Babble babble bitch bitch
Rebel rebel party party
Sex sex sex and don't forget the "violence"
Blah blah blah got your lovey-dovey sad-and-lonely
Stick your STUPID SLOGAN in:
Everybody sing along.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Doctors Office
I actually had to write a descriptive narrative for one of my classes. She said I could do a little story telling with it too, so this is what came out. I really liked it. The one thing I think though, is that all the descriptions and everything would be completely different if the girl in the story was....say.....ten years older or so? I dunno. Very interesting. Might add some new pieces to this.
The Doctor's Office
I grabbed the cool silver doorknob and turned it slowly clockwise until it stopped. I let out a slow sigh before pushing the heavy cherry wood door open and meekly stepping inside, letting it close behind me. The office had a corner waiting room with tall windows that reached the bright white ceiling, so in mid-afternoon on a calm spring day the sun filled it to the brim casting a warm glow on the faces of the women sitting in the tattered purple office chairs, the kind linked in long rows so you have to share the armrest with the person next to you. I could tell at first glance they would be entirely uncomfortable. I hoped the wait was not long.
I saw the young women working behind the counter. The two working the phones had matching scrubs that appeared to have been dyed in Pepto-Bismol, while the nurses scurrying quickly behind them with manila folders in hand all seemed to have chosen different cartoon characters; tweedy bird, snoopy, and two with Garfield.
I made my way around the ornate round glass table with a vase far too oversized for it set atop filled with what I could only assume were expensive silk irises because they looked so real I could almost smell them. I set my purse on the counter softly and waited for one of the pink ladies to finish their phone call. The one on the right hung up the phone and stepped the left, “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I have a four o’clock with Dr. Lamb.”
“Four o’clock,” she said picking up her clip-board and dragging her finger down the lined paper. The sound of her finger dragging down the page seemed so loud it echoed through my ears like nails on a chalkboard. “Ok, yes. First prenatal visit…” she said, almost in the form of a question before looking up to me. I looked at her a moment and nodded.
“Okay,” she began clearly trying to get herself back on track, “I will need you to fill this out.”
I took the clipboard and cheap office-style pen from her and hurried to the seat I had so dreaded before. I chose one in the corner, out of the way and began filling out the answers to my Spanish Inquisition. I could nearly feel the unmistakable smell of “Dr.'s office” dance through the air in a full assault on my nostrils; litocane, antiseptic, and some generic form of Cintas set in the corner to offset the medical scent.
I filled out the first blue paper with ease…name in the top box, followed by my emergency contact in the bottom box. The second page was yellow, explaining my HIPPA rights, which I’ve read a million times. The third page was pink. Again, patient name, then followed by the questions I have been dreading most. ‘Babies father’s name:’ I will just leave that blank for now. ‘Patient age:’ I ran my finger down the hard edge of the overused clip-board before writing ‘sixteen’ in blue ink. I hurried through the remaining questions before pushing myself to a stand using the hard rubber armrests. I could feel my feet dragging across the cheap blue carpet as I forced myself back to the counter. Both of the counter girls were waiting for me, watching me walk up with their quaint smiles and friendly demeanor.
“I’ll take that,” said the pink lady as I handed her my clipboard. “Dr. Lamb will see you now,” she whispered and pointed to the door to the right of the desk.
“Thanks,” I replied, and made my way quickly towards the door.
The Doctor's Office
I grabbed the cool silver doorknob and turned it slowly clockwise until it stopped. I let out a slow sigh before pushing the heavy cherry wood door open and meekly stepping inside, letting it close behind me. The office had a corner waiting room with tall windows that reached the bright white ceiling, so in mid-afternoon on a calm spring day the sun filled it to the brim casting a warm glow on the faces of the women sitting in the tattered purple office chairs, the kind linked in long rows so you have to share the armrest with the person next to you. I could tell at first glance they would be entirely uncomfortable. I hoped the wait was not long.
I saw the young women working behind the counter. The two working the phones had matching scrubs that appeared to have been dyed in Pepto-Bismol, while the nurses scurrying quickly behind them with manila folders in hand all seemed to have chosen different cartoon characters; tweedy bird, snoopy, and two with Garfield.
