Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: insects

Domination, Donald Trump, Donuts

bread food sandwich wood

Photo by Steyn Viljoen on

…is not what this post is about, but a list of my frequently-used tags (do I write a lot about those things? really?) on the side of my page showed them, and the juxtaposition amused me. Like my music collection, in which “Catholic Communion Classics” is next to “More Cowbell.”

Disclaimer: Nick paid for this post with dinner and a movie, and is, I’m sure, already fretting because his name is not in the title. He will have to settle for a subtitle:


And not even a very good subtitle.

Nick may think that he can change from his human to his beast-shape at will, but that actually occurs only when will it, which does not always work to his advantage. So it was in the form of a man that he came to pick me up Sunday evening. I had invited myself along to see The Big Lebowski, his favorite movie, basically because I wanted to know what the big deal was. And Nick was too much of a gentleman to say, “No, you can’t come, you’ll spoil the mood.”

Our dinner party also consisted of Nick’s wife J. (I’d add her middle initial, but I don’t know it), their children Thing One and Thing Two, and Nick’s friend Officer A. B. Nick’s wife was eight months and three weeks pregnant with Thing Three, and I kept thinking, What if she goes into labor right here? Well, there are two police officers here, I guess they’d know what to do. Actually, most men know more about childbirth than I do.

If J. had gone into labor, it would be because there were two birthday parties going on at Hacienda that night, and employees are required to come to the table and clap and sing, and they were VERY LOUD. I was about ready to run out the door myself.

Nick, whose idea of a good time apparently involves trying to make me eat food I dislike, kept asking me why I don’t like salsa, to the point of insisting that this post include the explanation. I don’t know why, since I told him why right then and there. It’s because it looks like vomit. This also applies to gazpacho (I once actually saw someone vomit into gazpacho, and it looked no different afterwards than it had before), and re-fried beans, which look more like cat vomit. If anyone now feels they’ll never eat any of those again, they can just blame Nick, which is a good policy anyway. I tried dipping my chips into ranch dressing, when that option was made available, but it seemed pointless.

Before the food arrived and gave me something to do (since I don’t talk much), I did the usual social-event self-monitoring–OK, now you’ve looked at that person long enough, it’s time to look at someone else, or they’ll think you’re staring at them. If Nick has the keen peripheral vision he’d like me to think he has, he would have noticed that I did stare at him quite a bit (he was sitting next to me), and assumed I was magnetized by his good looks. I was actually wondering if a light-colored fleck on his cheek was a chip crumb or a gray hair in his beard. Oh well, by now it’s either washed off in the shower, or not. I’ll have to remember to check next time.

Thing Two, The Destroyer of Crayons, got free french fries because his food was late. Thing One, The Gazer at Screens, wasn’t sure this was fair.

Nick protected me from an ant on my plate, even though he had sore fingers from being bitten by a folding chair earlier. See, there is an officer there when you need one. Even if he lost a fight with a folding chair.

J. and the kids went home (because this movie is soooo not suitable for children), and the rest of us headed for the theater.

I didn’t really think I’d like The Big Lebowski, but I actually did. It is dopey, but a lot of intelligence went into its making. Did you know:

–“Directing” Jeff Bridges consisted of him going up to the director before each scene and saying, “Did the Dude burn one before this happens?” Since the answer was usually yes, he would get ready by rubbing his eyes until they were bloodshot.

–A lot of the Dude’s distinctive clothes were actually Bridges’ own. Sure, it all looks like it came from Goodwill, but you know the Dude would be selective about his Goodwill shopping.

–The dream sequences were lit to make them bright and sharp, the Dude’s apartment was made seedy-looking (insofar as a bungalow in Los Angeles can be made so) with grittier lighting, and the bridge between the two was the lighting they used for the L.A. skyline shots, which used the orangey-type streetlights rather than the cold bluish kind. So it, to paraphrase the Dude, tied the look together.

–Walter’s repeated admonitions to Donny to “shut the fack up” was an inside joke about Steve Buscemi’s character in Fargo, who never stopped talking.

