Dark and Pensive, Infomercial Madness, and Outside of the Sphere

sunset trees

Winter can be beautiful as well as dark and lonely.

I can’t say that I’m sad or even melancholy.  I’m more in a sort of dark and pensive mode, which for me is a familiar, almost comfortable place to be.  My deep preference for solitude and quiet might be hard to explain to those with an extraverted personality, but for me it’s the mental equivalent of a warm fire and a relaxing easy chair.  The gardens of memory, like real gardens this time of year, are subdued and don’t appear to be as active on the surface.  Dormant, maybe, but not dead.

Of course it’s not as easy to turn off the world as it probably should be.  I am better at it than most, but I still have to deal with the practicalities of living and communicating with other people.  It would be nice to be able to tell a few people to go hang (or to just plain get bent) but I can’t shut down completely.  I’m afraid if I do that I won’t be able (nor will I want) to turn back on.

paper nighties

For me, every day is an act of the will to choose to interact with the world beyond my very restrictive sphere.  I don’t want to most of the time.   Today I would much rather prefer to take a trip to the Main Library in downtown Columbus and peruse and read and think in the quiet.  Unfortunately I don’t see a day coming where I can do that, unless I stop off there for a bit on my way to the Paper Nightie Appointment tomorrow.  I scheduled tomorrow and Friday off (I will pay for that one, but I need a little time away and I have the vacation time) so tomorrow I don’t have to scramble about and then have to endure the Paper Nightie Appointment.  I dread it enough as it is.  Friday I hope to finish getting Steve-o whatever Christmas gifts I want to get him- or better yet, meet him somewhere so he can pick out what he wants.

angry birds pants

Dad’s getting Angry Birds jammies.

Most of my relatives have way too much crap to begin with, so I have to be creative.  Dad is quite enamored of the Angry Birds game, and he likes those men’s lounge pants that geezers wear around the house.  It should work.  What else can you buy for the man with the taxidermied squirrel on a skateboard?

squirrel skateboard

Yes, Dad really does have a taxidermied squirrel on a skateboard.

I learned a new word from the infomercials that pollute the airwaves from 2-4 AM.  Insomnia must have some advantages, if only to enlighten me to the wonderful world of such invaluable products such as the Pos-T-Vac, the Nu Wave, and the No-No.

I always thought that area that’s not your neck, not your tits and not your shoulders was simply the not-neck-not-tits-not-shoulders area.  Then I discovered the French actually have a word for the not-neck-not-tits-not-shoulders area.  It’s always good for me to expand my vocabulary.   They call it the décolletage or décolleté- meaning “sort of around the neck area,” and you’re supposed to slather expensive cream on it so it doesn’t end up looking all wrinkled and birdy.  One infomercial suggests you should blast this area with a radio frequency device you can also use on your face to ward away the birdy wrinkles.   ‘Kay….

All I could think of when I came upon this device was Oh. Holy. Shit.

face blaster

If I feel the need to hook my face up to this, I have deeper issues than a few birdy wrinkles.

I can just imagine if I’d found this when I was five years old and had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night at Grandma’s.  Seeing Grandma’s and Grandpa’s dentures sitting next to the sink, glaring out at me from their soaking cups of Polident as I was taking a midnight whiz was enough to give me nightmares for a month.  It was bad enough that Grandma could remove her teeth at night. I could just imagine the insane terror my five year old mind would have gone through if I thought Grandma took her face off at night.

At first glance I thought the above alien face mask was some kind of device intended to turn someone into Lieutenant Commander Data from Star Trek:


You never know.

Of course women have been doing bizarre things to themselves to attempt to stem the inevitable tide of aging since the beginning of time. The truth is that entropy is always going to win.  Live long enough and your tits will bounce off your knees.

At least most women don’t still wear these awful things:


I bet they itched, too.

I have discovered many interesting things online that I can’t imagine anyone would have any sort of real practical use for, but people will buy anything on Amazon. Even this: It’s a model to practice doing prostate exams.  And you can have it in time for Christmas if you order it by December 23!

prostate exam thing

I have an idea for a new party game based on this: “Pin the Prostate on Bob”?

More “As Seen on TV” Dreck, Sheena the Table Dancing Dog, and Things to be Thankful For

The last refuge of the insomniac- infomercials.  I don’t know exactly why, but most nights I  have to get up once or twice during the night to take a trip to the bathroom.  Sometimes I find it difficult to get that last three hours of sleep between 2AM (when my bladder routinely rudely awakens me) and 5AM when both the dogs and my bladder decide I need to get up for the rest of the day. 

