Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Category: My Presidential Campaign

I’ve Always Been a Spider

candy machine jar

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You gotta love a spider vending machine, right?

MISHEARD COMMERCIALS

Similar to misheard song lyrics, only, well, you get the idea.

–For, I think, some TV streaming service: “Relax, put on your comfy pants…” sounds like “put on your puppy pants.”

==For a metastatic breast cancer medication: “I’m a fighter. Always have been.” I invariably hear this as, “I’m a spider. Always have been.” This raises two objections:

–If you were, indeed, a spider, breast cancer, metastatic or otherwise, would probably not be among your concerns. And,

–Haven’t all spiders always been spiders? Unless you don’t want to count the time they spent as eggs. And then you get into the philosophical/ethical controversy about whether spider life begins at conception or at hatching.

CURRENT FAVORITE COMMERCIAL

The McDonald’s one–“Gimme that fish! Gimme that Filet-O-Fish!” I find it creepily compelling. I do not, by the way, refer to said item as Filet-O-Fish when ordering. I refer to it as a fish sandwich, and encourage you to do the same. I also encourage you not to get tartar sauce, which is only mayonnaise with boogers in it. And, note to Hardee’s–Why do you think a fish sandwich should have lettuce on it? Of course, lettuce is pretty much pointless on any sandwich.

OBSERVATION AT WALGREENS

The amount of St Patrick’s Day merchandise is equivalent to the amount of New Year’s Eve merchandise. It falls into the in-case-somebody-cares category.

MORE CAMPAIGN PROMISES

I will abolish Daylight Savings Time, and make the Eastern/Central time zone dividing line the Indiana/Ohio border again. Or the Indiana/Illinois border. Something easy to remember. Of course, this may all be academic, since, if I become President, time as we know it will cease to exist.

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Mardi Gras at McDonald’s

baking blueberry breakfast delicious

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Since Mardi Gras is called Pancake Tuesday in, I think, England, I went to McDonald’s to have some. But the real Mardi Gras King today was undoubtedly the person who left their cardboard crown from Burger King under the bus seat today, amidst a pile of scattered candy.

I am wearing my two strands of Mardi Gras beads. Disclaimer (since Nick always fantasizes about some risque explanation): I found one on the sidewalk by the bus stop after the Mardi Gras parade had gone by one year, and the other was awarded me for eating at Hacienda after my dentist appointment another year, since my dentist’s office is across the street from them. Because my life is exciting.

I AM THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL NOT SHUT UP

Since I am a declared presidential candidate (no Launching an Exploratory Committee for me!), I am as entitled to pontificate as any of the others. I will never stop reminding you that–

–Mexico was going to pay for the wall, hence, no need to keep asking us to do it, and

–the tax cuts to individuals given in tax “reform” will expire, the ones for corporations will not.

Perhaps I will state those two things at the end of every post, like Cicero’s “Carthago delenda est.” (“And by the way, Carthage must be destroyed.”)

And if you say, “But you’re not a serious candidate!”–I’m not a serious anything.

Well, I had a couple World Leader Edicts in mind, to keep in practice for when I win the election. I was even sitting on the bus thinking, I’ve got to write a blog post just to get these on the record. Now that the time has come, I cannot remember a single one. And I haven’t even started my Mardi Gras drinking.

ON ANOTHER NOTE

There is no segue for this, so I won’t even try. We are mourning the loss of my mother-in-law, Amazing Grace. I’m glad I got to see her at her 90th birthday party in January. It’s funny how the little things can affect you–I just remembered, No more birthday and anniversary cards from her, and teared up a bit. Her funeral will be tomorrow, which is, as it happens, Ash Wednesday. Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

 

 

More Campaign Promises & Bonus Graffiti Analysis

take it easy painted road

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Is it too much to expect a graffiti artist to know how we use quotation marks?

