Lately around my house our discussions have revolved around news reports of local sports figures. From basketball, to football, to baseball, it's about this athlete, or that coach, or something about a team's owner, it's the talk of the town. Sports is a given for part of our daily conversation because both my husband and I do like sports, but I started thinking (always dangerous!) and wondered why sports figures and celebrities capture most of our attention while the people who make life more comfortable for us we completely disregard. Shouldn't we focus at least some of our attention on the "dirty jobs" people of the world?
Imagine if instead of giving so much tv time to men who get paid big bucks to play childrens' games and then act like spoiled 2 year olds, ESPN's SportsCenter produces an end-0f-week wrap-up using "dirty jobs" workers showcasing their sports talents. Trash collectors could do a flash mob dance for having de-stinkified a city. Isn't tossing trash bags similar to the shot put? They could dance gangnam style to Hank Williams, Jr. performing his "All My Rowdy Friends" song. Or maybe the sewer or septic tank cleaner people could do their best impersonation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk after having cleared someone's clogged septic line or city sewer pipes of ........ ickiness. This job seems akin to shuffle board or tug-of-war. The ground they stand on would certainly provide a surface conducive to easily sliding their feet for the dance and the song "Thriller" seems appropriate. Or how about about a dishwasher jumping into the arms of the waiters/waitresses after he's finished cleaning all the dishes in a restaurant, like players do into the stands when they score a touchdown. After all, isn't flinging dishes around in a kitchen similar to the discus throw? I think the "Rocky" theme song might be appropriate.
Honestly, I don't know how these men do these jobs - but shouldn't giant kudos go out to them? Aren't these men the everyday equivalents of Iron Men? They may not be able to pull a 747 by themselves but I know I'd never make it climbing onto the back of a garbage truck before the stench of the truck itself would either make me toss my cookies or I'd pass out, especially during a hot Texas summer. And if I did actually make it onto the truck, I'm sure I wouldn't last long with having to heft people's garbage and do step-aerobics getting on/off the truck all day. I'm huffing and puffing after 10 minutes just watching Richard Simmons exercise in "Sweating to the Oldies".
And how do people react to the guy who works for the city sewer or septic tank company when they find out what his occupation is? Do they immediately take a step back, start mouth breathing, and douse themselves in the nearest hand-sanitizer? Would they be looking at his shoes to make sure he didn't bring a little bit of "work" home with him? But without his services, we'd still be using outhouses. I've never used an outhouse but I had to use a Port-A-Potty once and have been scarred for life ever since.
As for the dishwasher, well, I don't even like washing the dinner dishes for my own family, much less for hundreds of people at a restaurant. By the end of my shift, I'm sure I'd be screaming for Marge from the old Palmolive commercials to come and treat my dishpan hands, or maybe for Calgon to take me awaaaayyyyyy.
These occupations, as well as many others, could be a weekly piece of tv sports broadcasting that I would definitely make sure to tune in to. When you think of all the contributions these people make that help to ensure our everyday comfort, health and well-being, it leaves you wondering where we'd be as a society without them. I'm thinking we might still be living in caves, dragging our knuckles, and grunting.
by: Christie Bielss
A psychology professor out of UC Davis recently released a study on couples in romantic relationships. He found that when couples were sitting several feet apart and facing one another, but not touching or speaking, their heart rates were in-sync and they breathed in and out at the same intervals. When moved apart, their bodies continued to stay as one.
When these same couples were switched with unfamiliar partners, none of their heart rates or respirations were in-sync. They also discovered in the course of this study that women adjusted their body's heart rate and breathing more to fit their partner's than men's bodies do.
In other words, when we are together with the right partner, our bodies are in perfect harmony, and the woman picks up her partner's slack so they stay in harmony.
I can see that last theory because even after being together for nearly 25 years, my husband and I work together: he leaves the toilet seat up and I put it down. He sets a fresh roll of toilet paper right on top of the empty cardboard tube and I replace it. He will hand me my raincoat and the dog leash with his free hand, while using the remote to change tv channels with his other, when the dog needs to go for a walk on a rainy day.
And our heart rates can really get in-sync when I discover I'm the only person in the house who knows that the dirty dishes go in the dishwasher. Or, when there is one piece of chocolate left and he picks it up, you can bet we are in perfect sync then.
As for our respirations, I'm sure they have been in perfect harmony many times, especially when the kids were babies. While holding his breath, he would hand me a stinky baby who desperately needed a diaper change, which would cause me to hold my breath.
See, perfect harmony. It's good to know schools are still conducting great informational studies like this one.
by: Christie Bielss
We bought an older home (built in 1978) back in the mid 1990's which had a few cosmetic issues. We thought those cosmetic issues were just your typical P/W/C (paint/wallpaper/carpet). We were in for a bit of a rude awakening.
