Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Violets In Powdered Sugar: Attar Bazaar African Violet

purple hydrangeas

Photo by K B on Pexels.com

First off, HURRAY for a free photo service even I can navigate!

In case you couldn’t read the suddenly-tiny print in the last post (no, I wasn’t trying to sneak the information in–apparently cutting-and-pasting song lyrics off Google is not as clever an idea as I thought it was), I’m going to include the occasional perfume review. And if anyone has a perfume-related question (“I want a perfume that smells like X” or “I can’t find my favorite scent anymore, now what?”), please ask. Fragrance is one of my “special interests,” as we say in the autism biz. (“Obsession” sounds so judgmental, doesn’t it?) (No, I did not intend a pun on the perfume name Obsession.) I suppose this knowledge can now expand to fill the space once occupied by NCIC codes and NIMS definitions.

I’ve always wanted a “signature scent”–“me in a bottle,” what could be more romantic? Sure, also self-absorbed, but in a romantic way! Frustrated by my inability to find something that fit both my personality and preferences, I turned to my husband for help. Rom, of course, knows me better than anyone. It could be argued that he knows me better than I know myself. (It would be argued, in fact. We tend to be argumentative.) He said I should smell like “cool, misty dusk in an interesting place.” (Could he be more romantic?) I asked the fragrance fans at MakeupAlley for help, and they said this mood was best achieved by notes of violet, iris, sandalwood, oakmoss, powder, and/or incense. They recommended 13 specific perfumes, the first of which we deal with today.

Attar Bazaar was started in 1980, and they offer inexpensive perfume oils, mostly in an Oriental vein (incense, patchouli, woods, resins). But they do have a few florals, hence African Violet.

I find AV a bit screechy when first applied–violet is a high-pitched note to begin with, so the beginning is a little shrill. It quickly settles, though, into a candied sweetness that makes me think, not of violets with sugar crystals, but violets dredged in powdered sugar. There’s a creaminess to it, a velvety softness. I detect no other notes (unless you want to call sugar a note)–no leafy green notes, no woods–just the violet flowers themselves. So if you are a violet purist and just want the sweet stuff, I recommend this. Also, there are not many violet scents in an oil formulation, so if you prefer that to an alcohol-based scent, definitely check this one out. For my own purposes, I found it a bit too sweet.

By the way, my reviews are based on samples I paid for myself, and I am not paid for reviews. Of course, I’m not paid for anything else on here, either.

Now let’s move on to…

WORLD EMOJI DAY? REALLY?

“Facebook salutes the tiny symbols that have changed the way we communicate.” Yeah, I guess. And I’m wondering how long it will be before texting eliminates punctuation. It’s already made it uncool, in the same way that paying for stuff with actual cash is uncool.

 

 

 

 

Telling People Why They’re Wrong

…a service we’ve (OK, I’ve) provided for over 5 years.

CRITICIZING THE LYRICS OF MICK JAGGER

Sure, he’s written world-famous lyrics, but I CANNOT BE STOPPED.

–“She was more than beautiful

Closer to ethereal

With a kind of down-to-earth flavor”

You can’t be both ethereal and down-to-earth. They are opposites.

But I take issue with every verse of “Fool To Cry,” my second-to-least-favorite Stones song. (My very least-favorite is “Emotional Rescue,” which is so bad it embarrasses me to hear it.)

OK, in the first verse, his daughter sits on his knee and says, “Daddy, you’re a fool to cry.” Any child young enough to sit on her father’s lap does not have the worldly wisdom to make a remark like that.

In the second verse, we learn that he has a woman who “lives in a poor part of town.” She, too, advises him that he’s a fool to cry. (Actin’ the fool, as it were.) WHY IS YOUR WOMAN STILL LIVING IN A POOR PART OF TOWN? YOU’RE A RICH ROCK STAR. BUY HER A MANSION. Or marry her and move her into your mansion. That would be more cost-effective.