Nick and I shared a tub of popcorn (which I hadn’t had since I retired). Once we reached into the tub at the same time and our hands touched. Yikes, cooties!!!!!

Oh, I also liked (most of) the music, especially “Dead Flowers” at the end, although it would have been better by the Stones themselves. So, all in all, thanks be to Nick, who, I am reasonably sure, would not forget to put roses on my grave.


Crisis In Progress Returns

…as had to happen eventually. “Why is my leg bothering me?” I wondered at one point. Oh, right, I have a dog bite. That’s another reason cats are better than dogs–a cat would not run out and bite me because I walked by on the sidewalk while it was standing in the yard.

A co-worker asked a caller, “What is he wearing?” Everyone else in the room yelled, “Khakis!” Such are the times we live in.

“A black truck with flames painted on the front hit a sign.” That’s what they do.

A large black beetle dropped from the ceiling, landed on my console with a combination thud and click which I found highly unsettling, and scuttled away. I can only hope it did not find its way into my backpack.



–From a guy at McDonald’s who looked about 12 years old: “What if I worked at this McDonald’s? Then what would you do?”

–From a gray-haired woman pushing a stroller up Wabash Ave.–“There’s no reason why my psychology grade wouldn’t be an A.”

Seems to be a lot of self-righteousness going around.


I bought quick-dry pants for commutes on rainy days. They are navy blue and have so many pockets that I worry about being mistaken for an officer from the waist down.

AND CONGRATS TO MY COLLEAGUE KMILES, WHO WILL BE RETIRING IN A MONTH! Even though she’s younger and newer than I am.







Day 7: The Search For the Forgotten Title

know I thought of one earlier–what could it be?


“Caller found what appears to be a human limb in the alley.” It turned out to be a deer limb.

“Caller reports seeing a man wearing sunglasses write something that wasn’t in English on a bus stop bench.” She called back to report that he wrote it in red (apparently thinking red would cause a quicker response time than other colors). The responding officer reported, “There was something written on the bench, but I couldn’t read what it was.” Well, of course you couldn’t! It wasn’t in English!


According to Channel 14, the night before Thanksgiving has become “the biggest party night of the year,” which is saying quite a lot. If so, it’s only in the past year, since this is the first I’ve heard of it, and I am a regular consumer of Channel 14 news.

Last night I dreamed my house was overrun by big pinchy bugs. Hey, that would have made a good title!

S.G.’S 7TH POST–3/19/13: Theater of Cruelty with the Infamous Nick

I refer to him as a beast for the first time, but do not elaborate on his bestial qualities. I accuse him of misspelling “abominable,” and he accuses me of patronizing him.

Hey, would any of you pay money to see him and me get drunk? Just a thought. (“And not a good one,” he growls.)


Prodded With a Sharp Stick

The computer says “Suggested Sites: Add New Post–Scratchy Glitter,” so I feel obliged.

Responses are coming in for the Party of a Lifetime~

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”–L.K.

“I feel honored to be invited.”–T.R.

“I wouldn’t dare miss it.”–N.C.

What to wear, what to wear? It must make me look super-cool, yet be comfortable when I’m nervous, yet not be destroyed if I spill my drink on it. Similar to the Fall Festival wardrobe requirements, come to think of it.

–You know that hearing-test kind of noise you get in your ear sometimes? I read that it means that a cell in your ear is dying. At the rate I’ve been having those lately, I will have to retire early due to deafness.

“My name is–WHAT?–my name is–WHO? Slim Shady!”


–“Next time your landlord walks into your apartment naked, you should call the police.”


Her: “My ex-husband has my wedding ring, and the police need to go and take it from him and put it in safekeeping.”

Me: “Ma’am, they can’t do that.”

Her: “But they have to, because it’s got a really bad curse on it.”

The curse turned out to be that anyone who puts it on becomes a serial killer.

Speaking of curses, may one be upon a Certain Person for thinking she could buy Nick’s love (or whatever it is that he feels) with tacos. It can only be bought with chocolate.


“I want the police to make someone leave my apartment.”

“Do they live there?”