I made my way around the ornate round glass table with a vase far too oversized for it set atop filled with what I could only assume were expensive silk irises because they looked so real I could almost smell them. I set my purse on the counter softly and waited for one of the pink ladies to finish their phone call. The one on the right hung up the phone and stepped the left, “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I have a four o’clock with Dr. Lamb.”
“Four o’clock,” she said picking up her clip-board and dragging her finger down the lined paper. The sound of her finger dragging down the page seemed so loud it echoed through my ears like nails on a chalkboard. “Ok, yes. First prenatal visit…” she said, almost in the form of a question before looking up to me. I looked at her a moment and nodded.
“Okay,” she began clearly trying to get herself back on track, “I will need you to fill this out.”
I took the clipboard and cheap office-style pen from her and hurried to the seat I had so dreaded before. I chose one in the corner, out of the way and began filling out the answers to my Spanish Inquisition. I could nearly feel the unmistakable smell of “Dr.'s office” dance through the air in a full assault on my nostrils; litocane, antiseptic, and some generic form of Cintas set in the corner to offset the medical scent.
I filled out the first blue paper with ease…name in the top box, followed by my emergency contact in the bottom box. The second page was yellow, explaining my HIPPA rights, which I’ve read a million times. The third page was pink. Again, patient name, then followed by the questions I have been dreading most. ‘Babies father’s name:’ I will just leave that blank for now. ‘Patient age:’ I ran my finger down the hard edge of the overused clip-board before writing ‘sixteen’ in blue ink. I hurried through the remaining questions before pushing myself to a stand using the hard rubber armrests. I could feel my feet dragging across the cheap blue carpet as I forced myself back to the counter. Both of the counter girls were waiting for me, watching me walk up with their quaint smiles and friendly demeanor.
“I’ll take that,” said the pink lady as I handed her my clipboard. “Dr. Lamb will see you now,” she whispered and pointed to the door to the right of the desk.
“Thanks,” I replied, and made my way quickly towards the door.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
My Easter OOOPS!
Today was Easter. Although I am not of a Christian faith I choose to celebrate it anyway. My kids love it, and it's just a lot of fun. Plus, the candy is delicious! The "Easter Bunny" hid the kids baskets and eggs. My little angel seemed to remember this from last year because she spotted most the eggs as if she had a sniper site attached to her little face.
I did have one little interesting surprise, however. So, my husband and I decided to get my son a pricey Pokemon game he has been lusting after and give it as a gift to him, from the two of us. In the true spirit of Easter, I decided to hide it. I had carefully placed it in a gift bag and hung it from the back of the bathroom door from the knob. I told him it could be anywhere in the house and to go find it. I should have mentioned to him that my room was off limits. The only hint I gave him was to look for something bright green, as this was the color of the gift bag.
After about three minutes has passed he comes bolting down the stairs proudly holding my rather fancy, and rather phallic, bright blue "personal massager."
"This is bright blue, so this has to be it, right!" he said thrusting it into the air.
"NO!" I said to him with my eyes the size of frying pans, "go put that back where you found it," i told him as calmly as I could. He ran it back upstairs and my husband and I looked at each other and bursted into uproarious laughter. I hollered back up the stairs to him, "it's not in my room!"
I really hope he doesn't retain this memory as he gets older, or he is going to be scarred for life.
I did have one little interesting surprise, however. So, my husband and I decided to get my son a pricey Pokemon game he has been lusting after and give it as a gift to him, from the two of us. In the true spirit of Easter, I decided to hide it. I had carefully placed it in a gift bag and hung it from the back of the bathroom door from the knob. I told him it could be anywhere in the house and to go find it. I should have mentioned to him that my room was off limits. The only hint I gave him was to look for something bright green, as this was the color of the gift bag.
After about three minutes has passed he comes bolting down the stairs proudly holding my rather fancy, and rather phallic, bright blue "personal massager."
"This is bright blue, so this has to be it, right!" he said thrusting it into the air.
"NO!" I said to him with my eyes the size of frying pans, "go put that back where you found it," i told him as calmly as I could. He ran it back upstairs and my husband and I looked at each other and bursted into uproarious laughter. I hollered back up the stairs to him, "it's not in my room!"
I really hope he doesn't retain this memory as he gets older, or he is going to be scarred for life.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A Mormon Funeral
'This isn't how he would've wanted it,' I thought to myself as I finished following the words across the hymn book page. The smell of a musty hymn book that spends it's days in a box on the back of a pew is unmistakable. The organist finishes playing "He Walks Beside Me," with their mechanical key strokes, and lack of passion.