In the third verse, even his friends state that he’s a fool to cry. I find it hard to believe that Mick Jagger’s friends give him philosophical advice. Mick Jagger’s friends say things like,

“Hey, what’s the matter, man?
We’re gonna come around at twelve
With some Puerto Rican girls that’re just dyin’ to meet you
We’re gonna bring a case of wine
Hey, let’s go mess and fool around
You know, like we used to”
In case you think I do nothing but complain, my favorite Stones songs are “Paint It Black,” followed by “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” I was born in a cross-fire hurricane, after all.
ROCK AND ROLL WILL NEVER DIE
…is wishful thinking, just like “Big bands will come back.” Nevertheless (and ever the more), I have a new Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt. It only has the band’s logo on it, not the name. The other day, the bus driver looked at my shirt and said, “Hawkwind?” No, but good guess.
MORE ADVERTISING ABOMINATIONS
Triscuits are trying to get you to just call them “‘–scuits.” Resist them. Also, “so you can Meijer any way you want” is to be avoided. Sure, it tells you how to pronounce it, but that could be accomplished without turning it into a verb.
A FINAL WARNING
S.G. will start sporadically featuring PERFUME REVIEWS. No, no one was saying, “World Leader, can’t you please include perfume reviews?” (Although I know that a few of you would be interested.) Yes, I should probably start a second blog for that purpose. No, I’m not going to actually do so. Partly because I’m too lazy and incompetent to manage more than one blog, and partly because I don’t plan to do this regularly. I’m not a collector, just a person on a signature-scent quest that seems to be lifelong.
I actually have been doing this informally for some time. In the unlikely event you want to read my reviews of a variety of cosmetic products, check out

MakeupAlley, where I have posted as Snakeskin, Wyrmiax, and, currently, CobraRose.

Cat Esmerelda thinks I have spent enough time writing this, and need to attend to her strange and varied needs.

 

Winter Is Coming

How do I know? School supplies are edging out the sunscreen at Walgreen’s.

SEEN ON T-SHIRTS

“Scream While You Can While We Rip You To Shreds.” That’s what this country needs–more hostility. I assume this sentiment was promoting a video game, because it was worn by a nerd I couldn’t imagine ripping anybody to shreds.

Black t-shirt with bald eagle, except the eagle was red, white and blue: “I Couldn’t HEAR You Over the Sound of My FREEDOM.” Well, why is your FREEDOM so fackin’ LOUD?

A black t-shirt featuring a Native American smoking a joint, and the exhaled smoke turned into galaxies and stuff.

“This Is What Epic Looks Like.” Epic looks like a skinny girl with pink-tipped red hair. Of course, these days, maybe her name was Epic.

And a guy in a neon-orange t-shirt and camo cargo pants. Apparently he only wanted his upper half to be seen.

THIS JUST IN

Fiona and Archer are now 7, and are into metaphysics.

Fiona: “Everything has a shape.”

Archer: “Not God. He’s everywhere.”

F: “OK then, well, everything has a color.”

A: “Not a black hole. It has all the colors.” Wouldn’t it actually have none of the colors? I don’t know. I’m no physicist. Or metaphysicist.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS: CRIME IS COMING TO A LAWN NEAR YOU

I promised Trexa I would tell this story eons ago. And you’d think I would have, since I’m always whining about lack of material.

Trexa woke up one day recently and saw that part of her lawn was brown, but in a weird pattern. She called the lawn service to come out. Pointing it out to the guy, she said, “It almost looks like some design, doesn’t it? Maybe like a scissors.”

The lawn guy said, “Or…something.” He was hesitant to tell the nice lady that a drawing of male genitalia had been etched on her lawn with weed killer. Apparently vandalism (or, as the law calls it, Criminal Mischief–I’ve always liked that term, along with Maintaining a Common Nuisance, which is what they charge you with when other people were doing drugs in your house, but you weren’t doing them yourself) (and it’s great to be a former 911 dispatcher, so no one will wonder how I know all this) with Round-Up has become a thing.

 

 

 

 

 

Inflation Will Get Us All

First off, my thanks to whoever read, um, 37 previous posts on the 13th.

The inflation I speak of is not the financial sort (that would be boring, though accurate), but creeping slippery-slopism in other areas.

FASHION INFLATION

An ad on Facebook said, “We’ve perfected the no-show sock!” I commented, “What’s wrong with socks, that you want no one to know you’re wearing them?” but went unanswered. Yes, I’m the only person who can’t start an argument on the Internet.

Once upon a time, no-show socks (we called them “footies”) were solely worn by women. Now they are routinely worn by men, including fashion icons like Nick. Socks have now become unmentionables, except for…wait for it…WITH SANDALS, BY MEN. This used to be the sole province of nerdy old men, but now young men do it too. I’m not sure what weather conditions would call for sandals with socks. Of course, I’ve asked the same question about wearing a sweatshirt with shorts, and got the answer, “Because it’s cute.” If you say so.

This isn’t inflation-related, but why do the same women who obsess about panty lines not care if their bra straps are showing?

I had another example of cultural inflation, about something other than fashion, but I can’t remember it. Perhaps I will do so in the future.

COSMO ASTROLOGY, 1983

Romantic Rendezvous for Scorpio–“On the deck of an ocean liner, during a storm at sea.” Really? “All hands on deck! Just work around these two people doin’ it!”

Ads & Products & Stuff, Oh My

ADVERTISING HALL OF SHAME

…award this week goes to some product (I don’t even remember it, so there!) that starts its commercial with “Are you bothered by chronic constipation?” with SHOTS OF PEOPLE SITTING ON THE TOILET.

Rom is urging me to tell on Head & Shoulders shampoo, not least because we’ve argued twice about it. The newest bottles have “#1 DERM RECO” emblazoned on them. Our disagreement was not because that’s not a stupid way of putting it–we are agreed on that score–but because he believes most people wouldn’t understand what they meant by it, and I disagree. Of course, I read women’s magazines, which routinely use “derm” for dermatologist, just like they use “gyno” for gynecologist. (And if you read these magazines, you get the idea these are the only two doctors their readers have.) Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard people actually using these terms in conversation.

Let’s just go ahead and ban this sort of thing, shall we? I haven’t issued a World Leader Edict in awhile.

BY THE POWER INVESTED IN ME, WHICH I HAD BEFORE STEPHEN COLBERT STARTED HIS FURRY-HAT ROUTINE, JUST CHECK MY ARCHIVES UNDER “WORLD LEADER PRETEND”…

Be they banned henceforth and forevermore:

–“mani,” “pedi,” and “mani/pedi”

–“vacay”

–“cardi” for cardigan

–“cami” for camisole

–“convo” for conversation

–not only “reco” for recommendation, but “recs” as well

–“deo” for deodorant

I’ll probably think of more as I go along.

–Sign on door of CVS–“Automatic Entrance. Doors Can Close Unexpectedly.” Is “Enter at your own risk” really good business practice?

–IHOP is deciding to focus on burgers? Why?

–Also, Dunkin’ Donuts deciding its name is now just “Dunkin'” is stupid.

I SUPPOSE YOU’RE WAITING FOR ME TO REVIEW THE NEW QUARTER POUNDERS

McDonald’s claims these are better than they previously were, and I agree. Keep in mind that I’ve never been a big Quarter Pounder fan, preferring the double cheeseburger or McDouble (which are not, by the way, the same thing, although the difference is just an additional slice of cheese on the double cheeseburger) (maybe you already knew that, but I had to have it explained to me). My main problem with Quarter Pounders now is that they have a more “charcoal” flavor. I never care for that–it tastes just plain burnt to me–but I know a lot of people like it.

I SOLVE A MYSTERY

For a long time, I’ve wondered how McDonald’s determines receipt numbers. Some people get, say, 398, while someone else there at the same time might get 277. But they always start with 2 or 3. I finally realized that it has to do with which register it was rung up on. #1 is never used for some reason, 2 and 3 are at the counter, so the people ordering inside always get those, and 4 is for the drive-through. I’m glad I figured that out. Wait a minute–maybe 1 is for the drive-through, and 4 is the one that’s never used. Oh well, I never have to deal with those, so they don’t affect me.

