An Outhouse In Your House

I just found the best pet invention ever online. A portable, self-contained, self-cleaning doggie outhouse. Well, kind of self-cleaning. Don’t throw away that pooper-scooper yet cuz you’re still gonna need it. But check out that onboard sprinkler system on the Premium version; it waters and rinses away urine, and you don’t have to lift a finger, though your dog may lift a leg, tee hee. Use it outdoors if you want to save your lawn, or if all you’ve got is a balcony. Use it indoors if you don’t even have one of those. Place it somewhere dry if your dog usually just stands in the rain, tail tucked firmly, staring at you like your crazy, and then pees on the leg of your couch when you finally give up and let him back inside. It’s a litter box your dog can use without sacrificing his dignity. And it gives “indoor plumbing” a whole new meaning, don’t it?

One small disclaimer: I don’t believe the manufacturer of the particular product I linked you all to actually invented the concept, and there are other manufacturers of similar products as well. But I give mad props to whomever first thought up this crazy and hilarious, yet brilliant idea.

Let's Get Nekkid!

Ever heard of the Chinese Crested dog? You know, those naked dogs that have seemingly random tufts of hair sprouting out of various body parts, and that often win your local Ugly Dog Contest. Take a gander at these 2008 World’s Ugliest Dog contestants. Half of those beauties are Chinese Crested dogs. Now feast you eyes upon the previous three-time champion. Don’t feel bad, judges, I recoiled, too.

But what about adorable Chappy, or sweet Mikael? I personally love the look of the Chinese Crested (at least, those dogs who won’t be wearing an ugliest dog crown). Love those cheerful mop-tops and dainty fuzzy feet. All that warm, soft skin must be so soothing to stroke. And I’ll tell you what, the less hair on the dog, the less hair on my carpet. And couch. And clothes. Etc.

Want to know more about these fascinating four-legged friends? Read more about them here. Interested in adopting a rescue Crested? This is a wonderful rescue organization. Is the Chinese Crested the right dog for you? Embrace your inner nudist and get nekkid. I double dog dare you.

10% Valentine's Sale!!

Receive 10% off of your ENTIRE order* between 2-13 and 2-15. In the Message to Seller field, enter coupon code: "Valentine's Sale!"

This deal involves a "revised invoice." Here's what will happen: check out as you normally would, but wait for the seller to email you a revised Paypal invoice before paying. Then you simply pay that discounted rate, no refunds necessary!

*sale excludes shipping charges. Different discount codes may not be combined.

Need some incentive? Check out this sexy little number:

Want to see more? Here ya go!

Okay, so writer's block is as old as time, but here's something new at CCB:

$5 Off Special!!

Now through Sunday, February 15th, save $5 on any CCB bag. Email Sandy@CottonCandyBoutique.com or send a convo BEFORE buying and the price will be adjusted. Use coupon code: CCB Blog 001- $5 off Sale

Come on...you know you want to.

“Angling” for a better deal?

The deep sea anglerfish lives very, very deep in the ocean. As in, the pitch-black nearly lifeless depths of 3000 feet. Ever see the Disney movie Finding Nemo? Remember that incredibly ugly fish with the little blue light dangling on an antennae thingy that tried to eat Marlin and Dory? That’s what I’m talking about. Anywho, I was reading up on the anglerfish (don’t ask me why!), and come to find out, the ugly fish I’m used to seeing is only the female form of this bizarre fish. Here’s a quote from this website:

“The deep sea anglerfish has an extremely unusual method of reproduction. The male angler is much smaller than the female and completely different in appearance. It is about the size of a small finger and black in color. When a male angler matures, its digestive system degenerates, making it impossible for it to feed on its own. It must now find a female or die of starvation. The male angler has small hook teeth, which it uses to attach itself to the female. Once he bites into her skin, he releases an enzyme that dissolves the skin of his mouth and that of her body. The two become fused together and their blood vessels join as one. The male will spend the rest of its life joined to the female like a parasite, getting all of his nourishment from her body. A female can carry up to six males on her body at a time. This bizarre method of reproduction helps to ensure that when the female is ready to spawn, she has a mate instantly available.”

