Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Category: World Leader Pretend

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 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.

 

 

Blogging Addiction

I was digging through some stuff from my retirement party (YES, IT WAS LAST JUNE, WHY DO YOU ASK?), and came across an unsigned note expressing the hope that I would “keep feeding our blogging addiction.” I sure hope no one’s actually addicted to this thing. They must be in a bad way by now.

ASTROLOGY ’78

Career for Taurus: “Form a partnership with a talented chum and invest last year’s savings in a doll hospital.” Is there even such a thing? I had no pal talented enough in ’78 to tell me. Good thing I didn’t invest ’77’s savings, if any. I think I was unemployed most of the year, except for the summer spent at the massage parlor. This is where having lower-upper-class parents comes in handy.

Interior decorating for Sagittarius: “Old piano covers can still be found at thrift shops, make an interesting centerpiece for your living room.” I’ll say. What do you do with those, anyway? Wouldn’t you have to buy a piano? Or do you just pile them up on your coffee table?

THE THING I’M LEAST LIKELY TO WEAR

A t-shirt I saw an ad for saying “I Pooped Today.” For one thing, wouldn’t you have to wear it most days? I refuse to define myself by whether I’ve pooped on any given day.

THE WAR ON PARTS OF SPEECH CONTINUES

“Discover your sexy.”

“Realize your awesome.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH NOUNS? STOP GRAFTING ADJECTIVES IN THEIR PLACE!

CANNIBALIZATION OF PAST POSTS CONTINUES

In March 2013, I was preoccupied with a sign I saw advertising the Grim Reapers’ house party. Especially since they forgot to include the date.

In April, in honor of Nick’s recent birthday, I admitted that I owed a whole room of dispatchers dinner from Canton Inn because I hadn’t realized that his message “Going to Canton. Jealous?” was actually an offer to bring us some. I also noted, based on bitter experience, that my beloved Woa Dip Har was impossible to eat at work. Reading that gave me a voracious desire for Woa Dip Har, now that I don’t work (unless you call writing this post work), but I fear it will remain forever unsatisfied.

The actual date I was writing was the birthday of the Foxy Lady, whom I called “my fellow connoisseur of the absurd.” In her honor, I illustrated the post with a picture of a stir-fry captioned “Uploaded to Wikipedia to showcase baby corn.” And what deserves to be showcased more?

 

Desperately Posting

…as A Certain Person accused me of doing. Well, desperation is never far away. But I owe you a

RETIREMENT PARTY GIFT REPORT

–$25 in winning lottery tickets from the Birdman. It seemed appropriate to spend lottery winnings on alcohol, which was consumed long ago. Of course, now I have other alcohol, to observe what they insist on calling the “4th of July holiday weekend,” in spite of its occurrence on Tuesday, which is not even near a weekend.

I also got gift cards for Walgreens and Visa, which I have already spent, and hope to remember what I spent them on once I sober up. It wasn’t more alcohol, though.

$150+ from people at work paying me to go away! This requires some thought. I once dreamed I got 3 roses tattooed on my butt. That might be a wise investment for these funds. Perhaps I should take a poll.

Speaking of which, in my estimation, a tattoo’s workmanship and originality count for naught if it is also ugly. I saw a woman with an elephant’s head with ram’s horns, impaled on a stick, tattooed on her arm. I picture her talking to the artist–“I want an elephant head with ram’s horns on my arm. It has great significance in my life.”

Do not get a nose ring that looks like a drop of snot hanging out in profile. In fact, do not get a nose ring at all. What if you sneeze? GROSS. I am now retired and don’t have to care if you think my disapproval old-fashioned. Speaking of which, I saw an ad for leggings that said, “You’ll never wear real pants again!” See, even the MAKERS OF LEGGINGS admit they’re not really pants.

McDonald’s yesterday was full of hipsters. They even ordered hipster stuff like a McFrappe (or whatever they call them) with just a large order of fries for lunch. It looked like a McDonald’s commercial, except that their clothes didn’t fit as well.

CVS ad–“Long Live Skin!” It’s guaranteed for 2 weeks after death, you know. (That was a sign at the place where I got my tattoo, many long years ago.)

Nick has offered to let me live in his basement. He seems to think it would bring him good luck.

Look, Nick’s on TV!

–Rom said he thought Mark Wahlberg wasn’t yanking the chain hard enough, but then said, “Well, then he might choke the poor thing.” The poor thing in question has actually gotten somewhat bigger since then, so the ears don’t look so prominent, and the barbs on the tail had not yet developed. And no, I can’t move the video closer to the top of the post, and in fact, for all I know, it might not even play once I hit “Publish.”

MCDONALD’S FOLLIES

–Trying to guess which people belong to which vehicle: The pickup with Browning Buckmark logo (designed by my brother-in-law!) and “REDNECK” across the back windshield? Probably the guy with the t-shirt that says “Her Buck” on it. Probably not the skinny guy with long blonde hair, Indiana Jones hat, and tie-dye Allman Brothers t-shirt, although I bet he’s a redneck also.

