the designer sensed crossover magic in the toy market—a cutsie farm animal for the nature lovers, and a car for the motorhead kids.  But I had to ask myself where old Bessie had to be in such a hurry, and why she would choose a car shaped like her own intimate body parts?  My mind reeled with similarly-themed toy offshoots:  Barbie motors around Malibu in her new, pink Boobmobile; GI Joe rides off to occupy third-world nations in his phallic-shaped man-tank.  No, this picture stays on my phone until I have achieved complete understanding of the toy, or until I am no longer reduced to adolescent snickering every time I look at it.

Bacon Says What?    On Father’s Day I picked up the newspaper to see this headline:  Nothing Says ‘I Love You Dad’ Like Homemade Bacon.  So of course I had to take a photo of it and text it off to my friends.  Granted, most humans would eat an old

Fun Father's Day gift: a heart attack!

shoe if it were wrapped in bacon—or dipped in chocolate— but I’m fairly certain my husband (a father), my brothers (fathers), and several of my coworkers (also fathers) could provide pretty comprehensive lists of equally popular loving gestures.   If homemade bacon did have a message for the world, wouldn’t it be something more along the lines of your cholesterol isn’t high enough, or your heart is still too efficient or you aren’t carrying enough extra weight around your middle?  How about when you eat me, try not to think of the cute little animal whose body was hacked up to bring you this tasty pig-sicle?  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Caution:  Slow Children   My kids are are beautiful and talented.  They also claim to be twins born three years apart, as well as little clones of me—which renders them prone to malarkey and shenanigans.  The first few days after they returned home from college this spring (she a recent graduate, he having finished his sophomore year), they were frequently reduced to fits of silliness

One more stop for the short bus. . .

that inspired me to remark, “You know, the borough is going to install one of those Slow: Children signs outside our house.”  Later, I returned home from running errands to see their little faces peeking expectantly at me through the picture window.  Their expressions so clearly said we’ve been up to no good, that I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find a handmade message hanging on the front door.  I immortalized the moment with my cell phone.  In case you’re wondering, the sign still hangs on the door for all to see.  A few weeks ago, a friend stopped by to drop off a package for me.  Having never been to my house before, she said later she wasn’t sure she had the right place until she spied the Slow Children sign— then she knew for sure I had to live there.   I will keep the photo, and the sign, forever.

Does This Make My Butt Look Big?  I’ll admit I didn’t take this photo of two crested macaques; I snagged it online and transfered it to my cell phone.   The annoyed female macaque looks back over her shoulder at the photographer, while the male is too preoccupied with eating to worry about an invasion of his privacy.   This particular photo is one of the first I ever placed on my cell phone, and I’ve looked at it many, many times.  Why?  Well, in addition to its ability to cheer me up instantly (Does this make my butt look big?), the picture provides a sometimes-needed reality check:  No matter how awful my day is, no matter how sorry for myself I’m feeling, no matter how low my self-image sinks, I know that I will never, ever have to wake up to see this in my mirror: 

Seriously, you’re taking a picture now? NOW?

Now I know God didn’t create the crested macaque for my amusement, and that this animal is every bit as glorious as the thoroughbred, the king of the jungle, or the mighty eagle.  But just allow me to say this:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’d like to declare that I’m too old, too mature, too sophisticated to be entertained by these photos, but that would be a lie.  And frankly, I don’t want to live a life so crushed by solemnity that there’s no room for silliness.  Who’s with me?

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