Random thought: this male fish sure reminds me of the male pinecone I wrote about in my previous post.

Back to the point at hand: I assume that the anglerfish’s astounding mating method is a near necessity considering the breeding ground’s lack of light and very vast space. Otherwise, finding a mate during spawning season would be as difficult as finding cute heels in a size 11.5. And I tell you what, don’t feel sorry for that tiny little lump of a male stuck to his woman; he gets free food, a free ride, and doesn’t have to look at her ugly mug at breakfast every morning.

A Tale Of Two Pinecones

A couple weekends ago my mom and I were walking my parents’ two acre yard with my son. He was loving the grassy freedom; his little knees were stepping high as he jogged from one new sight to another. Now, I have to explain that scattered around the yard are pine trees of various sizes. You know those little pre-decorated trees that are sold in plastic plant pots wrapped with Christmas-y cellophane in grocery stores? We used to buy one each year when I was a kid and yep, my parents spared their lives by planting them at the end of the season. Well, as we passed by one of the smaller, skinnier trees, my mom found an incredibly large pinecone resting below it on the ground. We looked at the pinecone. We looked at the tree. Dang, that tree sure knew how to grow ‘em. Later in our walk we passed by one of the bigger, brawnier trees, and reclining daintily on the ground below that tree was this little bitty, “gee aren’t you cute” pinecone. Interesting.

Later, my mom shared our story with my dad and husband. We were all snickering at the ridiculousness of the puny tree that birthed a giant pinecone, and the pitiful attempt of the hulking giant. But here’s the real punch line of the story: a few days earlier my dad had found the large pinecone in the yard and had thrown it under the tiny tree, on purpose. Yeah, my dad loves a good chuckle.

So, I shared that information in order to have a reason to share this information: pinecones have gender! Who knew? Well, I guess the cones know, and all the tree experts out there. It makes sense, really. The average flower has both boy and girl parts so that it can self-reproduce. Why then wouldn’t the average pine tree have boy and girl cones? According to this website, male cones “are clustered, are much smaller and deteriorate quickly. They really shouldn't be called cones, although there is not a good common term for them”, and female cones are the true pinecones that we usually see. The male cones release pollen, which fertilizes the ovules in the female ones. So, next time you pick up a fallen pinecone, please handle her gently; she may just be in the family way.

How To Succeed In Business

Sellers: too much supply? Create your own demand!

So, I was browsing Ebay for paintings, and to grant this less than affluent girl a giggle, I sorted the search results by price, highest first. This topped the list at the spray-water-through-my-nose Buy It Now price of $12 meeellion dollars. American. “Is it a Picasso?” you ask. Nope, some guy named Anthony Falbo. According to Falbo’s About the Seller page, he’s one of today’s “Finest Contemporary Artists”, and “Through the years, many of Falbo's pieces have been collected and stored in a variety of Galleries and Museums throughout the country and in many of the wealthiest private collections all over the world.” Okay, if you say so.

Now, I’m not in any way critiquing Falbo as an artist, because that's not important, and maybe he really is very successful on a broader world stage than Ebay. But who in their right mind is going to plunk down $12 million bucks on a painting, sight unseen, Picasso or not? Interestingly, as I scrolled through the listing I read this: “Suggested Gallery Retail Price $1,000,000”. So, he’s trying to sell a painting for more than it’s worth, and openly acknowledging it? But wait, there’s more: “Make An Offer!! Serious offers only please. Any offers under $8,200.00 will bw [sic] automatically rejected. The highest offer will win this painting”. Ah-ha! Now I understand what’s going on here. The $12 million dollar Buy It Now price is just another marketing ploy. An unsuspecting Ebay browser searches for paintings, sees the astounding price tag and thinks, “Wow! This painting must be something totally incredible to be worth that much. Let me just click on the listing….Oh, wow! The artist is willing to sell for a price that I can almost afford. Hey, I’m going to make an offer because I just HAVE TO HAVE this amazing piece of art that is worth so much!” Now do you see what I mean about creating demand? We consumers think that the more something costs, the more we just have to have it, no matter how unnecessary. Expensive designer water, anyone?

