Brian Mountjoy - LIFE ON THE DASH

TOMATOSAURUS

The Tomatosaurus.
 
What boy doesn’t like dinosaurs?
What man doesn’t like dinosaurs?
The Velociraptor.
The Triceratops.
The Stegosaurus.
The Brontosaurus.
The Pterodactyl.
The one with the club at the end of its tail.
And of course, the Tyrannosaurus Rex.
 
But there is also the Tomatosaurus.
This creature still roams the earth today. This small, yet agile “terrible lizard,” is actually quite docile. There have been just a couple of unconfirmed reports around the local Dallas grocery stores, but it’s really unheard of, and extremely rare to ever encounter one.
But, it happened to me.
If you look carefully, you will be able to see this beast hidden in the picture above.
 
It was a late evening. Driving home, I had remembered the need to obtain some items at the grocery store. Parked the car. Got a cart. Began to collect products. Fortunately, I was focused on my task, and was not distracted to give into the temptation by being seduced and falling into “cell phone hypnotic trance,” for if I had , I may have just missed this once in a lifetime opportunity to actually see the Tomatosaurus in its native habitat.
 
I do often wonder how much joy I miss in the greatness of the small things, because I am oblivious to the “real” stuff born from the creativity of others, the “real” stuff bursting forth from the beauty of the imagination of a child, the “life” in front of my face that rains down all around me, only because I am buried in a device reading about something that happened during the day.
 
I love dinosaurs and what they meant to me as a little kid.
I love the Tomatosaurus and what it meant to me last week.

 

STOOL SOFTENER

Stool.
This word has taken quite a hit.
Stool pigeon. Between two stools. Stoolie.
Then the inevitable one that results in a grimace by most.
Stool + softener. Ech.
Obviously, one can understand the whole “softener” part of the equation.
But, I readily admit that my eyebrow moved slightly upward, along with a quick bending of my neck when I attempted to speculate as to how someone arrived at the term “stool” as it relates to the “softener” equation.
And, you also may be wondering as to why I am even commenting on this topic.
 
The Reason as to “Why” This Topic Stopped Me in My Tracks
It germinated from a person behind a counter bellowing these two words, along with a few more, in a public area. Let’s assume, for the sake of the story, the name of the couple is Mr. & Mrs. Cooke.
While I was waiting in line at the pharmacy, the woman behind the counter, in a very loud voice, sounding as if she was summoning hordes of people from miles around, exclaimed, “Mr. and Mrs. Cooke, your stool softener is ready! We have your stool softener over here at this counter.”
Lovely. She was probably waiting to make this declaration for years. So glad to know that the Cooke’s are dealing with this. So sad for them that the entire shopping center knows about their infirmity. Watching them walk up to the counter looked like they were going on a voyage, never to return.
 
Have you ever yelled out something you wish you hadn’t?
Has someone else ever yelled out something about you, that you wish they hadn’t?

 
The Etymology of Stool
Stool- O.E. stol "seat for one person," from P.Gmc. *stolaz (cf. O.Fris. stol, O.N. stoll, O.H.G. stuol, Ger. Stuhl "seat," Goth. stols "high seat, throne"), from PIE *sta-lo-, locative of base *sta- "to stand" (cf. Lith. pa-stolas "stand," O.C.S. stolu "stool;". Originally used of thrones (cf. cynestol "royal seat, throne"); change of meaning began with adoption of chair from French, which relegated stool to small seats without arms or backs, then "privy" (early 15c.) and thence to "bowel movement" (1530s).

 

 

NANA NANA BOO BOO

I walked in the door. I was on a mission to find an industrial-strength, multi-powerful, and oversized washing machine that would be able to tackle the task of cleaning a large rug, tattered with mud and crud from the paws of a canine. Henceforth and witherto, I discovered the location to wash away the problem. I walked in the door and was welcomed by the chasing and chatting of two young boys. The boy being chased stopped to face the one doing the chasing. The one doing the chasing also stopped. Only 10 yards separated these two boys. Then, the one being chased, spoke words to the chaser, and spoke them with confidence and bravado. The words, spoken in quick succession, went like this:

“Na-na na-na poo poo. Na-na na-na poo poo.”

