Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: Cosmetics

My Resolve To Remain Unpopular

blur breakfast close up dairy product

Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com

I have been reading a site called The Art of Blogging They said that bloggers who want many readers should remember that strangers don’t care about what you had for lunch or how you tripped over a paving stone yesterday, and that even those who know you only pretend to care out of politeness. Now, I am not taking issue with this advice–it makes perfect sense. I only ask that you keep on pretending to care, because I warned you what to expect at the outset. And how did they know I tripped over a paving stone, hmm?

Rather than tell you what I had for lunch today, let me tell you about–

THE INTERESTING LITTER I SAW

–Next to me in the window well of the bus–2 Q-Tips. WITH EARWAX ON THEM. “This bus ride is boring. Think I’ll clean my ears.” Suppose the bus went into a pothole and you ended up puncturing your eardrum? You’d probably try suing the city. BECAUSE YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY NOT THE SORT TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS, OR  YOU’D HAVE THROWN AWAY YOUR GROSS Q-TIPS. (Disclaimer: I have no way of knowing if the cotton swabs in question were actually Q-Tips. Perhaps they were some generic brand.)

–On a bus stop bench on the way (not mine, because EW EW EW)–a to-go plate of pancakes, partially eaten. IN THE RAIN. Just wring those out, they’ll be fine. They did inspire me to have pancakes at McDonald’s. (See, I worked my lunch menu in there after all.)

–In the gutter on N. St Joe Ave.–a stick of deodorant, with the cap off. “Oh no, I forgot deodorant, better put some on in the car and throw it out the window!” It was Suave Powder Fresh, so at least the offender was powder-fresh. Maybe the police could identify the culprit by scent.

And remember–VOTE FOR ME FOR PRESIDENT, I’M THE OUTSIDER! (I’m getting a head start on making you sick of me.)

 

 

Lilting & Joyous

close up of pink baby booties

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Note: The above is what came up when I searched photos for “booty.”

“Lilting and joyous” is how reader T.R. described goldfinches, and said “Just like you!” For the record, Rom said the bird that most resembles me is the mockingbird. That’s what I really wanted to illustrate this post with, but no luck.

DISASSEMBLING COSMO

I bought the copy of Cosmo I mentioned in the last post, and promptly forgot it on the bus. “Well, I don’t care enough to pay another $5 for another one,” I announced to Rom. Yes, I bought it the next day. Because stupid persistence had been activated.

They are having a Steamy Story contest. I could win $10,000 and a private consultation with a best-selling romance author! Imagine how surprised she’ll be when she learns I’m not in my 20’s! The rules state that the story should “have a badass heroine, take place in the present time, and have a happy-ever-after ending.” I can see the book cover now–“Bad Ass! Her ass was bad!”

But on to asses, bad or otherwise. You are now entering…BOOTY MANIA! Involving “glitter-dipped bums poppin’ on social.” Was it scratchy glitter? Other observations: “Juicy backsides refuse to quit.” “The cultural viewfinder is focused on the rear view.” “By 2014, it seemed perfectly normal for fitness stars to popularize butt selfies on Instagram.” It doesn’t seem perfectly normal to me. Of course, I’m not on Instagram. “Donks are rarely censored on social media, so they can proliferate unchecked.” How often must I say it–JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN, DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD. Let your butt proliferate unchecked, that is. “Fitfluencers readily admit that butt photos get the most likes.” Fitfluencers? Really? “Today’s vast buttscape includes both smaller and fuller figures, but experts warn that striving for an ultra-ripe peach could become a harmful endeavor. Embrace your butt–without going overboard.” It’s hard to embrace your butt.

THE BEST BOOTY LOOT

Yes, there are products. Exfoliant! I have to say, I’ve never thought of exfoliating that area. Butt masks! “These are safe to wear under undies for up to an hour a day.” I want to know what’s in them that makes them unsafe to wear longer. Butt cream! “Shimmery skin and an addictive smell hook fans of this balm.” Write your own punch line. Don’t make me do it all.

OTHER COVER STORIES

“V-Time is the New Me Time. How to Give Your Lady Parts Some TLC.”

“5 Signs He’s Just Using You.” Sign #1–if he strikes up a conversation after he sees you reading about booties and lady parts in Cosmo.

“We want to hear how V-Time is the new Me Time!” you’re clamoring at this point. Well, it involves, you guessed it, products. Exfoliant! Is there anything that can’t be exfoliated? “Body and V-Zone Soap.” Um, I was already doing that. “Spray Bay Bay–support and hydrate your Queen V.” I was unaware of my royal status, but I’m all for supporting it. Oil! “Illuminates, for a happy, healthy glow below!” So now it’s glowing? Are we supposed to use it for a reading light?

