Tough Love

We’ve all been there.  Sometimes you just have to give someone a pep talk, send them out there in the rough and tumble world and see what happens.  You don’t always have time for special needs.  Or you just can’t remember who needs to dry flat, who can only handle delicate situations, or who has to always be care flighted out to the dry cleaners.  You can’t always keep up with all that nonsense.

Sure you baby them all when they are new.  What is it you need?  Don’t you worry your pretty little head.  I will always follow your washing instructions to… the… letter.  I promise.  But then one day you are in a hurry.  Clean clothes must be had by all.  You quickly divide them up into darks, whites and reds and say, 

“Listen up!  Here’s how it’s going to be.  We are washing the real way.  Warm water with soap, all together.  Stop whining!  You can do this.  You’ve been around long enough now.  If you don’t grow up and be real laundry do you know where you will end up??  Laundry Heaven is where.  That’s right.  Only the boldest and the bravest survive around here.  Go forth!!  Make me proud!!"

Perfumery Gone Wrong

 

I often find myself walking past someone who quite nearly knocks me out with his or her intense noxious fumes.  Fumes they put on themselves on purpose amazingly enough!  Perfume and Cologne can be wonderful things, but they can be tricky to get just right.  So I thought I would review two basic Scent Facts for the world or just the three people who read this.  But maybe you three can pass the word around.

Okay.  Rule number one:  Make sure it doesn’t stink.  Yes, yes I know you may love it to bits and pieces but that doesn’t mean the rest of us do.  And surely you aren’t wearing it just for yourself and to get everyone else out of your way.  If so, stop reading now.  For the rest of you, take an independent poll.  That means trustworthy strangers.  And don’t go asking your husband because if he has been around any length of time he knows not to tell you anything negative regarding yourself.  Remember that time two years after you were married that you freaked out because he said the dress you had on looked “kind of like a psych ward nurse?”  Well he remembers and has vowed not to repeat the mistake, understandably.  And don’t ask your best friends either because they’ve been putting up with your stink for years so they’d be way too embarrassed to admit what they think now.  They’ll just lie and say you smell divine.  Useless information. 

You go to the perfume counter and act like you are testing perfumes, one of them yours, and ask strangers what they think of it.  Good or bad, this process will get you your answer lickity split.  If you see noses turning up and mock retching you’ll know to toss your bottle.

Rule number two:  One squirt.  Yes really!  Only one.  Your smell should absolutely not walk into a room before you do.  Nor should it remain in the room after you’ve gone.  The problem we get into is that as the years go by your brain and your nose get accustomed to the smell.  They say to themselves, “We know this smell.  She knows this smell.  We are not going to bother telling her about it.  We need to save that brain space for telling her where she parked her car at the mall so she does not walk around for 30 minutes looking for it like an idiot.”  So you see, the scent the perfume emits has not diminished over the years as you may think.  You just don’t smell it anymore.  One squirt, please.

And men, these rules apply to you as well.  For instance if you are trying to attract the ladies, you only want a very faint whiff of yumminess to peak their interest.  You do not want them running out of the room for fresh air at first opportunity.  I’m sure you will agree that this would be quite counter-productive.

Just remember, one squirt ….of something that actually smells good.  Thank you.

Mom Pants

I got called A Mom today.  Yes, I know I am a mom and absolutely love being a mom.  I just don't want that to be the first thing that pops into someone's head when they see me out in public without my kids.  You know?

Let me explain.  My tiny car overheated.  It had actually told me something like "Stop immediately!  This car is crazy dangerous hot!"  When I took my temporarily-cooled car into the dealership later to get the needed repairs, I met Josh.

Josh is a well-meaning, eager new Service Ambassador or whatever they call themselves these days.  He is at least 25 years old.  He asked me all the car questions and then he said in his talking-to-a-woman-about-cars voice "I'm really glad you brought the car in.  You made the right decision.  This is a very big deal and we want to take care of this for you.  I definitely wouldn't want MY mom out there driving her car in this condition.”

Yes he did.

After that all I heard was blah blah blaaaah blaaaah....

I felt a physical pain similar to a blow to the gut.  I believe I even grabbed my stomach with both arms.

This 25 year old had referenced his MOTHER when talking about me.  His mother.  I am 38.  To be his mother I would have been giving birth to little Josh when I was 13.

When I was finally standing fully upright I looked myself over really good to figure things out.  I was holding my tiny just-a-wallet purse, not my everything-anyone-could-possibly-need suitcase.  My hair wasn't too frazzled looking.  Then I realized... It must be the Capri pants!  The hip, youthful looking crowd never wear Capri pants.  Of course! These are obviously Mom Pants.  And it is a shame because I do like them and think they look cute, but I will no longer be in denial. They are Mom Pants. 

And it worked.  I went back to the dealership to pick up my car in my long lean jeans and my Service Ambassador did not once think of his mother....or at least that's what I told myself.