At any rate, Nick is doing two weeks in Weevilville. No, this is not a sentence (although he should surely be sentenced to two weeks of something…“House arrest! House arrest!” he says, jumping up and down). He is, rather, learning things he will need to know when I become President and he becomes my enforcer, I mean, my chief of staff. Yeah, that’s what I mean. So here is a post for his encouragement. (“Please, no perfume review…”)

MORE POSITIVE PRESCRIPTIONS

If I remember correctly (I may not, but far be it from me to go back and check), my previous campaign promises were mostly things I would not do. Things I will  do… (Hey! Periods look the same in italic or otherwise!)

–I will not (here I go again, going back on my promises already) call anyone “enemies of the people.” I’m more concerned with enemies of me.

–the Rose Garden at the White House will be off-limits to everyone, since I will be curled up in it when the weather’s nice. (I may have mentioned this already. Let’s call it an Encore Presentation.)

–New World Leader Edict: If you pick up an item at a store, walk around shopping and then decide you don’t want that item any more, you must TAKE IT BACK AND REPLACE IT WHERE YOU FOUND IT, not just put it down where you were when you decided you didn’t want it, while telling yourself, “It’s their job to put it back.” I figure this measure will get me the retail-employee vote.

EXPECT A BUNCH MORE WORLD LEADER EDICTS IF I WIN THE ELECTION.

PROMISED BONUS FEATURE

The unisex restroom at the convenience store down the street from my house is a rich trove of graffiti. Currently available for viewing:

–“III%”, surrounded by a circle of stars. Maybe Rom did this, since he is the III of his kind.

–“CSX Railroad” with a drawing of same. OK, railroad tracks are pretty easy to draw, and the train yard is immediately adjacent. Still, I’m kinda surprised that railroad graffiti is a thing. Well, except for the kind on train cars themselves. That’s a thing if ever there was one.

–An ongoing discussion of who sucks, with countering argument of who is a snitch. This conversation is regularly corrected, with names being crossed out and replaced with others.

–“Hug’s, Not Drug’s”- OK, we don’t know how to use apostrophes either. Such are the consequences of drug use.

Most of these observations are presented in fat black felt-tip, but in feeble ballpoint pen, there is “I THOUGHT I PASSED OUT.” I would have thought you’d have been more certain one way or the other. Must have been the drug’s.

 

Fun With Public Transportation

white bus on road near cliff

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Well, not as much fun as this picture depicts.

Rom said, “You’re lucky your blog isn’t famous, because those people on the bus would beat you up.” Luckily, I’m in no danger of fame.

A woman today interrupted the guy who was talking to her to say, “You gotta hear this, this is hilarious–the other day on the radio, Billy Bob and Tom {I believe it’s just Bob and Tom} were talking about how they don’t make cars the way they used to. They said now you have to plug them in and they don’t go very far.” Um, that’s not hilarious. And why is it silly that you have to recharge electric cars? You have to put gas in other cars, or they don’t go very far. We haven’t invented a perpetual motion machine, although Cat Glamour when Rom’s trying to brush her comes pretty close.

FUN WITH TV COMMERCIALS

“You shouldn’t use a product that treats your butt like a joke.” Well, I doubt I’d like someone who took their butt too seriously.

“My hiney’s clean! I’m Charmin’ clean!” is bad enough, but now they follow it up with, “Also try our new moist towelettes,” or whatever they call those things. Wait. Aren’t you implying that one’s hiney is not, in fact, clean, if a second product is required afterward? I suppose they could take refuge in the legal definition of Charmin clean. They add to their grossness by showing you a demonstration of someone wiping synthetic excrement off their…arm. It’s like the old joke…”What’s the difference between toilet paper and a shower curtain?” “I don’t know, what?” “Well, I’m not inviting you over to my house.”

I think my current least favorite is the mouthwash one where they show you a bunch of gross mouths and say why they’re gross–“Garlic breath! Dry-mouth breath! Morning breath!”

CAMPAIGN DISCLOSURE

As regards my presidential campaign:

–My advertising budget is zero.

–I am not releasing my tax returns because finding them would involve getting up.

