New Exhibit at the Smithsonian

I know, I know you've been anxious. Well, you're not the only one. For years many people have been bored out of their minds with the Smithsonian Museum. Too much wax, too many things to read, too many old bones. People asked for something real. Something now. Something that they could truly enjoy with the whole family. Well, our Commander-in-Chief obliged. 

The latest exhibit? President Obama's nose hair. 

The hair was carefully trimmed, culled, and individually selected to give people the highest quality museum experience. The White House barber, Sam Colenti, was quite pleased with the result and calls it his, "Obra Prima" or "Masterpiece".

"There can be little doubt. It is truly a great day for our museum. I was getting worried that we were going to be left out of this exciting new era of politics. Fortunately the President was very accommodating, giving us the best nose hair he had. He's such a giver. The exhibit is more than I ever could have hoped for," said Donald McDermott, the curator for the museum.

Guests also are pleased with the exhibit. Some coming from as far as the Philippines to see it. Maggie Glynden, of Monterrey, California, had this to say:

"After walking around looking at stupid rocks and stuff animals I was thinking it was going to be the worst day of my life....but then I saw this neon sign and heard a bunch of 'ooos' and 'ahs'. As I got closer the luster was brighter than the noon day sun. There they were. Tiny strands of mighty hair from the greatest nose to ever sniffle. It was breathtaking. Really."

"Some people may wonder how much such an exhibit costs, or even, what the point is. Well, it's simple. It cost $15 million dollars, and its purpose is to motivate people to get out and enjoy this country again. To enjoy its government again. To live again!" said Obama.

As he said this to me I looked around. I felt like I was at a rock concert. It was like Woodstock, but if the performers were all one guy who wore a suit and tie and stuttered contemplatively every now and then. I had to have some of that hair. It would be like finding an eternal rabbit's foot. The holy grail of luck charms. But as I attempted to get my own sample I was blocked by Secret Service Agents and sent home to blog about it. I haven't been this excited since they opened the exhibit for George Washington's false teeth.

The Dangers of Sledding: A How to Guide

Sledding is a very dangerous past time. Almost as dangerous as wearing skinny pants on a regular basis. Let me tell you why in list form:

1. You might fracture a bone in your hand (that's what I did wednesday, yet some how I'm still typing)

2. Cooking eggs with one hand is a challenge.

3. Showering, dressing oneself, and styling one's hair takes some unique creativity with one hand.

4. Peeling clementines and other citrus fruits becomes extremely taxing.

Now, if I may, let me cite some good things about sledding (to the point of breaking your hand):

1. You can't wash your own dishes.

2. You have a good excuse not to tie your shoes.

3. When you slip and fall on your untied shoelaces and break your other hand, women will faun on you.

4. If you're lucky, one of your attractive care takers will fall in love with you due to the Florence Nightingale syndrome.

On this last note I will expound. Let me begin by saying that breaking any bone is a bother. It's inconvenient. It even hurts and itches from time to time (although one of my high school wrestling coaches always said if it's itching then it's healing - but healing or not I want to scratch it). But, even with inconvenience comes benefit. I, for instance, plan to milk this injury as much as possible. I might even dictate blog posts to people, have people read to me, tie my shoes, wash my dishes, and occasionally give me massages. And, even if I get some questioning look from whoever is helping me, all I need to do is grab my hand, wince a little and then look back at them gratefully saying, "I really appreciate it. You're my favorite." In a couple of days or weeks I should have successfully started a romantic relationship. I mean, nothing says romance like spoon feeding an invalid (That's me).