Money CAN Buy Me Love

Or at least a hand-crafted sterling silver representation of the dopamine neurotransmitter, which is largely responsible for giving us the feeling of being in love. Check out this charming necklace sold on Etsy. It’s made by the talented and loving hands of Raven Hanna, a PhD holding scientist-artist living in San Francisco. I’ve had a custom bracelet made by this friendly lady in the past, so I can personally attest to the beauty and quality of her work. I highly recommend you browse her shop, as there are many creative treats to be admired.

In the product description of another of her products, Raven writes: “When we are in love, we experience the effects of dopamine, a neurotransmitter from the pleasure and reward pathway. Dopamine is powerful and it can be wonderful, causing effects such as excitement, focus, and intense pleasure.” What a fabulous little molecular marvel this dopamine is! Too bad it's not sold at my local Safeway. But seriously, who drew the short straw and won the privilege of naming this chemical that makes us feel love, anyways? Say it out loud with me: “dope-a-meen”. Sounds more like a chemical that would make us slobbering fools. Oh, wait…I guess that’s pretty appropriate, isn’t it?

“Liar, liar, pants on…they make your butt look great, Honey.”

Apparently, in any conversation lasting 10 minutes, the average person will lie three times. That’s according to renowned psychologist Paul Ekman. I’m not going to lie: when I first heard this statistic I thought to myself, “Well, I don’t lie that often.” But, maybe I do. Read on.

Here’s my second non-lie: I haven’t actually read any of his work, so I have no idea what Ekman considers a lie to be. My Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a lie as “to make an untrue statement with intent to deceive”. Ouch. The second definition: “to create a false or misleading impression”. Not quite as harsh, but hardly flattering. “To lie” has such a negative connotation; it’s something ugly and hurtful. But what if the liar creates a “misleading impression” in order to spare a friend some hurt feelings? Or if a poor, beleaguered husband gives an “untrue statement” to bolster his wife’s self-image (see title)? Lies? Yes, technically. Necessary for the ongoing good of mankind? I think so. True, not all “misleading impressions” are created for the altruistic purpose of being nice to others. Most of the time they’re for covering our own butts. But I’m not here to judge. Whether right or wrong, we “average persons” have a tendency toward wanting to walk the smooth road, and sometimes it takes three lies every ten minutes to do it. And that’s no lie.

Clogged Sewer Lines Stink

Literally. And figuratively. Keep reading.

Roto-Rooter is outside my house right now, doing who-wants-to-know-what to the sewer line. I live in a mobile home park, so everybody’s business is connected: water, electricity, sewer, you get the picture. And therefore, I usually have no control over my own utilities when something needs to be fixed. So imagine my joy when, not two minutes after putting my son down for his one and only must happen or life will be hellish for the rest of the day midday nap, the Roto-Rooter guys pull up and stick a hose into my sewer line, and proceed to do that loud, rumbly voodoo that they do precisely three feet from the window of my son’s room. Needless to say, he’s not napping right now. Sigh.

My brother was supposed to visit my son yesterday; they see each other maybe once a month. But then we got the call that he couldn’t make it. Why, you ask? Because earlier that morning he was having the pipes in his house snaked when the downstairs pipes blew. Stuff everywhere. And where in the house was my brother when this loveliness occurred? I don’t really need to answer that, do I? Needless to say, my son will not get to see his uncle this month. Take deep breath and sigh.

So here’s what you can learn from today’s post: don’t be home while your sewage pipes are getting worked on. There’s too great a risk that your day will end up swirling somewhere down the drain.

