Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: perfume

Violets In Powdered Sugar: Attar Bazaar African Violet

purple hydrangeas

Photo by K B on Pexels.com

First off, HURRAY for a free photo service even I can navigate!

In case you couldn’t read the suddenly-tiny print in the last post (no, I wasn’t trying to sneak the information in–apparently cutting-and-pasting song lyrics off Google is not as clever an idea as I thought it was), I’m going to include the occasional perfume review. And if anyone has a perfume-related question (“I want a perfume that smells like X” or “I can’t find my favorite scent anymore, now what?”), please ask. Fragrance is one of my “special interests,” as we say in the autism biz. (“Obsession” sounds so judgmental, doesn’t it?) (No, I did not intend a pun on the perfume name Obsession.) I suppose this knowledge can now expand to fill the space once occupied by NCIC codes and NIMS definitions.

I’ve always wanted a “signature scent”–“me in a bottle,” what could be more romantic? Sure, also self-absorbed, but in a romantic way! Frustrated by my inability to find something that fit both my personality and preferences, I turned to my husband for help. Rom, of course, knows me better than anyone. It could be argued that he knows me better than I know myself. (It would be argued, in fact. We tend to be argumentative.) He said I should smell like “cool, misty dusk in an interesting place.” (Could he be more romantic?) I asked the fragrance fans at MakeupAlley for help, and they said this mood was best achieved by notes of violet, iris, sandalwood, oakmoss, powder, and/or incense. They recommended 13 specific perfumes, the first of which we deal with today.

Attar Bazaar was started in 1980, and they offer inexpensive perfume oils, mostly in an Oriental vein (incense, patchouli, woods, resins). But they do have a few florals, hence African Violet.

I find AV a bit screechy when first applied–violet is a high-pitched note to begin with, so the beginning is a little shrill. It quickly settles, though, into a candied sweetness that makes me think, not of violets with sugar crystals, but violets dredged in powdered sugar. There’s a creaminess to it, a velvety softness. I detect no other notes (unless you want to call sugar a note)–no leafy green notes, no woods–just the violet flowers themselves. So if you are a violet purist and just want the sweet stuff, I recommend this. Also, there are not many violet scents in an oil formulation, so if you prefer that to an alcohol-based scent, definitely check this one out. For my own purposes, I found it a bit too sweet.

By the way, my reviews are based on samples I paid for myself, and I am not paid for reviews. Of course, I’m not paid for anything else on here, either.

Now let’s move on to…

WORLD EMOJI DAY? REALLY?

“Facebook salutes the tiny symbols that have changed the way we communicate.” Yeah, I guess. And I’m wondering how long it will be before texting eliminates punctuation. It’s already made it uncool, in the same way that paying for stuff with actual cash is uncool.

 

 

 

 

Telling People Why They’re Wrong

…a service we’ve (OK, I’ve) provided for over 5 years.

CRITICIZING THE LYRICS OF MICK JAGGER

Sure, he’s written world-famous lyrics, but I CANNOT BE STOPPED.

–“She was more than beautiful

Closer to ethereal

With a kind of down-to-earth flavor”

You can’t be both ethereal and down-to-earth. They are opposites.

But I take issue with every verse of “Fool To Cry,” my second-to-least-favorite Stones song. (My very least-favorite is “Emotional Rescue,” which is so bad it embarrasses me to hear it.)

OK, in the first verse, his daughter sits on his knee and says, “Daddy, you’re a fool to cry.” Any child young enough to sit on her father’s lap does not have the worldly wisdom to make a remark like that.

In the second verse, we learn that he has a woman who “lives in a poor part of town.” She, too, advises him that he’s a fool to cry. (Actin’ the fool, as it were.) WHY IS YOUR WOMAN STILL LIVING IN A POOR PART OF TOWN? YOU’RE A RICH ROCK STAR. BUY HER A MANSION. Or marry her and move her into your mansion. That would be more cost-effective.

In the third verse, even his friends state that he’s a fool to cry. I find it hard to believe that Mick Jagger’s friends give him philosophical advice. Mick Jagger’s friends say things like,

“Hey, what’s the matter, man?
We’re gonna come around at twelve
With some Puerto Rican girls that’re just dyin’ to meet you
We’re gonna bring a case of wine
Hey, let’s go mess and fool around
You know, like we used to”
In case you think I do nothing but complain, my favorite Stones songs are “Paint It Black,” followed by “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” I was born in a cross-fire hurricane, after all.
ROCK AND ROLL WILL NEVER DIE
…is wishful thinking, just like “Big bands will come back.” Nevertheless (and ever the more), I have a new Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt. It only has the band’s logo on it, not the name. The other day, the bus driver looked at my shirt and said, “Hawkwind?” No, but good guess.
MORE ADVERTISING ABOMINATIONS
Triscuits are trying to get you to just call them “‘–scuits.” Resist them. Also, “so you can Meijer any way you want” is to be avoided. Sure, it tells you how to pronounce it, but that could be accomplished without turning it into a verb.
A FINAL WARNING
S.G. will start sporadically featuring PERFUME REVIEWS. No, no one was saying, “World Leader, can’t you please include perfume reviews?” (Although I know that a few of you would be interested.) Yes, I should probably start a second blog for that purpose. No, I’m not going to actually do so. Partly because I’m too lazy and incompetent to manage more than one blog, and partly because I don’t plan to do this regularly. I’m not a collector, just a person on a signature-scent quest that seems to be lifelong.
I actually have been doing this informally for some time. In the unlikely event you want to read my reviews of a variety of cosmetic products, check out

MakeupAlley, where I have posted as Snakeskin, Wyrmiax, and, currently, CobraRose.

Cat Esmerelda thinks I have spent enough time writing this, and need to attend to her strange and varied needs.

 

I Remembered To Show Up

…belatedly.

OBSERVATIONAL HUMOR

…is what Rom says this is.

Brought to you courtesy of Nick, who showed up at my door on my birthday with a gift bag full of apple ale clenched in his teeth, before flying away. The bag was black and had scratchy glitter on it. I suspect this was deliberate. Have you noticed that such bags always have the scratchy glitter on one side, but are smooth on the other side, so that glitter doesn’t rub off on your clothes? Why do I always have to touch the glitter anyway, even though it makes me shudder?

I have had 2 cans of ale (my normal dose), which makes me want to spend money on something self-indulgent. Last year it was green-and-white gingham shorts, but I resisted the temptation. (I love green-and-white gingham, and plaid with a black background. These prints give me a feeling of security. They’re like the opposite of the Baby Corn and the Union Suit. Anyone remember those? Check the posts under Conspiracy News for more info.)Now am tempted by some Keds in Iris Shimmer, and an Almond Cucumber perfume sample, even though I tried the AC perfume before and it didn’t work for me. Almond and cucumber are my comfort notes (kind of like the Magic Prints noted above), so I keep thinking, But it has to work! Sometimes perfume just refuses to cooperate.

OK, I hit some key that keeps deleting stuff I didn’t intend, and I don’t know what I hit, so I can’t correct it, and that is why the above paragraph is incorrectly punctuated.

SONG LYRIC ANALYSIS–MOODY BLUES

“Schoolwork, one and one is two

But you know that now that’s just not true”

Yes, it is true. Your ingestion of LSD does not affect its veracity.

AND THE DOORS

Rom says that “When the Music’s Over–turn out the lights” makes him think, “turnip delight.” You’re welcome. I hope I can forget that before I listen to it again.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Alien Finger, which is celebrating by being stiff and sore, which I suppose is appropriate. I keep reading about people who dislocate a finger, pop it right back in, and it’s good as new. What’s their secret? Youth, probably.

Today is Pentecost, which makes me think, “Here he comes to save the day! That means the Paraclete is on his way!”

Long ago, my cousin Becky (hurray for Facebook and cousin Linda, who helped me discover cousins on the Forbidden Side of the family!) asked me, “Do you miss working?” After long thought, I can say I sometimes miss having a job (a Purpose in Life and all that, though I never thought of 911 as that purpose), but I don’t miss having that job. As I think every time I go by Dispatch on the bus and think, Glad I’m not answering phones in there.

IT HAS TO BE CLASSY, IT HAS CARPET–TACO JOHN’S

I visited this fine establishment on Cinco de Mayo. Since it was Saturday, I had church, and couldn’t go to Hacienda and have a strawberry daiquiri, which would have been the logical thing to do. Although people might have been drunk at St Boniface Church before.

Taco John’s has been around since 1969, although Rom can’t remember it the year he graduated from high school. The identity of Taco John is mysterious. I imagine him being kind of like Johnny Appleseed.

TJ’s is the only carpeted fast-food place I know of. Like the Women’s Hospital, the addition of carpet adds a certain cachet. It’s almost like you’re at home, except that someone cut into your abdomen. At the hospital, I mean, not at Taco John’s.

My softshell taco was very good, especially since the clever person who assembled it added a tuck-and-fold technique that meant I didn’t have to balance it carefully to keep everything from falling out the end. That must have been a Cinco de Mayo special, though, since it has fallen out the end every other time I’ve been there.

Ah, Potato Ole’s. The old Mexican classic of disc-shaped Tater Tots sprinkled with Lawry’s seasoned salt. Cinco de Mayo marked the first time I have ever finished an order. And if you put cheese on them, you are gilding the lily. And if you put bacon bits, donut bites, icing, and chocolate on them and EAT THEM FOR DESSERT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

TJ’s has a senior discount of 10%. I forgot to add discount information when I wrote about Taco Bell, but that was because I got 10% off there once, and the next time I requested it, the manager said they didn’t have a discount. Maybe I just looked too young.

LEGGINGS AS PANTS UPDATE

I am actually not against leggings as a lower half, as long as you wear a butt-covering top. But today I saw a woman who did wear a butt-covering top, but then knotted it up in the back, because she got dressed and thought, “Oh no! Now no one can see my butt!”

Speaking of entities trying to defy me, the roses in my yard, which normally bloom in mid-May, burst into glorious bloom simultaneously on THE DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY.

Spellcheck thinks “donut” is not a word. I don’t know what to tell it.

WordPress has an icon in the corner that says “Stress-Free Writing Experience.” I have to find out what that might be, but I am too stressed-out at the moment. As is Alien Finger.

 

 

It’s Not Easy Being Dead

I just liked that from the previous post. Yes! I can cannibalize even from the immediately previous post! Speaking of the previous post…

OTHER NON-REASONS I WEAR PERFUME

I don’t wear it in place of soap and deodorant. So much for those who say, “I don’t need perfume–shower. This isn’t the old days when we didn’t have soap.”

I don’t wear it to seduce anyone. As in, “You shouldn’t try to be sexy at the office, so why would you wear perfume to work?”

I wear it because it smells good (to me–other people might disagree, but I might disagree with their choice of leggings as pants), and because a great perfume is a work of art.

YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF…

Overheard on the bus:

“I told my son, ‘You better put that trash out before you go to bed tonight.’ So when I saw he went to bed and it wasn’t done, I took it and dumped it over him. He woke up and said, ‘You dumped it on me!’ and I said, ‘Yeah, I needed room to put more in.'” To be charitable, let’s assume that she was speaking about a wastepaper basket, not the garbage can in the kitchen. One hates to think what would happen if he hadn’t cleaned the litter box.

UNWANTED RESTAURANT REVIEW–TACO BELL

You thought I’d given up doing these, didn’t you? Since I only did the one of McDonald’s, and that was like a year ago, in fast-food time.

I’m sorry to say this about Rom’s favorite fast-food place, but I seldom go to Taco Bell. My infrequent desires for Mexican food are better met by Taco John’s, right down the street. (Taco Bell vs. John’s is a Chevy-vs.-Ford sort of controversy in these parts, and equally unresolved.) But I mean to cover all the places on St Joe between Maryland and Franklin (that allow me to eat on the premises, that is, which may cut out the pizza places), so it must be included.

I had, as I think I said once before on here, actually been avoiding TB entirely since the time they completely forgot about my order–even though I was right there on the premises waiting for it. I tend to resent places that give priority to the drive-through over the counter, since I, of course, am always at the counter.

