Oh dear god, I’ve finally reached the end of these old blog posts (the ones I wished to actually keep). Here you have it–post number six of six that I have pulled from the murky depths of my former blog, washed off, and set here.

This one is from 2006. Pause with me to see if you can remember it. Back before our hovercrafts and our robot nannies. Back when we still lived on the ground. Before our food was given to us in the form of small, flavored pills. Ah, 2006. How I faintly remember what a tree looked like.

Okay, moving on. Here’s my final post of yesteryear, a snippet of me in 2006. I give you Origin of the Phrase “Nose to the Grindstone”:

The phrase “put your nose to the grindstone” is commonly used today to mean “get to work.” Its origin has been traced back 5,000 years (by the etymological research department of UCLA) to when humanity relied on grindstones to sharpen all their tools, teeth, and household items. Carpenters of yore had made a startling finding about the sedimentary stone sandstone, and thus began using it solely to make the grindstones that sharpened their tools and other items.

The properties of sandstone were first discovered by renowned carpenter and gymnast William Van Metermeyer, who unearthed the fact that the stone, when grinding against something else, gave off a surprisingly invigorating lavender aroma (for which the stone is now best known). Carpenters began using it to build grindstones, because they found that it helped them to better focus and to stay more alert. When they would begin to feel fatigued, they would simply put their noses close to the grindstone and inhale the scent of the stone for energy, and then get back to work (hence the phrase).

As a related side note, this was also the birth of the popular new age practice of aromatherapy.

…this is all true.

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Damn. I didn’t get the dress code.

Now—despite being awash with witlessly talkative crowds of booze-sweating, open-mouthed, gum-chewing, body shot-downing, Jersey Shore-worshiping, tone-deaf, topless, hopeless, bright orange, lost-souled, salt- and lime-covered cretins—I have a totally valid and unabashedly cool reason to grace Cancun’s tourism with my humble (and clearly nonjudgmental, yes?) patronage.

I want—nay, need—to take in the Cancun Underwater Museum.

I mean, how completely amazing is this?

Where’s Waldo?

This aquamarine-saturated collection capturing stunningly graceful moments of daily life is an elaborate sculpture museum submerged off the coast of Isla de Mujeres and Cancun, Mexico.

Hmm.

Designed by master artist Jason DeCaires Taylor, these sculptures were actually all based on individual local residents of the area. Which is so amazing, it takes me from a nearly notarized, written vow of, “When I am King, I will enact a law enabling me to flatten with a giant ACME mallet any person who utters the phrases, It was totally sick, man and Cancun in the same conversation,” to an envious, “Why can’t I live there so my bodily features can be immortalized forever as an underwater spore hotel?”

I never thought I’d live to see the day. I was wrong.

Does anyone else feel splashes of rain?

Because this is just beautiful.

Yes, cancel that tuna for lunch, please.

And this image brings up a great point—I believe I would work so much better at the bottom of the ocean. Truly. I’d be so relaxed, I wouldn’t be bothered by office babble, my skin would finally stay hydrated while doing my job. True, I’d have parasites growing on my eyelids and terrifying, fishy-tailed predators weaving around my head, but what office doesn’t have its drawbacks? I mean, I currently have to put up with paper cuts and coffee spills. Underwater, both those problems—eliminated. I’m contacting HR right now.

Please bring me a Kindle for Christmas.

The finished project contains 400 of these sculptures.

Don’t cross the mob, or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.

I don’t know whether you’ve ever scuba-dived before. Scuba-dove? Scuba-swam in a downward motion. But it’s really a breath-taking experience if you ever get the chance to do it. (Just make sure you plan ahead, because you might not be able to do it so many days after or before a plane trip, if I remember correctly. Something having to do with the change in pressure being dangerous.)

Do Not Touch

I like the DO NOT TOUCH sculpture here. I wonder if there’s an EMERGENCY EXIT sculpture or a GIFT SHOP sculpture. NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY made out of barnacles. Or, like a giant stone map with a YOU ARE HERE sculptured arrow pointing at a cloud of fish on it.

Best pets ever.

I think the above one is my favorite of these ones.

I got nothing. These are just awesome, and completely beautiful.

Additionally, I find it fascinating how the marine life growing on these sculptures renders them living sculptures, in a way. That’s kind of deep.

Get it? Deep? Like deep sea?

You liked it.

In sum, I’m adding this to my list of things in the world I need to see once this blogging gig starts gently plucking the soft little heart strings of my readers (both of you) and I begin to receive loving cash donations in the mail with notes like, “Thanks for making me a better person through your inspiring, life-affirming blog entries.” It’ll be on the list with the Pyramids of Giza; various places in Africa where monkeys freely roam about; which leads me to think of Rome, naturally; the Parthenon; Bohemian Grove; Xanadu; that place Three Dog Night is singing about; all the worlds and lands Disney; and Tori Amos’s dinner table (but, like, invitation only. I have no current plans to come in through the bathroom window or anything).

Sorry. I lost my train of thought when naming awesome things.

Article in Chicago Tribune where most of these pictures originated from:

http://www.chicagotribune.com/travel/virtualvacation/la-trb-offbeat-cancun-underwater-museum,0,7067989.photogallery