valentina

I am not making this one up, kids. When I was at the hair salon on Wednesday, I was looking down at the floor while my stylist had me tip my head forward and down just a bit. The stylist at the next chair over was wearing jeans, a tank top and thong sandals with little kitten heels. The fact that I even noticed what kind of sandals that she was wearing is a bit of a miracle, for I was very busy looking at her toenails. She had the French pedicure toenails, only where the little strip of white polish would be at the end of each toenail (which were rather long), she had a strip of dark blue polish. I sat there, looking at them, trying to decide if I liked them better than the traditional French pedicure, of if I found them more horrifying. It was a bit of a flip-off at the traditional style, which I can appreciate, but it also appeared as if each toenail was growing a nice, even strip of blue nail fungus. I still haven't decided. Her pedicure is rather like this man who shows up at the outdoor pool at the health club. He's probably in his mid-late 50's, and looks a bit like a puffy, going into corpulent Rutger Hauer. He shows up to swim laps, and he's really a very strong swimmer. But he wears a Speedo. It is most unappealing, but I've noticed that everyone's eyes drift over to this man. It is like a train wreck. It's impossible not to look.

Dawndie, I think you have it! Now whenever I see some sort of toenail painting atrocity, I'm going to start out by saying ARGH BLARGH! That is probably what Andy was yelling about at the end of "Ocean's 11" and we didn't understand that it was the official Cuban protest that someone has French manicured, and not Cuban manicured nails! (BTW, Antimony -- I love Cuban manicured fingernails. They are very retro and exotic. I even like French manicured fingernails, but they aren't as hot and Latin.)

(That one is so funny, it's stopped me dead in my tracks! )

The only thing that would be more catatonia-inducing is an incredibly tanned, middle-aged man in a Speedo, and he has French manicured toenails.

"Toenail necrosis" might be a helluva name for a blue-black nail polish color!

Today's non sequiturs begin with the fact that the Reverend Jim guy that I mentioned in my prior entry is, in fact, employed. I went into Meadowlark Coffee yesterday and he was sitting outside, wearing a shirt normally worn by U-Stop convenience store employees. I asked Debbie, the morning barrista, if he was actually a U-Stop employee and she said yes, she was rather certain that he was. I commented that I'd always thought that he was a client at the county mental health center. And Debbie said yes, she was rather sure he was. I was watching "Austin City Limits" on PBS last Saturday, and I know it was a rerun, but I was deeply amused at the contrasts presented by the two featured performers. I like both of them, but who decided to put Lyle Lovett and Jamie Cullum on the same show? Lyle is tall, skinny, taciturn Texan who smiles only on one side of his face, is so rigid when he performs that one suspects he might break in half if he made a sudden move, and is entrancingly weird-looking. I figured out that part of what makes him so very odd-looking is that his eyebrows are almost nonexistent. He has all that hair on the top of his head (which styling products have really tamed in recent years) and absolutely no eyebrows. But don't get me wrong, I like his voice and a lot of his music, although I don't listen to him that often. Did he burn his eyebrows off as a kid and they never grew back? Jamie Cullum is a hyperanimated little sparkplug from England who runs and jumps all over as he is singing and playing the piano. He's so little that I kind of want to call him "Frodo," but he's also quite adorable. Maybe the Austin City Limits crowd for his show was the same group who showed up to see Lyle perform, and they just didn't get what Jamie was all about. They were as lifeless as the day is long, and I've never seen a group of such unrhymtic-looking people in my life. What was the matter with those white people? Get up and move! At least sway a bit! Granted, I love Jamie's music and his style, but I felt sorry for him, having to perform on TV before an alleged "live" audience. Just. Plain. Cute. I bought three bottles from the update -- two from Wanderlust and one from Carnaval Diabolique. Specifically, Cockaige and Lyonesse from Wanderlust and Midnight on the Midway. What is life without at least one or two pending BPAL orders? About as boring as a Lyle Lovett crowd at a Jamie Cullum concert!

I always gotten the impression that each act was filmed on a different day, with a different auidence, but I can't imagine that audience for Jamie was there just to see him, because they weren't young enough or funky enough and them seemed to be sitting in a mute stupor. Who can hold still to his rave version of "I Could Have Danced All Night?" That song would seem to be the antidote to torpor, but not with that crowd -- the producers needed to check for pulses! I did see Le Bijoux, and since that's a GC scent, I'm going to try an imp before I consider a bottle, because the rose and apple worry me a bit. I amp those two scents like crazy, and I'm way cautious about them. Of the ones that I ordered, the one that immediately struck me as a must-have was Cockaige -- milk, honey, sweet cakes and wine. Love all those scents! A bit like the Monster Baits, it seemed. And I love the wine in Urd and Wanda, and I'm intrigued by how it will smell with the sweetness and milk. I wonder if the wine in this will be red wine or white wine? I can hardly wait! Woo-hoo, I better stop talking about that scent, I'm going to work myself into a lather and need a cold shower!!!