A BRIEF ANNOUNCEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU BY MY EXPERIENCE AT  MCDONALDS YESTERDAY: WHY WOULD YOU ORDER MCDONALDS FROM YOUR SMARTPHONE WHEN YOU ARE ALREADY STANDING AT THEIR COUNTER?! HUH?

Where were we? Right, at Taco Bell, across the street from McDonald’s.

Anyway, they had no problem remembering my presence this time. The sign outside said, “Need money? Taco to us about a job that’s nachos yet!” so perhaps there had been an employee shakeup. Although the other sign that said, “Work at your happy place!” might have taken it a bit far.

Unfortunately, this time they weren’t playing their 70’s rock soundtrack. What they were playing was so forgettable that I forgot it.

One problem I’ve had with Taco Bell is their lack of side dishes, unless you’re into nachos, which I’m not. So I was pleased to discover their Mexican rice, which I had with a soft taco. The latter was eerily similar to the same item at Taco John’s, except for Taco Bell-style ground beef, which is, as I’ve noted, inferior. However, both items were entirely adequate. So now I have a menu plan for those times when everyone else in my group wants Taco Bell. Which would really only happen in the mid-70’s, with 7 of us stuffed into a VW bug with a bottle of Boone’s Farm wine. As the old joke goes:

Officer to a driver at a DUI checkpoint:

“I’ll have to give you a field sobriety test.”

“OK.”

“Now text your ex.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Wanna go get Taco Bell?”

“No, I’m good.”

“OK, you’re free to go.”

Restroom review: Atomic-powered toilet that wants to shoot you to the stars when you flush, and no place to put your stuff while you wash your hands.

Yes, this review is less than enthusiastic, but I warned you going in.

I PUT OFF PAYING MY UTILITY BILL SO I COULD TELL YOU THIS

Why is there all this extra writing on the back of the envelope? Besides the usual “Manage your account online.” It reads:

Step 1) Write your Vectren Energy Delivery account number on check.” {I refuse to do this. They have my name and a piece of paper with my account number already on it in the envelope. Besides, no one needs a 19-digit account number.}

Step 2) Place stamp on return envelope and ensure your address is visible through the film window. {I resist the temptation to ensure both of these things are upside-down.}

Step 3) Mail payment at least 5 business days prior to due date to ensure timely delivery.

Step 4) {which is actually in boldface type because this is what they’re really getting at} Avoid steps 1-3 next time by creating an online account and paying your bill online!

Your cheery exclamation point does not deceive me. It’s easy to make anything seem like an unbearable chore if you write it that way. I can do it myself:

PAYING YOUR BILL ONLINE

Step 1) Attempt to remember username. What combination of your names/initials did you use?

Step 2) Attempt to remember password. Get told that your password–

a.) must include letters, numbers, and a “special character”

1.) mutter, “But I am a ‘special character’!”

b. cannot be the same as a password you’ve used in the past 3 months

Step 3) Click on “Forgot password?”

Step 4) Get asked your mother’s maiden name. Try to remember whether you used all-caps, all lower-case, or a combination of the two.

Step 5) Prove you’re not a robot. {And, in the final analysis, can any of us prove that?}

Step 6) Ask for a second chance to prove you’re not a robot, since you could not read the first chance any better than a robot could.

Step 7) Finally access bill-payment screen.

Step 8) Make sure your information matches what they already have on file.

Step 9) Click on “Pay Now.”

Step 10) Get advised to “Print a copy for your records.”

Step 11) Tell them, “I shouldn’t need to do that, because the whole point of doing it this way is supposedly to avoid paper.”

Sure, you will now say, “You’re presenting the worst-case scenario!” but I assure you, at best it involves 3 steps, just like doing it not online. The real point is that they want you to do it online because it saves them money, because they don’t have to pay someone to enter it into their computer system, because you just did it for them.

And if anyone wants to hire me to write stuff on the back of envelopes, meet me at McDonald’s.

 

 

 

Dreaming is Free

…to quote Blondie. Speaking of which, the song “Rip Her To Shreds” always reminds me of Nikki the Tragically Hip. I can just picture her being in a band and singing that.