Did you know that Nick once said the military would be good for me? Of course, he said the same thing about prison.

 

I’m Gonna Complain

…inspired by a woman on the bus, who used “Well, I’m not gonna complain” to wrap up a lengthy complaint.

WAR ON WORDS UPDATE

Yes, it’s not just a war on parts of speech. I saw an ad for cottage cheese that said, “A Whole New Way To Cottage.” By which they meant, “to eat cottage cheese.” Because who has time to say two more words? We’re approaching point-and-grunt territory. Speaking of which, I saw a game on Facebook–“Write the name of a band using only emojis and let us guess who they are!” See, a means of communication shouldn’t make me have to guess what you mean. I don’t think the Sour Neon Crawlers could be represented solely by emojis.

Courtesy of Rom: “The erupting volcano in Guatemala is called Volcano del Fuego. As opposed to…?”

Also courtesy of Rom, things that have been forever ruined for me…

“Old Rugged Cross”= “On a hill far away stands an old Chevrolet”

“Ring of Fire” = “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. I hold my pants up with a piece of twine.”

And the auto-parts place–“When the name is Napa, the quality’s crappa.”

LETTING US LOOSE IN SOCIETY

There is an autistic guy working at McDonald’s (I know this because he says so), who reminds me of myself at his age. He was telling a work buddy, “Yeah, I’ve tried applying for other jobs, but at the end of the interview I tell them, ‘I’m autistic, just so’s you know,’ and I never get a callback.” Oh, dear, as Nick would say. (This phrase inserted for the sake of Nick, whose eyes well with tears whenever a post of mine doesn’t mention him.) Now, I never applied for jobs at fast food places when I was his age and looking. They all knew me as that weird customer. Black biker t-shirts! Big rings! And other stuff that doesn’t go with glasses!

 

 

 

 

 

Freedom Day

I have been retired for a year today. Hmm, have I learned anything? And why do I feel like I should have learned something?

I am wearing the “My Work Number is 911” t-shirt, because it isn’t.

Today is National Donut Day, but I had no donuts. I guess I could rectify that tomorrow.

I am somewhat intoxicated.

Oh, Rom wants you to know, reference our anniversary lunch at Logan’s, that he did not, either, put both steak sauce and something else (ketchup?) on his burger. He used them to dip his fries in, which I personally don’t think is any better, and may be worse.

THE WEIRDEST AD I EVER SAW

This was an old magazine ad on Ebay, for some brand of lipstick. It said, “There’s a little bit of Satan in our satin-finish lipstick.” Because it’s devilishly sexy and stuff. It had a guy in a devil costume lurking behind the lipsticked model. I just can’t see that ad running today. Of course, we have an entire line of nail polish called Sinful Colors, so I could be wrong.

Oh, looking back on my decision to be a Writer (and the accompanying Hey! I might not need college!) decision I made in 8th grade–I didn’t, and don’t, doubt my ability to write, per se. I think I could have been entirely adequate in some magazine-staff or copy-writing position (that didn’t require me to go out and interview people). The doubts were/are about Creative Writing. After all, an agent once told me, “You don’t even understand the basic story-arc.” And how could an autistic person, who can’t understand how people tick, make characters come to life? OK, I haven’t Learned Something.

Speaking of which, the paper recently had something about The Danger of Self-Diagnosis, when it comes to autism. So have I been officially diagnosed? I have been half-diagnosed. I once said to my mother, “That nice lady you had me talk to in first grade was a child psychologist, right?” And she said, “Yes, she said you might be autistic, but we figured out it was just that we didn’t know your eyesight was so bad!” Yeah, that explains a lot. Not.

 

 

Product Criticism

 

On Coke carton: “15 cans! That’s 3 more than a 12-can carton!” Um, yeah, I figured that out myself.

On Pepsi carton: “Tastes great over ice!” Wow! I’d never have thought of that!