–A couple snuck in the back door of McDonald’s with food from somewhere else, including chips and drinks, and settled down to eat it at a back table. They even grabbed a bunch of McDonald’s napkins.

–Kids’ lives are filled with nagging. “Is that yours? No? Then don’t grab for it.” “Don’t do that, it’s gross.” After all, how else will you learn what’s gross? There might be another culture in which licking the condensation off the outside of your drink cup is perfectly acceptable.

A CAN OF BABY CORN WAS SIGHTED IN A CERTAIN PERSON’S LOCKER. THE CONSPIRACY LIVES ON IN MY ABSENCE. See ancient posts tagged “Conspiracy News” for details. Don’t know how to look those up? Neither do I.

Day 14: Waiting For Godot Or Someone Like Him

THINGS I CAN ACHIEVE WHILE ON HOLD FOR TECH SUPPORT

–rinse out milk glass

–scrape out litter box  (The Search For Buried Treasure)

–comb out hair

–lay out clothes, including locating coordinating underwear and socks

–put on underwear and one sock

Yesterday was National Hairball Awareness Day. Awareness may help us someday answer the eternal question, is stepping on one barefoot worse if it’s fresh and warm, or icy-cold?

Tomorrow is National Awareness of Rom’s Birth Day, which I’m celebrating by taking the day off.

911 OVERHEARD

“Why was he chasing you with a knife? Oh, because you stepped on his lawn?” I TOLD YOU KIDS TO GET OUT OF MY YARD!!

I WANNA BE PRESIDENT, TOO!

So Trump has a red button on his desk to summon someone to bring him a Coke. A dream come true! I also want a lifetime supply of cashew butter and dark chocolate chips. Oh, and for none of those things to have any calories. Hey, wouldn’t Reese’s Cashew Butter Cups made with dark chocolate be great? I’ll issue an executive order.

 

NOT SURE I WANT TO KNOW HOW

“Scientists can now extract Neanderthal DNA from cave dirt.”

 

Politician

I want you to listen to this (hopefully) embedded video and imagine Donald Trump singing it.

Remember all that whining I did (sure you do, it was in the last post) about accidentally deleting that post and having to re-type it all? Well, guess what? It was saved after all, just not where I’d been looking for it. So I did all that typing in vain. You can stop laughing now.

I got a spam message that said, “I looked at your post ‘The Parents of Baby Corn’ and thought that you could increase your blog’s traffic if your subject matter was something readers were interested in.” Or if they knew what the hell I’m talking about.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS–ENDLESS DRAMA CANNOT CHANGE

Caller: “I want to know the reason for the closing of this city’s only east-west thoroughfare”…pausing dramatically…“the Lloyd Expressway.” I sternly informed him that there are many east-west thoroughfares, although everyone forgot them as if they had never been once the Lloyd Expressway was completed. The reason for its closing, incidentally, was that someone had been killed on it.

And you gotta love a call that begins with “I just heard someone in the background there talking about Yankee Candles. I find that unacceptable.” (Yes, we are allowed to talk about topics other than work, so bite me.) and ends with “Just forget it. If I end up dead, it’ll be in the paper.” (Well, if end up dead, it’ll be in the paper, too. So what?)

There’s probably a punctuation error in that last paragraph, but I am too weary with life to correct it.

WHAT THIS COUNTRY HAS COME TO

Halloween inflatables? Really? I can hardly wait for the coming of President’s Day inflatables. Donald Trump will probably require them.

 

I’m Just Typing Whatever I’m Thinking

Disclaimer: Yeah, I’m on vacation, and yeah, I’m drunk.

Blog School Assignment #2 (hey, they said I could do it at my own pace!) was to read other people’s blogs, which need not concern you. I will note, however, that I’ve become a fan of Jon Webb at the Courier & Press. (Yeah, I should no doubt include some sort of link, but you know how that goes.) It’s like what you’d get if I’d actually become a journalist, instead of what I really became, namely, the Queen of Spiders.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS: DRUGSPEAK

#1: “He ripped me off”= drug deal gone wrong. Example: “Those guys beat me up while my boyfriend was down the street looking for a guy who ripped him off.”

#2: Me: So why do you think they’re doing drugs at that address?

Caller (solemnly): I just know. = I was doing drugs there with them, and then they ripped me off.

WORLD LEADER EDICTS, KTHNXBAI EDITION:

–If you get a small or medium (blue cup) drink from Thornton’s, do not equip it with a red (for large/red cup) straw. There are blue straws available in the very same place.

–If you can’t be bothered to get your garbage cans OUT OF MY WAY on the sidewalk (which is theoretically for people to walk on, not just a place to stash your trash), I will walk on your lawn to get around them, not out in the traffic.

COULD I BE MORE FED UP?