WordPress is inviting me to attend a “Word Camp” near me. That sounds scary. Luckily, “near me” is defined loosely.

YOU KNOW THE PEOPLE IN THE BOOTH BEHIND YOU AT MCDONALD’S ARE NERDS WHEN:

First topic of conversation: What you should trade your PS4 in for. The fact that you should trade in your PS4 was not open to question. (Note: I only know what a PS4 is because of South Park.)

Second topic: “I think Cambridge Analytica should be in trouble, not Facebook.” (Note: Spell-check says “analytica” is not a word, and I agree.)

Third: “The only reason they had so many Ewoks was because they couldn’t put in that many Wookies, because of the expense for the costumes.” (Note: I have never seen a Star Wars movie.)

YOU KNOW YOU’RE MILDLY INTOXICATED WHEN:

I’m sitting here feeling daring because I’m wearing a tank top. Yeah, it’s 56 degrees, but I’m inside.

I REITERATE MY YEARLY PROMISE THAT IF SOMEONE BUYS ME A FORD MUSTANG FOR MY BIRTHDAY, I WILL LEARN TO DRIVE.

PRODUCT REPORT

Seen at CVS–fake succulents. Just grow some facking succulents! It isn’t hard.

And…”Sour Neon Night Crawlers.” As you know, Sour Neon Crawlers is the name of my imaginary band. “Night Crawlers” would be a good name for our second album. People would know what the band was about by then, and we could just stand there on the cover wearing leather and looking ironic.

DREAMING IS FREE

I dreamed that I was about to die, and they told me, “We have technology now that can bring you back to life, but only for 24 hours, and you can only do it once. You’ll need to wear makeup, because you’ll still look kind of greenish, and you’ll have to wear perfume, because you’ll still smell just a little bit like a dead body.” I chose Avon Timeless, because I thought an old-timey scent would be a witty touch. I’m sure Avon would be flattered. And how did I spend my precious 24 hours? At a party with my former co-workers, and I insisted on telling everyone, “You know, I’m actually dead,” and then feeling hurt because they all looked horrified and backed away from me. It’s not easy being dead.

No, I do not wear perfume because I’m trying to cover up the smell of a dead body.

 

 

 

Day 27: I’m Not There

I dreamed I had my retirement party on the back lot of a bar, on a warm sunny day. Lesa drove me there, and RaBecca gave me a redneck t-shirt, with the sleeves cut off, and the hem slashed into ribbons as far as the law allows. Nick had to work 2nd shift that day. He said he would stop by if he could, but questioned the wisdom of showing up at a bar in uniform. And I wore Mitsouko perfume. I could smell it, just like I could see the sun and hear the music of the bar band. See, I can do party planning in my sleep! Unlike Nick, who can’t do party planning in my sleep–if he couldn’t be bothered to take the day off, maybe he shouldn’t have been invited.

 CRISIS WORTHY OF THE NAME

A screaming female wanted to make an official report (which, like many people, she thought she could do merely by calling 911 and screaming “Oh my God!” intermittently) because the officer who pulled her over had gotten fingerprints all over her car window. She forgot to add that she had closed her window on his fingers.

I won Employee of the Day by saying, “Ma’am, your breast size is irrelevant” on the phone. I also attracted comment for my Raspberry nail polish, a rather startling shade of pink.

S.G.’S 27TH POST, 5/7/13: It’s Good to Have Fans

–Someone reported a board lying in the middle of the highway, and she thought it might have a nail in it!

–Nick said I was “spreading a web of terror,” and someone said they loved me because I used the word “dystopian” in the post.

The Sin of Sloth in Action

…it sounds like a contradiction in terms, but I have made it come to pass.

The other day a man gave me his seat on the bus. I congratulated myself on my devastating femininity. Then I realized I was sitting under a sign saying ‘PLEASE OFFER THESE SEATS TO THE ELDERLY OR PERSONS WITH DISABILITIES.”

