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50 Amazing True Facts

The Internet is full of all sorts of lists of amazing true facts about our world. I feel my blogging life is incomplete if I don’t share my own set of interesting–and totally factual–items with my readers.

1. Keepers at the San Diego Zoo have found that when given a selection of breakfast cereals, tigers will always choose Frosted Flakes.
2. The same study found that toucans are actually cuckoo for Cap’n Crunch.
3. Britney Spears’ full legal name is Britney Aparaga Spears.
4. In Autumn, leaves always fall to the west of the tree.
5. Movie theaters in the United States are required to provide at least three types of soda and two sizes of popcorn at concession stands.
6. In Ohio, it is illegal to drive exactly 37 m.p.h.
7. Studies show that 17 percent of all 2nd graders who read Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs and hear “On Top of Spaghetti” develop a fear of marinara-based dishes.
8. The president of Canada is technically also the Prince of Nepal.
9. Cell phones were first invented in 1952, but were not released to the public because of a secret agreement between the U.S. government and AT&T.
10. Chipmunks have three stomachs and nine toes.
11. Sweatpants were once considered formal attire.
12. Dogs are more obedient to commands given in French.
13. Girls with bangs are 43 percent more likely to laugh at a knock-knock joke than those without bangs.
14. Humans blink an average of 14 billion times during their life.
15. Surveys show 87 percent of Americans like Christmas music, but only 16 percent would admit so to their friends.
16. Baby carrots are the healthiest food on Earth.
17. Most grocery stores arrange cereal in alphabetical order.
18. NBC originally stood for “New Broadcasting Company” but changed its name when a new network (CBS) was founded.
19. The thread count in a set of sheets refers to the average number of seconds it takes to thread one of the fibers through the head of a needle.
20. In Australia, three people are killed every day in accidents involving step ladders.
21. Blondes actually have 6 percent less fun.
22. Windows were first used to conveniently throw food scraps outside.
23. The first Starbucks coffee contained tiny particles from an actual star and cost $1.
24. Clothes actually shrink in the washer and expand in the dryer.
25. Cats cannot hear guitars.
26. Nine out of 10 people are afraid of seagulls.
27. People who wear sunglasses every day are more likely to develop color blindness.
28. Descendants of Beatrix Potter have sued J.K. Rowling claiming that since she created Peter Rabbit, she is the originator of the first Hairy Potter.
29. Squirrels are afraid of crickets.
30. Football was first played by colonists in Massachusetts.
31. Lawmakers in 43 states have proposed eliminating the penny from U.S. currency.
32. The world record for number of jumbo marshmallows eaten in one hour is 4,581.
33. The Russian flag features a grizzly bear holding a handgun.
34. Crayola modeled its yellow crayons after the color of Iowa corn.
35. The United Nations does not officially recognize Canada as a sovereign nation.
36. Pumas are born without a tail.
37. There are 429 different ways to tie a shoe.
38. In North Carolina it is illegal to build a playground without a slide.
39. Deer are attracted to small children and the color orange.
40. Airplane food has to be kept pressurized at all times in order to preserve its flavor.
41. Grapes are high in saturated fat.
42. England’s last three queens have all been left-handed.
43. Baby strollers are required to pass safety tests at 48 m.p.h.
44. The small portion of toothpaste left in a tube is called a pasticle.
45. Shaving makes a man’s facial hair turn a darker color when it grows back.
46. Beer can be kept at 23 degrees F before it freezes.
47. Police radar guns cannot accurately measure the speed of hybrid cars.
48. Scented candles burn more slowly than unscented candles.
49. An airplane is unable to safely land if more than half of the tray tables are not in the upright and locked position.
50. Most orange juice is actually made from grapefruits.

September 29, 2009 Uncategorized
Too Convenient

While sitting at a light after leaving work today I saw a guy pull into a bank to use the ATM.

It wasn’t what could be described as a leisurely cash withdrawal though. He came into the parking lot at a quick pace, and barely got the car stopped in front of the building by the time he was stepping out. The man didn’t even close the door of his car, and I imagine he even left it running.

Then he proceeded to walk 20 feet to the ATM on the front of the building. An ATM that is roughly five feet from one of two drive-thru ATMs at the same bank.