The first morning we lived in the house, both my husband (Mike) and I had to get up and go to work before dawn. I was the first one dressed (who says men are the faster dressers?!) and headed into the kitchen. I flipped on the light and to my great horror, the floor was a solid mass of the most dreaded of all kitchen bugs: the cockroach.
Being a red-blooded American female, I did what all females do when they encounter such a sight: I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran for my life! My husband came at a full run thinking I'd been attacked by the boogie-man. I jumped in his big protecting arms and was able to squeak out the horror I'd just witnessed: "BUGS!!!!! They're everywhere!!!". That big oaf actually started laughing.
As my nerves calmed down I said "Oh, you think that's funny? They covered the entire surface of the kitchen floor like a cockroach carpet!". With a sarcastic "Yeah, ok Mrs. Drama. How many were there? 1 or 2?", and walked into the kitchen. By the time he reached the doorway, the floor was completely bug free. They'd all crawled back into the icky gicky void they must've come out from. I walked to the doorway and could feel them staring at me. I knew they were there, lurking in their dark, dank hideaway planning their next invasion.
Later that same day we were having a new dishwasher installed. The installer noted that the cabinet bottom under the kitchen sink was very damp and rotted from where the old dishwasher had leaked for a very long time. He advised us to replace the sink bottom ASAP. A little later that day we also had an urgent, same day pest control treatment (I do NOT do bugs). Since we were pulling out that cabinet bottom, the technician left us some chemicals to treat that area directly.
The next morning I took an extraordinarily long time getting ready so that my husband was first to turn on the kitchen light. He's a 6'1" broad-shouldered, barrel-chested ex-football player. He's not afraid of any stinkin' bugs. As he walked into the family room, I peeked around the corner to see his reaction. He flicked on the kitchen light and jumped back several feet. The bugs were out in full force. "You're not laughing....." I said as I peeked from behind the safety of my corner. He watched as the bugs scattered and ran for cover. He decided right then and there that his first order of business as soon as he got home from work was to rip out that rotten cabinet bottom.
True to his word, he walked in the door from work and immediately jumped into action. He laid all of his tools within arm's reach of the sink area and even had the pest control chemicals primed and ready - just in case there were any bugs that tried to protest this repair. He gave me the heads up that he was ready and that I might should find a safe spot to perch myself.
Having a sense of what was going to come out of that cabinet when he started banging around, I grabbed our dog and headed out to the backyard. I figured with his manly attitude of "I'm not afraid of any bugs", this had the potential to become quite entertaining. I positioned myself outside our kitchen's big bay window, which allowed me the perfect sight line to where he was going to be working, and waited for the show to begin.
My husband started hammering, and the cabinet bottom started disintegrating on the second downward stroke. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out the first large piece of rotten cabinet bottom. He held it up for me to see while mouthing "Ewwww! NASTY!".
He sat back down in front of the cabinet and with great force, he hit the cabinet bottom again. And then it happened. Time literally stood still. In what seemed like a scene from a horror movie, my husband started to pull that piece of cabinet bottom out only to discover it was the bugs' home..... and they did not like invaders!
The bugs immediately went on the offensive and launched an all out invasion. Before he could even take a breath, bugs were everywhere. Freeze-frame here: you know in the first "Home Alone" movie where the little boy grabs the tarantula and plops it on the burglar's face and the burglar emits the loudest, most high-pitched scream imaginable? Hold onto that thought and let's resume. All of the sudden, those cockroaches were going after him.
He started frantically slapping and swiping at his legs and feet. He wasn't making much headway against this coordinated offensive, so he grabbed the hammer and started smashing everything that moved with it. As he was flailing around his legs and feet, he didn't notice the bugs had started crawling up his arms towards his face! All of the sudden, he noticed a movement on his arm and discovered the nasty spawns of satan were nearly to his shoulder. Before I had time to even blink, he emitted the "Home Alone" blood-curdling, completely horrified scream.
He started hopping around in a complete frenzy trying to free himself from the bugs. Standing in the backyard, I couldn't contain myself any longer and started laughing hysterically. The more he jumped around, swatted and screamed, the harder I laughed. I was laughing so hard I couldn't catch a breath, my legs literally gave way and I fell to the ground. I couldn't take my eyes off the scene before me and through tears of laughter, I watched as he finally noticed the pest control chemicals. He grabbed the chemical sprayer and started spraying wildly while screaming "DIE!!!! DIE!!!!!!!". Those giant bugs didn't have a chance against that chemical and died on contact.
After several minutes passed, he regained control of the situation and looked out the bay window for the first time since having to fight against this invasion of thousands of miscreants. He started to smile at me and give me the thumbs up when he noticed me laying in the grass laughing hysterically. His smile froze and slowly faded into a pointed frown. For some reason, he did not see the humor in the situation one tiny bit. I guess I was lucky that his "thumbs up" didn't flip around and become a "you're #1"........
by: Christie Bielss