 

 

 

 

The Great Debate

person dropping paper on box

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{Credit for this post, or blame as it may be, goes to my former co-worker [well, they’re all former now, aren’t they?] L.L. [if I once gave you a cute nickname for blogging purposes, I no longer remember it, sorry–it went in the trash folder with the NIMS regulations], who informed me that a regular 911 caller who is, let’s say, reality-challenged, called in and announced he is running for President.}

MODERATOR L.L.: We welcome you to the 3rd floor employee lounge of the Safety Building in the Civic Center for tonight’s debate. Our candidates are, representing The Rent Is Too Damn High party, P.G. {so called because that’s what he calls himself when he calls 911–they really are his initials, so he’s not reality-challenged in that respect}, and, representing the Radical Centrist party, P.J. {so called because those are my initials, and I was actually called that as a child. But now I have put away childish things, supposedly.}

BOTH CANDIDATES WALK TO THEIR RESPECTIVE PODIA. AN AWKWARD SILENCE ENSUES.

P.G. “It’s me, P.G., checking in!”

MOD L.L.  “Indeed. P.J., do you have a response to that?”

P.J. “Um, was there a check-in process? I didn’t see a form or anything.”

L.L. “No, you’re fine. Well, let’s start with a bit of information. Have either of you chosen your vice-presidential running mates yet?”

P.J. “Yes. I have chosen a certain Nick–”

P.G. “Hey, doesn’t that guy turn into a dragon or something?”

P.J. {blushing} “I believe my opponent is off his medication.”

NICK {jumping up and waving his arms} “Hey! I never said I wanted to be Vice President!”

P.J. “Objection overruled.”

L.L. “No one’s on trial here.”

P.J. {glaring at Nick} “Well, someone should be.”

P.G. “I was on trial once.”

L.L. “P.G., have you chosen a running mate yet?”

P.G. “I have, Your Honor. I’ve narrowed it down to two fine ladies–Ada Redd {not her real name, because I’m trying to stay out of trouble}, who was in the circus once before she was conceived and who is killed every day, and Mrs. T. {whose full name I no longer remember–it’s in the trash folder with the S.O.P. for suburban fire move-ups, mercifully}, who smells entrails in her basement.”

L.L. “And do those individuals actually exist? I believe the Constitution requires that they do.”

P.G. “They do, Your Majesty.”

L.L. “Very well. Now let’s–”

P.G. “Does anyone else smell a gas leak?”

L.L. “No, I don’t believe–”

P.G. “I’m serious. I detect a strong odor of natural gas. You need to send the fire department out here.”

P.J. {nervously eyeing the exits} I think it’s just this perfume I’m sampling.

AUDIENCE: “The fire department! Let’s go out and watch them!”

Chaos ensues. No one is trampled, fortunately. 

MY APOLOGIES TO L.L., AND TO EVERYONE WHO SIGNED ON HERE EXPECTING A PERFUME REVIEW, AND, WELL, EVERYONE, REALLY. EXCEPT NICK.

 

 

 

Hard Promises

i voted sticker lot

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In all the excitement of perfume sampling and such, I forgot that I’m running for President! (After all, I have to have a signature scent by Election Day.)

I guess by now it’s time for more specifics:

CAMPAIGN PROMISES

  1. I will not make any speeches while it’s snowing.
  2. I understand that insisting on my own way is not “negotiating.” However, I will probably insist on my own way anyway.
  3. Twitter is icky and I will not use it, nor read it if you do use it.
  4. I will not tell you Mexico is going to pay for something, then turn around and try to make you pay for it.
  5. I will not say “On Monday I’m going to announce I’m running for President.” That is an announcement. No one is fooled.
  6. When reporters ask me what I’m going to do about something, I will not say, “You’ll see,” or “You’ll find out on Wednesday.”
  7. In the course of debates, I will not use the “You’re another one!” tactic, also known as, “No puppet! You’re the puppet!”
  8. In fact, I will not appear in debates. I will submit a list of written answers. Hey, it seems to be working so far.
  9. I will not do anything to my hair to make myself more electable.
  10. I might buy clothes to make myself more electable, because I’m always looking for an excuse to buy more clothes.
  11. I will need “executive time” to listen to music. This will never be country music. “WE WANT THE WORLD AND WE WANT IT NOW!!” Now we’ve got it and we don’t know what to do with it.