“They’ve been…staying here.”

“Then it’s considered their residence, and the police can’t make them leave. They’ll have to be evicted.”

“But they’re not on the lease.” Check!

“Does your landlord know you’ve been letting someone stay there who’s not on the lease?” And Mate! Especially when they realize the landlord is the one who’ll have to file eviction proceedings.

The “They’ve been staying here” argument is similar to the invariable answer to “How do you know the people at this address are doing drugs?” The answer is always, “I just know.”



McDonald’s has trademarked “Mickey D’s.” What’s next, trademarking “Tar-jay”? And speaking of which, how exactly does “Mickey D’s Sweet Tea” differ from just tea that you put sugar in?


“Insights Into the Saliva of the Brown Marmolated Stink Bug.” And why was I googling that? You don’t want to know that, either.





Putting Cornmeal Mush On Cockroaches

Someone, who shall remain nameless because he gets too much attention here already, thought I needed to expand upon the previous post. I actually intended to do so, but it was time to go to bed. OK, it was time to go listen to Tom Petty’s live album.

Someone else expressed a desire for links to the 2 stories referred to. I realize posting links is a basic skill which a blogger could be reasonably expected to have. After all, that’s why we call it the World Wide Web, and not the World Wide Abyss of Unrelated Information and Pointless Bile. But let me just point out that when we got our current software at work in 2003, the instructor assumed that everyone already had a computer at home, and did not realize she’d have to teach me the basics of Windows as well. (She also did not realize that I’d had to put a beloved cat down the night before, and was not in the best condition to absorb new information.) At any rate, let me try this:

..and hope it works for the finished product.

Two things come to mind:

–Does running away from the light at different speeds really constitute a “personality”?

–Someone had to spend their workday (or, more likely, unpaid-intern-day) attaching transmitters to cockroaches.

As for the anti-fungal properties of cornmeal mush when applied to toes, I got the story from the Evansville Courier & Press, and may I just observe that their search function seems to suck, so no link is forthcoming, even theoretically.

One thing comes to mind:

–What’s more gross than toenails with fungus?

–Toenails with fungus and cornmeal mush on them!

The above story is dedicated to A Certain Person, and now everyone will think she has toenail fungus. Probably caused by chronic wearing of Crocs.

Hey, maybe if one applied cockroaches to one’s toes, they’d eat the fungus! Or at least eat the cornmeal mush.

OK, now I’ve grossed myself out and have to go.

I Am a Vampire

..according to a test on the Internet. I’m glad we have the Internet to decide such things for us. I’d been wondering what my nocturnal habits and lust for blood signified.

Nick refused to take this test, “because,” Rom said, “he’s afraid he’ll turn out to be a unicorn.”

“He only said that because I have long eyelashes,” Nick fumes. “I’m not a unicorn, am I?” he asks, laying his scaly head in my lap.

“Unicorns only lay their heads in the laps of virgins,” I assure him.

“Can I have a stinger on the end of my tail?”

“You may not. The barbs are problematic enough.”

“Can I set explosive charges under your porch?”

“I have it on good authority that you’re not allowed to handle explosive materials.” I make a mental note to keep an eye on the porch, though, because he is prone to burrowing.


–that termites eat each other’s poop? In spite of (or perhaps because of) this, they also spend a lot of time cleaning themselves.


Fiona, who, as we know, is three, told Rom that she was attacked by a witch, a shark, a Sharptooth (a/k/a T. Rex), and a big bad wolf, all on the same day. It is unknown at this time whether these attacks occurred simultaneously or sequentially.

Sign on empty lot: “Will Build to Suit.” I’m tempted to call the number and say, “You’ll build to suit? I’d like a trapezoid, painted bright blue.”

The house at the bus stop closest to my house has been TP’d. It’s the worst job of TPing I have ever seen. Two lackluster strands hang from the two trees, and then they gave up and just piled the rest of it on the lawn. Considering that these people never clean litter out of their yard, it will be interesting to observe how long it takes toilet paper to biodegrade in a natural setting.

“Can I TP your house?” Nick asks. Sigh.

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