I put the book back in the box before looking to my mother who is drying her eyes with another pre-packaged tissue from her over sized purse, which began a sinking feeling in my chest. I sat back on the faded orange cushion of the bench to take in the beautiful array of floral sprays and casket flowers. White roses and hydrangeas, with his favorite shade of yellow. I wasn't close enough to take in the scents first hand but the entire room is filled with the unforgettable aroma of 'funeral.' I remember the first funeral I've ever been to, like everyone else, and I am sure I will never forget it.
The picture of him in his police uniform, was of course placed on the large easel to the right of the casket. Even in this run of the mill photo you could see the pride and passion in his eyes. Brian always had the passion in his eyes for anything he did. My favorite picture, however, that my mom let me choose is sitting beside it on a much smaller easel, black with ivy. It depicts him and I on the old rusted porch swing, with cake in hand celebrating his acceptance to the force. I chose this one, because it is the way I always want to remember my big brother. I think it was the happiest day of his life.
I have sat on that same swing many mornings since that day, cup of coffee in hand, imagining what my nieces and nephews will look like...what I might buy them and what kind of aunt I would be. I guess that will, now, be just a distant and fading memory. I looked to the row in front of me, to his girlfriend Libby, sobbing constantly in the arms of her father who is gently brushing back her hair with his fingers as many fathers do for their little girls. I imagine she is feeling more like a little girl now than she has in years. Vulnerable, and lost. I am not the only person who has lost my other half today.
The overall feeling in the room was sorrow, deep and dry. I listen to speaker after speaker who would pretend they knew him well. The Bishop gave a talk about the first time he met Brian, but left out that he hasn't seen him since he was sixteen, when Brian made the choice that he didn't want to spend every Sunday for the rest of his life serving his "faith." The Bishop also left out that the last time he saw him, Brian was throwing a book in his face denouncing this church and all that follow it, and yet here we are...in this room of brick and mortar, "House of the Lord." The last place Brian would want to spend his final moments on this earth.
As the service dwindled to a close and the organist began to play the exit music we herded out not unlike a cattle drive and were guided to the gymnasium. The most impersonal room in this building. Row after row of casseroles in all shapes and sizes lined long white tables framing the walls of the room.
"You need to eat something Charity," my mother mumbled under her breath to me, "You haven't eaten in days.
"I'm not hungry," I told her with a nervousness to my voice. My mother picked up a plate and forced it into my hands along with a plastic fork and napkin. Plastic silverware is so informal. Twenty-two years of life just lost, and the best you can do is plastic silverware? I pass by each dish, most of them unrecognizable to me. Half are topped with fried onions and the other half crushed corn flakes. All, I'm sure, included cream of mushroom soup. The Mormon staple to any food. I did take a small serving of funeral potatoes, They're the only thing here that slightly resembles food.
I pass the line of crock pots, which no doubt include several different kinds of meatballs marinated in different flavorless sauces. I passed to the other table which included the desserts. Red Jello, and four different platters of green jello, in different shapes and sizes filled with different kinds of fruits. Some were covered in whipped cream. I paused for a moment and gave a real hard look at one of the dishes. Pineapple chunks, it is filled with pineapple chunks. At two dollars a box I am taking a heart felt look, in my most vulnerable moment, at ten dollars worth of dessert. The relief society must be left-brained.
I walked over and took a seat beside my mother who was sitting with brother something or another.
"You didn't get any Jello?" she asked with bewilderment on her face. The biggest thing on her mind is whether or not I got Jello? I wish Dad were still here.
I ran my fork through the potatoes trying to pick a few bites out before pushing the remainder around on the plate to create the illusion that I had eaten more before downing the rest of my drink. Fruit punch mixed with sprite. Yet another left-brained concoction.
The room was filled with people eating and mourning, chatting with their reverent six inch whispers, but I cannot pick out any conversations specifically. I got up from my cold hard folding chair and carried my plate to the trash can, before deciding I didn't want to mourn along side the faceless bodies I didn't even know. I walked through the swinging door running into a woman I had never seen before in her best Sunday dress. She lightly puts her hand on my shoulder before saying, "I'm so sorry to hear about your brother."
