Measuring Stick

I stared at the computer screen in horror, my first swallow of coffee frozen midstream down my esophagus.

From somewhere deep inside my brain, a little voice rasped weakly, "Coffee. I need coffee."

Ignoring it, my heart pounding, I punched a key to see if the little message was still there.

Yep, and now it had company. Lots of company.

Guys worry about different things than women do. We worry about the stock market, the Colt's win-loss record, how many beers we can slug before our lips lose communication with our brains.

In other words, we worry about numbers.

And what better number to worry about other than, well, uh, you know ... how long our... um ...

C'mon, do I have to say it??!! Are you getting the point??!!

I never thought I had a problem. Sandy never complained, uh, back when we ... but no, that's a different story.

Then it happened. The email.

Not only that, but it was quickly followed by a dozen more!!

Does everybody know??!!

And they're sharing the information! Gathering the troops! What, are they in a chat room group or something?! All talking about me??!!

So now, having researched my problem and outing me in public, all these people are swooping down on me offering pumps, pills and patches to cure my problem. All these concerned people, acting in concert, reaching out to me with personal email, out of all of the millions of people out there.

Brings a tear to my eye.

But I still wonder, how'd they find out? Did they learn of me the same way Rogaine found me out? Heck, I'm still on Rogaine's Ten Most Wanted. Or is it more sinister? Orwell stuff? Shades of 1984?

Or maybe it was my doctor. My last physical was almost four years ago. Maybe doctors forecast shrinkage based on aging, and post the results on the internet for some kind of study or something. Or maybe he's still upset I don't come back to visit him anymore after he stuck a finger in my ... well, that's another story, too.

Nah, this is all wrong. I don’t have this problem.

I mean, sure, I always cover up in the locker room. Don’t want anyone getting jealous…ha, ha. I cover up with a washclo… no, a towe.., no, a beach towel. It takes a beach towel to cover everything.

Yeah, that’s it. I’m such a macho man-stud, ya’ know.

This is a mistake. I know it. They confused me with some other Norm Cowie. Yeah, there are plenty of Norm Cowie’s out there, right? I, myself, know at least five others. Yeah, that’s it.

Heh, heh. (whew)

Just a mistake.

Not my problem.

Now that that was settled, I got back to my email, and deleted the offers with relief.

And then I saw it.

Another email, telling me I need … (gasp)….Viagra!!!!

How’d they know????

!!!!!!!!!!

Norm

www.normcowie.com
The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably)
The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness
The Heat of the Moment

Air

Pssst!

Wanna buy some air?

“Air?!” you say? “Why would I want to buy air?! Air is one of the most common substances on Earth. Heck, air is what makes Earth livable in the first place. We all use it, even animals and George Bush. It’s continually renewed by plants and available every time you inhale. Why should I have to pay any money for it?”

Well, you already do.

In fact, you buy air all the time.

I thought about this the other day when I was buying bubblewrap to protect some stuff that I was going to ship. Being a guy, the first thing I did with the bubblewrap was to pop a bunch of the little bubbles. Wheee! Pop! Pop! Pop!

Uh-hem, sorry.

Anyway, then it occurred to me. I had just purchased air.

Think about it. Bubblewrap is basically just two ingredients: air and plastic. If not for the air, the little sheet of plastic would be worthless, since it wouldn’t protect anything. So basically, the air is more important than the plastic.

Not so for potato chips. How many times have you bought a big, fat bag of chips, ripped it open, had a bunch of air whoosh past your face, and found yourself with a bag of crumbs?

Still, though, there are times when you buy the air, because you need air. Like you know it’s time to buy new tennis balls when they go flat. And when your tires are low, you’ll plug fifty cents into an air compressor with a faulty gauge and a leak in the hose, and the air hisses out everywhere but into your tire, while you mutter and cuss.

Or maybe if you’re planning a space or underwater trip. In fact, it’s a little known fact that NASA has been exploring the possibility of bringing bags of potato chips on future missions to furnish the astronauts with their air and food needs.

But it’s not just air, either. You also buy water, … and dirt … and poop!

Poop, you say?

Yeah, poop. Can you say ‘fertilizer’?

The most common substances on Earth. We buy them.

Not only that, but we’re willing to spend extra money to get them from other places. We’ll think nothing of spending two bucks for some Artesian water from France or the Fiji Islands. Heck, most people don’t even know that ‘artesian’ simply means well water from water drained from higher ground. So we’re spending extra money on well water?!

Sheesh.

Everybody knows that the best water comes from drinking fountains in high schools. Not the porcelain ones. The metal ones. The best water in the world, if you don’t mind the slight Juicy Fruit flavor from a piece of gum some freshman wedged into the spout.

Anyway, I want in on this scam. I want to sell something that’s a common source. Something renewable and everyday. Something you wouldn’t normally think of buying. In fact, something I find every morning, in my drain.

Pssst!

Wanna buy some hair?

Norm
www.normcowie.com
The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably)
The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness