Wiener, Wiener, Chicken Deener!

 

What the hell is going on in Iceland?? Last week I wrote about this creepy Icelandic movie called Lamb. And this week I learn that Iceland is home to the World’s Largest Penis Museum. That is, the museum is the largest facility, not one museum that houses the single largest…facility. 

The museum was founded by a fellow named Sigurour Hjartarson who grew up doing the only thing I currently know that people do in Iceland: raising sheep. Sigurour was drinking with some buddies one night talking about the only thing I currently think that Icelandic people probably talk about: lambs.

The guys were talking about how every part of the lamb is used: the meat for food, the skin for clothes, the intestines for sausages, and the bones for children’s toys.

WAIT.

What kind of effed-up children’s toys are made out of lamb bones?

So you know how I wrote that I don’t think I know any Irish Catholic people a few weeks ago? And I might think that Irish Catholics are all depressed and boring? Well, my friend, Amy, emailed me and told me that she is Irish Catholic! And she is very cheerful and not-at-all boring, and that made me feel happy.

So if one of you is Icelandic and has never adopted a sheep-baby and didn’t play with lamb-bone toys as a child, I’m just going to beg you to let me know. Do it for Your People. Because here is a picture of Sigurour Hjartarson, the Penis Man, and I have concerns.

So the guys are talking about lamb parts and Sigurour recalls how he used to have a dried bull’s penis whip as a child. He used this whip to drive his sheep out to pasture.

So as a joke, Sigurour’s buddies started giving him penises as gifts. Dicks in a Box. It didn’t take long until he was Hooked on Penises. Over decades, he assembled his collection of over 250 penises in the Phallological Museum.

The largest specimen is from a sperm whale. It’s almost six feet tall and weighs about 150 pounds. And that’s just part of the whale wiener. The full whale’s penis was originally 16 feet long and weighed about 700 pounds and couldn’t be delivered intact.

The teeniest peen in the museum is from a hamster. It is only two millimeters in length and you have to look at it with a magnifying glass.

In 2011, Sigurour’s health was failing, so he passed down the family jewels to his son, who now curates the collection. Alongside the erection collection are the following things that I don’t understand:

• Information on the cultural history of the penis, and
• Displays of memorabilia

What kind of cultural history? And what kind of memorabilia? Pennants? Medals? Smashed pennies? I don’t get it.

There’s a gift store so you can do some Christmas shopping and a café in case you get a hankering for a snack. Baloney sandwich anyone? Or how 'bout a handful of Deez Nuts??

But if you have to use the bathroom, you'll have to handle a wanker to get through the door.

What would you do? Would you hold it? Or would you hold it? Here's to a week of simpler decisions, my friends!

Thanks for reading!

Here’s where I got my info about the Phallological Museum:

Experience: I opened the world’s largest penis museum | Museums | The Guardian

Penis museum | Icelandic Phallological Museum | blooloop

Dogs, Lambs, and Popcorn

 

PSA: This post contains movie spoilers. However, both movies are whack. Read on at your discretion.

Power of the Dog was an awful movie. This is how I was certain that it would win lots of movie awards. Why did I even watch it, you ask? Albert put it in our watchlist, because it had more than a four-star rating and “it’s about a dog!” It’s almost impossible to go wrong with a dog movie. But the movie isn’t about a dog. The title is a trap.

Not far into the movie, there is a scene that will forever be emblazoned in my memory. The sequence focuses on a single stalk of wheat blowing gently in a field. I think it was wheat. I’m not a botanist. That’s it. We watched this nonsense for approximately fifteen minutes.

At this moment during the film, I expressed my concern to Albert. “I’m worried that this movie might be a little too artistic for me.”

My sweet husband immediately tried to remedy what he perceived as my emotional discomfort by offering to pick a different movie. But I had heard chatter about this movie and was interested to see what it was all about. And the beauty of being Empty Nesters is that we have time and space for even the terriblest of movies these days.

At the end of the movie, we looked at each other and sighed. We both agreed that we didn’t enjoy the movie. I hated the characters. The way that Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch’s character) manipulated others with his palpable and volatile anger made me feel anxious and resentful. The rest of the main characters were so intimidated and trying so hard to placate this jerk that watching them literally made me groan.

