Consumption

Voluspa's Malayan Coco Roll-On Perfume Oil

I really, really love using oils rather than alcohol-based perfumes.  This affair began in 2003, when I bought a random bottle of perfume oil from a hippie at the Portland Market, and discovered that what I'd really purchased was a couple ounces of spanish fly.  I was like the reverse Pepé Le Pew - people would actually follow me down the street to ask what I was wearing.  Strangers on the subway sniffed my neck.  And it led to me drunkenly and disgustedly dismissing a date at the Hub when he couldn't stop telling me how good I smelled.

"I know," Whiskey Janie replied instead of a polite "Thank you."

I mean, I DID know.  I could smell me.

"You don't understand," he said, eyes wild, practically drooling. "You smell REALLY, REALLY good." 

"Yeah, I know."

"No, I mean, so, soooooo good. It's amazing. I've never smelled anything like you." 

Cue bored eye roll and stool swivel - when tipsy, I was completely unsympathetic to the power this oil stuff wielded over others.

In the sober light of day, however, imagine my disappointment to find that before I could place an order for a lifetime supply, the hippie stand was out of business.  I horded that oil for another year, using sparingly, but I couldn't sit on it.  The world needed to smell it, and then I was out.  It still makes me sad to think of all the stuff left unconquered by the strategic application of that glorious oil.  What might have been.

Anyway,having grown attached to how close the scent clings with oil, I now keep my eyes peeled for them. Last Saturday before Miami lost to FSU, I felt sure of my impending doom and decided to conquer the pain by numbing my entire being with a xanax and 90-minute deep tissue massage at a nearby spa.  To my delight, they carry a line of candles and smelly things called Voluspa, and Voluspa makes some very pretty little oil-based roll-ons just PERFECTLY sized for a clutch.  They packaging caught my eye, and from a practical standpoint the bottle's screw-top is made well enough not to pop off and coat the contents of your purse in an aromatic slime you will never get rid off (this is key).  And then I smelled the Malayan Coco scent, and fell in love for real. 

Coconut's tough.  There's a verrrry fine line between smelling like cheap sunscreen and smelling like the promise of summer and everything good and tropical and lovely and moon-kissed. This Malayan Coco was musky enough to pull off the former thanks to notes of sandalwood and lemony hinoki wood, and I was sold.  It's not my beloved hippie oil, but it's a very nice runner-up.

$24ish | Voluspa

Panasonic Viera PZ85U

So we actually got married last weekend (hold for applause).

After you have declared your intention to wed your life ceases to be a series of random interactions and occurrences and the curtain opens on one of the most bizarre and lengthy pieces of theatre you will ever star in.  It's a little like The Truman Show, suddenly people you've never met seem to know you, and there are scripts everyone you meet follows.  Once you have accepted the starring role there are two main choruses, Those Who Have Had A Wedding of Their Own and Those Who Have Not.  The Those Who Haves mainly communicate by projecting their own experience on yours and aren't really speaking to you so much as reminiscing.  It's the Have Nots that are really disturbing, with their bank of appropriately timed throwaway questions.

One of my favorites kicked in about a month before the "big day."  So many people asked me if I was getting nervous I began to get nervous that there was something huge I had forgotten to be nervous about.  I haven't been to many weddings, are there usually firepits and endurance tests?  Did I slipup and invite Malcom McDowell's Caligula to the ceremony?  Am I fresh off boat from Ukraine to meet new American husband?

In the week plus since we've been married it's been, "So, do you feel any different?" and "How's Married Life?"  I have several quippy comebacks for this one such as "It's a lot like shackin' up only with more matching dishes," (for the latter) and "Well, my left hand is a bit heavier now that you mention it," (for the former).

But my favorite comeback is the one in response to "Where did you go for your honeymoon?"  I reply "HH Gregg to buy a giant plasma TV."   The way I see it, you go to the beach and get drunk and sexy for a week and that's it, but with a giant Teevee the honeymoon doesn't have to end anytime soon. 

As with every new relationship there are ups and downs.  We unwrapped the first one we brought home to discover the screen was entirely busted.  After fretting for a night about having signed the receipt that we had inspected it and found it to be in good condition, we returned it to HH Gregg with ease, so thumbs up to them.  Once we got it home, the Husband (no it is not the first time I have said that and it does not freak me out stop asking) hopped on the ol' forums and discovered the "break-in period" of 100-200 hours, which we are still in, so we've got the color settings a little wonky and the contrast all low, but overall it still kicks the ass of anything I've ever had in my home before, especially when we crank up the PS3. 

My only regret is that we discovered ABC has a separate HD channel only moments AFTER the season premiere of Pushing Daisies was over, but marriage is all about sharing sorrows AND joys right?