MORE-TASTEFUL PRODUCT NEWS

The other day, the bus driver said, “You always smell so beautiful!” (Frederic Malle’s Portrait of a Lady, described by one Fragrantica member as “the poster child for melodramatic dark rose scents”), and sadly said she used to wear Victoria’s Secret Divine, which has been discontinued. I did a bit of research, and the next time I see her, I’m going to recommend Bulgari’s Omnia Crystalline.

NOTE: When I write perfume reviews, I always title the post accordingly, so anyone doing a search for that fragrance can find it. But I also tack on additional content after the review. So anyone who’s been skipping posts when they see it’s a perfume review (Nick stops in the midst of slinking away) may want to think twice. (“I don’t even think once,” Nick says, flicking his scaly tail.) Now I have to go dip my butt in glitter.

 

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.

 

Chaos Theory

SCRATCHY GLITTER IS BACK IN SESSION

…although who knows for how long. I thrive on chaos, right? OK, except for the thriving part.

NEW PRODUCT NEWS, EASTER DIVISION

Question 1: Why did we need a poop emoji? I can’t think of any communications need that was previously unfilled.

Question 2: Why do we need a plush representation of the poop emoji?

Speaking of which, why do we need a “Wind It Up and Watch It Poop Candy!” toy? Sure, children will always think poop is funny, but we don’t need to encourage them. And sure, it would be nice if people pooped candy, but I don’t care to follow this train of thought any further.

And, for those decrying the commercialization of Easter (someone must be decrying it somewhere), we have 1.) the milk chocolate cross, and 2.) the cross-shaped tin full of jellybeans, in supposedly-symbolic colors. That is just odd.

The body wash I’d have to use in hell: Olay Star Apple and Hibiscus. Smells like spiced apple rings and licorice. I would use it only if there was no other body wash available. I might even skip showering for a day, in case some other scent became available. (Nick tries to think up some bet he could make where I’d have to use up a bottle of this if I lost, then remembers that he’s not a betting man.) 

Just heard the “Experience Amazing” commercial. AMAZEMENT! IT’S EXPERIENCE “AMAZEMENT”! WHY MUST I KEEP TELLING YOU?!!

 

Sit Down and See What Happens

…is what I’m doing, though with the amount of apple ale I’ve consumed, I make no promises.

Black Friday purchase–toilet paper. Hey, Consumer Reports says Walgreen’s store brand toilet paper is the best, plus it has roses on it! Only get the Premium Soft, though (the one with a kitten on the package–it’s a win/win/win situation!).

The first residential Christmas decoration was spotted some time ago, like on the 12th (ED. …of November…!) or something. Yeah, I should have said something about it at the time. The theme of decorations this year is apparently Cheap Glitter Crap.

A WEEK OF L’S

I ran into former co-workers Laurie and Lori! Life goes on without me.

.,..taking this up again several days later…

…the apple ale is but a memory.

YOU’RE WELCOME

I was charged with a great responsibility. The other day at McDonald’s, two people were refused the new “holiday” pies, even though they had them in stock, because “we can’t give them out until we sell all the pumpkin pies.” My mission, did I decide to accept it, was to eat up those pumpkin pies. Success has crowned my efforts as of today. You’re welcome.

NO, I DID NOT EAT THEM ALL IN ONE SITTING.

Speaking of eating, I saw on the news where Owensboro police officers are waiting on people at restaurants for charity. I remembered that Evansville PD sometimes does that. Therefore, Nick, I command you to tell me when this opportunity next comes up. What fun we two could have! And by “we,” I mean me.

ASTROLOGY ’76

“Adventurous You” for Cancer: “You like to have delicious treasures–especially antique necklaces, rings in a secret trove only you know exists.” In your mind, one presumes.

Fashion for Cancer: “The home-loving you relaxes in navy velvet jeans with the tightest of t-shirts (no bra, natch), with the logo of your favorite perfume emblazoned across the breasts.” One hopes your favorite perfume isn’t Tom Ford’s Facking Fabulous. Yes, that is a real thing, yes, it is spelled out on the label, “u” and all, and no, I don’t know why I won’t spell it out, as if someone’s going to tell me I can’t cuss on the Internet.

Hidden Desire for Sagittarius: “To be made love to while astride a magnificent black stallion, back to front and front to back, in a moonlit forest.” Yeah, nothing could go wrong there. If it’s even possible. Back to front, front to back…I’m confused.

TIME MARCHES ON

So I haven’t posted since, gulp, November? I actually began this one a couple weeks ago and have added to it several times. Because the best way to get something done is to wander back to it intermittently. Apparently nothing short of Nick pointing a taser at me will motivate me. But wait…

TREXA COMES TO THE RESCUE!

…with this story, available only here, until someone posts a picture of it on what is known as the Internet.

Trexa, driving on the Northeast Side, spotted a dead raccoon, notable mainly for its feet sticking up in the air. Coming back by several days later, she saw that someone had tied a helium balloon to its wrist saying GET WELL SOON! I love this sort of thing. (“We know,” they say. “You were the one at work who’d say, ‘That dead bug sure is big! Let’s put it in someone’s mailbox!’ To which I respond, I never actually did that..because there was always someone else willing to take my suggestions. And it was the mailbox of The Nemesis. I’m not proud of it, but there it is.) And for those of you wondering, Why hasn’t it been picked up yet?, that would be because no one has called it in. Animal Control does not go patrolling for dead animals, being too busy tending to abused and neglected living ones.

DISGUSTING NEW-PRODUCT NEWS

I walked by the skincare aisle at CVS, and had to turn back, thinking, Surely I did not just see the word “Snail” on a package. Yes, it was “Organic Snail Gel” for “Healthy-Aging.” (Need I mention that no hyphen was required there? Yet there it was.) Snails are, of course, known for their youthful energy. The actual ingredient list said it contained “Snail Secretion Filtrate.” Well, as long as it’s filtered. And organic. And–EW EW EW THEY’RE PUTTING SNAIL SLIME IN COSMETICS.

Yeah, I should have broken this into several smaller posts to keep myself on a regular posting schedule. I’m not proud of it, but there it is.

 

 

 

True Confessions

{Note: There was originally a line here that I edited out, and I can’t figure out how to make the white space go away, so I substituted this line in its place. Carry on.} {Yeah, I know this is more than one line, but I care insufficiently to do anything about it. Proceed.}

“YOU’RE NOT AUTISTIC, YOU’RE JUST ECCENTRIC!”

On the Anonymously Autistic blog, where I’ve been loitering lately, I found the official diagnostic definition here. (<== Look! Did you see that? I made a link! My first ever! This Blog School is turning out to be worthwhile after all! Maybe I better restrain my enthusiasm until I publish this and see if it actually works.) Leaving aside the obsessive way in which I carefully checked off each of the listed attributes and rated them for level of severity, I think I can put your doubts to rest with two simple observations:

  1. I rock back and forth when I listen to music. They call this “self-soothing” behavior, which I originally took issue with, thinking, “How would I feel if I didn’t do it? Oh–nervous and twitchy. OK.”
  2. As I walk along {“I wonder what went wrong, with our love, the love that was so strong…” Sorry. Too much listening to music.}, I often recite sequential lists of dates. I will not bore you with how these dates are selected.
  3. OK, make that 3 observations: I have difficulty recognizing people’s faces if I encounter them outside of their accustomed settings–colleagues outside of work, parishioners outside of church, Nick pretty much everywhere, etc. (I worked with that poor thing IN THE SAME ROOM, ON THE SAME SHIFT, FOR A YEAR–or so he claims–and don’t remember it.) My husband is the only exception. So if you run into me at Walgreen’s, or follow me down the street in your vehicle hoping to give me a ride, expect a blank stare initially. The only way to avoid that is to live with me for years. No, I’m not inviting you to move in.

Where the “high-functioning” thing (or maybe just “maturity”) comes in is, I’ve learned to not display my weirder traits in public, and I’ve also mastered Life Skills 101 (although I’m not sure about Life Skills 201). For example, not knowing how to dress properly got me in trouble at 3 different jobs. Since there were no dress codes to tell me exactly how to proceed, I just wore what I did when I wasn’t working. Back then, that involved lots of see-through shirts, halter tops, and black goth-y stuff that hadn’t yet become fashionable. So one supervisor told me, “Just because there’s no dress code doesn’t mean you can wear whatever you want.” See, I’d thought that was exactly what it meant. The “obvious” alternative–looking around to see what other employees were wearing–simply never occurred to me. How did I eventually discover that tactic? I read it in an article. Combine that sort of thing with my belief that making sustained eye contact with anyone will turn me to stone, and you can see why employers used to edge me out as soon as they could figure a way that wouldn’t involve paying me unemployment benefits.

