Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Category: My Presidential Campaign

The Moral of the Story

black bird perching on concrete wall with ocean overview

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com

A couple days ago, I missed my bus, for the usual reason of letting Rom show me points of interest in the yard for too long (and, I must admit, prolonging our romantic leave-taking). OK, I thought, I will walk down to St Joe, which takes me 20 minutes or so.

I got to the top of the hill, turned, and felt a warm splat on my face. Ironically, a couple of days previously, I’d thought, It’s surprising, with all the walking I do, that I don’t get pooped on by birds more often.

It got on my face, my hair, my pants, my glasses. Suddenly I lost all appetite for walking to St Joe, especially since I was wearing dark clothing (as I usually do), which made what had happened all too evident. I walked back down the hill, glasses clutched in one hand, and one eye squeezed shut, since the stuff was threatening to drip into it, in spite of my flailing at my face. There actually is a story in the Catholic Bible–you know, the one Protestants didn’t take books out of–about a man who slept out in the open, and birds pooped in his eye, and he went blind. (Yes, there’s a lot of weird stuff in Scripture.) I was fairly sure that, due to being legally blind, I would trip or be hit by a car, but neither occurred.

So I got home, cleaned my face, hair, and eye with makeup-remover wipes, and changed my pants. Rom said he’d never seen so much bird poop on a person, and speculated that it had been a large bird like a crow. Hence the illustration. Also keep in mind that crows are probably the smartest animals other than us and the great apes. (I don’t know about the not-so-great apes.)

But what is the moral of the story, you ask?

Well, Rom said, “It seems like Someone doesn’t want you to go out.” Nevertheless (and ever the more), I went out again anyway, and got on the next bus. At a stop down the way, a couple was waiting, but all they had was a $5 bill. They asked if anyone on the bus had change. And guess who had a wad of $1 bills, thanks to McDonald’s being short of 5’s? Considering one of them had a lunch box, and they were willing to use a $5 bill for a $1.50 fare for the two of them, I bet they got out at Walmart to work, not shop. So maybe Someone wanted me to take that bus, although I question the use of bird excrement to achieve the desired end.

VOTE FOR ME! I’M THE OUTSIDER!

And I know what it’s like to be shat on! And if I get any subpoenas, I’ll just ignore them. Why not?

Disclaimer: The author of this post received 1 or 2 subpoenas in the course of her job, when she had one, and did not ignore them.

 

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Here I Am

2 BEVERAGE-RELATED TIPS (I REFUSE TO CALL THEM “LIFE HACKS”)

–Do not get an alcoholic beverage in your eye.

–Look at your water glass before you drink from it, unless you want an ant in your mouth. Rom’s response was, “Dead or alive?,” as if that made a difference.

WordPress is telling me, “Try the new block editor and level up your layout.” I don’t even know what that means, so I guess I don’t need it.

VOTE FOR ME, I’M THE OUTSIDER! 

Are you desperate enough yet?

THE WORST PHONE SCAM EVER

Rom’s phone rang. He was napping, so I answered it. The India-accented caller seemed surprised at hearing my voice, but then said, “Do you want Cialis erection medicine–for your husband?” To buy time while I gathered my wits, I said, “Excuse me?” (a tactic I learned at 911–911 builds character!) He hurried on, “Or Oxycontin or Fentanyl–we have very good prices!” You know, something tells me that reputable pharmacies do not call you out of the blue and offer you opioids.

macro photo of black carpenter ant on green leaf

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

 

 

It’s National Fragrance Day!

beautiful bloom blossom bud

Photo by YUSUF Yulipurnawan on Pexels.com

Yeah, I know no one else cares. Anyway, I dreamed I made Mitsouko my signature scent.

COSMO ASTROLOGY 1987

…is full of perils. Even though it was the year I married Rom. So here’s

Taurus with Taurus: “You’re the most wildly stubborn sign in the entire zodiac, and so is he–which makes for titanic clashes. Neither of you is capable of giving an inch, and life is soon reduced to a series of battles about what to eat, which movie to see, where to vacation. ..even sensational sex can’t make up for so many downs.” Actually, we are agreed about where to vacation–at home. Travel bad.  Speaking of which, my email contains, “ENTER THE AARP TRAVEL SWEEPSTAKES!” No, please no!

Oh no, I spilled Redd’s on my velvet pen case! What will I do? IT’S NATIONAL FRAGRANCE DAY, OF COURSE I AM CELEBRATING!

Home decorating for Capricorn: “Have the place painted in a subdued pastel hue. Furniture is covered or accented in the same subtle shade, for a look that’s breathtakingly coordinated.” It’s so breathtaking when you can’t find the chair, because it’s the same color as the walls.

Romantic Rendezvous for Pisces: “In a rowboat on an isolated lake.” Yeah, I can’t see that leading to drowning or anything.

IN OTHER NEWS

You know a guy in a suit at Taco John’s is going to be annoying. “I need Potato Oles, and make sure they’re hot and fresh.” Dude, take your chances like the rest of us peasants.

Seriously, the state of my velvet pen case is troubling me.

What is also troubling me is that the state of Indiana has not sent my tax forms yet, because they’re hoping I’ll panic and file online anyway. Why am I not filing online? A.) I don’t have my printer hooked up, because I fear it, and B.) I resist any attempt to make me do something. Yes, I will  panic and file online anyway if the forms don’t come. Next question?

VOTE FOR ME, I’M THE OUTSIDER, AND I WILL NEVER MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING ONLINE WITH THE SPURIOUS ARGUMENTS OF “THAT’S HOW WE DO IT NOW” AND “YOU’RE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HISTORY.”

 

 

 

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.

Mardi Gras at McDonald’s

baking blueberry breakfast delicious

Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Pexels.com

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

Photo by Reafon Gates on Pexels.com

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

Photo by Mads Thomsen on Pexels.com

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

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

{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

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

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

Photo by FWStudio on Pexels.com

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.

 

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