So to recap, we have a man in need of quick cash. He decides to use an ATM. He drives quickly from the road into the bank complex. Instead of utilizing one of the drive-thru ATMs–which exist for exactly this scenario–he parks the car and walks to make his withdrawal.

Maybe it’s part of some weight loss plan that includes walking everywhere whenever possible. But I’m guessing that’s not the case.

September 22, 2009 Uncategorized
Check, Please

I’ve never been a waiter, or any other employee who regularly depended on tips from customers.

If I were a waiter though, I would spend a lot of my time wondering if people were accurately gauging my level of service with their tips, or if they just sucked at math.

Think about it. How many people do you know who get out their cell phone calculator to figure out the tip, or spend several minutes trying out some mental math before asking someone else at the table what 15 percent of their bill would be?

There’s a good chance that of the thousands and thousands of restaurant bills each day, there’s bound to be a certain percentage with gross errors when it comes to calculating the tip. And if you’re aware of that as a waiter, it should drive you crazy not knowing how the diner really judged your performance.

I thought about that after going out for lunch today, though I should make clear that neither of my companions inspired this thinking.

Later in the day while watching football, I saw a commercial for a prescription drug that included a strange set of instructions relating to side effects. The ad was for Cialis, a pill designed to combat erectile dysfunction.

When talking about the side effects, the narrator says that if you experience a sudden loss in vision or hearing, you should immediately call your doctor.

I’ll give you a second to read that sentence again.

If you suddenly can’t A) see, or B) hear, you should call your doctor. Are you supposed to magically know your doctor’s number and where your phone is just by feeling the objects around you?

And when you successfully make the call, how is the conversation supposed to go?

You: (waits for what seems like enough time that someone would have answered) “Hi. I can’t hear you because I have experienced a sudden loss in hearing. I took Cialis, and the commercial said I should call you if I had such a symptom. I remind you that I can’t hear a word you are saying. So, I live at 123 Oak Lane. If I need immediate medical attention, please either come to my address or send emergency personnel to my location. If I do not see people arrive at my door, I will assume this condition is not that serious and will solve itself. Thank you for your assistance, and I apologize if I have been speaking at an incredibly loud volume as I cannot hear myself.”

September 20, 2009 math Uncategorized
Zombie Tebow Needs Brains

The madness that is Florida quarterback Tim Tebow must be stopped.

That is, the madness that surrounds Tim Tebow must be stopped.

The Jacksonville Jaguars are struggling mightily to sell tickets and have been for years. That, combined with the super-stardom of Tebow at nearby Florida inspired this article from the Associated Press.

If you don’t feel like reading it, I’ll sum up the major points. First, an athlete with an intense following in the Jacksonville area would help boost anemic ticket sales. Second, everyone in the area loves Tim Tebow. Third, the writer compares Tebow to LeBron James.

The last part is where I have an issue. LeBron established his reputation as a high school basketball player in Akron, about 30 miles from where he now plays in Cleveland. James, the article says, “turned the foundering NBA franchise into an Eastern Conference power and made the Cavaliers the hottest ticket in town.”

Sure, his personality and the fact that his games were nationally televised before he was drafted in the NBA helped spur an enthusiasm about the Cavaliers. But LeBron also happens to be one of the best basketball players on the planet, with a style and a level of athleticism that put him in a special class.

Tim Tebow is a very good college football player, as evidenced by his two national championships and Heisman Trophy. His cultlike status in Northeast Florida is almost unexplainable.

I lived in Jacksonville for a little over a year, and it took about 17 seconds for me to be absolutely sick of Tebow talk. Having grown up in Northern Virginia, I was used to hearing fanatical Virginia Tech fans gloat about the Hokies. But this is on an entirely different level.

I’m fairly certain that if Tebow announced he was a zombie who needed a supply of brains in order to deliver another national title, he’d have a hundred Gators fans lined up the next day offering the contents of their skull.

There are plenty of opiners saying Tebow can’t handle playing quarterback at the NFL level and is partially a product of the system in which he plays. I won’t delve into those arguments. However, I will say he is not LeBron James. He would not walk into Jaguars’ training camp and drastically raise the team’s talent level. LeBron sold tickets–but he also brought wins.

