Tag Archives: Packaging

In the Pink

Sometimes, I find it nearly impossible to shine, and so I just can’t help myself.  At those time I feel the need to do something a little odd, a little nutty and a lot stupid.

Apparently, that is just how the Republican-led government of my adopted state, Virginia, feels.  Because yesterday they decided that one handgun is, well, just not enough for one person, so they repealed that terrible limit, and now, we Virginians can get all the handguns we deserve.  After all, we Virginians have more than one hand, so we need more than one gun.

The limit on guns had been on the law books for 19 years.  It was repealed by a group of state senators who got elected by vowing to increase the number of jobs in the state.  Silly me, I didn’t realize they meant jobs in hospital emergency rooms and morgues.  But hey, jobs is jobs.

But the worst thing about it is I found this out the very day I found my own personal dream firearm:

The Pink Hope 22

Yes, today I learned that the Susan G. Koman foundation was selling “The Pink Hope 22.”  They were “Shooting for the Cure.”  Well, that news, combined with the news that I could now get a matched pair, well, it really made my day.

But then all hope shattered.  Crumbled.  Was blown away.  You see, apparently the Susan G. Koman foundation was all fired up about guns for quite a while.  But not now.  These days, they’ve become so damn politically correct, over this whole decision to let poor women get breast cancer, that they are no longer selling what I personally think is the perfect symbol of an organization devoted to protecting health – a pink hand gun.

I’m so bummed, I need a hug.

*****

Apparently, two of my blogging buddies knew this day would be coming.  The Island Traveler and Arindam of Being Arindam nominated me for the Hope Unites Globally or HUG Award.  Thanks Guys!

I’m not sure that I really qualify for this award, because it is for people (not necessarily blogs) that promote hope, love, peace, equality and unity for all people.  Me, I’m mostly in it for the snark.

Nevertheless, I have it proudly on my blog and am passing it on to three folks who have been wonderfully supporting of my writing, even before my days as an Award Winning Blogger …

Delajus at Higher and Higher

Jamie at Sleep Deprived and Insane

Lisa at Eat Plants, said the Cow

72 Comments

Filed under Awards, Driving, Family, Gun control, Humor, Hypocrisy, Stupidity, Susan G. Komen

What’s in a Meme?

It’s more of a disease than anything.   Think Contagion.  Think OutbreakThink the combined scourges of tuberculosis, bubonic plague and flatulence with the Love Boat Theme playing in the background, with no mute button.

Yes, that’s how I describe the “meme” I got from Lori at Sunny Side Up.

A meme, according to Wikipedia, my bible, is:

an idea, behavior or style that spreads from person to person within a culture.  A meme acts as a unit for carrying cultural ideas, symbols or practices, which can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures, rituals or other imitable phenomena.  Supporters of the concept regard memes as cultural analogues to genes in that they self-replicate, mutate and respond to selective pressures.

Yes, it’s a chain letter.

But, as I am a girl who can’t say no, here goes.

1.        Describe yourself in 7 words:

  • Irreverent
  • Snarky
  • Chatty
  • Storyteller-at-any-opportunity
  • Smart
  • Curly
  • Liar Literary-license-taker   

2.       What keeps you up at night?

The fear that some perve is going to want to know what I’m wearing right now.

 3.       Who would I like to be?

The Queen

 4.       What am I wearing right now?

            Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 5.       What scares me?

 Repeating myself.  Repeating myself.  See Nos 2 and 4.

 6.       The best and worst of blogging:

  • Having an outlet to write and be appreciated
  • Falling into the black hole of posting, reading posts and comments, where there is no other reality and where no serious writing projects get done because blogging is just too damn much fun
  • Having things you wrote appear in weird boxes like this even when you don’t want them to.

7.       The last website I visited:

I did medical research just now here:  http://www.theslanket.com/

 8.      What is the one thing I would change about myself:

My liposuction appointment is on Wednesday, so I’m working on that one.

9.       Slankets…yes or no?

Absolutely.  How can I possibly resist something that will keep me warm AND fed while I fulfill my duty as a couch potato?

"Nicks Lunch" (no apostrophe) available for $29.99 at TheSlanket.com


10.   Tell us something about the person who tagged you:

Lori of Sunny Side Up likes to give me stuff.  She gave me my first award, the Liebster , which is for blogs with fewer than 100 followers. (I have dubbed it “The Award for Blogs Nobody Reads.” But that caption has NOT caught on.)

But Lori is unfailingly happy, optimistic, sunny.  And I thought the world of her until she was Fresh Pressed and I wasn’t.

Seriously Lori.  Don’t try that FP trick again.  Cause I’m watchin’ you.

Now, according to the chain letter, meme tradition, I am supposed to name folks who can carry on this chain letter  tradition.  But I am a non-traditionalist, so I figure I’ll give an open invitation to anyone who wants to tell about themselves, who needs a list to do it with, and who has strong feelings about slankets.

Go For It!

********

Sometimes blogging is an enriching, uplifting experience.  Sometimes, in researching a post, I learn strange and wonderful things.  But today I realized something frightening.  If a meme is “a unit for carrying cultural ideas, symbols or practices,” our culture is doomed.  And all because of blogs.  Remember the Slankets.  And be afraid.  Because the fall of civilization and society always follows when a society forgets how to dress nicely.

 

You too can decrease the surplus population -- and for only $29.99 at http://shop.theslanket.com


 

 

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Filed under Awards, Childhood Traumas, Climate Change, Global Warming, Humor, Word Press

The Envelope, Please, Part I

Remember how I told you that my acting career died in a broom closet?  I lied.  I mean, I took literary license.  That’s allowed, you know.  I pretend to be a writer both at work and here in the ‘sphere; I am allowed to lie.  So there.