Along with Life Skills, a structured and/or familiar environment helps a great deal, so I know just what to expect. I also have various Rules, so I don’t take forever to make decisions like, Where should I sit on this bus? What color underwear should I put on today? (Although I actually make those particular decisions in the reverse order from the way I just listed them.) (You know, it JUST OCCURRED TO ME that I could solve that one problem by just buying all-white underwear. You learn something new every day!)

Also, here (again from Anonymously Autistic) is an example of how one can “build” small talk “from the ground up,” so to speak.

Well, that was somewhat embarrassing, but I’ll live. Enough about me and why I’m weird. I’ve already dawdled over this post for too long, afflicted with “but what if they don’t want to read about my problems?” Well, if you don’t want to read about my problems, YOU’RE IN THE WRONG PLACE.

WHAT OTHER PROBLEMS DO I HAVE?

I have scratchy glitter on me from carrying Christmas packages. This is not optimum.

BUT LEST YOU THINK ALL I DO IS COMPLAIN…

I’m happy because I discovered rose-scented Vaseline for my lips.

AND, IN THIS SAD AND DESPERATE WORLD, I NOW HAVE A HERO!

“Real-Life Grinch Caught On Video Stabbing Inflatable Snowman.” Yes, Yes, YES!!!

 

 

Actual Witch, No Costume Needed

HALLOWEEN REPORT

Just my usual, orange skull t-shirt (the black one bit the dust last year because I mysteriously got a chocolate stain on it), too much makeup (Onyx eyeshadow and Currant lipstick), and my witchy hair, which is sunbleached and too reddish by now to be scary. Unlike my eyebrows, variously characterized as “like Frida Kahlo” and “like a serial killer.”

TRICK-OR-TREATERS AT MY HOUSE

–a wizard and Pikachu. Unknown in what universe these two would coexist.

–a ninja and a knight. Or whatever has a silver knight helmet and a red scarf over its face, I don’t know.

–a man and his son who apparently dressed up as each other. I was drunk by then, so I’m not sure. And I was distracted by the fact that the grown man also had a trick-or-treat bag, so he could get as much candy as his son.

What I’m getting at here is, I ended up eating most of the Kit-Kats myself.

IN OTHER KIT-KAT-RELATED NEWS…

Bet you never thought you’d read those words!

I read a story on Facebook in which a man left a Kit-Kat in the drink cup in his car. He came back to his parked vehicle and found the Kit-Kat gone and a note which read: “I love Kit-Kats, and I tried your door and it was unlocked, so I took it. I didn’t take anything else. I’m sorry, and hungry.” The comments on this story included The Two People Who Comment On Every Internet Story:

  1. “He obviously made this story up just to get his 15 minutes of fame,”
  2. and, “How can all you people think this is funny? What’s funny about a hungry person reduced to stealing a candy bar?

CRISIS IN PROGRESS–THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING

“Caller said his neighbor threatened him with a crossbow. Other party also called and said the original caller threatened him with a golf club.” You know what they say about bringing a golf club to a crossbow fight.

MORE COMPLAINING ABOUT STUFF

There is now a spring-loaded glitter bomb. I am opposed to glitter because I don’t like texture. Everything should be smooth and soft.

AND STILL MORE

I clicked on the wrong thing and deleted my entire post. This is rewritten from memory, so if it doesn’t meet your expectations, that’s my excuse. Now my hand hurts from typing. (You know, the one I slammed on the concrete back in May.) Life is hard.

 

 

I’m Writing This Under Duress

No, I’m not on a ridealong with Nick (the ultimate form of duress). I was given a sharp rebuke for not posting by someone who, as a Stephen King fan, is the likeliest to kidnap me and force me to write something. So, to avoid the whole pain thing, here is…

well, something. Something uncoordinated, due to the amount of alcohol consumed. Are you tired of hearing about how drunk I am yet? I thought so.

Redd’s Wicked Mango Ale is the perfect alcoholic beverage. I will accept no argument on this point.

Even I cannot necessarily avoid clicking on Facebook news items, ESPECIALLY when they feature…

“WOMAN ARRESTED FOR RIDING A MOTORIZED CART THROUGH WALMART, DRINKING WINE AND EATING A WHOLE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN WHILE ON METH.” She is living the life the rest of us can only dream of.

“ARTIST KNOWN FOR COMBINING BRIGHT COLORS WITH SOLID SHAPES DIES AT THE AGE OF 92.” You know, I could combine bright colors with solid shapes. I did that when I was 4. Why am I not famous?

