I won’t spit and tell

A few random thoughts this morning….

As I was running yesterday afternoon, I was listening to Pandora on my phone and an advertisement came on for a product called “23 and Me.” This, believe it or not, is a do-it-yourself DNA test kit for home use.

At first I thought “Wow. Science has come really far.”  But then I didn’t quite know what to think.  The ad touted the product’s ability to offer reports on health history and “ancestry composition,” and hinted that you might discover something exciting. But I had my doubts.

Still, I was intrigued, so I checked out their website, which pretty much promised the same things.  But I already know where my family comes from and what kinds of diseases run in my family.  Any diseases I don’t already know about … well, I’m not sure I want to.

I was, however, amused by what they call their DNA-test-in-a-box: a “spit kit.”  And I also found it funny that they consider one of the kit’s biggest draws to be its ability to tell you your “Neanderthal percentage.”

Is that really a question that keeps people awake at night?

By the way, if you’re still looking for a Father’s Day gift, the website reminds us that “23 and Me” would make a great gift. It certainly would be easy to wrap; it’s a $99 popsicle stick in a box.

Random thought #2:

I also spent some time yesterday afternoon in a dentist’s chair, getting an annoying tooth taken care of.  My dentist (at my request) shot me up with enough Novocaine to stop a charging Rhino, which did wonders to deaden the drilling pain. But it also led me to some interesting discoveries:

It is impossible to whistle when you’re hopped-up on Novocaine.

Directional spitting? Don’t try it. Trust me.

It’s amazing how people can stand there and talk to you like nothing is the matter, despite the fact that you left your tongue and chin in the dentist office.