Wow, powerful stuff.
I knew. I understood. I could feel the emotion. I knew the meaning of this statement. Although not recently, I had once uttered these exact words in my own life. Yesiree Bob, the exact words. Na-na na-na poo poo. So, I engaged in some intense and thorough research regarding this phrase. (Wiktionary, just Wiktionary. For all of my brilliant findings, see OTHER NOTES at the end of this post.) My results were a little surprising. As with these two boys, I also exclaimed “Na-na na-na poo poo.” But, my research indicated that the words were actually, “Na-na na-na boo boo.” I was a little taken back.

Have you heard someone communicate these words recently? Have you ever shared these words to another during your tenure as a person?
Amazing that this highly intelligent saying continues to survive the decades.

OTHER NOTES:
WIKTIONARY
Etymology
Apparently from the longer childish playground taunt sung to a tune particular to the taunt:
I'm better than you,
na-na, na-na, boo-boo,
stick your head in doo-doo.
Na-na and boo-boo may be imitations of sounds a baby or young toddler might make. Boo-boo may also indicate boo-boo, a minor injury which leaves a mark on a child such as a scraped knee.
 
Phrase
na-na na-na boo-boo
1. (North America, idiomatic, colloquial, childish, pejorative, taunt, often humorous) [c. mid 20th century?] A taunt or putdown, typically used to indicate that the speaker believes he or she has beaten the listener in a competition or is better in some other way or in a general sense; or an expression of satisfaction that the listener has received some supposedly deserved minor punishment or misfortune (a schadenfreude).

 

 

EAR HAIR

Why is it, that the older you get, especially post-65 years of age, there is an inordinate increase in unwanted (as if there is a “wanted” kind) ear hair growth?

Then as I further pondered this phenomenon, there is also an unwanted decrease with the eyesight clarity of the post-65 person. Obviously, spectacles improve the vision, but maybe not so much as to see, that they are actually harboring a forest of Ents.

Adding to this hirsutic situation is the inevitable decrease of flexibility, dexterity, and leaning-over-the-sink-muscle prowess that all humans deal with as they progress in years.

This is the perfect storm. This deadly force, a unique combination of multiple elements, this is the reason why so many post-65 people resemble Wolverine.

BAND-AID

Helps the hurt stop hurting.
Heals the wound fast, heals the hurt faster.
"I am stuck on Band-Aid, and Band-Aid's stuck on me."
 
This whole Band-Aid discussion could be a long one, but I will refrain from a multitude of observations and attempt to be brief.

First, seeing that glorious Band-Aid (1 picture below), encased in the sterile-sealed individual package, has always been a comforting sight to behold as a child. I still feel that passion today. But, even at my current age, I continue to just leave parts of the wrapper on the floor or counter without throwing it away.

 
Second, the old Band-Aid metal container (1 picture below). It was like a mini-survival kit. Impossible to destroy. Always a joy to hear the “click” sound when closing the container.

 
Third, the marketing genius of redesign (2 pictures below). Although not a collector of Hello Kitty, Spiderman, or SpongeBob, the brilliance of bringing back the Band-Aid as the #1 medical healing product has returned to almost every home.
Please note that the real Band-Aid is the cure to any human dealing with any kind of medical problem. The real Band-Aid, not the cheap imitation product, much like the wannabe Band-Aid aka Curad brand. I am truly disgusted by those parents who have administered the non-Band-Aid product on their children.

 
Fourthly, the non-Band-Aid humor bandaid (1 picture below). Products like these give one a chuckle, but will not heal or help the hurt area of needed care.

 
Lastly, the emotional comfort of an adhesive bandage with gauze pad in the center (2 pictures below). Don’t you remember how you felt when a Band-Aid was applied to your being? Remember the sigh of comfort, ceasing of tears, instant-recovery when putting a Band-Aid on a child? Magic.

 
“It’s all better now.”