Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: politics

I’ve Always Been a Spider

candy machine jar

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You gotta love a spider vending machine, right?

MISHEARD COMMERCIALS

Similar to misheard song lyrics, only, well, you get the idea.

–For, I think, some TV streaming service: “Relax, put on your comfy pants…” sounds like “put on your puppy pants.”

==For a metastatic breast cancer medication: “I’m a fighter. Always have been.” I invariably hear this as, “I’m a spider. Always have been.” This raises two objections:

–If you were, indeed, a spider, breast cancer, metastatic or otherwise, would probably not be among your concerns. And,

–Haven’t all spiders always been spiders? Unless you don’t want to count the time they spent as eggs. And then you get into the philosophical/ethical controversy about whether spider life begins at conception or at hatching.

CURRENT FAVORITE COMMERCIAL

The McDonald’s one–“Gimme that fish! Gimme that Filet-O-Fish!” I find it creepily compelling. I do not, by the way, refer to said item as Filet-O-Fish when ordering. I refer to it as a fish sandwich, and encourage you to do the same. I also encourage you not to get tartar sauce, which is only mayonnaise with boogers in it. And, note to Hardee’s–Why do you think a fish sandwich should have lettuce on it? Of course, lettuce is pretty much pointless on any sandwich.

OBSERVATION AT WALGREENS

The amount of St Patrick’s Day merchandise is equivalent to the amount of New Year’s Eve merchandise. It falls into the in-case-somebody-cares category.

MORE CAMPAIGN PROMISES

I will abolish Daylight Savings Time, and make the Eastern/Central time zone dividing line the Indiana/Ohio border again. Or the Indiana/Illinois border. Something easy to remember. Of course, this may all be academic, since, if I become President, time as we know it will cease to exist.

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Mardi Gras at McDonald’s

baking blueberry breakfast delicious

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Since Mardi Gras is called Pancake Tuesday in, I think, England, I went to McDonald’s to have some. But the real Mardi Gras King today was undoubtedly the person who left their cardboard crown from Burger King under the bus seat today, amidst a pile of scattered candy.

I am wearing my two strands of Mardi Gras beads. Disclaimer (since Nick always fantasizes about some risque explanation): I found one on the sidewalk by the bus stop after the Mardi Gras parade had gone by one year, and the other was awarded me for eating at Hacienda after my dentist appointment another year, since my dentist’s office is across the street from them. Because my life is exciting.

I AM THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL NOT SHUT UP

Since I am a declared presidential candidate (no Launching an Exploratory Committee for me!), I am as entitled to pontificate as any of the others. I will never stop reminding you that–

–Mexico was going to pay for the wall, hence, no need to keep asking us to do it, and

–the tax cuts to individuals given in tax “reform” will expire, the ones for corporations will not.

Perhaps I will state those two things at the end of every post, like Cicero’s “Carthago delenda est.” (“And by the way, Carthage must be destroyed.”)

And if you say, “But you’re not a serious candidate!”–I’m not a serious anything.

Well, I had a couple World Leader Edicts in mind, to keep in practice for when I win the election. I was even sitting on the bus thinking, I’ve got to write a blog post just to get these on the record. Now that the time has come, I cannot remember a single one. And I haven’t even started my Mardi Gras drinking.

ON ANOTHER NOTE

There is no segue for this, so I won’t even try. We are mourning the loss of my mother-in-law, Amazing Grace. I’m glad I got to see her at her 90th birthday party in January. It’s funny how the little things can affect you–I just remembered, No more birthday and anniversary cards from her, and teared up a bit. Her funeral will be tomorrow, which is, as it happens, Ash Wednesday. Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

 

 

Fun With Public Transportation

white bus on road near cliff

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Well, not as much fun as this picture depicts.

Rom said, “You’re lucky your blog isn’t famous, because those people on the bus would beat you up.” Luckily, I’m in no danger of fame.

A woman today interrupted the guy who was talking to her to say, “You gotta hear this, this is hilarious–the other day on the radio, Billy Bob and Tom {I believe it’s just Bob and Tom} were talking about how they don’t make cars the way they used to. They said now you have to plug them in and they don’t go very far.” Um, that’s not hilarious. And why is it silly that you have to recharge electric cars? You have to put gas in other cars, or they don’t go very far. We haven’t invented a perpetual motion machine, although Cat Glamour when Rom’s trying to brush her comes pretty close.

FUN WITH TV COMMERCIALS

“You shouldn’t use a product that treats your butt like a joke.” Well, I doubt I’d like someone who took their butt too seriously.

