doin’ the Friday Five
1. What was the last song you heard?
“Outer Accelerator” by Stereolab.
2. What were the last two movies you saw?
I think they were Matchstick Men, which was amusing and cold-blooded, and Addicted to Love, which was amusing but so very early ’90s.
3. What were the last three things you purchased?
a. twelve dollars’ worth of junk at 99Cents Only, including striped crew socks and a popcorn bowl
b. books for my kids and Christianity and Incest from Half Price Books
c. Please don’t tell anyone this, okay? The third-to-last thing I purchased was a gift set of Michael Kors perfume.
You know why? Because last month I returned a couple of items of clothing to a department store, and the bastards gave me store credit instead of money. So Tad and I went back to the department store this past weekend, planning that I’d pick out a work sweater or something. Instead, I splurged on perfume.
I haven’t worn perfume in about three years. The last bottle I had was Hypnotic Poison. My youngest son, who was three or four at the time, used the last half of that bottle on himself one fateful afternoon.
After that I was too heartbroken to buy anymore, and I was tired of that scent, anyway. Various times throughout the past year I’ve gone to Sephora intending to pick a new scent for myself. Each time, I sniffed bottles until my nose bled but found nothing.
Here’s my technique: I smell the bottles until I find one I like. Then I spray that one on my wrist. Then, suddenly, it smells exactly like alcohol or ferret urine. I say, “This doesn’t smell good on me!” I formulate theories about my weird body chemistry. I complain about the fact that my wrist now stinks. I tell my kids that, no, we aren’t going to GameStop until I find a new perfume. They cry. That’s the process. Repeat until dead tired.
Tad and I went through the whole department store on Sunday afternoon. We poked at the clearance racks and tried on hats. (God, I love a man who will try on hats. Tad tried on almost every hat in the store with me, because he’s the best boyfriend in the universe.) The sweater I’d meant to buy was no longer available in my size, and everything else was more expensive than my store credit could afford.
We were walking out the door when I decided to smell the perfumes. Tad obligingly smelled them with me, because he’s so very do-able like that. After smelling everything, I sprayed a little Paloma Picasso on my wrist. The minute it touched my skin, it transmogrified into poison frog sweat.
I sprayed the intoxicating Michael Kors on my other wrist, not daring to hope for anything at all. Shockingly, it still smelled intoxicating. (Or, as Tad put it, “Okay.”) I immediately purchased the gift set, which was cheaper than the single bottle and included the same bottle plus a tiny bottle and lotion.
As we walked out of the store, I composed the lecture I would give my children when they got home from their dad’s about the uses of perfume. (I.e., the fact that they won’t be using mine.)
Now I am happy. When the work day gets me down, I sniff myself. Damn, I smell good. The only thing needed now to make my life complete is for someone to ask me, “What’s that scent you’re wearing?” I’m practicing the perfect offhand way to say, “Oh, it’s Michael Kors.”
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
a. Finish a short story I’m supposed to give to my publisher to add to my book.
b. Write a proposal for a reading I’m supposed to do sometime this year in order to satisfy the requirements of a grant I was recently awarded.
c. Keep from ruining my boyfriend’s goodbye party by getting drunk and then crying and falling down and grabbing his leg and screaming raspily, “How can you leave me like this, damn you? I don’t care if it’s only for a year and a half and you’re doing it to further your career! I only care about myself! DON’T LEAVE ME-E-E-E-E!”
d. Laundry.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
Barbara, Gloria, Tony, Tad, and some guy who always calls and tries to be funny. When I say, “Joe Blow’s office,” he says, “Hi, Joe Blow’s office. How are you today?” That’s really annoying, as you can probably imagine.