 

A Poem Lovely As a Tree: Diptyque Tam Dao

brown close up hd wallpaper surface

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Choosing a photo for this review was easy for this perfume, which is all about wood. Choosing a title, however, was not, because, unlike several of the scents we dealt with previously, Tam Dao does not evoke a scene or mood for me. All it does is smell great.

We are now at the other end of the spectrum, as it were, of scents which were recommended to me as a result of Rom’s suggestion of something cool, misty, and dusky. We started with blue florals–violet and iris, went through more complex blends, such as the two Guerlains, and are now back at simpler scents, but focused on woods and resins this time.

Tam Dao, created in 2003, is basically about sandalwood. The opening is raw and rough, almost splintery–probably the cypress that’s listed as a note. There’s almost a rosy tinge to it, too. I don’t know how rosewood smells, but I can imagine it smelling like this. The fragrance quickly settles down to a beautiful creamy sandalwood, smooth and soothing. There isn’t much more I can say about it, but nothing more needs to be said.

YOU DON’T GET ALTERNATIVE-TO-PERFUME CONTENT TONIGHT BECAUSE I WANT TO GO WATCH THE SIMPSONS WHILE ROM MAKES DINNER. LIFE IS HARD.

Oh, and vote for me, even though I’m deserting you.

 

The Hissing of Summer Lawns: Niki de Saint Phalle

nature animal green lizard

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When Niki de Saint Phalle perfume was recommended to me as one of my dusky scents, I was eager to try it. How could I not be? The bottle is blue glass (favorite color!) with colorful snakes on it, and I have a cobra tattoo on my arm! Plus, it was released in 1987, the year Rom and I got married! How could I not love it? As it turns out, I didn’t, but it is an interesting scent, and definitely unique.

Niki de Saint Phalle was an artist and sculptor, and designed the snake-trimmed bottle for her fragrance. The scent is a combination of many unusual notes–pine, grapefruit, marigold, geranium–and thus smells hissingly green and spiky. It’s a bit too acerbic for my taste, even though I love green scents. But what fascinates me is the picture it evokes–that of a garden in late summer, when the only flowers still blooming in the blazing sun are, you guessed it, marigolds and geraniums. Dry, hot, and pungent. It would be the perfect scent if you love the scent of marigolds. But I don’t.

(Correction: It turns out that NdSP was created in 1982. 1987 is when I first heard of it.)

PART II, NO SEGUE ATTEMPTED

My current least-favorite commercials:

–“My hiney’s clean! I’m Charmin’ clean!” Yeah, it’s OK to show something’s butt if it’s a cartoon. If we learned nothing else from South Park…

–and the mouthwash commercial that shows a bunch of people’s gross mouths and the problems they have–Dry mouth! Garlic mouth! Cotton mouth! Stop showing me this! It’s not even a cartoon! Come to think of it, we did go from end to end here.

Speaking of which, now that “Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea!” has been done in country and soul formats, we need a rock version.

‘WHOA, WE’RE HALFWAY THERE, WHOA-OH, GIBBON AND ECLAIR!’

Yes, the quotation marks above are incorrect. This will come out in hearings after I am President.

You know you’re sitting near a nerd when you hear the sentence, “They just rebooted their entire mythos.”

Speaking of nerds, a nerd on the bus solved a thorny theological problem–“God could have created evolution!” I’ve been saying this for years. Well, not on the bus.

Mmmm…Mitsouko by Guerlain

clouds countryside dawn dusk

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Mitsouko haunts me. This is the only perfume that brought tears to my eyes the first time I smelled it, and the only one I wear in my dreams. (I dream about shopping for others, but if I apply perfume in a dream, it’s always Mitsouko.)

