Monday, January 02, 2006

Happy New Year.
I’m at work, today. And I’m extra-sleepy and hungry, too. I had big old cup of coffee from Aurora this morning but forgot my lunch so my coworker who comes in at three is going to bring me a Chic-Fil-A sandwich, god bless ‘im. But about a half hour ago, my stomach was already totally pissed off at me, so I bought a package of Raisinets from ye olde vending machine. It was between that and the microwave popcorn, which I thought would just give me a stomachache. Truthfully, I don’t know that this was much better. bleeeeahhhh.

Another reason I shied away from the microwave popcorn is that somehow Raisinets have this quality of being less, oh, chemical-laden and artificially preserved. It’s just chocolate and raisins, man; no weird fake butter or pesticides or whatever it is they spray on that shit. I know: This is a complete illusion on my part. Still, it’s the false impression that counts.

And I feel like I already have my fill of untrustworthy chemicals, today: You see, at home, I have two brands of underarm Stop Being Smelly stuff: the girly antiperspirant/deodorant (with baby-powder perfumy-shite) and a tube of deodorant - which self-identifies as unisex, but carries a distinctively manly pine-ish scent. I don’t remember how I ended up with both – wait, I do. But anyway, I use mostly the latter. Not because I want my pits to smell as fresh as a Carolina pine forest, but because the baby-powder-smelling antipersp/deodorant has the weird effect of also being itchy as hell the second I start sweating.

This morning though, it had been a rilly long time since I’d used the powder-smelling stuff. I felt sorry for it, and wasteful and also unorganized in a way the Real Simple people would just hate, having two kinds of deodorant taking up space in my bathroom cabinet. And I can’t just throw out a ¾-full tube, because, you know, landfills. So, I sloughed it on. Another thing was, it had been so long since I’d used it, I only half-believed it would have the same effect it had had before, like there’s some sort of statute of limitations on Itchin’ like the Devil.
And now you know: there’s not, and so I keep scratching away at my armpits like a freaking pitbull. It’s a good thing there’s almost no one here. Or maybe it’s not; I could serve as a valuable cautionary tale, but if a tree falls and all that garbage…
Darn it, I’m hungry.

Labels:

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home