RETURNING TO OUR TITLE TOPIC…

One of my Numerous and Aggressive In-Laws, Sister Catherine, posted a video made by a teenage boy, demonstrating how his mother freaks out while getting the house ready for guests. (No, I can’t link to it; you should realize that by now.) The resemblance to my in-laws was, in fact, eerie, complete with dialogue like, “If you kids haven’t made your beds by now, throw them out! It’s too late!…No one should think we sit!!…I need a bird feeder at every window!…Somebody stick seashells on all the doorknobs!”

It’s not exactly like that at our house, even though I’m married to Sister Catherine’s brother. The only holiday we are responsible for is July 4th, because our house is so small that we can’t entertain when it’s cold and people can’t overflow into the yard. (Digression: commercial for WFIE weather: “Sometimes cold weather isn’t pleasant.” Sometimes?) Here, at any rate, is how clean up for guests. I’m counting on everyone forgetting I said all this by July 4th.

BATHROOM: Remember that Rom said he’d take care of it. Breathe sigh of relief.

HALL: Surely a hall doesn’t need cleaning? Note dust on baseboards. Resent its presence. Reflect on the need to do something about the hall closet so I can actually locate something when I need it. Then realize I don’t even remember exactly what’s in there anymore.

BEDROOM: Remove obvious dead leaves from large houseplant. Cat Esmerelda strolls in, hoping I’m doing something interesting, realizes yet again that it’s something boring, leaves. Cat Glamour resents that I’m removing the things she most likes to noisily eat on Sunday mornings when I’m trying to sleep because I have to get up early for church. Dust all the stuff on my chest of drawers. Wish I had less stuff. Note that Ez’s toy mouse is on the floor again, toss it up on top of my clothes chest (yes, I have two chests full of clothes, plus one closet) where it belongs. Realize there are spiders under the table with the houseplant on it, resolve to finish the rest of the job at some hour when spiders are less likely to be active.

MY ROOM (office? study? den? lair? guest bedroom, although it has no bed and rarely contains guests?): Become dismayed by all the books I own that I haven’t read in years or at all. Discover that there are silverfish behind some of them. Decide that taking them all out and dusting behind them would take too long, and no one’s likely to look closely at them anyway. Dust bric-a-brac, wonder about the derivation of the term bric-a-brac. Light scented candle, get paranoid about leaving it unattended, as all candle labels warn you not to do. Note profusion of perfume samples, resolve to find my signature scent, as I have been trying to do since 1969.

LIVING ROOM: Another large houseplant with dead leaves. This one exudes droplets of sticky fluid that won’t wash off. Weigh merits of taking everything off the coffee table first or just dusting around it all. Decide there’s no time for the former option because I put all this off until July 3rd anyway. Dust every small decorative item on the shelves, curse each one individually. Remember that I actually alphabetized my CD’s this year, proving that I can finish something that I start. Worry about the younger generation thinking, “You still have CD’s?”

KITCHEN: Attack kitchen table, to make room for large quantities of food. Discover that the stack of magazines next to my place at the table contains the Walgreen’s ad from six weeks ago. Peruse it and attempt to determine the frequency with which items I need go on sale, taking a long-term view. Note that Secret Romantic Rose deodorant is featured in the illustration, feel reassured that it hasn’t been discontinued. Discover there is cat hair on the table legs, become irate because vertical surfaces shouldn’t need dusting, because of gravity.

I can’t remember who it was who said our housekeeping resembles the Addams Family’s, but there you have it. The weird thing is that I am actually capable of laser-like focus (capable of it? more like, incapable of anything else), under the right circumstances. “Right circumstances” = “something I want to do.”

SPEAKING OF CREEPY AND KOOKY…

After vowing that he would never do it, “for the sake of my sanity,” Nick looked in my window–“to my everlasting horror,” he said. What horrifying thing was I doing? Reading the Bible. I knew he was coming by, to pick up some table scraps we’d decided to toss him, but since he hadn’t texted me yet, I wasn’t expecting him right then. So there came a furtive tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door, and I am pleased to report I didn’t jump. Because I’m not the nervous, twitchy type.

CELEBRITY-BAITING

This blog still gets intermittently investigated by people who Google Halle Berry, just because I did one post long ago that mentioned her. So…HALLE BERRY HALLE BERRY HALLE BERRY. That’ll triple my readership!

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