There's a lot of things in the world to complain about besides the price of perfume, especially when a great little company like BPAL had such a difficult time with moving and relocation. I'm simply greatful that they're still in business, much less cranking out such wonderful updates. I just don't understand what's wrong with some people, and I'm staying away from that thread because I'd probably want to post some cranky old lady rant about all the ungreatful bitching going on about price increases! But my response was to go in and order three bottles from the update right away, and happily pay the new prices!

Does anyone remember the old TV show "Taxi?" See it in reruns? The character played by Christopher Lloyd, Reverend Jim Ignatowski, was the classic '60's burn-out, but he occasionally showed flashes of a former self, prior to all the drugs. There was a show where he was sitting in his apartment eating breakfast and a wrecking ball crashed through the wall -- the building was being demolished, and Jim had somehow failed to see the eviction notices. I think he said something like: "Boy, there's a draft in here!" There was another show where Elaine, the aspiring actress, needed someone to escort her to a cocktail party being thrown by a very wealthy theatre patron. Jim was the only one available to act as an escort, so Elaine got Jim all cleaned up and took him along. She told him to be quiet, and he was doing an OK job. But during the course of the evening, the pianist who was supposed to entertain the guests failed to show up, and the hostess was bemoaning her plight. Jim said he played the piano, and the hostess promptly took him up on his offer. So Jim sat down and began clunking out "Chopsticks." Elaine was slowly dying. Then Jim suddenly started to play gorgeous classical music; he stopped only briefly and said: "Hmmm... I must have done this before!" At Meadowlark Coffee, there's a fair number of Jim-like characters hanging outside, because it's across the street from the hospital that houses the county mental health facility. The outpatients sometimes sit outside at Meadowlark waiting for the bus. There's one guy who's obviously medicated to the gills, but he's still somewhat coherent, just a bit dazed. Last Friday I was sitting inside Meadowlark, reading, when someone began playing all sorts of songs on the piano. The repertoire ranged from jazz standards to show tunes to Beatles songs. I couldn't figure out who was playing the music, and I couldn't see the piano, so I stood up to take a look. And it was the Jim-like guy, playing them all from memory! A woman who was probably his caseworker from the mental health center was sitting with him, and every now and then, they'd start singing together. Amazing. It was really very funny in a Reverend Jim sort of way, and it was also sad, because you wonder what this person was like before the schizophrenia, or whatever is organically wrong, got to him. He never did say "Hmmm... I must have done this before," but he did at one point stop, look at the keyboards and say: "Not bad!"

Dawndie, I remember that show! I also remember one tiny little scene in another show, where Jim ran into a vending machine, looked at it in astonishment, and said: "Oh, I'm here..." And Gracie, don't apologize for not commenting very often, for usually by the time I'm done writing, even I think it's too odd for comment. (Is it any wonder I adored Reverend Jim??) And now, in a non sequitur, a rerun of "Law and Order: SVU" is on, and damn, I love Ice-T.

In the imp, I really get a lot of cedar overlaying sandalwood and patchouli. On my body, I'm another person who thinks that Sri Lanka is really very much like Anne Bonny, but with a smidge more of the cedar scent. It's more masculine and woodsy, and to my nose and brain, a male version of Anne Bonny. After a few hours, the cedar mellows out, and it becomes very much the scent of aromatic woods and patchouli. Since I love all that stuff, I think this is a beautiful, unisex scent.

Not to make my friend sound cold, because she's not at all like that, but her father's death was a complete relief. Some people shouldn't be parents, and her father was one of them. As she likes to say, we all need family, but they need not be our relatives!

I have a good friend who felt the same way about her dad. I say "felt," because her dad died a couple of years ago. What I used to say to her, and it's applicable to you, is that it's terrible that a when a father causes such anguish in a child's life. And that they (the fathers) are too stupid or blind to realize that they have a really great daughter and they're missing out on a lot. But even with all the words in the world, it still stinks to have a parent like that. to you.

I love flowers, I love tulips and peonies in particular, but with my Smutified body chemistry, I wasn't sure Amsterdam would work on me. However, in the world of BPAL, I'm always surprised, so I perservered and tested it out. In the imp, the scent is a very bright floral, not terribly sweet and cloying, from what I would guess to be the tulip and aquatic grass notes. Once it was on my body, the scent turned not terribly sweet, but instead a little pungent. It's a grassy-floral-aquatic smell that tends to bloom quickly on me and fades away, not unlike tulips. It's a very sunny, springtime smell that would be wonderful for anyone who loves a crisp floral fragrance.

