Rainy Day Parade

The rain is teeming down on this cool June day.  You could take a picture out our back window and place it next to the word 'torrential.'  In less than 2 hours I would be walking down the main street of a small Ontario town in early Canada Day Celebrations. 

"I so wish that I had a yellow slicker and a Nor'wester hat for this parade," I say.

"Like badminton?" asks David.

"What does badminton have to do with a Nor'Wester hat or parades?"

"Not like badminton... like PADDINGTON..."

My intellect has yet to kick in... The syllables make no sense to me.  I look completely confused.

"PADDINGTON?  THE BEAR...?"

"Oh, Paddington.  That makes so much more sense.  Wait, isn't he in a blue coat with a red hat?  Although come to think of it, if they were waterproof, I'd totally wear them.Oooooh... Do you think I could go on Amazon and source that outfit?"

"Like Butt Hunting?" asks Rissa.  She's late to the party.

"Butt hunting?"  David shakes his head.  "That sounds nothing like badminton or Paddington.  Are you guys both high right now?"

I just love my butterfly...

Leafing through Woman's World while waiting at the vet's office...   Ad after ad after ad for drugs/products that spend the last 1/16th of their page on the small print.

WARNING: may cause dizziness, nausea, itchiness, dry mouth, sneezing, anxiety, twitching, muscle aches, depression, seizures, anal leakage, loss of feeling in your left foot, temporary blindness, limping, complete blindness, dismemberment, tap-dancing, Judy Garland impersonations, ennui, giddiness, and death...

But then I come upon this ad:

On first glance, I was sure it must be for a new vibrator or sexual technique.  People of a certain generation will remember the L.A. Law episode from 1986 entitled The Venus Butterfly which alluded to a sexual technique that drove women wild.  Sex toys were actually created capitalizing on the buzz from this episode.  So, when  someone says:

...next to a picture of a butterfly-ish thing, I'm thinking that a lot of women (who also just happen to be the target demographic for this company), are going to be thinking the same thing I was. 
 
WHOO HOO!!!  SEX TOY!!!  and/or
WHOO-HOO!!! SEXUAL TECHNIQUE!!!

How disappointing to then read on, only to discover...

Two thoughts quickly ran through my mind:

1. 'Butterfly,' for me, was now going to be associated with accidental bowel leakage and
2. How many people suffer from this, that the company advertises products in Woman's World?

Maybe, just maybe, the ad execs who designed this are doing exactly what I think they're doing, which is attaching a positive 1980s memory to a discomforting condition in the hopes of selling more of their products to their target consumers.  I pee when I'm ill-prepared for a sneeze, cough or jump - Poise pads should be aimed at me.  And really, this ain't that much different.  In decades past, nothing 'icky' was advertised either in print or televised media.  In my Mom's generation, there were no maxi-pad or tampon ads.  Adult diapers hit the aisles only relatively recently.  Thank God that we can now talk about this sort of thing...  I'm still a little miffed that they stole the word 'butterfly' from me, but I'm willing to give that up if it can make dealing with ABL a little easier for those who experience it.

p.s.
In the writing of this post, I might have gotten distracted when I tried to locate Ann's reaction to Stuart utilization of the Venus Butterfly technique.  I found the L.A. Law Episode where Stuart first found out about it (Season 1, Episode 10 about 24:50 minutes in for the lead up), but not Ann's reaction.  I might possibly have spent a bit of time... uh...  hours searching.  If anyone knows exactly where it falls, please let me know.

It's pronounced VEG-GETTI...

"AS SEEN ON TV!!  IT'S THE VAGGETTI!!!"

David does a double take.  "Beg your pardon?"

"Oh, wait...  That's VEG-getti."

"And that's better because...?"

"You stick vegetables in and out comes 'pasta'."

"Vegetable pasta?"  David shudders.

"I was going to mock this mercilessly, but looking at it now, I would totally use it.  Plus then we'd have a Veggetti.  Think of the dinner conversations and tittering mis-pronounciations."

"Very true."

...later...

"What is that?" asks Rissa.

"It's a Veggetti..."

"It's a what now??"

"See?" I turn to David brandishing the packaging.  "Told you."  I turn back to Rissa. "It makes vegetable pasta.  Stick a zuccini in and out comes zucchini pasta!"  I demonstrate.  "Oooh, these blades are super sharp!"

"Yeah, don't be shoving your fingers in the VEGGETTI..." smirks David.

Rissa gives an epic eye roll.  "You two are 9 year old boys."

The Really Useful Pit Group

"Don't shave them DRY!!" I gasp, horrified.

"Ah, but my pits are youthful, Mama..."

"Oh, I get it, and my pits are elderly, decrepit, crabby pits?"

She shrugs and shaves her own dry armpits.

"You've got to watch out for them though," I say.  "The hair in the elderly, decrepit, crabby pits is so strong that it can yank the blades from the very razor that tries to shaves them."

"You guys are so weird," says David, from the kitchen below us.

"Not weird," I respond.  "Evolving.  My elderly, decrepit, crabby pits have abilities."