Some of the worst dreck on TV is on between 2 and 5AM.  I have to say the prize winner for most hilarious infomercial is for the Post-T-Vac.  I insist that anyone who can get Medicare to pay for old men’s pecker pumps has got a racket going on.  I’m glad this one doesn’t air during the day.  I remember it was bad enough back in the ’80’s and 90’s when there would be douche commercials or hemorrhoid cream commercials during the Westerns on Sundays.  I don’t know if there is such a thing as an effective segue from John Wayne to Summer’s Eve.  It was interesting to find out that you can extinguish a match with a hemorrhoid cleaning pad though.

I like this product, as gross as it might seem- it’s a butt wipe holder.

 No more reaching around all that way to make the distance around one’s fat ass- and no more “brown finger blues!”  I should get this for Dad for his birthday.  He loves gag gifts.

Some of the worst things that end up in infomercial hell are exercise equipment.  My mother owns most of this dreck.  I am surprised Dad hasn’t cancelled cable just to keep her off of QVC, but then he enjoys TruTV and History Channel too much to do that.   She hasn’t lost an ounce, but then again to be fair the products have to at least be assembled to make an honest assessment of their efficacy.   She has an entire home gym in her basement- still in pieces, in the original boxes.  And as far as I can tell, her butt is still as big as ever.  So much for the Ass Master 5000 or whatever they’re calling it now. I’m just glad she didn’t order the Totally Nude Aerobics.  I’d give myself a concussion bouncing around like that without wearing a bra.  If I am going to bounce around like a banchee I can guarantee it is in everyone’s best interest that I cover all the important parts thoroughly when I do it.  I don’t want to burn the dogs’ retinas with that visual.

I look at it this way.  I’m cheap.  I certainly am not going to pay “three easy payments of $39.95” for what looks to be an artificial step and some straps.  I can run up and down the basement stairs until I can’t catch my breath for free.

The beauty enhancers are also hilarious, and Mom has quite a few of these scattered about her house in the original boxes also.  I think she still looks the same as she always did, plus or minus a few more white hairs.  She doesn’t look bad for sixty-four, but then again, I’m forty-one and really don’t care if anyone can see the scars and potholes on my legs.  I think of them as battle scars, because a lot of them are- results of my ongoing battle with poor coordination and falling and running into things.   If I’m that worried about it I can do one of two things very easily: wear pants, or wear opaque tights- which thankfully are back in style.

Sheena is not exactly a graceful dog.  In fact, Sheena has even worse coordination than I do, which I thought was impossible without the assistance of vast quantities of alcohol.  The dog’s not a drinker, she’s just an extreme klutz.  She also has a thing for getting up on the end table (Sheena is not a small dog- she is a GSD/Husky mix and at her last weigh-in was 65#) to look out the picture window in the living room, much as a cat would do.  I am surprised she hasn’t tipped it over or destroyed the blinds.  She’s tall enough to see out of the picture window without standing on anything, but for some reason she prefers her perch on the table.   I haven’t gotten a pic of her on the table-yet-but as you can tell from this pic, she’s a pretty good size.

Clara likes to look out the dining room window, but she has enough class to simply stand on her hind legs and rest her elbows on the sill.  She and Sheena are almost identical in size (Clara is slightly taller but not as long as Sheena) but Clara is deliberate and precise in her movement, almost graceful.  Sheena lumbers and stumbles.  I am not sure if this has to do with her previous neglect, or if it has to do with inbreeding, or if it is a combination of poor environment and shady genetics.   Clara (in the pic below) certainly didn’t have the greatest genetic luck of the draw either (she was born with an umbilical hernia, rear dew claws, and has no undercoat), but then again it is sad what we humans have done with certain dog breeds’ blood lines.  GSD’s in particular have some pretty horrible genetic diseases inherent to most bloodlines. 

I am thankful for many things today.  I am thankful that I have never considered Totally Nude Aerobics as an exercise alternative.  I am thankful that the PP Perfect is not a real product. 

I am really thankful that I don’t have to use a toilet that is attached to a trailer hitch.

I did it!  I can honestly say that I used the words “toilet” and “trailer hitch” together in a complete sentence!