Just cuz you guys are my friends, I’m gonna let you in on the ground floor.

For a small investment, you can get in on a financial wonderland that will put you in the penthouse and on that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.

Soon you’ll be signing up all your friends and relatives, and they too can begin this adventure, with you starting to gather in a percentage of all they reap.

Okay, what is this financial deal of the century?

Moi, has made a huge discovery.

A worldwide, applies to everyone kind of discovery. One that EVERYONE will be begging for. Seriously, everyone.

Okay, now keep this on the Q-T for the time being. Remember its “patent pending”. I checked out that website that’s always advertised on the TV for inventions, and they assure me that for a small fee, they are sure my patent will be accepted.

So. shhhhh, okay?

Here we go.

Everyone, sneezes, even animals (though I am not sure of the practicality of trying  this on them).

So, okay, everyone sneezes. And every once in a while, for no apparent reason, like stubbing your toe, you will invariably bite your tongue when you sneeze. And since you don’t know how it happened, there is no danged way to prevent it.

Until now.

Just the other day I was washing up some dishes while in the process of creating a marvelous mouth-watering meal for my beloved Contrarian. I was banging those spoons and spinnin’ those greens I tell ya. The flour was flying and the oil was fryin’. And then I had to sneeze.

Having my fingertips submerged in the soapy output of our local aquifer, (not the soap, just the water), and having embraced a few select pieces of dishware already with soap and rinsing, I was loath to spurt forth the usual droplets of my mouth onto said clean cutlery and so forth.

Are ya with me?

Okay, so in an attempt to minimize the bathing of said immaculate dish and spoon, I swiveled my head, not the torso mind you, just the head, a full 90° to deposit my spring-time shower into the room at large rather than, as I said, the dishes which were still draining in the sink (to the left is where I place them, washing in the right, which is the exact opposite of how I washed dishes when I was a child which probably has deep Freudian meaning for those of you who are Freudian as opposed to one of the other schools).

Where was I?

Oh, yes, about to sneeze.

So I sneezed.

And other than my head being twisted radically just seconds before the explosion, there was nothing else untoward about the situation. Well, I let ‘er rip as they say, (whoever they might be which is some amorphous collection of non-gendered presumed human beings), and let out a scream, followed by a very lengthy series of “ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch” in an ever rising crescendo of pain induced decibel.

In other words, I bit the side of my tongue.

Well, that was not the first time I have done so. And as I pondered the searing pain that was throbbing and only barely receding as my skull pounded from the vibrations, I thought, “damn, I hate doing that” and then “I’m sure I’ll do it again some time.”

That last part really pissed off yours truly.

So I got to thinking. Or to be exact, I focused my thoughts on the direct idea of sneezing and how I could prevent the continuing destruction on that wiggly item that gives me so much pleasure caressing various food items. (We’ll leave it at food if you don’t mind. You know whose blog to go to if you want to talk dirty)

I focused with laser-like accuracy, pushing out all other thoughts. A few of the ones that were pinballing around inside the dome were:

  • Why would somebody choose a  reuben sandwich as a birthday meal?
  • Why is dirt dirty? And is it dirty or is that just the color?
  • What will happen on the next episode of Mad Men?
  • What did birds leave behind in the rush to come north early this year?
  • It must be awful being a snake and having to slide through awful things cuz you can’t step over them.

So, you see, it was a major feat of cold iron-minded will POWER that went to work on this problem that plagues us all.

And I confess, after several minutes, I went back to chopping red onion, and gave up.

It was some hours later, when I was sitting quietly, sipping a diet coke (decaffeinated if you MUST know, though I really like Coke Zero, but the bad store doesn’t carry it, and so it was all I could get), that the answer came to me.

And even before the night was out, I got a chance to try my light-bulb moment.

I felt a sneeze coming on.

I felt that hate/love thingie rising, yet my sore tongue (don’t bother trying to band-aid your tongue, in case you were wondering–the tape doesn’t stick worth shit) was making me dread it, fearful that my tongue would leap between my teeth, determined to just end it all, once and for all, committing a perverted form of tongue suicide.

Oh I am hurrying. Be patient.

Well, you take that big intake of breath, and your eyes go all squiggly, and your kinda shiver, and that’s when I did it!


Oh, what I did?

I jammed my hand in my mouth.

And I sneezed all that spray over my hand, and my fingers kept my tongue from getting between those molars, and I DIDN’T BITE MY TONGUE!

And I was so happy I just giggled.

The Contrarian did look at me a little strangely, but he does that a lot anyway.

And so, for a small investment, you can go out selling my solution! (Check or money order please)

There are only a few teeth marks on my hand, but they were pretty much gone this morning.

Get that check to me right away. In the spirit of the Infomercial which I shall soon be the new diva of, it’s only three monthly payments of $29.99. Be the first to cash in on this “cash cow.”

I swear all of the above is true.