“My hiney’s clean! I’m Charmin’ clean!” is bad enough, but now they follow it up with, “Also try our new moist towelettes,” or whatever they call those things. Wait. Aren’t you implying that one’s hiney is not, in fact, clean, if a second product is required afterward? I suppose they could take refuge in the legal definition of Charmin clean. They add to their grossness by showing you a demonstration of someone wiping synthetic excrement off their…arm. It’s like the old joke…”What’s the difference between toilet paper and a shower curtain?” “I don’t know, what?” “Well, I’m not inviting you over to my house.”

I think my current least favorite is the mouthwash one where they show you a bunch of gross mouths and say why they’re gross–“Garlic breath! Dry-mouth breath! Morning breath!”

CAMPAIGN DISCLOSURE

As regards my presidential campaign:

–My advertising budget is zero.

–I am not releasing my tax returns because finding them would involve getting up.

 

 

 

 

Hard Promises

i voted sticker lot

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In all the excitement of perfume sampling and such, I forgot that I’m running for President! (After all, I have to have a signature scent by Election Day.)

I guess by now it’s time for more specifics:

CAMPAIGN PROMISES

  1. I will not make any speeches while it’s snowing.
  2. I understand that insisting on my own way is not “negotiating.” However, I will probably insist on my own way anyway.
  3. Twitter is icky and I will not use it, nor read it if you do use it.
  4. I will not tell you Mexico is going to pay for something, then turn around and try to make you pay for it.
  5. I will not say “On Monday I’m going to announce I’m running for President.” That is an announcement. No one is fooled.
  6. When reporters ask me what I’m going to do about something, I will not say, “You’ll see,” or “You’ll find out on Wednesday.”
  7. In the course of debates, I will not use the “You’re another one!” tactic, also known as, “No puppet! You’re the puppet!”
  8. In fact, I will not appear in debates. I will submit a list of written answers. Hey, it seems to be working so far.
  9. I will not do anything to my hair to make myself more electable.
  10. I might buy clothes to make myself more electable, because I’m always looking for an excuse to buy more clothes.
  11. I will need “executive time” to listen to music. This will never be country music. “WE WANT THE WORLD AND WE WANT IT NOW!!” Now we’ve got it and we don’t know what to do with it.

 

The Hissing of Summer Lawns: Niki de Saint Phalle

nature animal green lizard

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When Niki de Saint Phalle perfume was recommended to me as one of my dusky scents, I was eager to try it. How could I not be? The bottle is blue glass (favorite color!) with colorful snakes on it, and I have a cobra tattoo on my arm! Plus, it was released in 1987, the year Rom and I got married! How could I not love it? As it turns out, I didn’t, but it is an interesting scent, and definitely unique.

Niki de Saint Phalle was an artist and sculptor, and designed the snake-trimmed bottle for her fragrance. The scent is a combination of many unusual notes–pine, grapefruit, marigold, geranium–and thus smells hissingly green and spiky. It’s a bit too acerbic for my taste, even though I love green scents. But what fascinates me is the picture it evokes–that of a garden in late summer, when the only flowers still blooming in the blazing sun are, you guessed it, marigolds and geraniums. Dry, hot, and pungent. It would be the perfect scent if you love the scent of marigolds. But I don’t.

(Correction: It turns out that NdSP was created in 1982. 1987 is when I first heard of it.)

PART II, NO SEGUE ATTEMPTED

My current least-favorite commercials:

–“My hiney’s clean! I’m Charmin’ clean!” Yeah, it’s OK to show something’s butt if it’s a cartoon. If we learned nothing else from South Park…

–and the mouthwash commercial that shows a bunch of people’s gross mouths and the problems they have–Dry mouth! Garlic mouth! Cotton mouth! Stop showing me this! It’s not even a cartoon! Come to think of it, we did go from end to end here.

Speaking of which, now that “Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea!” has been done in country and soul formats, we need a rock version.

‘WHOA, WE’RE HALFWAY THERE, WHOA-OH, GIBBON AND ECLAIR!’

Yes, the quotation marks above are incorrect. This will come out in hearings after I am President.

You know you’re sitting near a nerd when you hear the sentence, “They just rebooted their entire mythos.”

Speaking of nerds, a nerd on the bus solved a thorny theological problem–“God could have created evolution!” I’ve been saying this for years. Well, not on the bus.

Mmmm…Mitsouko by Guerlain

clouds countryside dawn dusk

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Mitsouko haunts me. This is the only perfume that brought tears to my eyes the first time I smelled it, and the only one I wear in my dreams. (I dream about shopping for others, but if I apply perfume in a dream, it’s always Mitsouko.)

