Why moms can find lost thingsFor some reason, men can’t seem to find things. Maybe it’s because they’re usually focused on other things; like what’s in their pants…or getting into yours.

Whatever the reason, my experience with men and locating items is they can’t seem to do it without my help.

Am I just a really good finder of missing items?  Probably, although I often lose my dignity at karaoke bars and have trouble locating it.  (It’s not at the bottom of five glasses of vodka.  That’s always the first place I check.)

Maybe I’m just overly talented at finding things and that’s why I’m often summoned to locate anything from missing car keys to the mustard in the fridge…in the same exact place it always resides.

I suspect part of the reason I’m so good at tracking things down is because I’m great at word searches.  I’m fricking fantastic at those bitches. I can find the most complicated of words among a sea of vowels and consonants.

photo credit: Thomas Hawk via photopin cc

photo credit: Thomas Hawk via photopin cc

Actually, that fact doesn’t have anything to do with this post.  I just wanted to find a way to sneak in the fact that I kick ass at word searches.

Mission accomplished.

Back to locating things: I don’t think I’m alone in my experience of being the go-to person for finding lost items.  I think it’s a widespread occurrence.

For some reason, men need women not only for procreating and endless hours of boob-grabbing, but also for tracking down missing underwear.

Dare I say this is an epidemic?  I dare.

Dare I say it’s worldwide?  I double dare.

I’m totally a daredevil when it comes to making allegations about men losing things. (I also love Double Dare and Marc Summers.)

"Where's MY uterus?" See what I mean?  Males are always looking for something... photo credit: Mohammed Alnaser via photopin cc

“Where’s MY uterus?”
See what I mean? Males are always looking for something…
photo credit: Mohammed Alnaser via photopin cc

I feel confident saying that women across the globe are inundated with inquiries as to where their male loved-one last left his favorite pair of running shoes.  (In the bathroom under the sink.  Duh.)

This phenomenon is not limited to adult males.  Rather, such forgetfulness starts at a young age.

Forgetting where they put their favorite fire engine develops into forgetting to call their girlfriends and then eventually leads to forgetting they were supposed to be home at 6:00 to clean the house.

Okay, those last two aren’t necessarily about losing things but I think they support the overall premise that men are forgetful.

What’s my point? That’s an excellent question.  My point is that either men are lazy and want to make women do all of their searching, or men are born with an inherent ability to lose things.

I’m not sure which explanation makes me sadder.

The only logical conclusion I’ve drawn from all of this (aside from the fact I will definitely get comments on this post about being a man-hater), is the reason women are so great at locating lost items is because of their uterus.

photo credit: dullhunk via photopin cc

photo credit: dullhunk via photopin cc

It’s one of the things that makes us different from men, and it’s clearly where we derive our ability to locate long lost possessions.

Notice I didn’t say it’s our vaginas.  It’s not.  Vaginas have enough things to worry about without having to locate little Timmy’s lost soccer uniform.

Plus, men can purchase artificial vaginas and I don’t think they have any better luck locating things just because they have a pocket pu$$y.

This leads me to my well-reasoned belief that women are capable of finding nearly anything simply because we have (or have had) a uterus.

It’s a fact, mostly because I said so.

The uterus is basically a beacon shining brightly, pointing the way to all of those missing puzzle pieces and lone socks.  What else could be the cause of our magical powers?

Nothing.  It’s the uterus.

Does that mean if you’ve had a hysterectomy you are no longer a finder of things?  Of course not!  If you’ve ever had a uterus, even if it was subsequently removed, you still retain your mad GPS skills because you were initially granted the infinite tracking abilities a uterus provides.

So there you have it.  Mystery solved.  Now you know why everyone comes to women for anything that’s lost (or in plain sight).

Come to think of it, if women were in charge of the search party, they would have found Amelia Earhart within an hour.

woman with lost item

license16I despise getting pulled over.  Granted, there’s a special feeling that comes with knowing whatever speeding ticket I get will just be taken care of later.  It’s one of the very few perks of being a lawyer.

Considering I pay far more in the equivalent of student loans each month, I consider it a wash.

Recently, I passed a poor soul who was pulled over for most likely going 1 mile over the speed limit.  While pointing and laughing at him as I drove by, I realized there are probably some license plates that would get you pulled over more than the average driver.

What kind of license plates, you ask?  Here are a few I came up with.

If you’re thinking of getting a vanity license plate, make sure you don’t get one of these, unless you want to be pulled over regularly.  Instead, get something innocuous that’s hard to remember.

That’s what I did.

It works.  Just ask Ryan Gosling.  That poor guy still hasn’t been able to identify me and my stalker-mobile when I’m parked outside his home “keeping an eye on things.”**

**I think you know what I mean by “things.”

license plates

Isn't he cute?

Isn’t he cute?

My husband and I recently decided to test the bounds of our relationship:  We took on a home improvement project.