 

 

Owl's Lust

Owl's Lust is the name of my latest red nail polish.  Really marketing people?  Owl's are known for their lustiness?  I could understand Rabbit's Lust because they are famous for their insatiable procreativness.  Even Kitty's Lust.  We all know they multiply almost as quickly as the rabbits. Very lusty those guys.  But owls?  Owl's just sit there looking ....watching ....occasionally hunting and eating a small victim.  Kind of creepy actually.

I'm thinking they must just be running low on catchy names.  It's got to be a tough job to come up with new names all the time for:
"Red"
"Pink"
"Slightly darker than the last Red we made"
"The same Pink as five years ago but we are renaming it so you'll think it's Brand New!"
"Hey, we mixed Red with Purple."
"Look! There's *glitter* in this one."

I see through it all, but I still read the names.  I still buy them.  No one else knows I'm wearing "Baby Bonnet Lace" one week .....and "Hooker's Cleavage" the next.  It all just depends on my mood.

Go ask the woman in your life what color she's wearing.  That may actually be the secret code for understanding her.  And it was spelled out for you all along, right there on her toes.

PRETZELS?!

I was just in the store scoping out the Halloween candy and I noticed the sneaky pretzels sitting there amongst the candy as if they belonged.  They had their cheerful orange and black seasonal disguise, but underneath it all was the same tasteless crunchy snack as the rest of the year.  People don’t be fooled.  Do not buy pretzels for Halloween.  Pretzels have nothing to do with Halloween.  They are like a slap in the face to the adorable little cherubs that come knocking on your door looking for sweetness.

And I know!  Some of you are against dental decay or you do not wish to promote illnesses brought on today’s society by obesity.  All I have to say to that is go inside and turn off your porch light.  

If you are still not convinced, know this.  Your pretzels will be weeded out on the first go round.  They won’t even be in the last remaining just-okay candy left in the bottom of the bag. This is how it works.  The first time the kid dumps out his loot on the living room floor, the parents look at it and make a trash pile.  And in the trash pile the parents put things like opened candy wrappers, candy suspected of containing razor blades or needles, no-name candy they have never seen before and have no idea where it came from and imagine it to have been hand made by some meth dealer starting early on his next victims ......and the kids will throw in your pretzels.

Go buy some real candy.

iMammogram

I hate mammograms.  I really do.  Maybe I’m the extra sensitive sort, but they hurt!  And it’s cold in there!  In this freezing cold room you have to wait in your little half tablecloth that is open in the front and not really closed anywhere, to get the bloody hell squeezed out of two of your most tender parts.  Brutal I tell you!

Last month I begrudgingly had it done with much whining to friends and family.  It was all the reminders on Facebook that finally did it.  The ones like “My friends who were only 32 and 35 DIED of breast cancer.  Go get your mammograms!” and “Don’t leave your children behind!  Get your mammograms ladies!”

So I finally said to my flaming conscience, “For crying out loud!  Fine!  I’ll do it!  Just stop the depressing reminders already!”  I dug out my Mammogram letter.  The one that said, “Your mammogram is due immediately.  Schedule a day in January immediately.” (And yes it did actually say Immediately twice.  See how pushy these people are?)  I got it done in September, only 9 months late.

But I was thinking wouldn’t it be nice if you could just take your own picture and send it in?  Like an email attachment?  That would be awesome.  All we need is an app on the iphone with X-Ray abilities, right?  So this is how it would work.  In the comfort and privacy of your own warm home, you take your iphone and someone else’s iphone (Preferably someone like a husband, boyfriend, or very close friend who doesn’t mind your breast being literally all over their phone.) You turn the app on, smash your breast in between the phones and push the buttons.  Of course depending on the size of said breasts you might have to do this several times.  And for particularly breast-gifted women, the iPad app might be preferable.  As soon as you push the buttons the image would be saved to your photo album.  From here it would be easily sent off in an email to your radiologist or doctor of choice.  How amazing would that be?!

So get crackin’ you app developer people.  And as soon as you perfect this technology, you can start working on iSonogram.  Just think!  Facetime with your unborn baby for the traveling parent!!  Genius!!

"Automatic" Paper Towels

The word Automatic implies that one might have access to paper towels easily! instantly! without thought! in mass quantity!

No. It means you  must do a little dance, waving your hands over, under, to the front and sides of the fickle dispenser. Rub its belly. Ask it how its feeling. Tell it you appreciate it. Do a step back if it doesn't work so the machine can get all unconfused and reset itself. All this to maybe MAYBE get three inches of paper towel. This little scrap might dry off a couple fingers, but most people have more than that.  So you have to do the dance all over again, maybe three or four times, while a couple of people behind you are waiting in line having finished their dance at the automatic faucet and managed to spray their whole bodies in the process with an incorrect guess at the preset water pressure. They are in for five or six dances at the paper towel dispenser, minimum. Poor things.

My theory is that we've gotten too clever.  We've maybe gone up to the top of Clever and should have stayed put. Enjoyed the view. But not knowing when to stop we sometimes roll down the other side to a very frustrating  ......Unclever.