Part of its spell for me is obvious–its basic building blocks of peach, rose, and oakmoss are my favorite notes. But Mitsy is so much more than the sum of its parts, and in a way that’s hard to explain. It’s like faith–if you understand it, no explanation is necessary, and if you don’t, no explanation is possible. It was created in 1919, and thus qualifies as unfashionable now, yet it transcends fashion. It smells like peaches, roses, and forest floor, but liking all those smells doesn’t guarantee you’ll like it. It smells intensely autumnal, but is glorious on a summer day (especially in the dampness which is such a hallmark of the climate here). It’s an introverted scent with its dusky woodsiness, yet it’s dramatic. Maybe melodramatic. Introverted yet intense.

It’s not a crowd-pleaser in this “Eww, someone’s wearing perfume” era. But it’s a masterpiece nevertheless, and ever the more.

IN NON-OLFACTORY-WORK-OF-ART-RELATED NEWS…

On pumpkin-pie box at McDonald’s–“Packed with all the flavor it could possibly hold.” Well, isn’t that true of everything? Apparently not, since one of their meal combos was described as “Just the right amount of yum.” Because yum isn’t something you want too much of.

I am in postage-stamp heaven. Currently available are–not only rose stamps but DRAGON stamps! (“Who uses stamps anymore?” Nick yawns, but he is just out-of-sorts because his picture is not on any of them. Also because I haven’t made him my running mate yet.)

HOW TO PROTECT THEM FROM THEMSELVES?

Cat Esmerelda fell off the top of the door, leaving claw marks on the way down.

Cat Glamour will eat any bits of kitty litter scattered on the floor.

This seems to me emblematic of our current political situation.

VOTE FOR ME. I’M THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL MAKE ALL THESE POLITICAL ADS STOP.

Creepy and Eerie: Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist

black and white gray grey smooth

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Continuing our exploration of misty fragrances in general, and iris perfumes in particular, how could we omit one named Iris Silver Mist?

Serge Lutens may be the most esteemed genius perfumer currently working. His scents are considered works of art, but they are often compared to pictures you admire in a museum, but wouldn’t necessarily want hanging in your home. ISM is no exception.

Various reviewers have said that Iris Silver Mist should be worn by:

  1. Cathy’s ghost in Wuthering Heights
  2. a Star Wars stormtrooper
  3. a Terminator cyborg
  4. a character in Frank Herbert’s Dune
  5. the White Witch of Narnia
  6. various Harry Potter characters–a. Dumbledore, b. a Dementor, or c. Lord Voldemort himself (yes, Nick, I said his name)

So you can see that this perfume takes a lot of living up to.

Most reviewers say that it smells like roots and dirt in the opening. I don’t get that, probably because I’m not a gardener. What I get is a well-blended but spare mix of iris, incense, and sandalwood, cold and extremely austere. I love it, but the thing about it is, well, the strange effect it has on my emotions. An effect I find hard to explain.

OK, the analogy just occurred to me. It’s like Clive Barker’s writing. Barker is a horror writer beyond compare, and I own a lot of his stuff, but I don’t think I’ve read any of it more than once. It just creeps me out too much. The stuff in it is utterly implausible (and Barker himself doesn’t actually believe in any of that occult nonsense), but I feel like if I read it too much, I would believe in it. And then I’d go insane.

How could a perfume, as coldly beautiful as it is, have a similar effect? Who knows? I just know that Iris Silver Mist is the opposite of a comfort scent for me–a discomfort scent, if you will. It makes me nervous. It’s what my evil twin would wear. Fittingly, Rom hates it more than any other perfume I’ve tried. He literally ran out the door the first time he smelled it.

Let’s stop talking about it now, shall we?

STUFF OTHER THAN IRIS SILVER MIST

Taco John’s has finally removed their one wobbly table with the two (2) wobbly chairs. Yes, I know this because I without-fail always picked that one to sit at.

Ad at Taco John’s–“Potato Ole’s. Call them crispy, golden slices of heaven.” OK, if you insist.

Another ad (yes, Taco John’s is all I did today, other than buy some body wash, after a lengthy discussion of the coupon policies of CVS)–“Upgrade your drink to medium or large, scan the code on the cup, and enter to win food, Cabela’s gear, or a Yellowstone adventure trip!” Hint: if the Cabela’s gear I hope to win (not that I will, having no smartphone to scan with) is just clothes, I’m not the right candidate for a Yellowstone adventure trip. Or any other adventure trip, really. OK, or any adventure whatsoever.

EXCEPT, OF COURSE…

…the adventure that is the Presidency! Vote for me! I’m the Outsider! And yet a Radical Centrist, at the same time! How do I manage it?

 

 

 

The Ultimate Fashion Felony

The photo feature is not working, and I know not why. Of course, I’m not working either.

N-E-WAY….It was bound to happen eventually. You know how I feel about leggings as pants. Well, now there is something fashionable called “lampshading.” You avoid the whole leggings issue by, well, avoiding leggings. You just wear a long shirt over, I guess, nothing. Of course, you could have slipped some tiny shorts under there, but the point is to look like you’re wearing a shirt and no pants. Why you would want to look like that, I don’t know, but Jennifer Lopez and some other person whose famous name I can’t remember were photographed like that, which means you’re supposed to want to. WHY MUST EVERYONE DEFY ME?

My thanks to the person who discovered the blog through Perfume Posse. I intend to review ISM next, but I’m hoping the photo feature will work for me by then.

RADICAL CENTRISM IN ACTION

Remember to vote for me in 2020! I’m the Outsider! The all-purpose write-in candidate! Sure, I don’t know how to govern, but unlike the current incumbent, I’ll consult my advisers!

Take the immigration issue, for example. I don’t know how I’d reform the nation’s immigration laws (oh, wait, that’s Congress’ job–whew!), but I do know:

—These people are not “undocumented immigrants.” They are here ILLEGALLY. It’s not just a matter of they have the wrong piece of paper, or they left it at home.

–On the other hand, they are human beings, not defined solely by their immigration status, so they should not just be referred to as “illegals.”

See how easy that was?

 

 

 

Evansville Is Invaded

adult arrival beard boss

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I have it on good authority that 911 dispatch received a “strict dress code” on 2nd shift yesterday for Donald Trump’s visit. Did they really think he’d stop by? I was itching to ask my source (well, they weren’t just “my” source) exactly what the dress code was, but “Send it to me so I can make fun of it” didn’t seem like a tactful request. (But if you do, I will.)

I did, however, run into the Assistant Director of Dispatch at Walgreen’s (a reader since this miserable thing first started as e-mail in 1990!), and she informed me that there were two (2) designated dispatchers, one for the motorcade and one for the venue itself. This is overtime I’d have snapped up, in my best chinos and polo shirt (my “uniform” whenever I was Representing the Department). It would be interesting to find out how much of the job I’ve retained, but not interesting enough to risk people’s lives for it.

Instead of exciting 911 stuff, I will now regale you with…

MY DEALINGS WITH MY CELL PROVIDER

  1. Log onto their website to find out why I can’t post pictures to Facebook.
  2. See an ad for upgrading my phone for $20 off. I was planning to do so anyway, so I agreed.
  3.  (the computer or WordPress or somebody is automatically numbering and indenting these things; how cool is that?) New phone arrives.
  4. Call to get service “swapped,” as they call it, to new device. Am told this will take anywhere from half an hour to 3 days.
  5. It doesn’t happen, but, instead, says “Error 02.”
  6. Call back, get a different person, who says the original person (who acted like it was, not her first day on the job, but maybe her first week) hadn’t really made this happen.
  7. Put process in motion. All goes well, until it says “Error 09.”
  8. Still another person tells me “Error 09” means no one actually knows what the problem is, and I should turn it off, then turn it back on. (I should have guessed this, from my very first experience with computers, with Fire Department training in the late 80’s.)
  9. New phone is fine, until I call my voicemail, and am told “We are unable to authenticate your voicemail.” Give up out of weariness.
  10. Call voicemail again later in the day, and it works fine and pretends nothing has happened.
  11. Check the mail today, and they have sent me yet another phone which I didn’t ask for.
  12.  Call and speak to a 4th person, who says they will send me a mailing label to send the superfluous phone back.
  13. How do I get it to stop numbering stuff now?
  14. I will tell you how the whole return-label thing goes. (“Oh, please do,” Nick says, making me itch to slap him.)

OK, apparently you just need to hit the return key twice. Would you rather hear about how my latest doctor’s visit went?

SPEAKING OF DRESS CODES…

BUT ACTUALLY, I’M SNEAKING IN MY DOCTOR’S VISIT ANYWAY!

As Trexa and I were waiting for the elevator, the guy who was waiting for it with us was wearing a t-shirt that said, “I Like My Butt Rubbed and My Pork Pulled,” and justified this with a picture of barbecue.

My doctor’s visit involved discussing an embarrassing solution for my embarrassing problem–but at least there IS a solution! Let’s see if I can refrain from telling you about it.

Trexa and I saw a woman who’d pulled off at Claremont & Dreier (where other drivers can’t see you until you’re almost on them) so she could squeeze a zit on her chin.

 

 

My Resolve To Remain Unpopular

blur breakfast close up dairy product

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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.)

 

 

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