Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: roses

Day 5: Quantity, Not Quality

Be advised that I did not promise a minimum length of post. Attempts to refer to a mythical “spirit of the law” will be disregarded just as I disregard the “spirit of Vatican II.”

Sunday was that wonderful first day when it’s 25 degrees and you walk out, look around, and think, “Oh, look! Everything died!” Except the little pink bouquet from our wedding rosebush (given to us as a wedding gift–the variety was actually introduced that year, in ’87–so cool!) which Rom collects and brings in every year.

I neglected to say that the old post I dealt with yesterday was the first to mention a certain Nick, who should need no introduction, but is insisting on getting one anyway. Of course, he had not been transformed into a beast at that point. It will be interesting to see when the metamorphosis occurs.

S.G. POST #5, 2/28/13: Crisis in Progress/FanBase Follies/Mildly Amusing Adventures TRIFECTA

–I exulted in my fan mail, including someone who wanted to know why I wasn’t a columnist for a major national newspaper. That question remains unanswered.

–I noted scratchy/glittery nail polish at Walgreen’s which was called “Almost Famous.” I think my own situation could be better characterized as “Almost Obscure.”

–I told a story about The Entity Now Known As A Certain Person getting humped by a police dog while she was on the air.

OK, I am now on vacation, and you know what that means–DRUNK POSTING! Not just yet, though.

WORDS! WORDS! WORDS! Nick, can I go to bed now?


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.


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.) 

Better Living Through Chemistry


–The piped-in music at McDonald’s was playing “No More Mr. Nice Guy” when I walked in. I don’t often hear Alice Cooper when I’m out and about.

–A sign at the same venue said, “I like my milk dark–like the night.”…attributed to Batman. Yes! Chocolate milk is badass!

–I found some rose-scented deodorant. Wow!


A guy attempted suicide by overdosing on Viagra. I guess you gotta work with what you have on hand.

Bee My Basket Pound

Someone called 911 for a hangnail. Come to think of it, I’ve got an ingrown toenail that should be looked at.


–Can we have an adult holiday for once? None of this “Grandson, Bee My Valentine” nonsense. The day should be about chocolates and roses and massage oil. Hey, it’s too cold to come out from under the covers anyway.

–Valentine presents to avoid include: A.) a stuffed bear with a heart on it, and B.) a fake rose from a convenience store. If you find yourself at a convenience store doing your Valentine’s Day shopping, I recommend the giant Reese cup heart. In fact, I’m craving one right now.

–Not to give anyone ideas, but why doesn’t Valentine’s Day include Frosty the Snowman? The weather is the same.

–A lottery ticket is a good addition to a pre-existing gift, but never give a lottery ticket as the only gift. Because the odds are that they’ll get…nothing.

I don’t think they do it anymore, but I used to enjoy reading the Valentine classified ads in the paper, and laughing at people’s pet names for each other, which were, of course, sillier than the ones Rom and I employ. I was struck in particular by how many couples stated, “You’re my Basket Pound.” I had no idea this was a common endearment. For that matter, what the hell does it mean? A basset hound for the illiterate?


sulled-up (derivation: Rom, via his northern Florida relatives): sullen, surly, as in, “You don’t have to get all sulled-up about it.”


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