Besides, as a New York Giants fan, nothing would make me happy than hearing: “With the _ selection in the 2010 NFL draft, the Washington Redskins select Tim Tebow, quarterback University of Florida.”

September 16, 2009 Uncategorized
Small in Stature, Big in Fun

Few items in my life have brought joy to those close to me like Mini Football. I capitalize this palm-sized ball because it is just that special.

Ordinarily, this is where I’d show you a picture of the magnificent Mini Football. But you’ll have to either wait for the end or scroll to the bottom for a moment. You have my roommate Mike to blame for this. I asked him about the “Hat Came Back” post the other day and he said he stopped reading at the picture.

He’s also the latest to be indoctrinated into the wonders of Mini Football. It’s small enough that you can get in some quality tosses indoors without A) breaking anything and B) not wear out your arm when going for hours on end.

It looks like a regular ball–leather cover, stitches, full or air–but I defy you to find another ball in existence that has brought so much entertainment in a short life span.

The core group of Mini Football enthusiasts attended Susquehanna University sometime between 2001 and 2005. My roommate Shawn–that’s Shawn L. for you longtime readers–is certainly in the MF Hall of Fame.

During our junior year, we had desks that faced each other on opposite sides of the room. Hour after hour passed with the ball sailing precariously over our monitors to the delight of everyone involved.

But it was really freshman year that MF secure its place in the hearts of the masses. Pick a random night and you’d find myself, Shawn L. and our friend Mindy passing the time in my room. I’d grab the ball from the shelf next to my desk and toss it to one of them. For the next (insert a scary number here) hours, that’s all we’d do. I mean, we’d chat and whatnot and maybe there would be a movie on. But the real action was the MF flying from point to point around the room.

The real fun came when someone made a bad throw, and the ball was no longer within anyone’s reach. We would do absolutely everything in our power to retrieve the ball without having to get up. Sometimes that meant tying together two lanyards with our keys to make a sort of lasso to snare it and pull it back. Other times we would get more adventurous and throw a shoe. If we tried five or six methods and still didn’t have the ball back–or even pushed it farther away–then someone would take one for the team and get up to get the ball.

Sophomore year was a little tougher, mainly since Shawn L. and I lived in a tiny room with desks that practically touched one another.

So maybe the MF was eager for us to move into a spacious suite and introduce some new people to the game. We even came up with a new contest, a version of H-O-R-S-E where you had to toss MF onto a foldout chair in order to score a “basket.” This was probably the most difficult game I have ever played. But it did lead to one instance in which I rode a bike down the hallway of our building, made a sharp left turn into our common area and tossed the ball safely onto the chair. I’m pretty sure Shawn L. didn’t even attempt that one.

Visitors were always fond of being involved in MF action. Several also threatened to steal the beloved ball for their own use, only to be threatened with certain death.

I can only think of one negative experience involving MF, which led to it being used solely in indoor situations.

I’ll take you back to freshman year at SU, just outside Smith Hall where Mindy, Shawn L. and I all lived on the rocking third floor. For some reason we decided that taking the football outside, at night, was a good idea. And I guess it was for maybe 15 minutes.

We were stationed in a small piece of grass near a streetlamp so we could see what we were doing. If I had to guess, I’d say it was easily 11 p.m. We saw a mysterious figure approaching us at a pretty slow pace. He was coming across the field hockey practice field, which was directly behind the dorm.

When he got to us, the guy clearly on some sort of–and probably multiple–substances. He immediately launched into a slur-filled rant about the lacrosse coach being mad at us. He said we should go to his office right now and apologize for everything we’ve done.

At this point, Mindy retreated to the nearby door and held it open. The mystery man–who was roughly 6-2, 230–became more and more insistent that we straighten things out with the lacrosse coach. I’ll take a second and point out that none of the three of us would have any reason to have even met the lacrosse coach and thus could have no beef.

Things really got interesting when he put his arm around Shawn L., who I believe is roughly 5-6. That’s when we stopped sort of blindly agreeing with him and waiting for him to be on his merry way. We told him something like we knew we had screwed up and we were on our way to apologize with the coach. Finally we hit on the right combination of those nonsensical promises and he turned around and slowly walked away.