HOWEVER. I am notorious for falling asleep during movies and I stayed awake all the way through this baloney. I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie for days, and Albert and I had lots of annoyed discussions about what the hell was the point of the movie and WHAT was with the skinny dude with the kooky eyes?? So I guess this movie gave us some Type 2 Happiness.

These mixed feelings happened again recently with a movie called Lamb. But, OK, wait. Before I tell you about the movie, let’s talk about lambs.

I recently drove to Eugene to pick Audrey up for the weekend. The drive is a dull hour-and-a-half down the I-5. That is, it’s dull unless the sheep and cows are out. And at this time of year, there are LOTS of babies! Calves were wandering curiously or nursing. And the lambs were running and jumping and playing. The cuteness was practically unbearable.

My heart swelled with wonder and joy then immediately clouded over with sadness. It was lamb season because Easter was coming up. Most of these sweet babes landed on someone’s dinner table this past weekend. Why? Because Jesus is the Lamb? And Christians eat Jesus to show love and devotion? Smaller body wafers during Communion but larger roasted versions at Easter to celebrate the resurrection?

The first time I tried lamb was 1991 when Albert and I got engaged. Delicious! But I can no longer eat lamb because of my dog. You see, Ollie looks like a little lamb, and the thought of him being killed and eaten is almost making me cry right now. Look how cute.

"Please don't eat me, Mom!"

So Albert thought this movie called Lamb might be a good choice for us, because it seemed to loosely describe our relationship with Ollie. Here’s the description:

“In rural Iceland, a childless couple discover a strange and unnatural newborn in their sheep barn. They decide to raise her as their own, but sinister forces are determined to return the creature to the wilderness that birthed her.”

The movie started kind of slow. Instead of fifteen minutes of wheat shots like Power of the Dog, we watched fifteen-minute passages of snow storms. Makes sense. Because ICEland, you know? We saw little lambs being born, and then one of the little lambs gets brought into the house and treated like a little baby, just like the movie description. It was amusing, because Albert makes fun of me for treating Ollie like a baby.

BUT THEN.

We find out that the little lamb is, like, half baby-half lamb. I literally yelled out in horror. AHH! OHMYGODWHAT???? Look at this shit.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had watched the trailer which clearly shows this person-lamb with one chubby little hand and one hoofy little hoof. You can watch the creepy two-minute trailer here if you like.

Also like Power of the Dog, I couldn’t get this movie out of my head. What kind of freak thinks of these stories? Is this person-lamb creature like, A Thing in Iceland that seems so whatthefuck-like to me only because I’m not familiar with it yet? How did this creature come to be? Did the husband do the Wild Thing with an actual wild thing??

So gross. Ew. Or, more appropriately, EWE.

This movie brought new gratitudes into my life that I express daily as I sit with my little Ollie and stroke his furry, little back. “I’m so glad that you have a whole dog body! I’m so glad that you have all four little dog paws and zero thumbs!” It’s unleashed a new source of appreciation for me. And for that, I believe this movie deserves an award.

I hope you find joy this week when you least expect it.

Thank you for reading!

I'm Touched

 

It has come to my attention that someone has been watching me at the gym. I know what you’re thinking. “Tell us something we don’t know, Lisa Fu!”

Yes, I know that people look at me for lots of reasons especially at the gym. There just aren’t that many Asians around here, so I stand out.

And my Asian-ness isn’t the only outstanding aspect of the way I look. I get lots of comments about my legs, mostly from dudes asking me how I got them so big. My legs are OG big. Like big before Serena Williams made Big Legs cool.

Albert took me to Vegas in 2002 for our 10-year wedding anniversary where we tried indoor rock climbing for the first time. When Albert showed this picture to his parents, his mom asked: “Who is this? That’s LISA??”

 

I thought that she was impressed to see me doing something kind of dangerous and exciting. But DUH. This is my MFIL we’re talking about. She immediately followed up with, “I thought that was a man. So big.” Ugh. Whatever. She was clearly not ready for this jelly.