I tried not to be rude but couldn't help myself from pulling back a little. "Thanks," I said as I gently moved around her and back into the steeple where my brother's casket was being prepped for the Paul Bearers to carry it to the hearse. The two random men in suits must have realized I wanted a moment alone because they quietly carried the two arrangements from either side of the casket out the door and closed it behind them.
I sat on the bench slowly and again slumped back in my seat with a sigh. I could feel a tightness in my throat before my eyes began welling with tears. "Well, Brian. What am I supposed to do. You were my best friend, my everything." I felt my voice raising as I stood and placed a hand on his casket, before letting out a loud cry and dropping to my knees. This is the first time I had let myself feel it, the overwhelming feeling that he is really gone. I felt it wash over me, sicken me, and completely succumbed to it. I gasped for air as sob after sob escaped my lips and the tears fell from my cheeks to the colorless value brand carpeting. Just as I felt myself begin to calm I heard the doors beginning to open and I quickly pulled myself to my feet, drying my eyes. I stopped at the picture of my brother and I, running my fingers down the picture before deciding I was taking it with me.
I walked back out to the foyer and opened the two sets of glass doors to go outside. The sun felt hot on my face and the wind felt warm and soft, like a single arm embracing me, telling me everything would be alright...something I have yet to experience. I walked down the two concrete stairs, slipped off my shoes and pushed myself onto the moist grass in front of the church. I rolled over quickly to see endless sky for miles, and in this moment I realized I'm all I've got, and everything was is defined in this moment. Blue skies for miles.
I put the book back in the box before looking to my mother who is drying her eyes with another pre-packaged tissue from her over sized purse, which began a sinking feeling in my chest. I sat back on the faded orange cushion of the bench to take in the beautiful array of floral sprays and casket flowers. White roses and hydrangeas, with his favorite shade of yellow. I wasn't close enough to take in the scents first hand but the entire room is filled with the unforgettable aroma of 'funeral.' I remember the first funeral I've ever been to, like everyone else, and I am sure I will never forget it.
The picture of him in his police uniform, was of course placed on the large easel to the right of the casket. Even in this run of the mill photo you could see the pride and passion in his eyes. Brian always had the passion in his eyes for anything he did. My favorite picture, however, that my mom let me choose is sitting beside it on a much smaller easel, black with ivy. It depicts him and I on the old rusted porch swing, with cake in hand celebrating his acceptance to the force. I chose this one, because it is the way I always want to remember my big brother. I think it was the happiest day of his life.
I have sat on that same swing many mornings since that day, cup of coffee in hand, imagining what my nieces and nephews will look like...what I might buy them and what kind of aunt I would be. I guess that will, now, be just a distant and fading memory. I looked to the row in front of me, to his girlfriend Libby, sobbing constantly in the arms of her father who is gently brushing back her hair with his fingers as many fathers do for their little girls. I imagine she is feeling more like a little girl now than she has in years. Vulnerable, and lost. I am not the only person who has lost my other half today.
The overall feeling in the room was sorrow, deep and dry. I listen to speaker after speaker who would pretend they knew him well. The Bishop gave a talk about the first time he met Brian, but left out that he hasn't seen him since he was sixteen, when Brian made the choice that he didn't want to spend every Sunday for the rest of his life serving his "faith." The Bishop also left out that the last time he saw him, Brian was throwing a book in his face denouncing this church and all that follow it, and yet here we are...in this room of brick and mortar, "House of the Lord." The last place Brian would want to spend his final moments on this earth.
As the service dwindled to a close and the organist began to play the exit music we herded out not unlike a cattle drive and were guided to the gymnasium. The most impersonal room in this building. Row after row of casseroles in all shapes and sizes lined long white tables framing the walls of the room.
"You need to eat something Charity," my mother mumbled under her breath to me, "You haven't eaten in days.
"I'm not hungry," I told her with a nervousness to my voice. My mother picked up a plate and forced it into my hands along with a plastic fork and napkin. Plastic silverware is so informal. Twenty-two years of life just lost, and the best you can do is plastic silverware? I pass by each dish, most of them unrecognizable to me. Half are topped with fried onions and the other half crushed corn flakes. All, I'm sure, included cream of mushroom soup. The Mormon staple to any food. I did take a small serving of funeral potatoes, They're the only thing here that slightly resembles food.
I pass the line of crock pots, which no doubt include several different kinds of meatballs marinated in different flavorless sauces. I passed to the other table which included the desserts. Red Jello, and four different platters of green jello, in different shapes and sizes filled with different kinds of fruits. Some were covered in whipped cream. I paused for a moment and gave a real hard look at one of the dishes. Pineapple chunks, it is filled with pineapple chunks. At two dollars a box I am taking a heart felt look, in my most vulnerable moment, at ten dollars worth of dessert. The relief society must be left-brained.
I walked over and took a seat beside my mother who was sitting with brother something or another.
"You didn't get any Jello?" she asked with bewilderment on her face. The biggest thing on her mind is whether or not I got Jello? I wish Dad were still here.
I ran my fork through the potatoes trying to pick a few bites out before pushing the remainder around on the plate to create the illusion that I had eaten more before downing the rest of my drink. Fruit punch mixed with sprite. Yet another left-brained concoction.
The room was filled with people eating and mourning, chatting with their reverent six inch whispers, but I cannot pick out any conversations specifically. I got up from my cold hard folding chair and carried my plate to the trash can, before deciding I didn't want to mourn along side the faceless bodies I didn't even know. I walked through the swinging door running into a woman I had never seen before in her best Sunday dress. She lightly puts her hand on my shoulder before saying, "I'm so sorry to hear about your brother."
I tried not to be rude but couldn't help myself from pulling back a little. "Thanks," I said as I gently moved around her and back into the steeple where my brother's casket was being prepped for the Paul Bearers to carry it to the hearse. The two random men in suits must have realized I wanted a moment alone because they quietly carried the two arrangements from either side of the casket out the door and closed it behind them.
I sat on the bench slowly and again slumped back in my seat with a sigh. I could feel a tightness in my throat before my eyes began welling with tears. "Well, Brian. What am I supposed to do. You were my best friend, my everything." I felt my voice raising as I stood and placed a hand on his casket, before letting out a loud cry and dropping to my knees. This is the first time I had let myself feel it, the overwhelming feeling that he is really gone. I felt it wash over me, sicken me, and completely succumbed to it. I gasped for air as sob after sob escaped my lips and the tears fell from my cheeks to the colorless value brand carpeting. Just as I felt myself begin to calm I heard the doors beginning to open and I quickly pulled myself to my feet, drying my eyes. I stopped at the picture of my brother and I, running my fingers down the picture before deciding I was taking it with me.
I walked back out to the foyer and opened the two sets of glass doors to go outside. The sun felt hot on my face and the wind felt warm and soft, like a single arm embracing me, telling me everything would be alright...something I have yet to experience. I walked down the two concrete stairs, slipped off my shoes and pushed myself onto the moist grass in front of the church. I rolled over quickly to see endless sky for miles, and in this moment I realized I'm all I've got, and everything was is defined in this moment. Blue skies for miles.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
My Middle Finger
DISCLAIMER- IF YOU ARE VERY DEVOUT IN YOUR FAITH, YOU MIGHT WANNA SKIP THIS ONE.
Ok, let me start out by saying that I understand the "Bible Belt" is called that for a reason. I am guilty of complaining about religious influence in my own state (Utah) as well. When you live in a state that is ran by the book, and by the book I mean the Bible, it can make living your life within your rights completely impossible. Anyone living outside the majorities preconceived notion of how life should be will make you an outcast. The stigmas brought on by living in places like this is astounding, and aside from the times we are in...people still seem to passing down hatred to their children.
A friend sent me an article today, link below:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_lesbian_prom_date
To sum it up for you, a lesbian was planning to attend prom with her girlfriend, and one or the other was going to wear a tuxedo. Sounds like a plan to me! So....this school is in Mississippi, and I will give you exactly one guess how the school and district responded to this...... HELL NO. At some point the ACLU got involved, informing both the school and district of the rights of the students and that they couldn't deny them to their right to attend the prom. How does the district respond to this? A well balanced mind would say, "Alright, they are within their rights, we will let them attend." However, this is not what took place. Instead the district decided to cancel the prom completely. To sweeten the pot, the Mayor AGREED with the district's decision.
I have one question.....What the fuck is wrong with you people? Who would go to such great lengths to ruin one of the most important milestones for many seniors, especially based on the choices of a single couple. So, now the district is basically saying that one bad apple ruins the bunch and is teaching the entire school that it should blame this poor lesbian couple for missing out on their most special night. Bravo.
