Now if they only made a special beer...

...to go with this wonderful food concept. If they leave off the oysters and sparrow brains, maybe Hungarian will start carrying it in the frozen section. It'll be great for all those couples who only have 4 children at the moment.

Three times the charm?

I realized that I neglected to include one particular piece of advice for guys in my earlier post:

5) Do not ask a question multiple times in a row.

To illustrate, let's create a scenario. Let's say you gave the Girl your phone number at the same time you asked for hers. This means she has your number. Therefore, the following dialogue should never take place at the end of your phone call:
Guy: Do you have my number?
Girl: Yeah, I have it.
Guy: So you have my number?
Girl: Yeah....I have your number.
Guy: You have my number, right?

Now let's fast forward a couple of days. Let's say the Girl calls you, mostly because you've already called her twice in 3 hours, and she assumes you won't stop unless she calls back. Now, in order for her to call you, she has to have actually dialed your number, which means she has it. Therefore, there is no reason whatsoever to end the conversation by asking:
Guy: So, you have my number, right?

The Doctor is In

Please note the recent addition to my world: you may now leave comments on each and every post! Now your thoughts can also be read around the world.

Disclaimer #2: Cara's World, its subsidiaries, employees, groupies, and stuffed animals do not guarantee that they will particularly care about what you have to say. But they will read your comments nonetheless. Anything deemed inappropriate and/or offensive will be deleted by yours truly.

What's in a name?

Have you ever really thought about the silly things we name our pets? I'm sure that somewhere out there is a dog named "Mr. Kibbles" or a guinea pig named "Taffy." It's pretty cruel, actually. We don't name our children after foods (or shouldn't), so why do it to our pets? You wouldn't want your driver's license to read "Stir-Fry Smith" or "Cheerios Johnson," would you?

That said, I will acknowledge that there are parents out there who delight in giving their children names that will guarantee them lots of bloody noses on the playground. This is wrong. Kids will find enough awful nicknames for your child anyway, so you really don't need to give those bullies a helping hand.

Now, with all this in your mind, I want you to think very hard about the following crucial question:
If you had a pet platypus, what would you name it?

Announcement

I hereby draw your attention to a new blog link (Look left. See the category "Links"? Good! It's the one at the bottom.) This is the blog of my favorite munchkin in the whole world, who will someday call me Auntie Cara. First he needs to get really good at that whole walking thing, and then we can work more on talking. In the meantime, I invite you to read the thoughts of the cutest toddler in the world. He may even be more interesting to read than I am.

ADVICE TO THE MEN IN THE AUDIENCE:

When you first call a girl, after getting her phone number, DO NOT:
1) Call her cell phone at 10:00 am on a weekday, and wonder why she doesn't have time to chat. Some people have "jobs". They go to these "jobs" during weekdays, and do "work."
2) Respond to her "Hello?" with "Who is this?" You called her, remember?
3) Call her back two times within three hours, simply because she didn't call you when she said she would, and then ask her why she didn't call. Maybe she was trying to gently hint at something...
4) Try to be romantic in your very first conversation. Phrases like "You have a voice I could listen to for hours" are more likely to make her want to hang up quickly than call you again. Or at least, they will if that girl is me.

Unofficial Musical Review

After much careful deliberation, I hereby declare the plastic electronic saxophone to be the strangest, most un-cool instrument ever. This is the best picture of this bizarre noise-maker I could find for you. You really have to see it to believe it. I've only seen this thing played by one person, so I'll try to describe it for you: it's about 14" tall, made of silvery-grey plastic, and it plugs into an outlet. Then you blow into the mouthpiece while pressing whichever key you want (it makes no difference really, as this thing has no actual tone), and lo and behold! You are now the most irritating "musician" ever. Scariest part: these wretched things run about US$75 retail. I can't imagine paying that kind of money for such a strange, annoying "instrument." And this is coming from someone who plays an autoharp!

Dr. Howser, may I see some I.D.?

I was watching "I love the '80's strikes back" a couple weeks back, and I found myself watching whichever episode mentioned that TV classic "Doogie Howser, MD." I don't think it had ever really hit me before just how young that kid looked. This is probably because I was only half his age when the show was still on air. But now that I'm an adult (in age only), I have to admit that if someone who looks like that walked into the operating room and introduced himself as the attending physician, I would certainly have a few qualms. (Note: 'qualms' is a good word. Try it in a sentence today.)

