A little puppetry silliness as Rana pipiens learns he has an odd appetite.
As of July 1st – Canada Day – women in Canada will no longer be required to pay sales tax when purchasing feminine hygiene products such as tampons and pads. The change comes after many months of Canadians decrying the tax as gender discriminatory, as solely a tax on women (see House of Commons debate).
Having wracked my brain, I was unable to determine an equivalent male-exclusive product and so broadened my thinking to identify products that might be absolute necessities. There are no taxes on groceries, for example – family-size purchases, that is; “junk food” and “individual” purchases are taxed.
And then it struck me: toilet paper.
So yesterday, I launched a faux campaign to remove the taxes from toilet paper, and welcome you all to join what I am calling the #BowelMovement.
Feel free to * ahem * pass this along.
As you may have guessed, I really don’t filter things that come into my head.
With that in mind (see what I mean), I present some of the stupidities that I have spent time on over the last week or so.
Believe it or not, for several years, I worked in a hospital research lab. (Won’t mention which Toronto hospital lest people stop taking their sick children there.)
What I hadn’t realized until one fateful day was that not only was I a pretty good biochemist, but I was also a damned fine engineer…when motivated.
And what better motivation than a plate of whipped cream to the face. Really, the old pie-in-the-face chestnut.
And the chortling culprit was a friend who worked across the hall. (I won’t name names because Andy, who was still quite green then, is now a medical practitioner.)
We laughed. Boy, I sure look silly. You got me. And now…you must die (of embarrassment)!
Doing my best MacGuyver, I set to work.
Pyrex baking dish? Check.
Cling film? Check.
Wood block? Check.
Masking tape? Check.
Water? Double check.
The plan was simple. Convince A.G. that he had a research paper we needed in his desk drawer, which we had booby trapped with a tray of water.
When he opens the drawer, AHA!
Oh wait, the tray will slide backwards.
Support the tray in the drawer so it doesn’t slide, and AHA!
Nuts, even if he pulls the drawer forward, Conservation of Momentum says the water will slosh the other way.
Cover most of the tray with cling wrap so the water has nowhere to go and sloshes back all the more forcefully, and then AHA!
Oh but why would he sit down to open the drawer…they slide so easily.
Stick masking tape under the upper rim of the drawer so he has to yank it open, and then… (Aha, right?)
To avoid suspicion, I had a mutual friend ask Andy for the paper…he sat at his desk and tugged the drawer, but it was stuck. Sitting at the desk, he pulled harder and yanked the drawer open. And was hit with a wall of water that completely drenched his lower half.
He wandered the halls looking like the Lusitania went down in his pants.
It may all be quite silly to you, but to this day, this represents my greatest engineering feat…something that, for me, rivals the Pyramids of Egypt and those irritating metal ring puzzles.
(This silly memory prompted by yesterday’s post by Ned Hickson about his fake poo…you think it’s easy being this juvenile?)
CORRECTION: Earlier today we posted a comment where we recommended you “Jerk your cock liberally”…
We of course meant to inform you that you should “Jerk your chicken liberally”…
We regret our error and would like to apologize for any West Indies-themed dinner parties we may have inadvertently ruined.