It is too hot outside for me to entertain the notion of writing or even thinking rationally; however, in an odd, Jungian-like bit of synchronicity, I discovered a web page of "mullet haikus." Now I will have something mysterious and Zen-like to say to my mulleted buddy who greets me outside of Meadowlark Coffee when I make my morning coffee runs. So for all the mulleted samauris out there, and for everyone who encounters them, here are few choice mullet haiku offerings: This super cool hair and a bucket of chicken: What more could I want? I liked that foreign legion movie so much, I grew me one them hats O! SQUIRREL brother, Your tail, my hair We are one Yet I must eat you Lynyrd Skynyrd didn’t win no spelling bees Who cares? They rock the trailer Metallica is for first graders Nothing rocks harder than Winger Dogs urinate where they so choose And so do I Red and blue lights flash

Hells bells, there are a number of very thoughtful new entries over here on Blog Island. Not me. I could try to follow suit, but there is very little in the way of profound thought in my brain today. My excuse? It's Friday afternoon! Here's something to do! Get yo' pimp name here homey hunny! http://www.playerappreciate.com/pimphandle.asp Big Playah valentina Flava

Reverend Doctor tikki-boo Dazzle could be barker with the Carnaval Diabolique? (Ooh, that was really lame... )

In real life, Pimpatastic jeanne Wicked's house is guarded by her two fierce dogs, Suede Ella Bean Dogg and the Reverend Doctor tikki-boo Dazzle. Word.

Yes, today I am in a tank top and a skort. The tank top is one with a retro Wonder Woman design on it, but it's distressed-faded looking, so the image of the Amazon doesn't jump right out at you. Most of my coworkers are used to my Wonder Woman fixation, although there are plenty of people who don't know me, who look upon my shirt with great curiosity. Or maybe it's just stupid men who will use anything as an excuse to look at a woman's chest, even one equipped with my middlers. When I went into Meadowlark coffee this morning, the only people sitting outside were three relatively normal young women. No mullets. Maybe Wednesdays are Mullet Mornings at Meadowlark? You show up with a mullet and get your lattes at half-price? I'll have to ask them if that's the case. I must now discuss a particularly annoying word pronunciation idiosyncrasy. I tend to wince at most odd pronunciations/mispronunciations, but some just drive me batty. One is when the word Buddha is pronounced "Beyoo-dah." I always think of "zippity-do-dah!" Then I get into associations with Zippy the Pinhead and the Buddha. I can just see a cartoon frame of Zippy saying: "Zippity-do-dah, I'm the Be-yoo-dah!" And then there's the word emu, denoting the large, flightless ostrich-like bird. It can be pronounced either e-mou or e-meu, but whenever I hear e-meu, it annoys me. This is no doubt due to my provincial preference for the e-mou version, because at times, my accent comes dangerously close to bordering upon the Scandinavian/German influenced "Fargo" accent, as in: "Ya, fer sure, that was an e-meu runnin' across the road, Margie. Where'd ya think he was goin'?" I'm sure that somehow I could weave together an idea about a Coen Brothers movie that would include emus, Zippy the Pinhead, Buddha, mullets and Wonder Woman. But it's lunchtime and I don't want to. However, I'll close with the thought that I'm pretty sure if he were around today, the Buddha would just call himself "The Dude."

In the imp, Baobhan Sith is mainly ginger with grapefruit, refreshing and lovely. When I first apply it and in the initial dry-down period, it's a still a crisp ginger-grapefruit-tea scent. Then, after about 15-20 minutes, the apple blossom arises. And arises. And arises. It smells like solid apple blossom for about 2 hours, and turns into an old lady perfume scent. When the apple blossom burns off, I'm left with a very faint ginger-grapefruit scent. My ditzy body chemistry! I was certain that this scent would be something that I loved, but my body just wrecked it. But I love the smell of it off of my body so much, I think it would be delightful scent locket material, so I'm hanging on to my imp.

Mullet-fighting gold cuffs would have to be in a bi-level design!

Today I decided to put on some Monster Bait Underpants because I hadn't worn it in a while, and then I put a touch of Bengal over the top. This blend could be called "Panties on Fire." Hell yeah! That "hell yeah" reminds me -- because the t-shirts you buy at Bob Schneider's concerts have that on the front -- Bob has a new recording coming out on August 8! Ah, something to live for! Bob can set my panties on fire, I tell ya. Plus I really do like his music. I decided to get all dressed up this morning because I was having one of those days that, when all else fails, be a diva. On the way into work, I decided to stop at my favorite locally-owned coffee house (this town is big into non-franchise coffee houses) called Meadowlark. There's outdoor seating for the smokers and people who generally just want to hang around outdoors, and often there's a real blend of denizens at the outside tables. I've seen residents of a nearby halfway house for mental health center clients sitting at one table and a stockbroker sitting at the next table. This morning it was a group of characters that I've never seen before at the outdoor table. They were unique. I walked past them and one of them, who had a mullet and was wearing a "Got Milk?" t-shirt, looked at me and said: "Wow, baby!" I walked into Meadowlark and the barrista behind the counter looked at me and said: "You're so fancy today!" I think I may have diva-ed myself to excess... It's going to be a skort and a black tank top tomorrow!

This is very, very true!

A picture! You look wonderful, adorable, happy! Your dress looks beautiful, especially with the Mister's vest. You matched beautifully. Well, obviously, because that's why you got married! Thanks for sharing it, you can always supply more whenever you're in the mood...

Reminds of me a really really bad pickup line: "You're so hot, I bet your panties are made of asbestos!" (The only response for that: )