But even after leaving my dream in tatters with the mops and brooms, I continued to pipe-dream.  That’s different than the real thing, and you don’t have to remember lines, or stage directions or what to do with props.  It’s actually much easier.  You get to keep your privacy, too, which is nice.

Most of my friends are aware of this fantasy of mine, and of my need to, from time to time, stand on a table (instead of a stage) and tell a story.  It often involves alcoholic beverages.  The table standing, not necessarily the story.

So, as I try to figure out recipients for the awards I’ve received for blogging in the last couple of weeks, I know when I have an opening.  So tonight, I’m going to tell you about the night I received my Oscars.

Really.  It was an incredibly special night for me.  An honor really.  Well, actually, two honors.  Two Oscars.  Two Awards.  But I only got to make one speech.

It was 1983, and some really fun people worked in my office that summer, one of whom, Jon, was from the area.  Carol, Mike, Jon and I all went to Jon’s house one night.  You see, 1983 was still in the Bronze Age, and Jon’s parents were on the cutting age of technology, because they had a VCR.  And Risky Business had just come out on video.

In the middle of the movie, we took a beer/bathroom break.  And guess what I spotted, casually stuck on the bookshelf in the TV room of Rob’s house.

Oscar 

And Oscar

It turned out that Jon’s father was a filmmaker.  Documentary films.  And while Rob didn’t know of my dreams, Carol sure did.  So my pals presented me with two Oscars for Documentary Filmmaking.  Sadly, not one of us had a camera.  Probably just as well, because not many stars accept wearing blue jeans.

Receiving Oscar, and his twin, Oscar, was a special honor to me, since I had neither made, nor been in any documentary films, nor even fetched donuts and coffee for the real filmmakers.  Regardless,  I got to hold Oscar and Oscar, and I got to make a speech accepting my Academy Awards.  So I am in an unusual club of people who have never actually acted or contributed in any way, shape or form to a movie, who has been presented an Academy Award.

Yes, I’m that good.

But I am of a generous nature.  And while I cannot give each and every one of my blogging buddies an Oscar, I am able to share some awards I have recently received.

But first, I have to figure out who has won what, so as not to be redundant.  Redundancy is OK when you’re getting Oscars, but not so much with blog awards.  But that’ll come.  Soon.  Because we bloggers are taking over the world!  Oscar and Oscar would be proud.

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Filed under Awards, Humor

Corrective Packaging

The problem became clear to me when I was naked, wet and in someone else’s shower.  Too late, I realized that I had forgotten my shampoo and conditioner upstairs in the guest room.

As problems go, this one wasn’t huge.  There was an assortment of products right there on the back of the tub.  At least eight bottles of stuff.  But I didn’t know what was in any of them because I have presbyopia.  Because I’m old.  Ish.

Presbyopia.  Sounds like a terminal disease or a religious sect, doesn’t it?  It’s neither.  It means my eyes are aging along with the rest of my generation.  Mostly, I see fine with my glasses.  But mornings are impossible:  first, I hobble out of bed, my joints cracking like pinecones in a fire. Once I get into the shower, I can’t tell the difference between shampoo, conditioner and body wash.  I make mistakes.

And it’s not just in-shower products.  And it’s not just in the morning.

I can’t tell my day from my night creams, so presbyopia may actually endanger my life.  The day cream has SPF to keep me from contracting skin cancer, which is vital to me as an Irish-American still awaiting my first tan.  The night cream has something in it to make me look years younger.  I’ve been using it since 1987, and if it worked as advertised I should just now be developing acne.

I don’t want to get them confused.  But I do.

Women with sagging butts still want what hasn’t relocated to look nice, you know.  In fact, it becomes increasingly more important as other body parts fail.  And we want to know that we are using the right stuff in the right order.  We need the “turn-around” cream first and then the regular moisturizer.  In that order!  We can no longer afford to do it the other way around by accident.  And we tend to shampoo first and then condition.

Products designed to be used by wet naked people who aren’t wearing their glasses in the shower should have HUGE printing.  They do not.  It is completely unfair.

No.  It’s worse; it’s discrimination.  Ageism.  Chauvinism.  Some “ism” or other.  This packaging bigotry prevents aging folks from making intelligent choices, minimizes their independence, and undermines their confidence.  Sometimes, it also makes their hair sticky.

It’s “Boomerism.”  Boomerism is “the practice of ensuring through packaging that Baby Boomers, who never were as great a generation as their parents because there were no Nazis for US to fight, will feel inept while grooming.”  Boomerism.  You heard it here first.

I blame the packaging industry for my distress.  I should sue.  Or go into assisted living.

Twenty-somethings – the folks who obviously design these labels – they don’t have presbyopia.  They can’t even spell it.  We aging boomers still have some cash to spend (at least until they take away our Social Security).  We need assistance:

LARGE FONT PRINT!!

The first company that trades on this need will reap HUGE REWARDS.

Imagine the advertising campaign, filmed in a low grade blur:  An attractive 50-something Diane Keeton-type takes off her glasses, steps into the shower, and squints at the 10 bottles on the back of the tub.  She chooses a bottle.  The camera shot changes to one of just the shower curtain.

“This doesn’t seem right,” she says, after applying something to her hair.  Her hand reaches out for her glasses and they disappear back inside.  We hear:

“Oh No!!”

She can now see that she’s just massaged Nair Hair Remover into her scalp.  The camera moves to a lineup of legibly labeled products on her sink, next to her glasses.

Now, this is my idea, my design.  So any of you advertising folks need to know that I expect a percentage of the excess profits from products that cannot be accused of Boomerism.  And I know just what I’ll do with my share of the proceeds.

I’m getting Lasik eye surgery so that I can read my stupid alarm clock.

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Filed under Humor