The conversation has brought David upstairs.  "They have abilities?  Like...?"

"Retracting armpit hair!!!  That can catch criminals!!"

"Like Spider Man?"  He then mimes armpit hair shooting out from his own pits.

"Exactly like Spider Man except it's coming from armpits and is, in fact, armpit hair."

"Not the most popular super hero," says David.

"I don't know," says Rissa.  "I think we should make it a web series."

"HAH!"

"I gotta go to work," says David, heading back downstairs. 

"I need some breakfast," I say following him.  "This is today's blog post.  Rissa, how did you describe your pits?"

"Youthful."

"Youthful?" David questions.  "I thought you said USEFUL!  Which made complete sense when you then had retractable armpit hair."

"If they were useful, wouldn't they be opening doors for people?"

"Yes, and they'd fold your laundry..."

"The Really Useful Pit Group??"*

"YES!!  And they would sing..."  He opens his pits and throws a melodic scale my way. LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-AAAAA!!!!"

"Other families don't do this," says Rissa.

*For all you musical theatre buffs out there.  You're welcome.

GO Train Puppet Show

"Would you like to see a puppet show?" asks Rissa as we travel into Toronto on the GO Train. 

"YES!"  David and I encourage enthusiastically.

Rissa clears her throat and reaches into her bag.

"TA-DAH!!!"  She flourishes two Compak Tampons in their wrappers - one purple, one yellow.  Holding them vertical, she presents them to us.

"Hi Susan."

"Hi Jane."

(They have British accents.)

"Fancy a shop at the supermarket?"

"Ooooh... I'd love to go to the supermarket...  I'm craving yams."

"I, too, am craving yams..."

There is accompanying music as Susan and Jane trot off to the supermarket  "doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo..."

"There are 12 episodes in the series," explains Rissa. 

"Of course there are."

RETURN TRIP...

"May we seet the next episode of the puppet show?"

"It's now a one-woman show.  Only Susan survived our trip into Toronto."

She pulls out the yellow tampon.

"Jane!  Jane!  WHY?!?"

Surefire cure for the blues...

Feeling down?  In a funk?   Is your life a great honking pile of crap?    In your circle of friends/family you must know one child in pre-ballet class.  It's spring.  It's the end of recreational classes.  Find a dance recital.  I can guarantee that upon viewing a pre-ballet recital, your mood will improve.

There will be raindrops skipping across the stage, probably with another raindrop carrying a lemon yellow umbrella.  Little ballerinas/ballerinos in tutus/shorts will plié from their positions on 'this is where you stand' cut out stars on the stage floor. There will be fairies and baby birds and kittens and flower pots and ladybugs and they will all have toddler pot-bellies covered in varying shades of sequins/flowers/stars/spandex/lace/tulle.  They won't know the dance, but they won't care.  (You won't care.)  They'll all be jumping up and down.  They'll laugh - (you'll laugh) - so thrilled to feel the heat of the stage lights - they'll look over at their little friends and see how those stage lights make sequined pot bellies sparkle.  Some will get tired and need to sit down on those cut out stars on the floor.  They will have to be wrangled by the dance teachers.  They will all leave the stage in a little train, holding onto each other's shoulders, waving with one hand to their relatives/friends.  Your chest will feel lighter, your cheeks will lift, happy freaking tears may come to your eyes.  (Unless you're soulless, and then, my friend, you've got bigger problems.)

Go ahead.  Test it out.  Dissolve that cynicism.  And then, when another day sucks, close your eyes and remember back to those kids - to the joy you felt - just watching their joy.  And next spring, when the memory of that has faded... find another recital.  Recharge that feeling.  Carry it around with you, like a picture in your wallet.  When the world throws you a crap sandwich - press "PLAY"...  We need more joy.  Come over to the light side... we have sequins.

Shower Wall of the Beast...

"You're telling me this is normal?"  David asks.

"Pardon?"  I'm combing through my conditioned hair with my finger tips in the shower.  I glance over at him.  His face is the perfect combination of horror/disgust/concern.  He directs my gaze to the shower wall, where I have been depositing my 'extra' hair.

I shrug.  "Relatively," I say.  "Since I've had the cold, I probably haven't been brushing it as much - I haven't washed it in a couple of days..."  I shrug again.

"You're sure you're not secretly undergoing chemotherapy?"    This seems to be a real possibility for him.

"Yes, I'm sure.  I promise that I would let you know.  It's an ebb and flow thing.  I'm not bald, so hair must also be growing."

"Okay."  He doesn't look convinced.

"You can feel for yourself if you like..." I offer.

He looks even more horrified, the thought of handfuls of my hair left in his grasp makes his eyes go wide.

"Think of it this way... now we have a fun shower game: Translate the Hairoglyphics!!"

"You're not normal."

"Well no, but in fairness, you knew that when you married me."

9-905-0-ASS?
symbol for Cancer - grass - ass?
P9 Gras-o-i-a-y-s?

 

 

In the sink after combing through again

What is NOT in my shower drain.