First off, what is this business about Ricky Martin (formerly of “Menudo” – a band I know nothing about and a soup you could not pay me to eat) being gay and that being news? How in the hell is that news?
I knew it.
You knew it.
Please. He was probably referring to a lesbian he hired to fixed his roof.
Moving on, let’s talk a little about ‘natural’ deodorant.
When someone mentions to you that they’ve switched to natural deodorant on account of the whole Alzheimer’s thing, what they’re really saying is “Sorry I stink like b.o.”
And I tell you what, I’ve been applying this overpriced Tom’s of Maine 24 Hour Odor Proetction Crystal Confidence in Wild Garden six times a day, and if the garden consists of nothing but onions, scallions, and garlic bulbs, then it’s working. Otherwise? Not so much.
In other words, sorry I smell like b.o., Mexico.
If you are one of the few fortunate enough to know me in multiple media dimensions, then you might already know I complained about this deodorant issue on Twitter last week and was informed by someone else on Twitter (because that’s how it works, apparently. At least for some folks. I guess they sit around all day searching the topic ‘natural deodorant’ or “Cabo” or “Moms who love Satan” and respond to those people who happen to mention that stuff all day long. As for me, I am terrible at tweeting back. I send one shot out into the dark – usually in the morning – and call it good. Occasionally I realize people have put forth an effort to communicate with my incommunicado self, and I try to reciprocate in kind, but it’s always a day late and a peso [or thirteen] short.)
So anyway, this helpful Twitter-writer-backer lady sends me a link to a rather technical article with pictures of molecules and atoms and stuff I purged the second Chem II was over my senior year in high school. Despite my ignorance, I could still piece together enough to feel that it made a rather salient argument that crystal deodorant works sort of or barely or not at all because of aluminum.
That’s right, friggin’ aluminum.
Natural aluminum, but whatever.
Natural aluminum or nuked aluminum, isn’t it all aluminum?
Meanwhile, all this silence and stinking and wild garden promises have me thinking…who really cares if I get Alzheimer’s anyway? I mean, I certainly won’t care. If you know anyone with Alzheimer’s, they seem fine with it. Sure, they think you’re their mother who died in the 1940s or some friend they had in grade school, but they also seem happy to see them (you) again. What’s so bad about that?
I have some friends who have passed on that I would love to see again. Who does it really harm if 50 years from now I think you’re them? Maybe you could even embezzle some money out of me for the trouble? It’s win/win.
Digression aside, the moral of the story is that when I get home, it’s goodbye natural deodorant and hello Soft and Dri or Secret or Teen Spirit or whatever powerful toxic tube I can get my hands on first. Hell, I may even go whole hog and see if I can’t find some of that spray can deodorant my grandma used to use. I remember when I was a little girl (and before I actually needed the stuff), I’d sneak it out of the medicine cabinet in her bathroom and apply it just because I was so impressed by the shocking cold sensation in my armpits. Seriously, that stuff was made with freon or something. It was crazy.
I remember once I even convinced my brother to apply it shortly after swearing him to secrecy, just because I thought that he, too, needed to experience first-hand the horrors awaited us when we got old. And I didn’t even know about shaving or the cost of a good haircut and color or Alzheimer’s Disease yet.
Hell, there was a time that I used to figure out that I’d be 27 years old in the year 2000 and that was mind-blowingly old.
And now, 27 seems like a baby.
Which I’m sure 37 will one day too.
Unless, of course, I get Alzheimers. In which case I’ll be 27 again.
No need to worry. It all works out in the end. It all comes out in the wash. Except b.o. That stink is indelible.
Europe: I’m looking at you.