When we bought our house, the guest bedroom was a shade of baby blue that no baby has ever been able to successfully rock.

Unfortunately, we were too tired from bossing the moving men around to paint the room back then, but we figured we’d get to it later.

***Enter five years later***

A few weeks ago we decided to take on this painting project.

Maybe we were incapacitated, or maybe we were just stupid, but either way, we decided to paint the room and roll the dice on if our marriage would survive.

Cleaning before painting.  Even though paint wasn't opened at this point, it was still crucial he wore the HazMat suit.

Cleaning before painting. Even though paint hasn’t been opened at this point, it’s crucial to wear the HazMat suit.

SIDE NOTE:  Home Depot and Lowe’s should add a complimentary divorce kit to any home improvement project purchase over $200.  It would be an excellent service to their customers.

Fortunately, our marriage (and our walls) survived painting and redoing our bedroom.

Of course, my husband said a few funny things throughout the day that helped get me through.

Smelling paint thinner also helped.


Idea Man

The kids are using Pinterest these days.  They tell me there’s good stuff on there.”


Pin it!

Inspirational Speaker

We haven’t made any mistake that can’t be fixed.”


Well, that can’t be fixed!

Doesn't it look like he's not wearing shorts under his painting suit?  He is, but still...

Doesn’t it look like he’s not wearing shorts under his painting suit? He is, but still…

The Musician

Lisa:  “I have California Girls in my head.”

Matt:  “Crap.  Now I do too. Wait, which one?  Katy Perry or the Beach Boys version?  I want to be on the same page.”

The Martyr

Matt:  “I’m tired and hungry.”

Lisa:  “Poor baby.  How do you do it?  How do you forge ahead when things are this difficult?

Matt:  “One day at a time…<sighs and hold head down> One day at a time…

Wealth of Knowledge

Matt:  “There was an interesting article the other day about how people are able to walk across hot coals.”

Lisa:  “How do they do it?

Matt:  “I don’t know.  I didn’t read the article.”

The Fashionista

Lisa:  “You can’t wear your Chuck Taylors while you paint.”

Matt:  “I can wear my Chuck Taylors and do anything.”

Can you believe he chose the Chuck Taylor's that most closely matched his outfit?

Can you believe he chose the Chuck Taylor’s that most closely matched his outfit?

This woman cracks me up.  It's probably going to be me in a few years. photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

This woman cracks me up. It’s probably going to be me in a few years.
photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

Okay people, I’m super swamped with stuff* because I’m super important.

*I’m almost to the final level in Super Mario Brothers 2 and I can’t be bothered to update my blog.  A girl has priorities.

So, because I know you will shrivel and die without hearing from me regularly and reading my musings, I’ve decided to write a post with a compilation of some of my random Facebook updates over the years.

In a way, they’re my musings and thoughts, and every one of them is pure gold.  Obviously.

  • I just saw a guy at the grocery store at 8:45 this morning buying Vodka and pizza rolls. He’s gonna have a good day!
  • The best way to determine how much someone loves dogs is to see how many nose prints are on the inside of their car windows.
  • I just J-walked in front of a police officer.  I’m such a rebel!
  • A couple next to me at the pool has been arguing all day. I’m considering drafting their divorce agreement for free if they will shut up.
  • I need a power nap. And by “power nap” I mean a week of doing nothing but sleeping.
  • I’m  headed to the shooting range this morning to learn how to shoot a gun. If all goes well, I encourage you to be nicer to me, as I may be packing heat from here on out.
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
  • Last night’s workout was definitely counteracted by the Big Mac and fries I had for dinner.
  • Dear obnoxious biker dude, Yes, you have a Harley and it’s loud.  We’re all impressed and know you have big balls.  Now shut up.  It’s 6:30 a.m.
  • I just learned that my dog is the humper at doggie daycare.  Is that like the biter at kiddie daycare?
  • I’m going to dominate the golf tournament today. And by “dominate” I mean “sit in the golf cart and drink beer.”
  • I’m watching thin models on America’s Next Top Model while stuffing my face with pizza.  It’s invigorating.
  • Pre-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…but I scraped it off.”  Post-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…better leave early so you can scrape it off.”  **DISCLAIMER** Matt scraped my windows this morning. Whether prompting was involved is another story.
  • I fear my husband will discover it’s breast cancer awareness month and use it as an “opportunity to check for lumps.” Constantly.
  • I’m embarrassed to report that every night of vacation when the maid comes in to turn down our bed, we’re already in it. Pa-thetic!
  • I’m beginning to think that Halloween on Facebook is far better than Halloween in real life. I get to see everyone’s cute kids in costumes, but I don’t have to (1) get up to answer the door or (2) share my candy.
  • I’ve done nothing all morning and I predict more of the same for the rest of the day.
  • I’m a little embarrassed that I fell asleep at the spa today in the meditation room, but even more embarrassed that my snoring woke me up.
  • I’m hoping the Rams will feel my presence at the game today and pull out a win.  If not, I’ll just drink.  It’s a win-win.
  • It’s much easier (and more fun) to ingest calories than it is to burn them off.

