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Discussion in 'The Observation Bar' started by GHT, Mar 21, 2015.
I think I played that Sousa March (Nobles of the Mystic Shrine) in Highschool! Or was it in college? Either way it was a previous life...
Apropos of nothing, as I swilled down my cup of tea this morning, I realized how much the current craze for "mug cradling" irritates me. You know the deal -- you see it everywhere in commercials and print ads, the photo of a pensive, waif-like woman huddled up cradling a giant mug of some hot drink in both hands as she pensively begins her waif-like day. She's usually wearing an oversized cable-knit pullover sweater and is standing next to a window overlooking a pastoral morning scene. The sun glints gently off her just-so-tousled hair, as she ponders the mysteries of life.
Nertz to that. You never see her in a ratty, cat-snagged bathrobe leaning against the wall as she slurps down that drink, dribbling streams of it all over her raggedy flannel nightgown because she needs every bit of energy she can muster to shovel the damn snow or yell at those people from up the street for letting their big dumb dog crap right in her driveway. "Cradle a mug?" I'm just as likely to throw it across the room.
Hey blondie, bite me.
In all seriousness, though, if you've ever wondered why you see this particular type of image everywhere now, it's because the Boys From Marketing are trying to appeal to womens' maternal instincts by presenting the product being sold as a mother-love object. The "cradling" gesture is meant to evoke the sense of gently cupping a baby's head as you draw it near for a nuzzle and a kiss.
(I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.)
That made me smile, by way of an experiment I searched for that morning look, it might be on social media but nowhere else. This is typical of what I found.
What I was looking for was a real life version of this.
You left out the cat.
Jeepers Lizzie, don't hold back! Are you really the angry person you always come across as being? Perhaps you should take a moment and do some "mug cradling". The snow isn't going anywhere and will eventually melt away. So too the dog poop.
[He closes his eyes and grimaces as if bracing for an oncoming blow, and presses "POST REPLY"]
It's one of those mornings. And the dog is more like a small moose.
I know the type. Maybe you should switch to something stronger. I understand Mate might be a more "thrilling" morning beverage for you. Plus you get to drink it in a funky straw and gourd-like vessel that kinda looks like a illicit delivery device. (Explain that to the neighbors!)
As for the moose-dog, I'm familiar with that too. Back at our previous house, I swore we lived next to a mastodon!
I have noticed this but never wondered why, just saw java. Confirmed Irish bachelor coffee addict.
You know, what I really hate from the bottom of my heart?
Subsurface pimples!! These are nerving me until the point, I'm finally digging/open the spot so long until I can squeeze the shit out, splash with after shave, so that there is peace afterwards.
One of my theatre colleagues has the Mate habit, and I have had to chide her repeatedly for dumping the leaves down the concession stand drain -- where they tend to create all sorts of festive problems. I finally convinced her to dump them in the rosebushes in front of the theatre, and it does seem that they have been thornier since she began to do this.
I wonder if there's been a study of the effect of caffeinated compost on plants? Good call dumping them out there. Drains are magical things though. Everything you put down them simply disappears!
Coffee is not special in this regard. If aliens from the planet Zinob-3 were to come to a mysteriously depopulated earth, at some point in the future, and had to imagine what human life had been like based only on the ads to be found on billboards, posters, and in magazines, they would come to the conclusion that human life was 85 percent composed of pouting young women who were beautiful but engrossed in deep thoughts about... er, something.
That reminds me of a story I read somewhere about an archaeological dig taking place some centuries in the future. The dig was uncovering a motel bathroom, if I remember correctly, and the archaeologists were at a loss to under stand what "sanitized for your protection" meant.
I think that book was "The Motel of the Mysteries."
Take this with a healthy dose of skepticism, but I read somewhere years ago that when chased with lotsa hot water coffee grounds actually help keep drains clear. It wasn’t so much as suggested that the coffee would clear a clogged drain, but that the grounds would pick up grease and whatnot collecting on the insides of the pipes and carry it away along with that hot water and thereby prevent blockages from occurring.
Hooey? Maybe. But I’ve been doing it for years and I have yet to have a clogged kitchen drain. But then, I don’t put much else but water and coffee grounds down the drain anyway. I wipe up the fat in frying pans with paper towels before washing them in the sink, for instance. I have screens over the drains to collect food scraps and such before it has a chance to head down the pipe.
The drain-cloggingest stuff that ever clogged a drain is soda syrup, which congeals into a big sticky, rubbery glob, and resists all attempts to dislodge it once it's lodged. Even worse, a soda fountain drain, under health codes, must be physically open -- it can't have a closed connection to the main drainage system due to the risk of contaminants getting into the ice bin (which is an integral part of the carbonation chain) via the drain. So all the drains in the system have to end in open pipes that empty into an funnel-like open under-the cabinet drain without any physical connection. This means that suction is useless in trying to open syrup clogs, leaving only the use of a snake, which must be very flexible indeed to negotiate the sharp twists and bends of the system.
The manufacturers recommend flushing all drains with boiling water every night, but even this doesn't always solve the problem, and my own frustrating efforts at snaking usually end in me drenched, covered in sticky glop, exploring bold new corners of the English language, and calling a plumber.
^^^very interesting post. Open drain syrupy mess, plumber called to snake pierce the clog.
Wonder how often that must happen....
^^^This morning I cradled my mug of hot coffee, surveyed buttermilk pancakes and contemplated
the mysteries of life whilst pouring Hungry Jack syrup over these; yesterday, at the half, the Seminoles
were scalping the Tarheels... Cloudy, so the sun never glinted off my oh so touseled hair. And no oversize
cable knit sweater either. But 1-out of 3-ain't bad. Also, I guess fouled out on the maternal instinct part.
Dunno. Think the boyz stacked the cards high and tight.