I used to work with this girl named Alex, who had the shiniest hair around. Other people would comment to her about her soft, shiny hair. She said, “It’s because I don’t use any product on my hair.”
No product??!!? How can one live without product? How could she go out the door every day practically naked? “All I ever use is a little hairspray, if even that,” she said. I marveled at her bold, minimalist approach. Because, as we all know, product is the thing that separates US from ….the apes, for example…..Vikings, for another. I spend top dollar for my product. I know others don’t. But even those who don’t still have to have the gel, the goo, the mousse, the lifter, the thickener, the après shower-body-building-show-stopping-root-bending product!!
When I travel, I have to be careful to make sure that all product containers are nestled safely next to a roll of socks or some other cushiony item. I seal it in Ziplocs and I hope for the best. I especially hope that my aerosol cans don’t explode during the flight, ripping a gaping hole in the fuselage and causing everyone’s bags to be sucked out as an emergency landing is attempted on some remote corn field. But still I am willing to risk it, because I need my damn product!
27 September 2010
22 September 2010
16 September 2010
The Ass-Clown Revue
Every workday morning I’m forced to fight my way through a herd of caffeine-injected ass-clowns, just so that I can get to work and perform my required 8 hours of mindless drudgery. These velocity-loving morons put on quite a show as they literally dive in and out of traffic with their cars.
To some extent, I can tolerate it until it interferes with my forward motion, because when some ASS-CLOWN jumps in front of me and then proceeds to brake, brake, brake…I can feel my head getting ready to explode.
I didn’t invent the term “ass-clown” (check out the movie Office Space), but it’s appropriate and useful at times, and it can bring unexpected peace to your soul to say it aloud. Just this morning, some idiot cut me off and I thought, “Asshole!” but then I thought, “NO! he’s beyond asshole – he’s an ASS-CLOWN.”
Of course, then what happens is, while I’m watching the Ass-Clown Revue unfolding before my very eyes, I am thinking of all the other ass-terms, like “ass-wipe, ass-noogle, ass-nuts, ass-ifer, ass-nard, jackass, dumbass, fatass, shitass (which I rarely use, almost archaic at this point), ass-in-boots, ass-face, and ass-of-all-trades.
But nothing says it quite like ass-clown.
10 September 2010
Morning Child
I want it noted that I’m not a morning person.
Put it on my tombstone and hold my funeral at night.
Rope me off until noon.
Don’t speak to me at some ungodly hour and expect an intelligent response.
For I am not a morning child.
I walk the midnight floors.
I troll the moonlit hours.
If you ask my mamma, she’ll tell you I was born around supper time.
Life began for me at the end of the day, not the start.
Put it on my tombstone and hold my funeral at night.
Rope me off until noon.
Don’t speak to me at some ungodly hour and expect an intelligent response.
For I am not a morning child.
I walk the midnight floors.
I troll the moonlit hours.
If you ask my mamma, she’ll tell you I was born around supper time.
Life began for me at the end of the day, not the start.
09 September 2010
The Big Lasagna of Life
Last night we watched one of my favorite shows – Dog The Bounty Hunter. I don’t know why I get such a kick out of it but I just do. These people fascinate me – not just “The Dog” and his family but also the ones they are chasing. People in general fascinate me, anyway. But these people on DTBH, they just seem to operate on a completely different plane. Their world – and the world of the people they are after - is not our world. It’s not my world, anyway.
I think I was in my early 20s when I realized that there are layers of lifestyles and life choices and life philosophies out there. Like a giant lasagna, these layers are all sort of separate but connected planes – parallel universes where the inhabitants carry out the day to day minutiae of their little lives. While some layers of the lasagna touch each other, even blend a little, others can remain wholly intact: unadulterated and somewhat unaffected. For example, if you are on the cheese layer, separated by noodle, you might not ever have anything to do with the bottom meat layer – unless an external force – such as a spoon – intervenes.
I suppose it has to do with the comfort zone and familiarity. You go with what you know. If you’re a noodle, and you like it, why should you look around? Why make things harder? Why rock the lasagna? I don’t have any answers at all. I just find it remarkable. Meanwhile, it makes for some riveting television.
I think I was in my early 20s when I realized that there are layers of lifestyles and life choices and life philosophies out there. Like a giant lasagna, these layers are all sort of separate but connected planes – parallel universes where the inhabitants carry out the day to day minutiae of their little lives. While some layers of the lasagna touch each other, even blend a little, others can remain wholly intact: unadulterated and somewhat unaffected. For example, if you are on the cheese layer, separated by noodle, you might not ever have anything to do with the bottom meat layer – unless an external force – such as a spoon – intervenes.
I suppose it has to do with the comfort zone and familiarity. You go with what you know. If you’re a noodle, and you like it, why should you look around? Why make things harder? Why rock the lasagna? I don’t have any answers at all. I just find it remarkable. Meanwhile, it makes for some riveting television.
02 September 2010
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