We went inside with MF and decided it was probably best to keep that as an indoor game. MF has rewarded us with hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of good times. He must not be an outdoorsy kind of ball.

The Mini Football in all its glory

September 9, 2009 football Susquehanna Uncategorized
Who Needs Sleep?

The human body is an amazing thing.

It’s incredible how much we can learn about ourselves and how our body will react to certain situations. You can tell someone you’re a morning person because you know you jump right out of bed and aren’t often staying up until the wee hours of the morning. You know whether you’re a coffee drinker, or if you need to eat breakfast before work.

This past weekend I worked my first overnight shift in almost a year. Actually it was exactly 11 months to the day since I produced the 7 a.m. hour of The Morning Show, my last shift at WJXT. I had spent about 8 months on a schedule where I worked W/Th 4 a.m.-noon and 10 p.m.-10 a.m. on the weekends.

In that time I learned a lot about how my body deals with sleep–and the lack thereof. The Wednesday/Thursday shifts really weren’t that hard to adjust to. But the weekends were brutal.

I spent a lot of time trying to devise the perfect sleep strategy. I left work at noon on Thursday and had to be back at 10 p.m. Friday. That’s a tough flip of the schedule. I tried going to bed late Thursday so I could sleep in Friday. I tried going to bed early so I would be up extra early–and thus more able to nap.

Neither one of those seemed to make any difference. I tried running and not running–again no real difference. After a month or so it became clear that I wasn’t going to get much sleep on Fridays, so I pretty much stopped trying. It became a day devoted to doing as little as possible.

Because I was asleep during prime-time during the week, I had a DVR full of stuff I could watch. In the late afternoon I would try to get about an hour-long nap, or at least sit in my nicely darkened room. Even with the windows largely blocked, it’s still very unnatural to sleep when the sun is blaring outside.

Fortunately, I had an entire collection of VHS tapes I hadn’t seen in a long time (and a TV that doesn’t have connections for a DVD player). Relaxing to Apollo 13 or Renaissance Man became my Friday “sleep” routine.

During the shift itself, I discovered there are two distinct times that I can bet on feeling like I’m about to pass out–no matter what I’m doing. Between 11 p.m. and midnight, and again around 4-5 a.m., the eyelids get very, very heavy. But once I get through those points, it’s as if it’s 2 in the afternoon and I’m perfectly rested.

Of course there are other oddities that come with working those hours. I assure you I was the only one in my age bracket doing grocery shopping at 7 a.m. In fact, on more than one occasion, the checkout clerk basically asked me, “what are you doing here?”

The major perk to working back-to-back overnights and then having Mondays and Tuesdays off was the Sunday sleep schedule. I’d get home from the station sometime around 9:30 a.m. The routine was always the same–down a bowl of cereal and get in bed as soon as possible. Once the show went off the air, it was as if I could feel a ticking sleep bomb in my head and I better be near a bed when it went off.

But the key to the Sunday cycle is to only nap for about 4 hours. I wanted to be able to do something with the day and that was enough to get me through to the early evening. Then it’s back to bed for the most absolutely glorious night of sleep a person could ever in a million billion kajillion years enjoy.

September 7, 2009 sleep Uncategorized
Can I Ask an Awkwardly Timed Question?

I can’t believe I missed a perfect opportunity today to ask a pointless, yet somehow interesting question.

I was at Harris Teeter procuring a delightful amount of food, which happened to include some milk. At nearly every grocery checkout situation I’ve had in the past two years–including a wide range of chains in both Virginia and Florida–the store employee has asked if I wanted my milk in a bag.

The answer is always a quick “Yes” or “Yeah that would be fine.”

Immediately after that answer today, I thought of a question I didn’t ask.

“Do people normally get their milk in a bag?”

I mean, I was legitimately curious but for some reason didn’t strike at the opportunity. I think I was slightly distracted trying to think of who the girl at the register looks like. She reminded me of someone, but for the life of my I couldn’t figure it out.

And by the time I snapped out of that side project, it was too late. Maybe if there was nobody behind me in line, or there were more than two items left to be scanned I could have tried to relaunch the topic. But there was an old couple who looked like they wouldn’t appreciate me slowing things down with my line of questioning. So I let it go.

As I walked out of the store I couldn’t help but think I let a golden opportunity pass. I’ll surely go back to the grocery store, and there’s a solid chance the question comes up again. But will I have the same girl, who in my mind at least seemed like she would provide an excellent answer?

This Harris Teeter is located directly next to an Office Depot. I mention this because after walking into HT and grabbing a cart, a woman came in the door right behind me. She already had a cart. A big red one. From Office Depot.

She walked right past the HT employee who seemed to be on cart duty. The guy didn’t even seem the least bit interested that a bright red cart from a neighboring store was infiltrating his domain.

Which brings to mind another burning question from that trip that went un-asked. Does that happen often? Not even necessarily at that particular store, but do people often use carts from nearby stores for their shopping?

In my illustrious retail career, I only worked one place that had carts. They were very non-descript, as were the ones from neighboring Kohl’s. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it happened every day.

But you can’t miss a bright red Office Depot cart in Harris Teeter. Maybe the challenge is to bring the most outlandishly inappropriate cart into a store.

September 4, 2009 grocery store Uncategorized
You Look Like Someone I Know

Thanks to my friends at Netflix, my Wednesday night was spent with a wonderful movie spoken exclusively in French.

Fortunately, “The Class” had English subtitles so I could actually follow what was going on. It also had a lead actor who looked far too much like my roommate from freshman year of college.

For those of you who didn’t live in at Susquehanna University’s Smith Hall room 315, here’s what my roommate Shawn looked like.

Of course, that Shawn is not to be confused with the other kid named Shawn I lived with for the other three years at SU. For clarity sake, I’ll refer to them as Shawn R. (freshman year) and Shawn L. (sophomore, junior & senior years).

Life with Shawn R. was definitely an experience. When we first talked on the phone a few weeks before we moved in, I quickly figured out we weren’t really running in the same circles. He asked what stuff I was planning on bringing and I mentioned my Sega Dreamcast.

“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a video game system.”
“Oh.”

The biggest thing you need to know about Shawn R., he was very neat. I mean, I may be considered a neat freak by regular standards, but living with Shawn R. made me feel like a slob.

He was also from Maine, which meant that on short breaks–the 3 and 4-day weekends–he didn’t go home. I got back to our dorm after one of those breaks and noticed my bed was made. I didn’t think much of it, though I probably made my bed twice the whole year. Then I got an IM from my friend Mindy, who happened to live just down the hall with Shawn R.’s girlfriend.

“Notice anything about your room?”
“Um, no….”
“Look at your bed.”
“My bed is made.”
“He MADE your bed!”

Apparently, after a day or so of sitting in our room and looking at my unmade bed, Shawn R. just couldn’t stand it anymore and had to make it. That’s what I call neat. Though maybe I should have expected something like that from a freshman male who mopped our floor on several occasions.

That made the Sprite incident all the more interesting.

Mindy and I frequently ordered food with Shawn L. and ate down in her room. After one of our meals arrived, I went back to my room to grab a plastic bottle of Sprite from our fridge. It was the last one, so I opened my closet and grabbed two more bottles so there would be a cold one for later.

And then it happened. I used my left hand–already holding two bottles–to close the closet door. Like the genius that I am, I also left part of my hand in the quickly closing door. The door and my hand tried to occupy the same space, which resulted in quite a deal of pain. It also caused my hand to forget it was holding two plastic bottles, sending them crashing to the ground.

One of the bottles was unharmed. The other exploded. Actually, I’m not sure exploded is the right word. There may not be a word for what happened to the contents of that bottle. The second–and I mean iota of a second–the bottle hit the ground, a slit the size of a splinter opened up in the bottom. In an instant, Sprite mist coated every corner of the room. I barely had time to blink. My eyelid started to come down, my eye looking over a perfectly clean room. By the time it closed and reopened, the clear, sticky mess was everywhere.