There was one other news item I meant to feature; can anyone tell me what it is so I don’t have to go back and check? No? What good are you?

Makeup advertising display at Walgreens–“Wild Is a State of Plan.” A. No, it isn’t (except maybe for Nick, and the only cosmetic he needs is tactical Chap Stick), B. English no language speak?

 

Day 30: Merely This and Nothing More

BEST HEADLINE

“Couple Arrested For Drugs Had Sex On Floor Of Bank.” How could you improve on that? It has it all. Including betrayal–he told the police the drugs were all hers.

MILDLY AMUSING ADVENTURES

The sun was very bright, which turned my glasses very dark. I looked at myself in the bathroom at McDonald’s with my dark glasses and red (technically Currant) lipstick, and thought, This is the coolest I’ll ever look. Lest you think I was overly cool, I got home and almost dropped my glasses in the toilet–as it was flushing. I found out I could juggle.

Remember the woman who responded “Shut up” to her son’s childish questions? She was on the bus again today. Apparently “shut up” is her default dialogue–this time she said it when he asked about the Boy Scouts and their Christmas-tree activities. She then told her two daughters to shut up, but that was understandable, as they were engaged in a debate about which one was touching the other, and who started it.

S.G.’S 30 POST, 5/11/13: Genius Has Side Effects

I intended to use this as a motto of sorts, but apparently decided I’m less of a genius than I thought I was.

 

I Got a Head Full Of Ideas That Are Driving Me Insane

…the title one of which I stole from Bob Dylan, but I’m guessing he can’t copyright ideas driving you insane.

A SIGN OF THE END TIMES

Remember when I told you about the mascara designed to clump up on your lashes, so you look like, well, someone with clumpy mascara? Well, this month’s InStyle magazine has a manicure with deliberately chipped-looking nail polish. “The manicurist applies the color in a jagged pattern a little short of the nail tips, to get the chipped effect.” Really? You can wear it with your clumping mascara, and be sure to add that hair-styling product that makes your hair look unwashed. Or, better yet, just don’t wash your hair and use dry shampoo to soak up the oil–I actually see that recommended frequently, so the shampoo doesn’t fade your dye job. Next they’ll be saying don’t shower, just use baby wipes. And then the end will come.

WHY DID I CLICK ON IT? WHY, WHY, WHY? (why?)

From Mental Floss–“What Happens To Your Body After Death.” No, I’m not telling you.

AND NOW, WHAT EVERYBODY IS SUPPOSEDLY WAITING FOR

–Do you feel teased yet, Nick? (“Do you feel tased yet?,” he answers grimly.)

When last we saw our hero, he was flying (literally) to the scene of a fire. I ran in that direction in a panic (not literally, of course–I don’t panic). I could just see myself getting in trouble, because a trained and equipped beast is an expensive piece of police department property (although less expensive than a police helicopter). Luckily, it was easy to keep him in sight, and follow him to the house in question. Flames were shooting through the roof.

An onlooker saw him and pointed at the sky. “Is that a–”

“Yes,” I said.

“I’ve heard about those,” the man said dreamily. “But to actually see one in flight–magnificent!” The sun flashed off Nick’s dazzling-white underside as he circled slowly in the air. (He’s assured me he can actually hover while airborne, but I don’t take his word for things.) Then, having sized up the situation, he lowered his head, and dove straight for the fire.

A horrible thought flashed through my mind–in his endless quest to breathe fire, Nick was going to actually inhale the flames! Desperately, I raised my voice and called to him, but there was no sign he’d heard.

“My dog!” The woman’s scream startled me. She pointed to the burning house. A little dog stood trembling on the porch. It looked at its owner, then looked back. It headed toward her, then panicked at all the strangers gathering, and turned, trotting back to the house. And then yelped as Nick’s jaws closed on it.

I started toward him, but he leaped into the air again, his wings fanning the flames, the dog still carefully clasped in his mouth. He had cleared the roof and was ascending steadily, and then the roof fell in, sending a shower of sparks skyward which hit his wing–the only part that’s not armor-plated.

To his everlasting credit, he managed to glide down safely, and set the small dog on the ground beside its owner, before collapsing. I could see an actual hole in his wing, with smoke curling up around it.

He was trying to say something. I leaned closer–thinking at the same time, How stupid am I? He’s in pain, he’ll probably bite my head off!–and he said, “I don’t want…to breathe fire…any more.”

 

 

 

 

 

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