I am completely in favor of freedom of religion. I think that people should believe whatever is right for them. If you believe a magical pink horse shat the world out in a day, good for you. However, taking it to the extreme of forcing it on people's way of life disgusts me, thoroughly. When it breeds hatred, death, war, and terrorism..... you are taking it too far.
In summation, believe whatever is right for you, but do NOT force those beliefs on another person or try to limit their lives in any way. For people who have such strong morals, you uber-faithfuls sure do the wrong thing a lot. Hate breeds hate. Stop the cycle.
Ok, let me start out by saying that I understand the "Bible Belt" is called that for a reason. I am guilty of complaining about religious influence in my own state (Utah) as well. When you live in a state that is ran by the book, and by the book I mean the Bible, it can make living your life within your rights completely impossible. Anyone living outside the majorities preconceived notion of how life should be will make you an outcast. The stigmas brought on by living in places like this is astounding, and aside from the times we are in...people still seem to passing down hatred to their children.
A friend sent me an article today, link below:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_lesbian_prom_date
To sum it up for you, a lesbian was planning to attend prom with her girlfriend, and one or the other was going to wear a tuxedo. Sounds like a plan to me! So....this school is in Mississippi, and I will give you exactly one guess how the school and district responded to this...... HELL NO. At some point the ACLU got involved, informing both the school and district of the rights of the students and that they couldn't deny them to their right to attend the prom. How does the district respond to this? A well balanced mind would say, "Alright, they are within their rights, we will let them attend." However, this is not what took place. Instead the district decided to cancel the prom completely. To sweeten the pot, the Mayor AGREED with the district's decision.
I have one question.....What the fuck is wrong with you people? Who would go to such great lengths to ruin one of the most important milestones for many seniors, especially based on the choices of a single couple. So, now the district is basically saying that one bad apple ruins the bunch and is teaching the entire school that it should blame this poor lesbian couple for missing out on their most special night. Bravo.
I am completely in favor of freedom of religion. I think that people should believe whatever is right for them. If you believe a magical pink horse shat the world out in a day, good for you. However, taking it to the extreme of forcing it on people's way of life disgusts me, thoroughly. When it breeds hatred, death, war, and terrorism..... you are taking it too far.
In summation, believe whatever is right for you, but do NOT force those beliefs on another person or try to limit their lives in any way. For people who have such strong morals, you uber-faithfuls sure do the wrong thing a lot. Hate breeds hate. Stop the cycle.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Ten Wicked Short Stories in a Bar: UPDATE
Okay, so just an FYI this is being published into a book as we speak. If you would like to purchase one please follow this link:
http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1222374
Other than that, please be advised that the all of the stories will be removed from this blog, with the exception of Part 1.
Thanks,
Avant Garde
http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1222374
Other than that, please be advised that the all of the stories will be removed from this blog, with the exception of Part 1.
Thanks,
Avant Garde
Monday, March 1, 2010
My Momentary Lapse of Reason
So, I was scrolling down my Facebook updates today when I came across a page a friend of mine had become a fan of. I don't usually become a fan of many things on Facebook due to the ultimate spam attacks they tend to launch on my news feed, but I felt compelled to click the link because I was thoroughly intrigued. It read, "Hardest Riddle Ever!!!" Please note there was not only one, or two, but three exclamation points there, that's what really drew me in. I am also a total sucker for riddles. I thought I would check it out. Once the page pulled up it read:
WORLD'S HARDEST RIDDLE
99% of Harvard students couldn't figure this out, but 87% of kinder-gardeners could in 6 minutes or less.
I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Due to a few of the questions my first thought was sunlight, or the sun but I couldn't really associate it to every example provided in the riddle. After about five or ten minutes of looking this over I decided to employ the ever brilliant Google to help me out. I found this posted in several forums with people seeking answers or opinions as to the answer of the riddle....I also found a single line that was left out of the original riddle I had located on Facebook. The next piece I found read:
I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Can you guess the riddle?
The last line was left out of the original riddle I had located. Looking through all the potential answers plastered all over every single forum on the web I picked a couple of my favorite where you could tell people put a lot of thought into the question.
"I think Its air
The time has come,
winter is here
and those yellow bears disappear.
