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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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11:01 p.m. - 2004-06-02
At the vice store they have a whole barrel of cheap butane lighters. Your choice of color. 10 for a buck. These lighters disintegrate pretty quickly (that’s if they work at all, some don’t). They do weird things like magically empty themselves and send bits of shrapnel flying when the striker wheel is thumbed. None of them have blown up yet, but I assume it’s just a matter of time. Last time I was stocking up I lit each one before adding it to my pile. The chick behind the counter was giving me the stink-eye. I shrugged and said I was just making sure they worked. She continued with the prune-face and snarled, “Yeah. You and everyone else. What’s with you people? The lighters only cost a dime.” Well now, that’s not the point is it? I’m paying for them, even if it’s ‘only a dime’ and I’d like to know the darn things work. Work at least once anyhow. I resent the implication that I’m some kind of cheap-o neurotic because I want to purchase functioning lighters. I also resent the idea that it’s okay for the lighters to be so incredibly shoddy just because they are inexpensive. I am well aware of both ‘caveat emptor’ and ‘ya gets whats ya pays for’, but if I were making those lighters I’d be certain the bloody things worked before they left my factory. What ever happened to pride in workmanship? Cheap doesn’t have to mean inferior. Look at Great Lash Mascara. It’s one of the least expensive mascaras on the market and it’s the best. Back before my eyelids stretched to double their size and became saggy awnings, I used to be nutty with the eye make-up. Not shadow so much, but liners and mascaras out the wazoo. I almost wet my pants when we flew to Mexico. Duty Free Chanel! I tried them all. MAC. Sephora. All the other department store counter and drug store brands. Not a one of them was as good as Great Lash.* *This endorsement is an unsolicited testimonial and no fees or freebies were received by the endorsee. Dammit. My friend Lisa always throws a huge bash for her older son’s birthday. It’s just as much a party for the adults as it is for the kids. It’s pretty much the same crowd every year. I’m looking forward to this year’s party. A lot of the guests are people I only see at the party. I’m going to knock ‘em sideways. Better than the year I was 8 months pregnant with Wolf and I had to TELL people I was pregnant. Granted, I wasn’t carrying big but…sheesh. I’ll tell you something else. Since I’ve dumped the weight I haven’t gotten a single “Your grandson is so cute!” thing when I’m out with Wolf. In fact we had to get gas at the smelly convenience store the day after Alex was hired. He pumped and I went in to pay. I thanked the manager for hiring my kid. She gawped at me and said, “He’s YOUR kid? No way!” I almost kissed her. I had a ‘No Way!’ moment myself the other day. I was standing next to Alex and felt dwarfed. I looked up at him and then down at my belly. I measured out where he would have been in utero and looked back up at him. We both laughed. How the heck was this hulk ever small enough to fit in there? It seems absurd. Yeah, he was over 10lbs and was 2 feet long, but still! I know. I managed to squirt the big one out and they went in and got Wolf. 6lbs 13oz. Almost 3 weeks early, true. Even full term he would have been a peanut. I was sooooo embarrassed. Seriously. We run to 9 and 10 pounders on both sides. My little sister was 8lbs 4oz and everybody in the clan came to marvel at the tiny Thumbelina baby. In my estimation Wolf was only halfway complete. The first thing I did when I got out of the hospital was buy him some clothes. Everything we’d bought beforehand swam on him. We took our cue from Alex and didn’t even bother buying newborn clothes. We started with 3-6 months. That’s what Alex wore, why shouldn’t the next one? Wolf was so tiny I had to buy some things in premie. ‘Bout broke my heart. I chalked the C-section up to Wolf though. I may have failed him nutritionally somehow, but HE was the one who wouldn’t turn head down. Not even a butt breech. No, this kid was STANDING on my cervix. Since we couldn’t get him to turn and we couldn’t take a chance I’d go into labor, they went in early. Otherwise, Hello Lord Byron. The contractions would have smushed his feet to smithereens. So that he came out half-baked was his own damn fault for being stubborn. Yes, Moms really think this stuff. ALL Moms. Even yours. About you. I’m going upstairs now and jump my husband’s bones. My bunny is about the only thing on my bod that’s still working well. Cut your coat to fit your cloth, I always say. Chatty and inane, ~LA
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