Friday Fact: Tubular T's

Megan's husband Cleve walked in to the dining room carrying the basket of rolls. My mom gave him a quizzical look, and said, "Hey, where's your seam?"

"Huh?" he asked. He had no idea what she meant, let alone where his seam was.

"Your seam. On your shirt. How come your t-shirt doesn't have a seam?"

Megan walked in behind him, carrying the fruit.

"Look!" my Mom said. "Megan's t-shirt has a seam running down the side. Cleve's doesn't."

We all inspected their t-shirts and threw around our wild theories on the matter.

"Maybe it's just a men's t-shirt thing. Women's have seams 'cause they need  more shape, and men's don't 'cause men's torso's are basically rectangles!"

"Maybe it's 'cause the seamed t-shirts are easier to warp in the wash, and women usually know better how to handle laundry."

"Sounds like something for a Friday Fact," said Mom.

I was curious...it seemed to me like t-shirts with no seams would me much harder to make. I mean, HOW would they make them? It must be some magic trick, 'cause where would they attach the sleeves?

So I looked into it.

'turns out that the seamless t-shirt is made from a specific type of fabric that is created in a seamless tube shape to begin with. They call the t-shirts "Tubular T'shirts" - which is like, totally bodacious, man.

 (Rolls of tubular fabric)

(Tubular fabric 'slitter' machine)

And contrary to what I supposed, the tubular T is much easier to make than a seamed T; and it's the Tubular T that is notorious for warping in the wash. The Tubular is considered (in professional T-shirt manufacturing circles) to be of lesser quality. Easier to manufacture, usually cheaper material, and - since there's no option for shaping the tube - a less appealing fit.

 (basic T-shirt by Hanes; what I refert to as a 'box T')

However.

This may have been the case in the beginning, but the Tubular T has found it's niche.

Turns out the Tubular T is much easier to print on - and you can have alternative placement for the graphic designs on a Tubular T that you can't on a standard T. Seen those cool-guy T-shirts with the crazy design wrapping around the side of the shirt? Nearly impossible to do on a standard T with side seams.

("penguin T" from let'sbuyit.com)

And the fit? Well - they've pretty much figured that one out, too. The Tubular may not be as tailored as the seamed T (and who doesn't love a well-fitting T?), but they've given up their boxy ways and have figured out how to be 'shapeless' while still showing some shape!

 (In Case of Zombies by Ollie Moss on Threadless)

(see a better print of it here)

In the end, it's a matter of preference. 

So there you have it. Another awesomely trivial fact for your entertaining arsenal.

Friday Fact: Natural Flavors

Yesterday morning. Barefoot in the kitchen. Unbrushed hair.

Thirsty.

Options: H2O. On tap.

Options unacceptable. Tap water first thing in the morning tastes like licking a rock.

Stepper: I want juice.
Wyatt: Can I have milk?
Bill: (considering) Juice. yeah.
Wyatt: Can I have milk, mom?
Stepper/Bill: There's no milk, bud.
Stepper: See? There's no milk in the fridge. It's all gone.
Bill: We'll have to go to the store today to get some.
Wyatt: Yeah! And I can drink it!
Stepper: You want water or juice?
Wyatt: I want water.
Stepper: Okay (weirdo).

Pantry. Bottled apple juice. Delicious when cold. But room temperature?

This option would have to involve ice. and waiting.

I like my ice to be a delicacy. Not a necessity.

And low blood sugar for too long in the AM = sudden attack of Evil Stepper.

Bill: Look, there's this juice (pulling concentrate can from freezer)
Stepper: (staring forlornly at the already-mixed-to-perfection-all-you-gotta-do-is-pour room temperature juice on the shelf) what kind is that?
Bill: Orange Mango Pineapple!
Stepper: (before Bill's words register) That kind is crap!
Bill: What?! It's got oranges! And pineapple!
Stepper: YOU eat it, then.

Not-evil Stepper recognizes Evil Stepper seconds before Evil Stepper takes control.

Stepper: Well, that might be okay.
Bill: Yeah! It's 100% juice!
Stepper: That doesn't mean it's healthy!
Bill: (confused) Yes it does. Look. 100% juice.
Stepper: It's still full of sugar.
Bill: No - it's got orange juice concentrate, mango juice concentrate, and pineapple juice concentrate and other natural flavors.
Stepper: SUGAR!

Evil Stepper, knock it off!

Stepper: Mm, concentrate! Mix 'er up!
Wyatt: Can I have milk, dad?
Bill (turning hot tap water onto frozen can) No, buddy, remember? The milk is all gone. You want juice?
Wyatt: (disappointed)...no....
Stepper: (takes the can from the hot tap water and dumps it into pitcher. Starts to add water) You know, juice still gives me a headache. That's how come I know it's full of sugar. Fruit is full of sugar!
Bill: ...
Stepper: I wonder what 'natural flavors' means? I mean...why do they have to add that as an ingredient? If it's just the natural flavor that occurs from the ingredients? Or is it something they actually add? 'natural flavors.' But why would you have to add flavor to 100% juice?"
Bill: Hah! That is a really good question.
Stepper: I need to Friday Fact that.
Bill: Yeah...Natural Flavors. They're probably not natural at all.

Research ensues.

(It should be known that Stepper trusts the FDA exactly nothing. She's not even sure they really exist. They're just an incorporeal entity that hovers over Farmer's heads so that Business Men get their way.)

(But then, Evil Stepper is pretty cynical.)

The Exact Definition of Natural Flavoring/flavors:
(from Title 21, Section 101, part 22 of the Code of Federal Regulations)

The term natural flavor or natural flavoring means the essential oil, oleoresin, essence or extractive, protein hydrolysate, distillate, or any product of roasting, heating or enzymolysis, which contains the flavoring constituents derived from a spice, fruit or fruit juice, vegetable or vegetable juice, edible yeast, herb, bark, bud, root, leaf or similar plant material, meant, seafood, poultry, eggs, dairy products, or fermentation products thereof, whose significant function in food is flavoring rather than nutritional.

In other words, "natural flavors" can mean pretty much anything derived from anything edible.


I wonder if I was drinking the essense of my fruit juice?







(yes, we did go to the store and get poor Wyatt some milk)

Friday Fact: Chalk

~= comes out of fog =~

What? Huh?

Wait...what day is it?

OMAN! It's been a week!

Sorry, friends. I did not mean to be so absent, here. I've just been rather absent...everywhere.

Head cold.

You know.

But I had to force myself back to the world of the living to explore this burning question:

Chalk. What the heck IS that stuff??

Y'know, used-ta-be that schools specialized in chalkboards. Teachers would display arithmatic puzzles on the wall-sized board of black in beautiful contrast with their little piece of white chalk, engaged in an un-ending pirouette from board to class to board to class to...

Students would practice their hand at addition, subtraction, congugation, participle dangle-ation, etc. on their own desk-sized version of a blackboard, and their own wonderful piece of the horrid little chalk.

Professors would walk around wtih hand-shaped chalk marks on the seats of their pants.

Now, of course, the black board has been abandoned in favor of the less messy white board. The screetchy chalk has been replaced in the education market by the squeeky dry-erase marker.

And - sadly - dentention no longer consists of slamming chalk board erasers together to "clean" them and make a great white cloud of a mess on everything else.

Not that I know anything about detention.

But chalk is still cool. Kids everywhere still know exactly what it is.

Just maybe not exactly what it's made of.

Which is where I come in.

Turns out that CHALK is a form of limestone that is composed of the mineral calcite. Calcite is basically calcium carbonate.

I just had to laugh when I learned this - because, apparently I'm obsessed with all forms of calcium carbonate. (I wonder what else I'm intrigued by that can be explained by this freaky substance?)

For blackboard and sidewalk chalk ('cause there's lots of other kinds, did you know?), the idea is that the stuff is compressed into long sticks, that when rubbed over a rough surface crumbles and leaves traces of itself loosly attached to the surface.

It destroys itself so it can leave it's mark.

There's something poetic about that, I think.

Some crazy (and incredibly patient) artists use chalk to create incredible feats on sidewalks. Where people walk. Where rain washes it away. There's something poetic about the imperminence of it, too, I think.

There is not, however, ANYTHING poetic about the unholy sound it can make when used at a wrong angle. And nobody knows what that angle is. It's a sneaky angle that is suddenly wrong - and then everyone is sorry.

Chalk's one revenge.

(Friday Fact) The Story of a Storyteller

Once upon a time there was a man called John. He was a great weaver of stories. 

Some might say that John was the best storyteller there was. 

One day, John gathered a group of others who also loved the craft of the story, and they decided to tell a story that had never been told, before. They told it slowly, honestly and carefully, paying attention to every detail, until the story formed into something fuzzy and unclear - but something the group of storytellers knew would be good.

"We must tell this story to the world" John said. 

"How?" asked his group of storytellers.

As storytellers, none of them had a penny to their name. To tell the story to the whole world would take money. So John walked through the world looking for someone to help them.

But while everyone loves a good story, nobody was willing to invest in one.

Until a different, Corporate kind of storyteller called Disney heard John's request and offered help - but with a condition. 

"I am also a great storyteller," said Disney. "If I am going to take such a great risk on your story, I want to be able to help you tell it."

John took Disney's offer to his group of storytellers. "We have taken great care to tell this story as truly as it can be told" he said. "I gathered each of you into my group of storytellers because I knew you would take great care to not compromise the integrity of this story."

"We don't know how Disney will tell the story," one of them said.

"It's a great risk" another said.

"But...Disney is offering us a chance to tell the story to the world," another said, and turned to John, "And isn't that the point? What good can a story do if nobody hears it?"

The group thought about this. And then John said, "I believe in this story. It must be told. I'll accept Disney's offer."

And so they worked day and night to tell the story. And at every turn, they met in a large room with Disney so that Disney could tell them how to change the story to make it better. 

But as time went on, the changes Disney made to the story took it further and further from the true story that John and his team were trying to tell. Little changes that altered the course - and the feel - of the story, making the characters more edgy, darker, less likeable. "This is what audiences want to see" said Disney.

When the story was nearly finished, all the storytellers - including Disney - met together in that same big room and told it. John sat uncomfortably as it was being told. He was embarrassed and sad. The story that was being told was nothing like the true story that he had set out to tell - the one that hadn't been told before.

But Disney had worked with them for many long months to tell this version of the story. Disney had invested great amounts of money to tell this version of the story. Disney just hadn't caught the vision.

And so, at the end of the telling, John stood up. "It's awful" he said.

Disney looked at him, confused. "I don't understand," DIsney said. "What's wrong with it?"

"This isn't the right story. Please," John said. "Give me and my team two weeks. Let us tell the story our way. We'll meet back here in two weeks and we'll tell you our story, and you can decide if we should go back to telling your version."

Disney sighed, and shrugged. "Alright," he said. "Two weeks. Though it will be a marvel if you get much done in that amount of time."

John and his team left the meeting excited - they were going to get another chance to tell their story! - and overwhelmed. They had only two weeks to turn everything around.

They worked night and day - never resting - helping each other tell the story right. The dialogue people were consulting the sketching people, the digital coloring people were writing scenes with the story-block people. They had always been a team, but over those two weeks, they became fused together into a new kind of team - the kind that realized they could accomplish anything - because they had achieved the impossible together.

And two weeks later, they met again in that big room, and told their story. 

It was an overwhelming success. The story was truer than Disney had realized it could be. The characters were not just likeable - they were your next door neighbor, your uncle, your best friend, YOU. The story was perfect.

And so, they told it. And the story set the precedent for all future storytelling - improving the whole craft. And John and his team began working on another story that they would tell better than anyone else could. Because they were willing to take the risk and tell the story that felt true rather than the story that was safe. They became unstoppable.

The story the told was Toy Story.

The team of Storytellers became Pixar.

And John is none other than John Lasseter, the man some would say is the greatest storyteller there is.

My favorite story he's told: The Incredibles

Bill's favorite: Wall-E (or maybe UP)

Wyatt's favorite: Cars

Daphne's favorite (as far as I can tell): Finding Nemo

Friday Fact: Lapse of Lexicon

Lex-i-con - noun. Plural: lexica. 

1. The vocabulary of a particular language, field, social class, person, etc. 

2. Linguistics. i.e. the total inventory of morphemes in a given language.

Lapse - noun, verb (lapsed, lapsing).

1. an accidental or temporary decline or deviation from an expected condition or state; a temporary falling or slipping from a previous standard. A lapse in judgment.

I wear a scarlet E on my chest - the badge of an English Major. It's not uncommon that when someone makes a lingual blunder in my presence, someone will announce "Ooh, look out! You're in the presence of an English major!" And, even though I graduated more than 6 years ago, their eyes dart to my red E and they rewind, fix, and apologize as though I were offended. That, or they haughtily insist that they know it was a mistake, they did it on purpose because they don't care and prefer to be free from the barriers of the rules of language, and think that I'm lousy for being such a language snob and thinking that they are nothing more than an ape attempting to speak in their quaint little monkey way.

And I haven't even said anything! Okay, so, like...90% of the time, I haven't said anything. Sometimes I just can't help it. Because, even though I never really bought into that elitist world of Academia, never drooled over research articles exploring the effects of feminism on Empirical India, never really considered Hawthorne to be pleasure reading - I do still notice the nuances of language.

I sort of collect them.

I don't know about other languages (I only barely speak sign language), but the English Language is fascinating! There are so very many ways to convey an idea. So many directions a sentence could go. So many words to choose from to get just the exact. right. fit. Because - English snob that I am - to me, a synonym is similar, but not interchangeable (there is such thing as the perfect word for what you are trying to convey). And, even within our own country, there are countless deviations to the rules. Countless phrases that would make complete sense to a native of Alabama, but would make absolutely no sense to someone in, say, northern Oregon.

