An Ode to Erica

I'm shocked. I have recently learned that honest-to-God human beings have viewed this little blog!

No Lie.

Here is one of them!

Her name is Erica. And she is my new favorite person. Here's why:

(1) She has pubicly admitted to having viewed the Reluctant Homunculus.

(2) She eventually acquiesced to this fine example of "forcible photography"

(3) She really knows how to fill out a sweater!

(4) She had graciously agreed not to sue me for sexual harassment.

Thanks Erica! You. Kick. Ass.

The Slippery Soap

In update to my last posting, I just wanted to mention that my lack of coordination in the shower is not limited to complex cleansing products.

I have a gi-normous bar of goat's milk soap in the shower. It is treacherously slippery . . . and heavy.

My point? It caused a surprising amount of pain when I dropped that son of a bitch on my little toe this morning.

Some people fear the thought of their children placing them in a nursing home when they are elderly . . . I'm pretty sure I am just about ready right now.

Scrubbing Troubles

I've told this story to my friends before. Seeing as how only about 14 people have stopped by to peek at my humble little blog, chances are that YOU are one of those friends. (Thanks again for stopping by for the sole purpose of humoring your weird little friend). But there may be one, perhaps two, of you that have not already suffered through this story.

I have troubles in the morning. Cognitive issues. Turns out that I am (at best) functionally retarded in the morning. Yet it is this very time of day that I choose to drag a semi-sharp piece of steel from my ankles to my hips. An intelligent person would wait to be awake and alert before shaving their legs. I am not, however, an intelligent person.

So on the morning in question, I had just completed shaving my legs. Starting to wake up a little bit, I figured today would be a good morning to exfoliate my most recent layers of accumulated person-plaque. I started with my arms and shoulders, liberally applying the almond-grit-sea-salt concoction, scrubbing with a zelot's vigor.

Feeling smoothly satisfied with my upper body, I moved on to give my legs a thorough scrubbing with this stuff. I rubbed in the salty chardonnay scented grit-paste onto both legs and 4 1/2 seconds later . . . .

--BLINDING PAIN--

Sweet Jesus!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE !!! ???

I frantically tried to get this crap off of my freshly shaven legs, but succeeded only in spreading it to more tender areas! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Finally I managed to rinse off most of the offending scrub just before I passed out from pain . . .

. . .

. . . I regained consciousness some time later. Turned off the water. And ever-so-tenderly toweled myslf off with what I believe was the world's scratchiest towel (That Snuggle Bear is full of shit, by the way).

So . . . I'm doing a little better these days. And my skin is incredibly smooth! You'll have to just take my word for it though, no one is allowed to touch it. YOW!

Dial it Back

Generally, I don't give too much thought to the hand soap you might find in the public restroom. Never once have I ever wondered to myself as I washed my hands, "hope this is safe . . . . " crossed my fingers, held my breath, and then nervously squeeeezed the dispenser pump in hopes that no particular harm befall my dainty hands. Never before Wednesday morning, anyway.

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I submit to you:

- D I A L ~ C O M P L E T E -

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The thing I found peculiar about this soap is that it actually attempts to convince you that it's okay to use it. What the . . . ? SHOULD I be suspicious of this soap? I sure as hell am now!

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Pardon my sub-par camera phone photography, but you should be able to read that the side of the soap dispenser reads in bold "reassuring" letters:

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Hospital Strength

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Milder Than Ever

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Just how goddamn strong was it before the good people at Dial determined that it needed to be more mild. The mildest they have "EVER" been able to achieve is "HOSPITAL STRENGTH" ?!!

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I don't think that I even have what I would consider "hospital strength" requirements. Though it might be nice to know that should I be called upon to perform an emergency medical procedure that I'm already scrubbed-in and sterile. WHO'S UP FOR AN APPENDECTOMY ?!

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To WHOM is this meant to appeal? Germaphobes? Nancy-Pants-moisture-freaks? Will use of this product cause my skin to mummify and shrivle? Peel off completely.

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WHY IS IT TRYING SO HARD TO CONVINCE ME IT'S OK TO USE THIS STUFF???

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Fortunately I survived the ordeal. Skin intact. Clean enough to crack open some ribs.

Economy Travel

H m m m m . . . .



This is the box that I found by the back door of my office this morning.

I have taken a photo . . . as I thought some would find such an item to be unbelievable. But believe it you must.

This, it seems, is a Britax baby shipping and/or storage container.

I don't have kids . . . but if you do, and want only the very best for your munchkin, I whole-heartedly endorse Britax for your storing and shipping needs.



!!! GENIUS !!!

Just cram your sweetie into the container with a favorite toy, a PB & J, and a shit-load of packing peanuts, and let Britax* ship that little bastard to Gamma's house for the summer.



* Britax is not responsible for lost or stolen children. Parent is responsible for ensuring appropriate air holes. Extra shipping may be required for portly children and hyperactive toddlers. Do not ship with glass or other breakables. It is the responsiblily of the shipping parent to ensure timely opening by recipient. Contents perisable.

Filet O' ???

This is bothersome.

This so-called food product that you could theoretically go and purchase from any nearby McDonalds.

The Filet 'o Fish.

What kind of fish? Hell if I know. But it comes with a guarantee of 100% bona fide fishiness.

Behold:


That's 100% of something my friend. It doesn't exactly say the word "fish" but based on the cute drawing provided you are more than welcome to make such an inference.

I'm a little concerned about the sauce as well. Phlegmy. Definitely has a phlegmy appearance to it.

I do, however, enjoy the waves graphic on the bottom of the ad. THAT's just how fresh this fishy meal is. Straight from some unknown body of navigable water floating, refugee-style, on a bun raft. Yummmmm freedom-seeking fish patty . . .

So I am curious . . . does anyone eat this culinary monstrosity??? How?!

Let me know. I desire to learn.

Cookie Confidence

Sweet Merciful McGillicutty it was cold this morning! I had to stand in the parking lot in my none-too-warm silk skirt scraping frost from my windhield.

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I raged, raged at the elements. Fist clenched I commanded "MAKE IT WARMER, DAMINIT. WARMER I SAY!!!" So that amused me and I went about my commute to the office.

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About an hour later I was freezing in my office and finding myself again longing for some warmer weather. Willing a few more degrees with all my mental might.

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By the time I went to lunch at a nearby Chinese reataurant, it had actully begun to warm. Is it possible that I had a hand in that??? Of course not. That's just silly. Or IS it???

Let me take this chance to share with you, verbatem, the message contained in my fortune cookie:

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Today is a beautiful day.

Congratulations!

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That's right, BABY! It is me!! The current temperature is a spingy 50 degrees.

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Tomorrow I need to set my mind on a perpetually full box of girlscout cookies(Samoas, fo course). Ahhhhhh . . . the power of the cookie.