Part of its spell for me is obvious–its basic building blocks of peach, rose, and oakmoss are my favorite notes. But Mitsy is so much more than the sum of its parts, and in a way that’s hard to explain. It’s like faith–if you understand it, no explanation is necessary, and if you don’t, no explanation is possible. It was created in 1919, and thus qualifies as unfashionable now, yet it transcends fashion. It smells like peaches, roses, and forest floor, but liking all those smells doesn’t guarantee you’ll like it. It smells intensely autumnal, but is glorious on a summer day (especially in the dampness which is such a hallmark of the climate here). It’s an introverted scent with its dusky woodsiness, yet it’s dramatic. Maybe melodramatic. Introverted yet intense.

It’s not a crowd-pleaser in this “Eww, someone’s wearing perfume” era. But it’s a masterpiece nevertheless, and ever the more.

IN NON-OLFACTORY-WORK-OF-ART-RELATED NEWS…

On pumpkin-pie box at McDonald’s–“Packed with all the flavor it could possibly hold.” Well, isn’t that true of everything? Apparently not, since one of their meal combos was described as “Just the right amount of yum.” Because yum isn’t something you want too much of.

I am in postage-stamp heaven. Currently available are–not only rose stamps but DRAGON stamps! (“Who uses stamps anymore?” Nick yawns, but he is just out-of-sorts because his picture is not on any of them. Also because I haven’t made him my running mate yet.)

HOW TO PROTECT THEM FROM THEMSELVES?

Cat Esmerelda fell off the top of the door, leaving claw marks on the way down.

Cat Glamour will eat any bits of kitty litter scattered on the floor.

This seems to me emblematic of our current political situation.

VOTE FOR ME. I’M THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL MAKE ALL THESE POLITICAL ADS STOP.

The Things That Happen Between Life Events

meal food dish mexican

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The title is how one of my sisters-in-law (they are numerous and aggressive) defined this blog, which she seemed to have a high opinion of. YES, I KEEP ALL POSITIVE COMMENTS IN AN EMAIL FOLDER MARKED “STROKEFEST,” DOESN’T EVERYONE?

Interesting–spellcheck now thinks “email” is a word. It does not feel the same way about “StrokeFest,” however.

This post is brought to you in spite of a poisoned taco. My advice: if the center of your fast-food taco meat is cool, DO NOT KEEP EATING IT. As I did. I even thought at the time, “Well, if I get sick tomorrow, I’ll know what caused it.” So I did. Get sick, and know what caused it. One does not always have that assurance.

COSMO ASTROLOGY ’85

Interior decoration for Scorpio: “Who else but Scorpio would toss a paisley shawl over her TV? Or line bathroom walls with dozens of small framed mirrors? Or buy a funky old dinette set at a thrift shop and paint it lime green? Or make witty collages out of family memorabilia? Or…”

Let’s break these observations down one-by-one:

  1. I don’t think it takes Scorpio boldness to toss a paisley shawl over a TV. Of course, if I tossed one, it would probably slide off. Maybe that’s what they meant–that Scorpio strength of will would keep it from doing so.
  2. Why would you line a bathroom wall with dozens of mirrors, none of them big enough to see yourself in?
  3. I’m glad only a Scorpio would buy a funky old dinette set and paint it lime green. That means we have only a one-in-twelve chance of it happening.
  4. On the other hand, I think more than one-twelfth of the population has made witty collages out of family memorabilia. Even though you run the risk of your family not appreciating your wit. I once made a witty collage for my bedroom wall out of ads which expressed the image I had of myself. I was 14 at the time, and I also made a picture of a flying hippogriff (traced from an illustration in E.R. Eddison’s novel “The Worm Ouroborous,” in case you thought I could draw), with a psychedelic border design made with brightly-colored magic markers, captioned “Fly Trans-Love Airways” (from Donovan’s song “The Fat Angel”–Cupid, get it?), in Lord of the Rings Elvish script. And I wondered why I had no friends.

Speaking of the 80’s, Harper’s Bazaar now tells us that 80’s retro fashion is in (I think for the second time–we’re running out of decades to be ironic about), with “neon-bright colors and oversized silhouettes.” Sure, it’s a change from the undersized silhouettes I got sick of long ago, but why can’t we have clothes that just fit normally?

Vote for me, I’m the Outsider, etc.

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