I took a linguistics class my senior year at University and discovered (much to my dismay) that I was in the wrong major. It wasn't Marxism or bibliographies that excited me. It was words! Their infinite potential, how they are used, how they are misused, how they change, flex, breathe. Human language is a living thing. And where perhaps the general population of the English Academia world might hold fast to unchangeable rules for the use of language (MLA format, anyone?), Linguists hold fast to the idea that for language, unchangeable rules don't exist for long.

For example. When I was in elementary school, use of the word 'funner' got you laughed off the playground. Now, it's a bona fide member of the English Dictionary. True story. Look it up.

Accents happen because of the way our ears are trained by speakers of our native language as we grow up. For example - Chinese speakers hear the 'r' sound and the 'l' sound as pretty much the same thing, which is why when a native Chinese speaker learns to speak English, they may say "crean" instead of "clean".

The way we learn language and how it is in a constant state of change is so fascinating to me that I could go on and on, but I eventually need to get back to the Friday Fact, and so: enter forced segue.

I notice words and phrases that deviate from the 'beaten path' of commonly accepted language. I can't help it! This is why I wear that E. My mind is trained to notice. And, due to language shifts and the different accents and dialects of the areas we learn language in (e.g., Utahan's tend to say moun'n rather than mountain, Washingtonians tend to say warsh rather than wash) there are words and phrases common to the English language that are often mispronounced and misquoted.

And - yesterday I posted the question on Facebook, asking what commonly mispronounced words and phrases were your favorites, and so I know I'm not the only one who notices.

Which brings us (still with me?) to Today's Friday Fact!

A Peek into Stepper's List of Favorite Faulty Phrases and Lexicon Lapses!

Ready? Go!


COMMON PHRASES

I could care less. That's not saying much, is it? But if I couldn't care less, that puts things at exactly the bottom of my caring hierarchy.

You might enjoy going around butt naked, but most of us are fine with being simply buck naked.

To shimmy up a tree probably involves some pretty sweet dance moves. To shinny up a tree - referring to the use of the shins while climbing - might actually get you to the top.

To 'ease drop' on someone might mean to gently drop in on them for a visit? Which might give you a chance to stand beneath the eaves of their home and 'eavesdrop' on them.

Watch out for the curb when trying to curve your appetite, hunger, or enthusiasm.

A doe-eyed youth sounds charming. A dough-eyed youth just sounds painful.

You would think that doing your upmost would be the highest effort you could give. But all that is required is that you do your utmost.

When hydrating, try not to slack your thirst when you really need to slake it.

I think that being a wreckless driver is a good idea. But you won't be wreck free if you're a reckless driver. Especially if you're half-hazard, because being haphazard is bad enough!

Be sure to pronounce the RON in IRONY. Most pronounce it I-ER-NEE like the thing we use to press the wrinkles from our shirts. Remember to ask yourself: isn't it IRONIC? Not I-AR-NIC.

Words with SIMILAR SOUNDS but DIFFERENT MEANINGS:

Raucous (or rowdy and disorderly) laughter may create a ruckus (or noisy commotion).
I will sell you this shirt. It's on sale - half off! - because it didn't start out being green.
I heard that the boy who stocks the groceries at Maceys stalks his ex girlfriend on the weekends.
You're looking a bit pale. Why don't you let me fetch you a pail of water? Or, y'know, just a glass of water?
I will feel very productive when I fill out the census form and mail it back in.
I'm feeling a bit ambivalent (or conflicted - flipping back and forth) about the issue, because the facts are so ambiguous (or unclear; having several possible meanings or interpretations). 

SOMETIMES we get LAZY and forget to pronounce letters in words. e.g. you're supposed to pronounce the D in supposed to (not suppose to).

But then, SOMETIMES we get AMBITIOUS and pronounce more letters than there are. For example:
Familiar. There is one R, not two. Yet I often hear FERmiliar. Especially from Delila, the radio show host.
Toward. Don't walk towards me when it's better to simply walk toward me.
Especially if you're walking across the street. It's much harder to walk acrosst.
And who says anyways anymore, anyway?
Just where do you think you are? Not where do you think you are at?
Trust me. You just want these. Not these ones.

And here's your bonus just-for-your-enjoyment-and-edification fact:
How to correctly use i.e. vs. e.g.!

e.g. stands for exempli gratia, which translates to: for example. Use this when you mean to say "such as".
i.e. stands for id est, which translates to: that is. Use this when you mean to say "that is to say" or 'in other words'.

Isn't it fun?!

Now. Your turn!

Friday Fact: What's the Story, Oregon?

For many reasons, Oregon is a really, really cool state.
I'd live there.

But there are two things that, in my mind, are slightly tweaky about the brave state of Oregon. One is the strict (yet friendly) nature of their cops. The other is their full service gas stations.

I live in Utah, where the common consensus is that traveling 5 miles over the speed limit still qualifies as going the speed limit.

In Oregon, going one mile over the speed limit is breaking the law. If they post a 65mph speed limit sign, they really mean it! And if you are caught speeding in Oregon, there will be no warning for you. Your strict-yet-friendly Oregon ever-lovin' law-enforcin' officer will issue you a ticket; and for the exact amount your infraction owes (right, Mikelle?). Leniency Shmeniency.

Unless you're Lizzie - who I think did manage to get off ticket free, once. But that doesn't count because that's one of her super powers. Also - it may have been Idaho.

Oregonians expect their laws to be followed precisely. This makes me think that their citizens must be the stand-up sort. None of this wishy-washy 'spirit of the law' business for them, no sir! And have you noticed? their roads are cleaner. Their officer's uniforms are crisper. Their sunsets are pinker.

I admire this. It also freaks me out.

I get tense while traveling from one state line to the other, and when I cross the border on the Idaho, California or the Washington side, I usually start panting because I realize I'd been holding my breath through the entire state. Which is too bad, 'cause in Oregon, the air is more exactly and atomically O than it is elsewhere.

But the non-lenient nature of the friendly Oregon cop is not the only anomaly experienced when traveling through.

Oregon is one of only two states in this beautiful country that still offers full service gas stations to all its gas buying patrons.

No, not offers. Insists. As in - it's the law. You are barred from pumping your own gas in Oregon. The gas station attendant does it for you.

Some people hate it - they like to do it themselves and would rather not pay the additional tax. Some people love it - and feel treated and pampered, and consider it a nod to past years when such customer-oriented service was not such an exception.

But the real question is...how come? Why remove the option and enforce it as a matter of law?

Which brings us to todays...

FRIDAY FACT: What's the Story, Oregon?

First, some terminology clarification.

• Full Service: The attendant - known as the Gas Jockey - appears with a smile and a whistle. Call's you 'ma'am' and 'sir' as he fills her up, washes her windows, checks her oil, the air in her tires, makes charming conversation etc. etc. They still sing country songs about this kind of service.
• Minimum Service: The Gas Jockey fills her up. Charmingness a bonus.
• Self Service: Get out of your car and do it yourself, you lazy bum! 

Before the 1970's, all gas stations were full service. Self service existed, but was rare. Then came the platform shoes and Disco, and things shifted from full service to minimum service to mostly self service. Today, full service stations are only common in wealthy and upscale areas.

And the entire state of Oregon.

They cite many reasons for keeping their full- and mini-service status:

• safety (dealing with highly flammable liquid)
• the number of jobs the service provides
• reduction in crime (because customers don't leave their car)
• lower insurance premiums
• motorists spared the inconvenience of getting out of their car in inclement weather
• kinder to the elderly and disabled
• something or other to do with taxes. 

When standing on their own, these arguments are muddy at best. What it really boils down to, in my opinion, is that it's a part of their culture. They like it. It's one of the things that sets them apart from the other 48 states (New Jersey being the other state that enforces the full-service pumps).

Oregon has even tried passing a bill or two to convert to self-service pumps. Each time, voters killed the bill. 

The culture of the community likes being treated to a full service pump, and they like offering that service to passers-through. Come to our state, they say, and remember what it was like back in the day when the term 'service' carried some weight.

Come to our state and enjoy our service. Like it or not.

Now the question is: if full service is required by law, do you still tip your Gas Jockey?

Friday Fact: Meet the Michelin Man!

I noticed Wyatt was distracted by something as we settled into the back corner of the Costco food court. Bill was picking up our giant and affordable lunch (thanks Costco!) of Hot Dog (Bill), Cheese Pizza (Wyatt) and Chicken Bake (me). I was trying to get the boy situated next to me with a complex napkin-bib creation, and he kept craning his head around to see behind us.

I looked to see what was so captivating. Ah. Of course! The Costco Tire Center was directly behind us. The boy is obsessed with cars and - more fundamentally - wheels. There were stacks and stacks of big, black, shiny tires. The smell of new rubber alone was probably enough to make the boy's head swim.

"Wow, cool!" I said to him. "Look at all those big tires!"

He looked at me, totally confused. Then glanced at the stacks of tires I thought were so intriguing, and then back at me. "There's wheels, Mom" he said, throwing me a bone, and then with all the intensity a two-year-old body can contain, he thrust his pointing finger toward the sign display NEXT to the stacks of tires. The sign featured the Michelin Man saying something quippy about the awesomeness of his tires vs. the competitors.

