Here’s a beauty tip: want to achieve the soft glow of exfoliating sugar without the exorbitant $18 price tag?
Loofah with industrial grade sand paper.
Same thing.
Oh man, nothing wakes you faster than the scraping off of layers of your skin. Although, I do have to admit… my bod is soft and supple like a well-pounded baseball glove. Or something.
This morning was essentially fraught with disaster as I attempted to make myself presentable to the world. First the entire Karen Silkwood scrubbing that left me quivering from dermabrasive shock. Then I realized that the volumizing hair gel I had purchased was actually CONDITIONER. Therefore, I have the hair of Chuck Woolery today. Not in a good way, either. What is more, I believe my Lanc’me eye base stuff is giving me some kind of eyelid cancer. I have a zit on my eyelid and boy does that mofo hurt every time I blink. You’d be amazed how often you blink in a given day.
Then I went down to the basement to get a clean shirt to wear. I had done laundry yesterday and realized that I never actually do laundry, but rather I do the “fucking laundry”. It’s “the fucking laundry” in my head. Anyway, I never actually put anything in our very cutting edge Maytag dryer, but rather I dry everything on hangers on two lines in the basement. It keeps my clothes much nicer and they don’t shrink. Well, apparently, I misjudged the amount of time it takes a shirt to dry as the shirt I wanted to wear was slightly damp. I figured, no big, it was only damp on the bottom. I put it on and proceeded to shiver and be clammy for the rest of the morning. The walk up from peasant parking was a treat as well, in the 30 degree wind.
Last night, I ended up eating this concoction that is called Sandwich Spread. I don’t know if this is a universal product or some bizarre Wisconsin thing, but it is this pink meat spread stuff that you schmear on buttered white bread. I believe it is made with ground bologna, pickle relish, Miracle Whip (NOT mayonnaise) and maybe even soylent green… I’m not sure. It’s bland and you don’t have to chew too much and it’s basically all round disgusting.
Yet, it is a comfort food of mine. It reminds me of languid summers spent at my great grandmother’s metal kitchen table, overlooking her white picket fenced yard full of maple trees, the sounds of cicadas in the distance, coolness emanating from her screened patio. She’d serve us a cold lunch of pickles, pickled beets, cottage cheese, canned pineapple chunks, ice cold glasses of white milk, and sandwiches with that sandwich spread stuff. Thus, every three months, I get a craving for the stuff. I have a hard time finding a deli with adequate spread. If they use mayo, it’s right out. Likewise, if there are chunks of onion in it… blech. Thus, last night, I had a sandwich with that stuff on it guiltily, because I hate myself the entire time I’m eating it. The thought of all that junk. Bologna of all things. I don’t eat bologna… haven’t since I was 12 years old… but I’ll eat this stuff, as though the fact that it is ground up makes it acceptable. I also drank some ice cold skim milk which tasted very excellent. Didn’t touch the pickled beets, though. I would probably be in a sodium coma if I had.
Thus I’m viewing the sugar rub as a penance for the nutritional misdeeds of the previous night. Sort of a hair shirt that has the additional benefit of beautiful skin. Or maybe that’s the wet shirt I’m wearing.
I also watched what is possible the Best Episode of Trading Spaces Ever. It was in LA and Paige was wearing some kind of feathered shirt and it had Doug on it, wearing black leather pants and a tight short sleeved shirt that showed his ‘ceps. That man is so grrrrrrrrrrrrrowlll, even if he did allow Target to sponsor his room. And Ty Pennington was there. What is more, one of the men was cracking my shit up. He made me laugh out loud no less than four times, razzing on Paige, making fun of Doug, the Learning Channel. At one point, when Ty was whining about having too much to do, he offered to phone up Amy Wynn. I loved me some Team Blue. What is more, Genevieve painted their wood floor black and I have to say that I agreed with her. Although, it should have probably been refinished, but they didn’t have time. They were going to have to refinish it anyway and the room did look sawheet. What is more, the Team Blue Guy said “Fuck me!” when he saw the room and then was all embarrassed that he cursed on television. And even in L.A., Gen still managed to be weird, wearing an inexplicable sock on her hand at one point. I missed the beginning of it.. I’d like to see that one again.
It made me giddy, though, as it just points out how excellent Trading Spaces could be, it’s bittersweet really.