I’m sure you’re expecting me to weigh in on the latest McDonald’s controversy. Well, if you’ve heard of it, anyway. Someone is suing McDonald’s because they wanted their Quarter Pounder without cheese, and didn’t think they should have to pay for the cheese. (I am just imagining damages paid for however many cents a slice of cheese is, through a lifetime of burgers.) McDonald’s is maintaining that the sandwich’s full name is “Quarter Pounder With Cheese,” and that therefore cheese is part of the nature of the item, and that the plaintiff could just pick the cheese off anyway.

I’m not sure what justice is in this case, but I can make several points. (Of course I can!)

–Telling someone they can “just pick off the parts you don’t like” is invalid. The juice of the unliked item remains on the burger. My personal nemesis is onions, but even though I like cheese, I know it would melt into the burger and ruin it for someone who didn’t.

–And before McDonald’s gets too snooty, the original patent for the item in 1975 mentioned cheese as an optional feature. And I remember when the Quarter Pounder was introduced (you saw that coming, didn’t you?). You ordered either a Quarter Pounder (in white styrofoam carton) or a Quarter Pounder with Cheese (in yellow styrofoam). I don’t remember when they decided to default to the Cheese option, but it was not always thus.

–And most importantly, how does this affect me? I dislike a bunch of stuff they put on burgers (I was appalled the first time I ever went to McDonald’s as a child and realized they put everything on burgers–who gets ketchup and mustard and pickles and onions?). But it never occurred to me to tell them, “I don’t want the mustard and pickles and onions, and I don’t want to pay for them, either. Subtract 7 cents from my bill.”

All this is making me want a cheeseburger.

 

Stress-Free Writing Experience

…switched to “Distraction-free writing mode” since I remarked upon it yesterday. Apparently they realized they could not promise to eliminate stress, in spite of the feverish sort of enjoyment I usually derive from this. Once I actually start. Anyway, all it meant was they hid the menus at the side, as if I had been stressed out by them before. As if.

Almost done with the second can of Wicked Apple Ale, thanks to wicked Nick, not to mention his wicked wife, who first gave me some to try, though it was the non-wicked type. I soon hit the harder stuff, to quote Bob Dylan.

Today is my 31st anniversary, and Trexa took me and Rom to Logan’s Roadhouse. My steak (medium-rare) and sweet potato (without cinnamon) (they also had cinnamon apples, eww) was very good. Rom had a burger done “medium-well,” which I guess means gray and flavorless without being actually burnt. No wonder he put both ketchup and steak sauce on it.

You know Logan’s serves lots of aging boomers, because the soundtrack when we entered was Bachman-Turner Overdrive and the Guess Who (involving some of the same personnel–they must need the money). Speaking of which, I saw a headline recently–“Millennials Now the Most Frequent Caregivers.” Why? Did Gen-X’ers get tired of our shit?

I must take issue with Logan’s restroom. It had a fake distressed-concrete floor, with real puddles of water in 3 out of the 4 stalls. It made me feel like I’d been kidnapped and taken to the basement of an abandoned warehouse. Well, except that I had a toilet instead of a pail to go in. And they gave me steak. Anyway, why would you want your bathroom floor to look like it was crumbling away after the fall of civilization?

1968 vs. 1984

It was 1968 when I decided I was going to be a writer. I was sitting in 8th grade English class, we were studying 1984, and it struck me–I could do this! Then I immediately started worrying about whether I could do it or not. This was against the background of recently discovering that my lack of math aptitude precluded a career as a scientist. Actually, my 2nd thought after my epiphany was, And I wouldn’t necessarily have to go to college! I suspected even then that I wouldn’t be able to make it through. This did not keep me from trying 3 times.

 

I Remembered To Show Up

…belatedly.

OBSERVATIONAL HUMOR

…is what Rom says this is.

Brought to you courtesy of Nick, who showed up at my door on my birthday with a gift bag full of apple ale clenched in his teeth, before flying away. The bag was black and had scratchy glitter on it. I suspect this was deliberate. Have you noticed that such bags always have the scratchy glitter on one side, but are smooth on the other side, so that glitter doesn’t rub off on your clothes? Why do I always have to touch the glitter anyway, even though it makes me shudder?