Wyatt stared hard at the puffy white man in the display, and said, "This is...this is..." Then he looked at me with great concern - and slight dread - and said, "what is this, Mom?"

I explained to him that it was a white, puffy man - kinda like a marshmallow - and that he really liked tires. This explanation only caused more confusion and concern. The Michelin Man is, after all, pretty creepy if you're not used to him.

Bill returned. "Wyatt is a little bit concerned about the Michelin Man," I whispered to him conspiratorially. Bill found the display in question and said, "Aaah" while Wyatt mumbled about marshmallow men around his bite of pizza.

I wanted to explain to him what the Michelin Man was all about so he could set his mind at ease, but I discovered that I had no idea what the Michelin  Man was all about!

"What's his deal, anyway?" I demanded of Bill. "Is he made of marshmallows or what? And what does that have to do with tires?" I was imagining some sort of air-bag tie in.

"I think he's meant to be made of tires," Bill said. Where does he get this stuff?

So I decided I'd research the guy. I mean, EVERYONE knows who the Michelin Man is, but does anyone really know him? What was his childhood like? What's his favorite color?

What I discovered surprised me. Like, did you know the guy is French? Well, that explains a lot, don't you think?

And so, for today's Friday Fact, I bring you:

MEET THE MICHELIN MAN!

facts found here.

He has a name. A real name. Meet Bibendum:

 

He was created for the Michelin Brothers in 1894 by the French artist Marius Rossilon (known by his friends and cooler enemies as O'Galop. That explains a lot too, I think).

Yes, our friend Bibendum is one hundred and sixteen years old. Lookin' good, Bibendum!

Bibendum is also very well traveled. He's a recognized trademark in 150 countries.

His first (and career starting) slogan was: Nunc Est Bibendum! 

Translation: Let's Drink!

Well. No wonder he's so popular.

Bibendum didn't always look like the jolly stay-puffed chap we know him as, today. Originally, he was even freakier. 

This is Bibendum in his infancy. He is, in fact, made of tires (smarty-pants Bill!), but originally he was made of stacked bicycle tires, not big puffy white ones. He smoked cigars and drank - but that's okay because he had pinc-nez glasses with a lanyard, so he's cool. Also it was the 1800's. And he's considerably less creepy than his competitors, pictured at his right or left. THOSE stacked tire people were obviously left in the sun too long.

The sign says, "C'est à dire: À votre santé. Le pneu Michelin boit l'obstacle."
Translation: That is to say: To your health. The Michelin tyre drinks up obstacles.

And if you look in his glass, you'll see that he means it. Literally.

And here we have proof that he was a ladies man:

(Translation: Michelin Bicycle Tires: The Best, The Least Expensive)

As Bibendum traversed through awkward adolescence and entered his early adult life, Michelin became concerned about his image. Apparently, all that drinking and smoking made the guy FAT. He gave up the cigars and even the pince-nez. In the 1980's, Bibendum was shown running...

 

 

...and in 1998 (his 100th anniversary), the slimmed down Bibendum became the company's new logo.

 

Yes, he's still puffy - but it's all muscle.

The Michelin Man is every tire-lover's hero. He stands for truth, justice, the American way. Even though he's French. And should you find yourself one late night in a dark ally with one of his less-quality competitors, Bibendum will come to your rescue!

That is what Bibendum simply calls: customer service.

Or, I guess, service à la clientèle.

Friday Fact: Introvert vs. Extrovert

 

image by Marii

I am a closet introvert.

That means that I'm an introvert who has learned to pretend to be an extrovert when necessary.

I'm not (repeat, NOT) ashamed of being an introvert. I think introverts are pretty darn cool. I even married me one.

It's just that sometimes, being extroverted is necessary. Job interviews, for example. Or teaching a class. Or hostessing a party (which we know I love to do).

For a lot of people, asking "are you an introvert or an extrovert?" feels the same as asking, "are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

The term introvert is often mistaken by extroverts as being synonymous with shy and socially anxious, or stoic and emotionally-robotic - but generally baffling and a bit boring to be around. Conversely, introverts mistake the extrovert to be loud, hyper, and overly animated - and generally exhausting to be around.


Well, being a recovered shy person and a current introvert who enjoys the company of many an extrovert, I'm here to set the record straight.

Really, being introverted is not the same as being shy at all. Just as being extroverted is not the same as being hyper. According to studies (the kind that ask people this sort of thing), extroverts clock in at 75% of the population, and introverts at 25%. Because they're usually surrounded by extroverts, introverts can tend to feel a bit guilty for not wanting to be more sociable.