So yeah, inspirational, right?  I’m pretty much like a daily devotional.

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

Doctor or doctor-I’m a doctor. You didn’t know? Well, my law degree says “Juris Doctorate” or at least I think it does.

I’m not exactly sure where it is, but I suspect it’s in a box in the basement growing mold and looking like a third grader’s science project.

I’m also pretty sure “Juris Doctorate” is Latin for Doctor of Law, and not for Doctor of Juries, which is what it sounds like.

I might not be a medical doctor, but I’m a doctor nonetheless.

If you don’t believe me, you should see my student loans. The balance on those is enough to make any doctor cringe.

Yep, as a lawyer, I am thus a doctor. Yet, when I get a wedding invitation, it isn’t addressed to Doctor Newlin.

writing invitationWhen introduced at royal balls, the serf announcing my arrival will add “esquire” at the end of my name, but never thinks to begin with “doctor.”

In fact, I can’t recall any lawyer I know ever being called “doctor” at any time or any place.

So why is it that lawyers aren’t called doctors?

Admittedly, the wedding invitations I receive are usually through an Evite entitled “We’re finally making it legal” so perhaps the moniker of doctor is a bit too formal.

Still I’m quite certain that’s not the reason the honorific is left off.

The question is even more prescient when you consider all the other people who are called doctor, despite the lack of any medical education. Consider, for example:

glass of sodaDr. Pepper

I’m not sure who he is, but I’m pretty sure Dr. Pepper isn’t a real doctor. Actually, I don’t even think he’s a real person, which is even more offensive.

Apparently, a non-existent person can have the title of “doctor” just because of a product’s deliciousness, yet I can’t be called doctor even though I have the degree.

Okay, I might not physically have it in my possession, but I acquired it through hard work and, ironically, lots of Dr. Pepper.

kid in big shoesDr. Scholl’s

My sophisticated search on Wikipedia says he’s a doctor, but I haven’t seen his credentials, and I think he’s bluffing about the doctor thing.

I’m pretty sure “Dr. Scholl’s” is just an old man with horribly bad foot odor who figured out that mixing baking soda and fragrance cuts down on the offensive smells coming from his closet.

He’s not so much of a doctor as a Captain Obvious.

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. New York World-Telegram and the Sun Newspaper Photograph Collection. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cph.3c16956

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. New York World-Telegram and the Sun Newspaper Photograph Collection. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cph.3c16956

Dr. Seuss

This guy really isn’t a doctor. In fact, he’s not even alive.

To make matters worse, when he was alive, Seuss wasn’t even his real name.

He was more than a bit odd, as he thought Horton the elephant could sit on a bird egg without crushing it. This isn’t a theory that screams medical professional.

“Dr. Seuss” was just a crazy guy who liked to rhyme and draw cartoons that give adults nightmares (or at least this adult). Nothing about any of his writing suggests he was a doctor.

In fact, nothing about his writing suggests he was sane, yet “Green Eggs and Ham” will always be one of my favorite books.

If crazy people with strange rhyming abilities are doctors, then the homeless man outside my office building is most certainly a doctor and will now be referred to as Dr. Funnypants.

military bootsDoc Martens

Although these shoes are classic, and part of what made Seattle’s grunge scene so popular in the ’90s (along with Kurt Cobain’s luscious locks), the creator of these shoes is most certainly not a doctor.

I don’t actually know this to be true, but I know no medical doctor would create shoes that take five minutes to put on and cause carpal tunnel when lacing up the boots.

DocDoc from the Seven Dwarfs

This creepy little guy insisted on being called Doc, yet to my knowledge, he’s never displayed his credentials anywhere.

I’m not saying he wasn’t a doctor, but he didn’t even wear a white coat to make his profession clear.

I can’t believe he couldn’t find a white coat to fit him, as he somehow managed to find those tiny glasses. Come to think of it, perhaps he is an eye doctor, although I won’t believe it until I see the diploma.

Even if he was a doctor, he wasn’t a good one. All he did when Snow White fell into her deep sleep was put her in a glass case and stare at her.

Nowhere in any of the stories did I see him trying a little mouth-to-mouth to revive her.

So if these people, fictional characters and inanimate objects can be called doctor, why can’t I use the prefix as well? It seems to me lawyers have earned the title, or at least I have.

I spent my years of law school wearing scrubs all the time and cleaning up vomit (usually after a late night “study session” with friends). If that doesn’t make me worthy of the doctor moniker, I don’t know what does.

**©2012Under Analysis, LLC. Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of The Levison Group. This column was initially published in March 2012.