One new do, three new don’ts: It’s a thing
Stop me if you’ve heard this one, but late last week during a meeting on immigration reform attended by a wide variety of officials with as wide a variety of hearing and memory issues, President Trump (which is still not a typo) reportedly described Haiti and African nations as — oh, wait, you have heard. I told you to stop me. OK, this is actually a big relief because after a week of hearing it nonstop, I really didn’t want to have to say the phrase again. (“President Trump,” that is.)
Say what you will about other countries and what type of holes they may or may not be, but this country appears to be the only proverbial hole where the people inside are biting Tide Pods. For fun. One more time: People are biting Tide Pods for fun. Roundly deemed an “incredibly stupid craze” by newscasters with a touch of furious mom in their voice, the “Tide Pod Challenge ” dares participants to bite into the colorful, candy-like, and admittedly tempting textural symphony of the seriously toxic detergent packs on camera — you know, just to see. Poison control centers have already reported 40 self-administered exposures to the poisonous liquid among 13- to 19-year-olds, and Tide has issued an official warning from Gronk, the only human capable of communicating on the same frequency as party animals. I really try not to be too judgy, but what is wrong with these people? Anyone can tell the Cascade ones have a far superior flavor.
If you haven’t got any Tide Pods handy, another fast way to rip a painful hole in your throat is to simply hold in your next sneeze. It’s true! That tiny, ostensibly polite gesture was enough to send one British nose-pincher to the hospital, after the sheer force of his stifled sneeze ruptured his throat and left him unable to speak or swallow. Twitter collectively screamed into a pillow and vowed never to hold in a sneeze again. [Fade to scene of me as an old man reading to a doll by candlelight.] And that my dear was how the plague began. . .
HAIR TODAY . . .
And finally, fellow husbands and/or spouses whose spousal expectations veer husbandly, this column doesn’t presume to know what’s best for your marriage, but it can safely assume that when it comes to greeting your wife when she returns home from the salon, you’re probably doing it wrong. For a handy reference on how to do it right, consult Praize Kirkwood’s recent viral tweet documenting her mother’s grand reveal after clipping off 20-year-long dreadlocks, and her (double-denim-rocking) husband’s reaction. “You are so hot,” he says, again and again. “Whoa.” As we keep learning this week, it’s not the words you say; it’s what they’re saying.
MICHAEL ANDOR BRODEUR