The ceiling was covered with little dots of soda. The mirror on the other side of the room looked like I had just sprayed it with some sort of cleaner. My shirt looked like I had just been hit in the chest with a water balloon. Shawn R.’s CD rack looked like I had dumped the bottle all over it. His computer screen…his desk…you get the picture.

I had to make the long walk back to Mindy’s room with a sense of utter dread. Not only was I not going to be enjoying my food, but now I also had to borrow all available cleaning supplies and spend the rest of my day scrubbing.

I’d be willing to bet there’s still a fine mist of Sprite on the ceiling in Smith 315.

September 3, 2009 movies Netflix Susquehanna Uncategorized
Since We’ve No Place to Go

I have a problem.

For about the last week, I have spent most of my workdays with songs stuck in my head. I know that doesn’t sound like an extraordinary thing, but I assure you it is.

You see, the songs banging around my noggin are those of the Christmas variety and it is only September.

It has been different songs every day, and not even the most popular ones. Try focusing on your work with “Santa Baby” or “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” on repeat. It’s not easy.

There has to be an explanation for this madness. I mean, I’m a big fan of Christmas and even the songs that go along with it. But four months in advance is a bit much.

It could have something to do with the delightfully cooler weather of late, though it’s not exactly December-like. Unless of course my body still thinks it’s in Florida.

Last year I spent the holidays in Jacksonville, which meant wearing shorts and a t-shirt to work on Christmas Day. There’s something really odd about celebrating the season in such a warm place after spending your whole life in a more yuletide climate.

I hope I didn’t permanently flip a switch or this could be the longest Christmas season ever. Especially if I spend tomorrow at work with a playlist of “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

September 1, 2009 Christmas Uncategorized
Taylor Swift Hates Me

It’s pretty clear that Taylor Swift is out to get me.

If you happen to know her, maybe you can ask her what she has against me.

This weekend I was in Ocean City, MD, for a few days of sand, surf and golf-related fun. I went with my friend Mike, who also happens to be my main mini-golf rival.

At some point in our trip, we always end up at Down Under Golf, an Australian-themed putt-putt place that serves as our “home course.” There are a few spectacular things about Down Under. The first is that you can play as many rounds as you’d like before 6 p.m. The second is that you get free ice cream after your round finally comes to an end.

We use sort of a match play style, keeping a running tally of who has won the most holes. After the first round, I was up by two–including sinking a hole-in-one on No. 18. After two rounds, Mike was ahead by 1.

This is where Taylor comes into play.

Did I give Taylor Swift the stink-eye?

I had one bad hole, somewhere around No. 15 or 16. This bad hole coincided with the tones of Taylor singing “Love Story.” The music started, and my putt went right by the hole. The music continued as my next putt went right by the hole again. Just like that, my lead was gone.

After the song was over, I was able to muster a rally during the third round. At one point, I even grabbed a small lead. But then, around the same point on the course, another Taylor Swift song sprang from the speakers hidden all over the course. This time it was “You Belong With Me.”

“She wears high heels, I wear sneakers,
I hate you Chris, and you will be the loser.”

OK, she didn’t say that, but the message was there. Once again, as the music played my putt zipped past the hole. The lead was gone. Taylor got her wish.

Tied after 53 holes, Mike and I stepped to No. 18 to settle our epic match. Remember, this was the hole that produced a hole-in-one for me during round one. Mike, however, saved his for the final round. So there I was, needing an ace just to tie. I took a moment to focus and launched my green ball on its way. It went up the ramp, around the loop and slowed as it rolled towards the hole.

And then it stopped. Three inches from its target. Mighty Casey had struck out.

I have never met Taylor Swift, so I’m not sure why she had to go out of her way to ruin my day. I’m also not sure how she pulled it off. I mean, there are plenty of places on the course where she could have been hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash her musical attack.

No, wait. It is all so clear now. The seemingly nice, young blond girl working at the course. She was so pleasant when taking my money and telling us about the free ice cream. She had nothing but a smile when we picked up new balls for rounds two and three. And yet, who more perfect to perpetrate such an evil deed for a young blond girl than another young blond girl?

So now I guess the question is, why do Taylor Swift and this other girl hate me?

August 30, 2009 beach Taylor Swift Uncategorized