But I have come to love my legs. They are strong have gifted me with the ability to experience lots of places to do lots of things. And they look great on my boy, too. Look at this picture from September 2019 when Albert, Chris, and I visited the Rodin Museum in Philly. Those meaty thighs though, amiright?? Crooked knees, too. Sorrynotsorry, Son.

A couple of months after this picture was taken, we would start hearing about a mysterious virus in China that was killing people. Then a few months later, universities sent students home for almost a whole year. It seems like a million years ago.

The gym locker room is the only place I get naked in front of more than one person at a time these days. And this is where the stalking and groping happened. BY AN ELDERLY WOMAN.

I was approached the First Time about a month ago while I was finishing up in front of the mirrors. I stay hot after showering, so I usually finish getting ready wearing everything except my shirt. Everything else is in place: pants, shoes, sports bra. Nothing out of the ordinary and, frankly, more clothes than lots of young women these days working out. Or going shopping.

The Approacher is one of the older women who attend the morning aquarobics classes. I think it’s cool that these ladies still get up every morning to exercise and socialize. I hear them chatter about their families and their travels, their aches and their surgeries. I marvel at the way they wrangle into swimsuits and march to the outdoor pool even when it’s 40 degrees outside. I asked one of them how they can stand the cold, and this woman with a German accent said, “Oooooh, the pool iss very varm! It’s like getting into zee BAHTH!”

That wasn’t the woman who was creeping on me. It was a different woman who offered a compliment. “That’s a really cute bra!”

It’s not unusual for women to have discussions about fitness equipment. Finding a comfortable, effective workout bra that doesn’t cost a million dollars can be challenging. And one that looks pretty cute? Score!

Me: “It’s a Handful bra.”

Stalking Woman: “It’s looks really good on you!”

Me: “Thanks!”

SW: “And look at your flat tummy! How’d you get your tummy so flat?”

Uhhhh….is this getting weird? Or is my vivid imagination running amok?

Me: “Oh, I’m just lucky. My tummy is always flat.” 

That’s truth. My tummy is as flat as it was when I was, like, 10 years old. The only difference is that now it proudly bears stretch marks and wrinkly skin and a caved in bellybutton. It has been a joy to have this strong core to hold in all my guts.

Wait a minute, did this woman just look me up and down? I felt alarmed and confused. Before I knew it, this woman reached out and patted my belly with her hand like a bongo drum. *pat pat pat* “You look great! I wish I looked as good as you!”

It makes me feel sad when people, especially women, criticize their own bodies. You’re alive and breathing in your 70s. You’re at this fancy gym about to go to an aquarobics class. Yay, you! So before I could process the fact that I had just been objectified and groped, my Automatic Encourager said, “Oh, you look just great.”

After she walked away, my brain made a note to self. That felt weird. I can probably count on one hand the number of people who have touched my belly. Well, OK, I’ve had three children, so maybe two hands. But you get the idea. It was an unsettling experience.

The Second Time occurred the very next week at the mirrors once again. But this time, I was almost ready to walk out with ALL my clothes on. The woman approached very quickly, telling me how much she admired my sweatshirt and asking where I got it.

I got it at Costco where I get most of my clothes now. My work-from-home uniform is leggings and a sweatshirt. Comfy, cost-effective, and I can pick up a churro on my way out.

SW: “Lemme see what it says on the front!” she says while grasping the bottom front of my sweatshirt and pulling so that my body turns to face her.

Me: "Umm..it just says Under Armour.”

SW: “Oh, it’s so cute. I really like it.”

Mmmkay, Creeper. There is nothing remarkable about the sweatshirt, and that was too aggressive for my taste. I just backed away and left. Congratulations, you have officially been placed on Lurk Alert.

You won’t believe that another incident happened the following week! I didn’t even see her coming. I was unlocking my locker and I felt hands on my hip.

“Excuse me, I just want to squeeze behind you.”

It was over before I even registered it, but Oh. Em. Gee! I felt totally assaulted. When I told Audrey what happened, she was alarmed and asked, “Why do you keep putting yourself in situations where she can touch you?”

Umm, Girlfriend, NO.

In Audrey’s defense, Albert asked me the exact same question when I told him the story. We all had a chat about victim blaming.

I avoid eye contact and proximity to this woman. She makes me feel so uncomfortable. I am adept at asserting boundaries with men who behave like this. It's not hard to avoid men in the women's locker room. I hesitate with this woman. I worry about being respectful to elders and about people at the gym thinking I’m not nice.

But fuck all that. This woman has repeatedly disrespected my boundaries and has no right to creep on me! Look at me, all tough and confident in front of my computer screen. I’ll let you know how it goes, Friends.

WWJD?

What would Jason Momoa do?

Thank you for reading!

My Unsung Hero

 

I’m in love with this podcast called “My Unsung Hero.” These are uplifting, five-minute stories of “everyday acts of kindness and courage that transformed someone’s life.” One story that struck me was told by a woman who visited a grocery store one day. The cashier asked how her day was going, much like every cashier does about a hundred times a day.

The polite American response is, “I’m fine, thank you,” since it’s assumed that the asker actually DGAF about how you’re doing. I think this is a waste of words and time, but I play along because I am not a barbarian.

Sometimes the cashiers are so distracted that they forget that they already asked me how I am 15 seconds ago. The convo goes like this:

Distracted Cashier: “So how’s your day going?”

Me: “Fine, thank you.”

*beep Oat Milk $4.99*

*beep Bananas $2.49*

DC: “So how’s your day going?”

What I WANT to say is: “Still fine, Smart Stuff! Just as fine as it was 15 seconds ago when you asked me the first time.”

But what I actually say is: “Fine, thank you.” Because I am not a barbarian.

Similarly, cashiers are instructed to ask, “Did you find everything you were looking for?” I think this question is so dumb and puts me in a troublesome predicament when I, in fact, do NOT get all my wishes granted at Target. Wouldn’t it be so silly for me to get all the way to the last step of shopping BEFORE exhausting every option to find everything on my list?

Why you gotta dredge up my disappointment and frustration all over again, Tammy?? No, I could NOT find the Blistex Lip Medex and my dry lips do not feel like discussing this any further!

So I always lie and tell the cashier that I found everything just fine. I hate that question.

The woman telling the “Unsung Hero” story was having a bad day, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell the cashier that she was “fine.” She answered honestly. “I’m not doing great. My mother just passed away.” The cashier expressed sympathy and finished the transaction politely.

As the woman was leaving, the young man bagging her groceries asked, “Can I give you a hug?” The storyteller goes on to describe the comforting, healing hug she received with gratitude. She felt seen and listened to and uplifted by this stranger. She says that she thinks of this young man often and remembers him as a warm, empathetic person who made such a big difference for her that day.

Some of the stories in the podcast are much more dramatic, but most tell of small gestures that made a really big impact on the life of a stranger. The thought that comes to my mind when I listen to most of these stories is, “I can do that.” Most of these offerings are well within my capacity and are small enough that it wouldn’t matter to me at all if they’re not appreciated or acknowledged.

One of the most remarkable parts of these stories is that none of the givers seem to be expecting appreciation or acknowledgement, and I wonder if that’s the element of these stories that touches me so deeply. Giving with the expectation of appreciation or acknowledgement is manipulative. Is it rude for someone to walk through a door I’m holding open for them without acknowledging or thanking me? Maybe. But did I offer that gesture because I was fishing for gratitude? I hope not.

I kind of get a kick out of doing nice things for others in sneaky way, not sticking around to see the reaction. This past weekend, Albert, Audrey, and I were in the Alphabet District in Downtown Portland. There were about a half dozen naked people dancing alongside the road and throwing colored powder on each other. There didn’t seem to be any Official Naked Event, and we all wondered what was happening. Albert expressed a great deal of concern for the diners in the restaurants nearby.

One of the naked women crossed over to our side of the street to take a picture of her naked friends. So I asked, “Do you want me to take the picture for you so you can get in it?” She was totally delighted and asked if I could please include the sign behind them. I took several pictures, including the sign, and also some close up before returning the phone to her.

I didn’t stick around to see where she kept her phone since she clearly didn’t have any pockets. I would say that qualified as “everyday kindness and courage.” It takes a lot for an introvert like me to approach a naked stranger.

Will today be the day that you pleasantly surprise a naked stranger?

Thanks for reading!