I have had 2 cans of ale (my normal dose), which makes me want to spend money on something self-indulgent. Last year it was green-and-white gingham shorts, but I resisted the temptation. (I love green-and-white gingham, and plaid with a black background. These prints give me a feeling of security. They’re like the opposite of the Baby Corn and the Union Suit. Anyone remember those? Check the posts under Conspiracy News for more info.)Now am tempted by some Keds in Iris Shimmer, and an Almond Cucumber perfume sample, even though I tried the AC perfume before and it didn’t work for me. Almond and cucumber are my comfort notes (kind of like the Magic Prints noted above), so I keep thinking, But it has to work! Sometimes perfume just refuses to cooperate.

OK, I hit some key that keeps deleting stuff I didn’t intend, and I don’t know what I hit, so I can’t correct it, and that is why the above paragraph is incorrectly punctuated.

SONG LYRIC ANALYSIS–MOODY BLUES

“Schoolwork, one and one is two

But you know that now that’s just not true”

Yes, it is true. Your ingestion of LSD does not affect its veracity.

AND THE DOORS

Rom says that “When the Music’s Over–turn out the lights” makes him think, “turnip delight.” You’re welcome. I hope I can forget that before I listen to it again.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Alien Finger, which is celebrating by being stiff and sore, which I suppose is appropriate. I keep reading about people who dislocate a finger, pop it right back in, and it’s good as new. What’s their secret? Youth, probably.

Today is Pentecost, which makes me think, “Here he comes to save the day! That means the Paraclete is on his way!”

Long ago, my cousin Becky (hurray for Facebook and cousin Linda, who helped me discover cousins on the Forbidden Side of the family!) asked me, “Do you miss working?” After long thought, I can say I sometimes miss having a job (a Purpose in Life and all that, though I never thought of 911 as that purpose), but I don’t miss having that job. As I think every time I go by Dispatch on the bus and think, Glad I’m not answering phones in there.

IT HAS TO BE CLASSY, IT HAS CARPET–TACO JOHN’S

I visited this fine establishment on Cinco de Mayo. Since it was Saturday, I had church, and couldn’t go to Hacienda and have a strawberry daiquiri, which would have been the logical thing to do. Although people might have been drunk at St Boniface Church before.

Taco John’s has been around since 1969, although Rom can’t remember it the year he graduated from high school. The identity of Taco John is mysterious. I imagine him being kind of like Johnny Appleseed.

TJ’s is the only carpeted fast-food place I know of. Like the Women’s Hospital, the addition of carpet adds a certain cachet. It’s almost like you’re at home, except that someone cut into your abdomen. At the hospital, I mean, not at Taco John’s.

My softshell taco was very good, especially since the clever person who assembled it added a tuck-and-fold technique that meant I didn’t have to balance it carefully to keep everything from falling out the end. That must have been a Cinco de Mayo special, though, since it has fallen out the end every other time I’ve been there.

Ah, Potato Ole’s. The old Mexican classic of disc-shaped Tater Tots sprinkled with Lawry’s seasoned salt. Cinco de Mayo marked the first time I have ever finished an order. And if you put cheese on them, you are gilding the lily. And if you put bacon bits, donut bites, icing, and chocolate on them and EAT THEM FOR DESSERT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

TJ’s has a senior discount of 10%. I forgot to add discount information when I wrote about Taco Bell, but that was because I got 10% off there once, and the next time I requested it, the manager said they didn’t have a discount. Maybe I just looked too young.

LEGGINGS AS PANTS UPDATE

I am actually not against leggings as a lower half, as long as you wear a butt-covering top. But today I saw a woman who did wear a butt-covering top, but then knotted it up in the back, because she got dressed and thought, “Oh no! Now no one can see my butt!”

Speaking of entities trying to defy me, the roses in my yard, which normally bloom in mid-May, burst into glorious bloom simultaneously on THE DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY.

Spellcheck thinks “donut” is not a word. I don’t know what to tell it.

WordPress has an icon in the corner that says “Stress-Free Writing Experience.” I have to find out what that might be, but I am too stressed-out at the moment. As is Alien Finger.

 

 

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