Ever wanted to stay in on a Friday night to finish the really good book you've been reading rather than go out with 'the gang' for strawberry shakes, burgers, and dancing? (I don't know why it's always the 50's in my imagination) Ever feel like a very odd duck (maybe even an ugly duckling) as a result?

Well, knock it off. Because neither is bad. In fact - they're both really awesome. Both have really great strengths and both are completely necessary for the gear-like functioning of families, social circles, business, LIFE. Introverts and Extroverts are both fascinated by people - just in different ways - and they can both get along.

The basic difference is where they each get their energy.

An extrovert prefers to interact with people to give them energy. An introvert prefers solitude to recover their energy.

Not sure which you are? Read on, friend!

An extrovert experiences loneliness when they are not in contact with people.
An introvert feels most alone when they are in a crowd - especially of strangers.
An extrovert is sociable and desires contact.
An introvert is territorial and desires space.
An extrovert is the first to answer the phone.
An introvert likes to script out the conversation before he'll even pick up the phone to dial.
When an extrovert goes to a party, she gets more and more energy as the party progresses - and when the party is over, she may be ready to go to another one.
When an introvert goes to a party, after a 'reasonable' amount of time, he's ready to go home. He's king of the 'make an appearance" approach to partying.

Say an introvert and an extrovert go to the library to work on a research project. The research process (quiet focus and study) recharges the introvert but exhausts the extrovert; and after fifteen minutes or so, the extrovert will have to take a break and strike up a conversation with the librarian.

Extroverts are more interested in breadth of scope (they usually have a large social circle with friends that come and go), introverts are more interested in depth of scope (their social circle is small and very established).

Extroverts are interested in what's happening externally. Introverts are interested in the internal reactions. For example - say our introvert and our extrovert go to a movie with a group of friends. The extrovert is very aware of everything that's going on - the ride to the theater, the purchase of the popcorn, the finding of the seats (so we can all sit together!), the plot of the movie - and lets get dessert after! The introvert was more aware of the slight tone of awkwardness between Judy and Sam when they had to sit together on the car ride to the theater. The introvert was more aware of how Jake really really wanted to get butter on his popcorn and was disappointed when the majority opted for none. The introvert noticed the mood dynamic of the seating arrangement in the theater row (whom was sitting by whom, whom was not sitting by whom, and why) and was keenly aware of everyone's emotional reaction to the movie - which often distracted her from the actual movie itself (ooh, I hope that Judy and Sam are okay with this romantic scene - it so closely parallels their relationship before the breakup!).

The point I'm trying to make, though, is that they are both a lot of fun to go to a movie with. One is not better than the other; and I would submit that both are essential - both to each other and to make the world go round. And people aren't usually 100% one or the other. So the next time you hear Grandpa Joe say, "What? Sally isn't an introvert! She's a good girl!" You have my permission to politely smack him.

Thanks.

So which are you?

Friday Fact: Ice-Water Floaties - the mystery revealed!

 
I hardly ever finish my water with dinner - a habit I am trying to kick, because I really need more water intake. I rarely get my 8 a day. I love water - I'm just forgetful. I forget to stop every once in a while and ask myself,

"Self?"
"Yeah?"
"How you doin'? You thirsty at all?"
"Actually, yeah, I'm feeling a bit parched."
"How about a nice tall glass of ice water?"
(because water without ice is kinda like a bowl without ice-cream. Useful, but definitely not as pleasant!)
"Yes, thank you!"

So I leave my water out so that when I wander by again, I can remind myself to take a gulp or two as I go about my business.

This is slightly problematic due to my compultion to clear all kitchen surfaces of any dishes. Bill and Lizzie try to leave their water cups out for later filling and enjoying - trying to save on cup consumption all responsible-like - but I inevitably and without thinking sweep their cup from it's 'safe place' into the sink. Or into the dishwasher. It's no use. Everyone in my house is forever having to get a new cup.

I wandered back into the kitchen after last night's dinner and reached for my glass - chilled and precipitating - intent on throwing back that half-full (not half-empty) sweet refreshment.

That's when I saw them.

The little white specs floating lazily down from the floating ice to the bottom of my glass.

FLOATIES!

I recoiled, peered at them sideways, got the jeevies and wondered: what the heck are those things?

Because there are no white flecks when you pour the water into the ice tray to freeze. I know, I've checked! It's just pure and clear water! You know?! So what are they? where do they come from? And most importantly - are they going to hurt meeee?

And so I brought back Friday Fact JUST SO I could answer this question. Because I know I'm not the only one. I can't be the only one. Right?