The time has past
as man looks back with a sigh
and a tear is his eye
As time is held
boys cross their legs
but of course the toilet begs
As time marches on
Girls loose their blush
and swap a comb for their brush
As time passes
For those held high
their end is nigh
As time catches up
Everyone is equal
when we get to the final sequel
As time turns
Without it we have flour and water
With it we have breakfast for my daughter
As time revolves
How does one turn water and wine
into something so fine
As time runs out
The more in a minute you try to squeeze
the less you can do with ease
As time ticks
All the time that has past
man cannot comprehend something so vast
WORLD'S HARDEST RIDDLE
99% of Harvard students couldn't figure this out, but 87% of kinder-gardeners could in 6 minutes or less.
I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Due to a few of the questions my first thought was sunlight, or the sun but I couldn't really associate it to every example provided in the riddle. After about five or ten minutes of looking this over I decided to employ the ever brilliant Google to help me out. I found this posted in several forums with people seeking answers or opinions as to the answer of the riddle....I also found a single line that was left out of the original riddle I had located on Facebook. The next piece I found read:
I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Can you guess the riddle?
The last line was left out of the original riddle I had located. Looking through all the potential answers plastered all over every single forum on the web I picked a couple of my favorite where you could tell people put a lot of thought into the question.
"I think Its air
I turn polar bears white (cold air)
and I will make you cry. (cold air)
I make guys have to pee (cold air)
and girls comb their hair. (air)
I make celebrities look stupid (cold air)
and normal people look like celebrities. (air)
I turn pancakes brown (hot air)
and make your champagne bubble. (air in the bubbles)
If you squeeze me, I'll pop. (air in like a balloon)
If you look at me, you'll pop. (im not sure about this one maybe your ears pop)
Can you guess the riddle?"
Interesting theory, air or wind. I could see that working. One of the better one's I found was this piece:
"It's got to be pressure.
Polar bears are white because the pressure at the poles is low, so they have to be able to absorb heat.
Pressure makes you cry if it's too much.
Pressure in your bladder makes you have to pee.
Peer pressure makes girls comb their hair...Otherwise we wouldn't bother!
Celebrities usually crack under pressure.
Many normal people will shine under pressure.
Pancakes turn brown thanks to pressure generated by the heat.
Champagne will bubble until the pressure of the carbonation has disappeared.
If you squeeze something under pressure, BAM, there it goes."
I thought the logic was very good in this answer and bravo to whoever this deep thinker is. The problem with these two answers is that no kinder-gardener is going to think about the pressure in the North Pole, or about the air in the affecting the color (or lack their of) in a polar bear's fur. I really think that if I had read the question in it's entirety in the first place I would've figured this out on my own, but I cannot take credit for it. The point of it is to look at the piece in it's entirety and think of this as if you were a child. If someone were to ask you "Can you guess the riddle?" what would your answer be?
My answer would be "No."
If we were to base this on the fact that kinder-gardeners answered the riddle in six minutes, this would be the answer they would produce in it's most simplistic form. After I came to grips that this was the answer to the riddle and kinda gave a good "Oh! I get it, got me there riddle!" the rabbit hole deepens.
I was speaking online with another friend of mine whose internet search skills are for superior to my own, he produced the answer "time." I tried telling him I couldn't see how time could work with all of the answers, and then he sent me this poem he had come across. I would give credit to the author, but unfortunately I don't know who it is. Please read below, and reference it back to the original riddle.The time has come,
winter is here
and those yellow bears disappear.
The time has past
as man looks back with a sigh
and a tear is his eye
As time is held
boys cross their legs
but of course the toilet begs
As time marches on
Girls loose their blush
and swap a comb for their brush
As time passes
For those held high
their end is nigh
As time catches up
Everyone is equal
when we get to the final sequel
As time turns
Without it we have flour and water
With it we have breakfast for my daughter
As time revolves
How does one turn water and wine
into something so fine
As time runs out
The more in a minute you try to squeeze
the less you can do with ease
As time ticks
All the time that has past
man cannot comprehend something so vast
So now this, to me anyway, seems to beg the metaphorical question "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" This seems to be an older style of poetry to me, so I would guess that the riddle itself would be based off this piece. If that is the case, then 90% of the smart ass people on every forum that said "Duh, the answer is no" would be completely incorrect. The answer, in fact, would be time. What's your take on this?
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