High-Rise Jeans Bad, High-Rise Panties Good

Admit it. At one time or another we’ve all snickered at that mom at the park with her three rugrats and high-rise, butt-the-size-of-Texas Mom Jeans. We’ve thought to ourselves, “Does she seriously think that looks good?” Or, “Guess that woman doesn’t own a mirror.” But that was when we were living in our smug BC ignorance. Before Children, and the ever-inevitable baby bulge that cannot be conquered, no matter how many sit ups we huff and puff through. So why does that woman wear high-rise jeans? Because anything lower will result in a matinee playing of The Muffin Top That Would Not Die.

High-rise jeans may make the belly pooch look bigger than life, but they also contain the rolls, and hide the horror of those stretch marks from innocent eyes. Mid and low-rise jeans are, at least in my opinion, more comfortable, and certainly more fashionable, but unless you’re wearing a tunic-length top, you’re flirting with disaster. Don’t raise those arms too high. Don’t bend down too low. You don’t want us to see that, do you?

So what’s a girl to do? One possible solution to those AC body woes can be found here. Genius, I say! Panties that cover the stretch marks and backside-business, and locks and loads the muffin dough. “But they’re PANTIES!”, you cry. “Everybody will snicker at me for showing my panties!” “Eh,” I shrug. “Everybody’s a critic.”

Smoke Detectors: Loud Enough To Wake The Dead...But Not Our Children

My 17 month old son is a good, sound sleeper. Until the phone rings. Or the microwave announces that my mac ‘n’ cheese lunch is ready with three cheerful beeps. If either of these disturbances has the gall to occur during my son’s lighter stages of sleep, well, needless to say my bowl of cheesy goodness will most likely have to sit and congeal, uneaten.

So how could it be that when, at 5:40 this morning, our ancient smoke detector decided it had had enough of its years of collecting dust in silence and raged forth with a mighty 85 decibel false alarm, my son did no more than twitch a leg and turn his head to rest peacefully on the other cheek? As I frantically ripped off the cover of the offending noise machine (which is, of course, mere inches from my son's bedroom door), and yanked out the battery with shaky, adrenaline drugged hands in the pre-dawn darkness my only thought was of how soon I would hear an answering wail from my other noise machine. But hark! I heard nothing but silence. I repeat, how could that be?

According to this article, many children do not wake to conventional smoke detector alarms. A study published in the journal Pediatrics shows that of the 24 children in the study, only 58% awoke when a conventional smoke detector was sounded. But when researchers used an alarm with a recording of the mother’s voice telling her child to wake and escape, 96% (all but one) of the children awoke, and at a faster rate. There are products like the one used in the study available in stores. Maybe now’s the time to get out of these PJ’s. I’ve got some shopping to do.

What We Learned This Week: We’ve got friends in blog places

Monday morning I awoke with an inspiration: we were going to start a blog. Sandy needs a place to write about her wares and share the joys and frustrations of creating. And I need an outlet for the random musings and discoveries that are a result of my much too much free time. Now, whether our efforts will ever be appreciated by more people than ourselves, only time will tell. But we learned this week, with a resounding click of the “Submit Order” button, that the effort of two other bloggers are certainly appreciated by many, and by no one more than the two of us.

Tuesday evening I received a message from Sandy with a link to this blog. And apparently, Mimi Smartypants has a gargantuan following, because her offhand plug of Sandy’s shop resulted in an unheard of 12 purses and 7 wristlets sold in two days. Flat. Holy moly. Thursday morning Sandy emailed another blog link to me. Since then, the shop has sold another 3 purses and 4 wristlets. And today ain’t even over yet. Holy, holy moly.

So, many thanks to you, O Great Blogosphere, granter of dreams and giver of purpose, and thank you Ms. Smartypants and all you slackers at What’s Distracting to Us?. We owe you one. If we weren’t married SAH moms who get loopy from NyQuil we’d say, “Next round’s on us.”