Things I Don’t Understand, Items 524 thru 526

524. Men with forests of ear hair
525. My insurance deductible
526. Really fancy  coffins

12 Comments on "Things I Don’t Understand, Items 524 thru 526"

  1. I think coffins are the worst.
    Give me fire.

    • PJ says:

      Fire. Or even better, smear me with berry juice and leave me in bear country and let me feed the most beautiful and my most favorite animals on earth. Or put me high in a tree so I can feed things that soar on thermal updrafts. Sigh. Those thoughts make me happy.

      • Hulk Isn't that the safest way to NOT get eaten by bears? To play dead? says:


        • PJ says:

          Oh, Hulk. You’ve ruined my best plan. Now what? I guess I have to go with the turkey vultures. I sort of preferred the bears.

  2. MidLyfeMama says:

    GAG. Ear hair. Thankfully my husband does not appear to have that horrible troll under the bridge gene.

    Coffins: I know. Why, WHY? I don’t like satin sheets now, when I am alive, I am certainly not going to like them for eternity.

  3. Ear hair is profoundly gross. I’ll raise you nose hair on that one.

  4. Hulk I think Zadge asked me out on a date says:

    I never understood deductibles or rhetoricals. But then again I always was lousy at math…

  5. The Farmer says:

    I’m thinking that male ear hair is an evolutionary trait that helps soften–and in some cases mute— their wives’ voices hollerin at them. Notice how those ears get woollier and woollier as they get older? (E’s almost at the age where it starts. Better polish up those tweezers.)

    • Cupcake Murphy says:

      He already has one of those little tools the swirls around in his ears and up his nose. It’s quite magnificent.

  6. The Farmer says:

    When my dad was cremated, they offered us a selection of ash urns ranging from $40 (very expensive cardboard box and Ziploc) to $4000 (rhinestone encrusted endangered rainforest hardwood built by hand by autistic flamingos?). We went for the $40 box because we could picture my dad getting all red in the face and waving his arms and screaming about the GODDAMN RIP-OFF of it all. And it just needs to hold the ashes until I get to Pebble Beach or St Andrew’s to scatter them.

    Oddly enough, when we lost my sweet dog 2 weeks later, his ashes came back in an elaborately carved wooden box, his name engraved on a brass plate, much nicer than my dad’s box, no choice, no exorbitant charges.

  7. 524. It keeps them warm. And pleasantly deaf.
    525. It keeps them rich. Filthy rich.
    526. They make their family feel fancy.