The Facts of Floaties in your Water - in no particular order:

Fact 1 - They actually are called floaties in accepted society. This makes me feel more friendly toward them on its own. Plus, the idea of scientists in lab coats pouring over their charts and microscopes, talking about the intricate nature of the 'floaties' makes me happy.

Fact 2 - The floaties happen when your ice is melting. The ice precipitates the floaties. Can we take a moment and marvel at the wonder of an ice cube precipitating? Think about it.

Fact 3 - The flecks are actually calcium carbonate; common in many water supplies.

Fact 4 - Calcium carbonate is found in cool stuff like rocks, snails, pearls, and eggshells.

It is the culprit behind hard water (remind me to have a word with it about what it's doing to my dishwasher).


Fact 5 - It's totally harmless.

So there you have it. You can now watch your ice cubes precipitate in your glass with total ease of mind. You might even think fondly of your floaties, now, and picture them as beautiful flakes of snow that your floating ice cubes created just for you.

And you can get back to getting your 8 a day!

(So, self? How you feelin?)

Friday Fact: The Push Pin

It was the year 1900, when the American Dream was still crisp and freshly laundered.

Mr. Edwin Moore, with $112.60 in his pocket, founded a new company.

Mr. Edwin Moore himself

He rented a room, and – devoting each of his afternoons and evenings to the enterprise – invented the push pin.

Edwin described the push pin simply as, “a pin with a handle.” I don’t think even he understood the versatility and coolness of what he had invented. Each morning, he would go out and sell what he had made the night before. His first sale – one gross of the little guys – earned him a whopping $2.00. But Edwin had invented a good thing, and it didn’t take long for people to fall in love with the little pins with personality. His first “big deal” was a sale of $1,000 worth of push pins to the Eastman Kodak Company.

“Well,” thought Edwin. “I guess it’s time to advertise.”

In 1903, his first national advertisement appeared in “The Ladies’ Home Journal”. Obviously, things took off (is there anyone out there who doesn’t know what a push pin is?), and Edwin got busy and invented and patented other little items, such as picture hangers and map tacks.

Today, the Moore Push Pin Company is still exclusively devoted to the manufacturing and packaging of “little things”.

Moore's little invention has come a long way. They're not just functional, anymore. They're stylish and creative.

Look at these beauties:

Push pins can look like something else entirely:

they can warn...
They can evolve:They can remind...

They can (with a lot of patience) be a work of art.

I think I speak for all of us when I say, thank you, Mr. Moore, for your invention. Our tiny notes are more secure; and so, Mr. Moore, are we.

Friday Fact – Silicone Rubber

Years ago, when I was on the cusp of realizing that I myself could wield powers in the kitchen, I was at a birthday party. I think it was for my mother.

A gift was given.

Red plastic muffin tins.

The moment the stuff was revealed beneath the gift wrapping, the giver of the gift began to ramble excitedly about a thing called Silicone – and it’s amazing super-plastic abilities. Cooking muffins in rubber tins? Oh yes, it is possible. For the amazing silicone does not melt. In fact, what it does is make it a million times easier to remove the muffins from the tin after baking.

A MILLION TIMES is a lot easier! Just a snap of the wrist, and voila! Rolling muffins across your toweled kitchen counter! Warm, delicious, and free from sticking to the sides of a metal muffin tin where its little muffin sides would have been ripped from it with a cruel metal spoon.

That was a time when I stubbornly wanted to believe (a bit more so than I do now) that people like Super Man and the X-Men really did exist, and were just in hiding. So I took the super-power properties of the Silicone plastic in stride, deciding that it was a phenomenon that someone discovered by accident – perhaps unearthing it while exploring a volcano in Tahiti – making that someone very rich. Silicone had a questionable reputation before it made its way into the American kitchen – being used for less savory jobs having to do with anatomy. But then! Muffin tins, cake pans, bunts, measuring implements, and yes – the rubber scraper. Silicone became popular, desirable, coveted.
If I am a domestic queen, and the kitchen is my kingdom – my red silicone rubber scraper is my scepter.
I looked up what the deal is with Silicon, and found out a lot of mumbo jumbo about polymers and carbon backbones, but the thing is – this stuff is dang cool.

Silicone is used quite a bit in the medical field. Non-dyed silicone rubber tape is used in aviation and is completely non-flammable. You’d think it would feel self-important, right?

But no.

From Wikipedia: “[Silicone] can be found in every room of a typical home. From automotive applications; to a large variety of cooking, baking, and food storage products; to apparel, undergarments, sportswear, and footwear; to electronics; to home repair and hardware, and a host of unseen applications.”


A host of unseen applications, you say? So Silicone is also a SPY!

So use your silicone with confidence, my friends. Some day, it may save your life. MacGyver style!