Now that I’m not destitute
–and could I take this time to once again thank the people online who said they were “so sick” of hearing about how destitute I was before? That was kind. You’re kind. Be proud. Also, going on a website to complain about bloggers means your life is full. Yep.
Anyway, now that I’ve moved into this marginal neighborhood and my mortgage is practically nothing and so forth, I am able to buy things like a normal person, such as bread and hair gel and a handgun. Here’s a rundown of my latest conspicuous consumer purchases:
See. You thought I was making that up, didn’t you? Just like the reader who said I made it up that someone put Violet in my car.
I don’t know why I’m so bitter today. I guess I woke up this way. And by the way, the first thing I did this morning was punch Iris when I went to shut off the alarm. Maybe I’m bitter because too many goddamn animals sleep with me. When I was a kid, I slept with my 79 stuffed animals. I had no idea I was training for real life.
Anyway, blueberry hummus.
I went to the grocery store last night for my regular shopping and saw this on the shelf. There was a man also similarly looking at hummus. “Should I try blueberry hummus?” I asked him, pulling if off the shelf. “What have you got to lose?” he said. He was a jovial type.
I mean. $4.99. That’s what I’ve got to lose. But I got it, and as I walked away the man yelled, “See? I’ll try black bean hummus! We’ll report back to each other!”
Like black bean hummus is such a stretch. Come on. Clearly I am the adventurer in this relationship.
The point is, I got home and tried it immediately because have you met my impulse control? And blueberry hummus
Oh my god, I adore blueberry hummus! It has a definite tang to it, and I ate it with crackers–regular rice crackers, not graham crackers as they suggested as I am not a toddler. Well. Other than my impulse control.
Prose hair products.
About a week ago, I told you that I fell for an ad on Instagram, and really I fall for ALL THE ADS on the Instagram. They know my thoughts. Just this weekend I mentioned I’d like to buy another paint-by-numbers, and lo and behold, Instagram gave me a paint-by-numbers-for-adults ad.
I don’t mean it was a paint-by-numbers dick. It was a nice impressionist painting. I want one.
But the ad I fell for that I’m talking about here is Prose hair products. You answer Qs and they MAKE THE PRODUCTS just for YOU! You know how I am. I’m Donald Trump. I love things about me.
I told them about my hair (worrysome) and they came up with shampoo, conditioner and a hair kabuki mask, which by the way is not the same blend as they came up with for Rebecca, up there in the photo. “Outdoor athlete.” Usually, when people describe me, that’s their first descriptor.
Anyway, at first I was on the fence about Prose, but that was before I used the hair mask. The hair mask made the difference.
I think I like Prose. My hair looks more normal-person-ish.
“It’s like your hair is a whole different texture!” my hairdresser exclaimed, ‘ere she drove out of sight.
Happy hair products to all, and to all a good night.
As you know, from your Big Book of June Events, which I guess is just “this blog,” I purchased a small Cuisinart coffeemaker when I moved in here, as my previous one conveniently died right when I was moving. I was all, Good. One less thing. But that new coffeemaker VEXES me. It’s fussy, and half the time won’t brew because it’s not in the mood or it’s taking a mental health day.
So this weekend I was buying a padlock for my garage (see above re marginal neighborhood) and I saw coffee pots were on sale at the Target, and I got a programmable Mr. Coffee for like $18. WOOOOO! And when the alarm goes off and I punch a pet each morning, I can hear the coffeemaker already workin’ for me.
My life has been transfigured. I put that French high-maintenance bastard Cuisinart in the cupboard, for coffee emergencies, even though I also have a french press for the same reason. I got a backup for my backup. What addiction?
That sums up m’purchases, although while I’ve been writing this, my (hot) mailman (of color) just dropped off three pair of reading glasses I ordered, as I have gotten more blind and have to, you know, read every day for work. I wonder if I can deduct these?
I’m a 2.25 strength, if anyone wonders. And yes, my eye doctor does blame my career choice for why my eyes are bad, although my mother practically wore glasses in the womb, as did my Aunt Mary. My grandmother that I’ve turned into always felt so guilty, because she took my young Aunt Mary to the eye doctor, and Aunt M put on her new glasses and kept squeaking, “I can see! I can see!”
Anyway, I can’t wait to get to work today and copy edit something that I can actually see.
Hello, supervisor who reads my blog.
What have you bought lately? Should I try it? Should I wait till Instagram advertises it to me?