The Indiana Revenue Service discovered, at this late date, that I owed them money on my 2013 taxes. Including penalty and interest. So why, if it was their mistake (they’d even sent me a refund that year, and now they want it back) do owe the penalty and interest? I, you know, kind of assumed that if they sent me a refund, that meant I kind of, well, the reverse of owed them money. Hey, remember when they thought I might be an identity thief? What the hell is the deal in Indianapolis, anyway? Rom said, “It just took them that long to find out the depth of your depravity,” which sounds like something Nick would say. See, Nick, I mentioned you after all. I know you’re kind of needy that way.

 

 

 

 

 

Turn Me Loose!

…I’ve gotta have it my way, or no way at all! So it is, and so it shall be, to quote Patti Smith.

Yeah, I’m on vacation, and yeah, I’m drunk, as Nick so astutely noticed, since he’s all astute and stuff.

You gotta love when your husband comes in and says, “Well, you stepped in it.” Stepped in WHAT? I should know after all these years–a hairball. Remember the ongoing philosophical debate–which hairball is worse to step in, fresh and warm, or old and icy-cold?

POLITICKING

“Hey now baby, get into my big black car…I just want to show you what my politics are.” Courtesy of Cream, and I think of it often in this electoral season.

Hey, how long has it been since we had a CONSPIRACY POST? Anyone remember the
Baby Corn?

OK, I just almost choked on my drink. This is NOT FUNNY. In fact, it’s kind of painful.

Anyway, I now announce that, considering the dearth of acceptable candidates, I unhesitatingly support A CAN OF CREAMED CORN for President. Any can will do.

I’ll write later if I think of something to say.

AND I DID!

…Courtesy of the people at some laundry-product company. A woman SNIFFS THE CROTCH OF HER PANTS and says, “These pants have that yoga smell!” Um, that’s not what we call it. She then sniffs the area again after laundering and says, “Now I don’t smell like wet dog!” Um, that’s not what it smells like.

3:26 and All Is Not Well

“…I was up till 3:30 last night,” says Stephen Colbert, as if there’s something unusual about that. I cannot rest until I write. I’m like Cat Esmerelda with petting–“I’VE DONE WITHOUT IT FOR DAYS, BUT NOW I MUST STAND IN THE HALLWAY AND YELL, AND GET IN FRONT OF YOU WHEN YOU TRY TO LEAVE THE ROOM, AND COME BACK AND GET YOU WHEN YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I HAVE TO HAVE IT NOW NOW NOW–”

Ahem. Anywayz, the 28th was Rom’s birthday (he’s 65! how did that happen?), and we went to Turoni’s with D. It’s a good thing I remembered what I wanted (3-cheese/chicken/broccoli pizza, yum!), because their current menu struck me like a blow (albeit a very minor one–unlike their bathroom, which thanks to their mid-century modern decorating scheme reminded me of the restrooms of my childhood, so I expected their toilet to do likewise, and instead it was a supersonic TOILET OF THE FUTURE, and startled me when I flushed), because the menu was an over-crowded BARRAGE OF WORDS, and I was momentarily overwhelmed. (The accompanying illustrations did not help. Pictures on a menu should be of food, not cartoon characters.) I had been thinking I might like an alcoholic beverage (or 2, or 3, or 4), but that required a separate menu to present their hellish profusion of beers, so that was Not Gonna Happen. By the way, the pizzas of my table companions were overly colorful. A pizza should not look like it has confetti strewn over it.

This post is reading like a grab bag of World Leader Edicts. And I’ve only just begun.

MY PROBLEM WITH THE INDIANA REVENUE SERVICE

You didn’t know I had one, did you? Neither did I.

Nothing like a letter from that source which cheerily begins, “We’re NOT accusing your of identity theft!” Oh?

“…but you need to go to our website, and pass a quiz to verify your identity, which will only take a few minutes, and we’ll give you 3 chances to pass it, and then we’ll send you your refund, if you first tell us the exact amount of the refund you were claiming.”

Really?

I grumpily went to my pile of leftover tax documents. Well, guess what? After doing the taxes, I had separated the paperwork into 2 piles–one to toss and one to keep–and guess what I did. That’s right, I threw the wrong ones away. Stuff like this would make me think dementia is setting in, except that I’ve been doing stuff like this my whole life. It’s a wonder I can even feed myself. Oh wait, I don’t, Rom feeds me. Well, not by hand, because I bite.

Soooo…I don’t have the paperwork they require, so I need to call them, at their non-toll-free number. How can I prove I’m not the identity thief they’re not accusing me of being? Maybe they’ll tell me to come up to Indianapolis with my state I.D. (it’s like a driver’s license, except that it says Don’t Let This Person Drive) to get my refund.

You know, I carefully arrange my life so I seem normal, to myself and others. But going to a city I’ve never been to, where I know no one, and try and find a building I’ve never been to? That is so Not Gonna Happen. They can just keep my refund, paltry as it is. Identity theft has claimed another victim.

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