Ran-dumb thoughts for a Tuesday
How do some people on the interstate feel perfectly comfortable going 15 miles slower than everyone else? And they’re always in the middle lane, you notice? And cars are trying to swerve around them in some sort of maniacal auto-version of the ballet The Ravens. I know this is mean, but I’ve noticed that the chauffeur retardé is almost always old people or foreign women.
I think Panera should buy the rights to West Side Story’s Maria:
Panerna. I just found a store named Panera!
There was always this one particular smell I could never quite catalog. And I have a bionic nose. I remember that my grandma’s house smelled of books and of homemade cooking, but there was a third distinct scent that completely eluded me. This morning, returning a cake carrier to the person who made me a birthday cake, I hit upon it! Old Tupperware!!! My grandma’s house smelled of books and cooking and old Tupperware! It’s a very unique scent, so I am not disappointed I could not qualify it until now. I am only happy I now know what it is.
I still feel horrible about my selfishness at wishing tropical storm Katrina would miss us so it wouldn’t cut into my birthday. Then it went out into the gulf, turned into Hurricane Katrina, and slammed into New Orleans and Mississippi. Man, I hate Catholic guilt!
Slowly undressing someone else while they just stand there and pose and look handsome is very very sexy!
I had a dream last week that I found a small grey pebble that had the ability to cure migraines instantaneously. I gave it to Marcie, even though I sometimes get sinus headaches. I figured she needed it more than me.
When our air conditioning shuts off in the middle of the night, our place gets stifling really fast. I wake up like Gwyneth Paltrow in the final scene of Shakespeare in Love. With a dramatic gasp, I spring up out of bed clutching my throat. Except there’s no dead Joseph Feinnes on my lap, natch!
posted by Schmacko @ 6:25 AM
6 Comments:
My parents' home is filled with old Tupperware.
My mom used to throw Tupperware parties on a regular basis about 20-25 years ago.
If I could smell I bet I could share in your enjoyment of said odor.
Yes Yes Yes!!!! ...... old Tupperware smell. I know that smell. I just bought some used Tupperware at a flea market and it had that smell, however, I ran it through the dishwasher on the soak and scour cycle and it doesn't smell like that anymore. hmmm?... I think I miss it. Reminds me of my granny.
My Mom never sold no Tupperware. She was a "make your own container out of tin foil" kinda gal.
I don't really have any smells that I associate with a particular place from my childhood.
That's kind of sad.
Wow, David...
This really kinda saddens me!
Like the smell of chlorine and hot pavement doesn't make you think of days you spent as a kid at the pool?
Or the smell of a new CD doesn't kind of give you a little thrill of possibility?
Or the smell of fresh mown grass doesn't remind you of anything?
Or Coast soap doesn't remind you of an old boyfriend?
wow
Judging by that comment's tone, I think there may be some stories to be told, David...
(And I have to point out that my word verification, xuiikuut, makes me very happy for some reason. I believe that was my Inuit name in a past life...)
I'm not saying smells don't remind me of things, I'm saying that I can't remember any smells that I associate with PLACES from my childhood.
Play-Doh to me IS the smell of childhood.
The first time I had sex with somebody, we used cocoa butter moisturizer on each other, so that smell obviously has a special place in my, er, heart.(rare occasion David TMI - appreciate it)
You and I both share a love for the smell of ink on glossy paper. A freshly unboxed Playbill at Bob Carr - it's like heroin.
And Marcie and I love the smell of gas (my mother like it, too, I recall).
So, don't cry for me, Stephen Miller. I just didn't go that many places when I was young.
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