Anyway, what brought good ole Doogie to mind today was someone actually making a Doogie Howser reference during a lunch meeting. This made me ponder what it takes to make a truly memorable television sitcom. I don't think it has anything to do with humor or the quality of the writing, but simply the preposterousness of the premise. Think about it: once upon a time, in the mid-80's, a group of TV people were sitting around a table, brainstorming for new ideas. Suddenly, someone sits up and says, "I've got it! We make a show about a kid genius who becomes a doctor, and then has to juggle the usual trials and tribulations of being a teenager with the grueling lifestyle of a medical residency program!" Even more bizarre is the thought that everyone else at that table then said, "Yeah! That's a great idea!" (Note: 'tribulations' is also a good word. But not quite as much fun to say as 'qualms.' Go ahead, give it a try. You'll see that I'm right.)

Shameless plug

I know all three of the people who read this blog are desperately wondering "Where will Cara be this Saturday night?" Wonder in desperation no longer, my friends! I'll be enjoying the wildly phenomenal musical talents of Farbrengiton, and YOU CAN TOO! 8:00pm, 2706 W. Touhy.

In all seriousness, these guys rock. As people, as musicians, as nice Jewish boys, they've got it down. And since I get absolutely nothing out of plugging their gig, you can actually believe me.

Quick Word from our Sponsor

Velvel, you will note that I have taken your hyperlink suggestion under advisement, and made changes accordingly. Your diligence is appreciated. Next time I see you, I'll pour you a drink.

Brownies, anyone?

Little known fact: back in the day, I was a Brownie. No, no, not that kind. I mean the junior Girl Scout variety. I remember that we had this induction ceremony every year for the poor girls whose parents conned them into joining our troop, and, during one part, we had to stand in a circle, holding hands with our arms crossed, and sing this little song that went something like: Make new friends, but keep the old/ one is silver and the other's gold. It came to my attention last night that, despite the somewhat nauseating rhyme, that little song is actually pretty true. Not in the literal sense of "Your friends are made of precious and semi-precious metals," (although I'm pretty sure at least one of the girls I lived with in college was actually a cyborg), but rather in the sense that hanging on to old friends is pretty fantastic. Life changes, people change, but some people remain just as awesome as they were when you used to hang out in the hallways in junior high. Here's to you, Xander. You rock.

Disclaimer

I realize that I have thus far neglected to add one very important disclaimer to my blog: I do not guarantee humor. I don't even promise it. My instinct tells me that many readers who stumble upon this blog may find my thoughts strange. Some may find them funny as well, but I think 'weird' is about the most I can give you on a consistent basis. That is all. You may go now.

Laugh with me...please

While I was watching the superbowl, I kept seeing commercials for the upcoming Grammy awards, and I couldn't help but notice Britney Spears posing while wearing...well, just glitter. This got me thinking about fame and the power of the public. I have clear memories of other less-than-talented young artists who acquired a bit of fame. Like the Hanson brothers, and their musical masterpiece with the genius name of "MMM...Bop." Sure, the song was on the radio for a while. But then we all got smart, and started to laugh at them, and lo and behold! They soon vanished, like chocolate at a slumber party. Now, I keep laughing at Britney. And she's just not going away, which makes me think that my laughter alone is simply not powerful enough. So I think we should start an international "Laugh at Britney" campaign, and together we can doom her to a life spent playing Tiddlywinks with the Hanson Brothers. Laugh with me, friends. It's for a good cause.

T-One Month and counting...

I get to see Adi in exactly one month. This makes me happy.

And since I want all of you to be equally happy, here's one of my favorite time-wasters. Now you can make yourself into someone else entirely. And then you will be happier. Or so one would assume.

Deep thoughts....?

Everyone, at some point in their childhood (preferably before they're old enough to be drafted), has the uncomfortable epiphany that other peoples' lives go on, even when they're not around to see it happening. I find it a far more bizarre notion that other people think when I'm not around. Consider it: every single person you know is thinking about something right now, and they're probably not thinking about you. They could be thinking about a tuna fish sandwich. Or perhaps contemplating Dubya's amazing resemblance to a monkey. Or perhaps attempting to decide if they would rather vote for Dubya, a monkey, or a tuna fish sandwich. Maybe they're not even thinking about tuna fish at all. Regardless, unless you happen to be a mind-reader, you have no way of knowing what other people are thinking.

This brings me to disturbing concept #2: mind-readers. What it they're real? What if that goofy-looking guy with the big nose on the bus can hear me thinking about how goofy-looking his big nose is? What if the thought-police actually are out there, and Big Brother really is watching? Have you ever thought about that? And if you have thought about it, and Big Brother does exist, then he knows that you've thought about it as well...