Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: Cosmetics

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.”

 

 

 

 

 

A Clean Bill of Health

Forgot to mention–during my ordeal, Ez stuck her head in the bathroom door to check on me–then immediately withdrew. Which goes to show that an animal’s love is not, in fact, unconditional.

I am in a good mood, because I will not have to drink that stuff for another 10 years, and I might be dead by then. Not only did it taste like the devil’s attempt at 7-Up, it had the consistency of spit.

As a souvenir, I have a big grape-colored bruise on my arm, due to difficulties getting the IV started. I should have known when the woman doing it said, “You know, I really appreciate it when it acts like it’s supposed to.” Which means that it either acted like it was supposed to, or it didn’t. At any rate, it will be 3/4 sleeves for me for the foreseeable future, because it looks like I tried to inject drugs, but was incompetent. Which I probably would be if I did. Today I wanted to wear one of my rose-print sweaters, and had 3 color choices with the desired sleeve length. “Multi Floral”–nope, too multi-colored, might match a bruise on the arm too well.  Black and blue print–not even to be considered. I settled on “Coral Bliss with Bavarian Cream,” which is probably the most overwrought color name Lands End has yet come up with.

WORLD LEADER REMINDER

Halloween decorations are not allowed to go up until October.

Speaking of the season it ’tis (I say redundantly), at Walgreens they have a life-sized witch statue, which startles me every time I go in. For one thing, she’s almost exactly my height. (Nick, do not breathe one word. Not a single word, understand?) As happens every year, I had to restrain myself from spending 99 cents (because they think we won’t notice that that’s basically $1) on a black silk rose with my choice of red, purple, or silver glitter, because what would I do with that? Stick it in my mailbox at work? Speaking of self-restraint, I was enticed by a display of Disney Villains makeup. Now I don’t need more makeup, but who could resist eyeshadows with color names like Dungeon and Scream of Fright? (“Not you, certainly,” says Nick, laying his hand on his taser, as he so often does when he’s in uniform in my presence. He must be easily frightened.) I will probably be kept from purchasing these by a dilemma–I have a sentimental attachment to Maleficent, because I had a Sleeping Beauty book as a kid, when the Disney movie first came out…but the colors in the Evil-Queen-from-Snow-White palette would actually look better with my coloring. Yes, the villainess from Snow White doesn’t have a name–they just call her Evil Queen. If I were an evil queen, I’d do something about that.

Speaking of evil, I was pleased to note that, for the first time, the concept of the Evil Clown is really taking off this year.

(Disclaimer: Unlike all other bloggers on the face of the earth, I have not been able to figure out how to negotiate a lucrative tie-in, so Walgreen’s is not, in fact, giving me a lifetime supply of Halloween decorations in exchange for this post. Even though there is a creepy spider living in my bathroom. And even though when Rom took his pack down from the hook,  70+ stink bugs came trooping out like the passengers in a clown car. An evil clown car.) 

Be Very Quiet

…shhhh….no one has been here since the 22nd. I myself haven’t been here for 2 weeks, although it seems like a lot longer. I guess blog time isn’t the same as time on the outside.

THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

I have decided to self-identify as a writer. In spite of the fact that I only posted twice last month, and haven’t had anything published for money since 1995 (for a publication with a stated circulation of 200), and hadn’t had anything published before then since the early 80’s. Yes, I have been in government service since 1978. But I feel I have the brain of a writer, not to mention the wardrobe of one, so I expect everyone to refer to me as one from now on. {Disclaimer: I stole this idea from the Lucky Old Man, although his version of it is less charmless and peevish than this one.} 

DREAMS DIE HARD

My supervisor has recently reminded us that we can have one ridealong a year! But I would feel disloyal to Nick if I went with someone else, and aren’t you sorry you’re on third shift now, Nick? And that I’m not? More than one person has assured me that I would be ill-advised to go with him. Just look at him–lazing in the sun, rolling on his back, hoping the dazzling splendor of his snowy underparts will distract me from the wealth of claws and teeth he possesses.

FOOLISH PRODUCTS THEY HOPE WE’LL BUY DEPT.

First it was mascara designed to make you look like you’re wearing false lashes. But, because that wasn’t stupid enough, they have now come up with, I kid you not, mascara that creates a “sexy tangled look.” By which they mean, clumpy mascara. Yes, we’re now supposed to strive for that. Don’t take my word for it–go see it at CVS. They have an illustration and everything.

GOOD PRODUCT NEWS!

The convenience store at Claremont & Ray Becker now has fried chicken!

Time to pay a bill and go to bed.

 

Irony Infinite Reverb

Did you know that being ironically aware that you’re a cliche is itself a cliche?

But enough whining. Time for Complaining About Others! A woman on the bus was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Tuesday: It’s Just WTF.”

Objection the First: Why have that kind of attitude about what is, after all, a day in your all-too-temporary earthly life?

Objection the Second: It was, in fact, Wednesday. Reminds me of a friend I had who wore day-of-the-week underwear, but on the wrong days. You know, edgy, ironic, etc. How often do you get to say, “Hey, did you know my underwear is ironic?” (See, Gen X, you didn’t invent the concept.) (Of irony, I mean, not underwear.) (“But, World Leader,” they say, “weren’t you really troubled by the wrongness of her not using the day-of-the-week underwear as it was intended?” To which I say, Shut up.)

Speaking of irony, I just watched Letterman’s last show. Did you know my generation is retiring all around me? And people keep asking me, “So when are you going to retire?” (“Come to usss….”) Retire? I haven’t even become what I want to be when I grow up yet!

And speaking of being older than plastic (YES, I explained that in a previous post, WHY DO YOU KEEP BOTHERING ME?), I looked up when McDonald’s senior discounts kick in, and turns out it’s 55. I’VE BEEN ELIGIBLE FOR 5 YEARS!! And they can’t give me the time back.

Speaking of previous posts, a couple points about my party I forgot to mention last time:

1. A couple people mentioned my youthful complexion, and no, I am not making that up. I give all the credit to Paula’s Choice skincare. No, I didn’t start using it because of the name, although it is a bonus that all my cosmetics have my name on them. And no, I get no remuneration from them, because I wouldn’t know how to go about requesting it.

2. Nick took his life (and, more importantly, pride) in his hands and HUGGED me at the party. No one got bitten or scratched (in spite of what might reasonably be expected). Luckily, since he was in the thick of things (so to speak), he was unable to sneak a picture of the event and no one else did either, so I could have just made this up for all you know.

I was asked why the blog isn’t illustrated. That would be because I don’t know how.

%d bloggers like this: