|News of the Weird
||[Jan. 13th, 2012|05:01 pm]
At a fairly early age, I realized that I was not, and would never, be thought of as completely normal. I'm grateful that sometime in high school I decided to just stop fighting it and embrace it. So that's my theme this afternoon, as I wait for my last price sheet to be uploaded. (O, Supplier Name Redacted! There is a negotiation in your future which will be quite a bit more painful, owing to making me wait to the very last minute on a Friday before a holiday weekend, even though I've been reminding you for days. I'm not vengeful often, but when I AM...)
You hang out with folks that work renfaires and sooner or later you'll hear: Our lives are not like other people's.
Yup. Although I suspect that if the time travellers step on the wrong hippy and renfaires vanish from the timeline, I still would be saying that.
Socially -- witness: having a holiday meal with your ex-boyfriend, your ex-husband, the woman formerly known as your husband's mistress, now known as his wife, and some neighbors who grok that just because you split up is no reason to...um, not hang out together. Then heading up to visit your parents, where you'll spend another evening having dinner and hanging out with another ex-boyfriend and his wife. And then having yet another ex-boyfriend bring his family over to your parent's house for Christmas Eve. As they do every year, whether you're up visiting or not. I suspect that unknowingly following Grail's Law has been a factor here.
Environment -- witness: with all of this cleaning up and cleaning out, I've had to examine a lot of stuff. I'm not exactly sure if my stuff delivers a coherent message beyond "assuming I'm not already a zombie, I might not be a bad person to have around when the apocalypse comes". Which okay, I suppose there are worse messages.
Here's me in a random bag: cleaning up, cleaning out, oh, here's a bag, I wonder what's in it? Spare change, expired coupons, a twenty dollar bill, a paring knife (that miraculously I did NOT hurt myself with), a roll of duct tape, Altoids, a container of marigold seeds and a deer jawbone. Seriously, no Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon? That's not LIKE me; I have them stashed everywhere...
Which reminded me that when I cleaned out the Saturn before I got rid of it, I re-furbished the emergency kit that I always keep in the car so I could put it in the Ford. I guess I keep two. One is normal -- jump cables, crank flashlight, flare, emergency blanket, etc. The other one is filled with what I find personally necessary. That box includes: dog collar, leash, collapsible bowl, two varieties of squawkers, which in theory make a dying rabbit sound that dogs find irresistible (because even if your dogs are dead, when you are a misfortune magnet like me, you will need these for someone ELSE's dog.) Poop bags for either other people's dogs, or for that deer jawbone that you find on a hike. They also do double duty as emesis bags. Thank goodness. Scissors, box cutters, wire snips, plus a a leatherman. Bottle opener and corkscrew. Tire gauge, which rarely gets used as a tire gauge, but has a nice magnet on it, so is good for finding dropped metal things. Catspaw (small crowbar). Nitrile gloves and handsanitizer. Twine, rope, wire, bungee cords, duct tape, scotch tape. Post it notes, pen, pencil, sharpie. Lance Cheez Crackers. Sewing kit, safety pins, hair scrunchy, toothbrush, spare hose and underwear. (Don't judge.) A roll of quarters, reading glasses. Trash bags.
Which reminds me -- it's winter, so I should go downstairs and fetch the sandbag to put in the trunk and my semi-retired boots. Heh, I'll probably get around to that about early March....
Chick Things: I didn't even used make up until I was sixteen. And then used it poorly. But once I discovered that I looked way better WITH eyelashes, there was no going back. I have a lot of friends who look just fine without make-up. Some of them, however, used to pursue me with the passion of zealots to STOP using make up. That if I just stopped and got used to the way I looked without it, I could not bother with it anymore. It's self-defence, though, really. Because when I don't -- when I can't wear mascara because of some eye thing, or just forget, or decide to take a break...I spend all freaking day explaining to people that I'm FINE. I'm not sick, I'm not TIRED (that's for you, Pyratelady) I'm not SAD. I just have very pale eyelashes, repressed lips, and gift of my mixed English-Danish heritage, Danelaw is reenacted on my face -- little yellow Denmark here, little pink England there. (Okay, that's really obscure -- just think blotchy, if your early English-Scandahoovian history is rusty.)
So, ultimately, I'm not doing it for YOU. I'm doing it for me. Of course, I completely phone it in -- using essentially the same brand of drugstore crap until they discontinue it and then I rage and shred money until I find something else that blends the Danelaw. And I put it on in the morning and then...my Danish pores open up and swallow it during the day, but re-application? Um, I guess if it's a special event.
But lipstick is a little different. My big rebellion against my mother: I WILL leave the house without lipstick. I'lll put it on in the CAR...but I"ll leave the house. But it doesn't stay on me for long -- so I'm always on the lookout for a long-lasting color that doesn't feel like someone just put vinyl siding on my lips, or that doesn't start to peel and crack two hours later. And Pyratelady did turn me onto one that is more comfortable and had better hangtime, and doesn't start to do the mummy expiration thing, but just wears off gracefully. BUT. I have to put it on very, very carefully. Pyratelady can paint small precise things like lips and Pyrate pins. Turnip can paint things like...a bathroom. The living room ceiling. Smaller things are challenging.
So to apply this stuff, I have to be calm, in front of a mirror with decent lighting and have make-up remover available for when my arm does that twitch thing it does and I go all Nora Desmond with the lip color. So, I passed by this stuff in the drugstore and saw a word oh-so-familiar to me: STAIN. That's IT, I thought. I am all about the stains. That might be perfect for me -- because what I'm really looking for is something that will make me look like I have actual lips, with actual blood circulation...instead of always looking like I DO NOT APPROVE. Something I can put lipstick over, but when it wears off three minutes later, I still have SOMETHING going on.
Here's why it's perfect for me: as I looked at it the first time, I thought, omigosh, this is a weird. It's like a Sharpie. And then I used it for the first time and the odd texture of the applicator...and that's EXACTLY what it is. Lip-colored sharpie. It's perfect for me.
You may be thinking "How would she know what a sharpie on your lips feel like?" Seriously, is there one of you out there that can even muster a MOLECULE of surprise that I would have, at some point...some several points...sigh...swiped a Sharpie across my lips?