No Chanel Nail Polish For Me!

You wouldn't believe how much I want, covet, DESIRE two of the new Chanel nail colors. Peridot and Graphite! Even saying the names gives me a little thrill. But at $25 a bottle, they are just to spendy for me. I will pay $14 for the UK brand Butter, especially since they have to send it all the way to the states from across the pond. I may even treat myself to the luxury brand Deborah Lippman, now available at Nordstrom for about $18. But even I, with no practical sense at all can't plunk down TWENTY FIVE dollars for a nail polish. That equals two Limited Edition OPI's and an emory board. So, are there any cheap dupes for these brilliant shades? The answer is yes and no. The Sephora brand has released a close dupe to Peridot. Close enough for color tv with regard to the shade, but can the formula compare, and is it important? I'll find out.
There is no dupe for Graphite. It is made of slivers of sunbeams and moonbeams and promises and the lint from angel's wings and bits of pixie eyelashes. It's the nail polish they hand out at the gates of Heaven, in the reserved section, of course. And it is not for the likes of me. Sigh.

Three Cheers For Chaz

Like most people my age, I loved The Sonny and Cher Show. Sonny was the foil to Cher's wisecracks, and Cher was stunning. Love her or hate her, you couldn't take your eyes off her. It was a special treat when little Chastity would join them to close the show, usually in Sonny's arms. The perfect, happy family, Hollywood style. Fast forward to today, and Chastity is now Chaz, having undergone gender transition surgery. A writer and activist, and strangest of all to me, a contestant on Dancing With the Stars.
Let's back it up a little. After years of being outed by tabloids, Chastity came out in the cover story of The Advocate in 1995. Although she had already told her parents she was a lesbian, making it public didn't sit well with her father, now a Republican Congressman, nor her mother, who enjoyed her own status as a gay icon. Sonny and Chastity were said to still be estranged at the time of his death in 1998. Cher eventually rallied 'round her only daughter, becoming a proud mother in the Gay and Lesbian community.
Which brings us back to Chaz. To have the courage to undertake the long, arduous, painful process of gender reassignment is amazing to me. To be a public figure, and the child of such famous parents, it must have been twice as hard. To already be under public scrutiny and have the guts, or should I say it? the balls to become the person you know you were meant to be takes more strength and courage than I'll ever have. It angers me that "Christian Family" groups are protesting ABC and DWTS for having Chaz on the show. One spokesperson actually said the bible says transgender people shouldn't be on the show. I didn't know the bible even mentioned Dancing With the Stars! All this while hiding behind the name of Jesus. Did Jesus not make Chastity Bono? Did Jesus not make gay people? If you don't want to see him on DWTS then change the channel. Don't know what to tell your 5 year old about it? How about NOTHING! Or if you must, how about that Jesus ( or whomever ) made and loves us all? This bright, caring soul has written a book called Family Outing, which helps our children understand that they are not freaks and that they are not alone. He, and yes, he has earned the pronoun, wrote a new book about this journey. If it helps someone, great. If you don't care to read it, please don't! If he feels fulfilled, is finally comfortable in his own skin, if he's happy, good for him. It's his face he sees every morning in the mirror, no one else's. More power to him!

Another restaurant tale.

At dinner tonight, in a place that wasn't Italian but had lots of Italian entrees, my dear Italian husband ordered Eggplant Parm, which he enjoyed when we were there last. However, because he is half caveman, and MEAT is a part of every meal and most snacks, he ordered a side of meatballs and a side of sausage. Commonplace in Philadelphia, where we've done most of our dining, even common in the few real Italian places in Lancaster County. So, down the shore, as we call it, we assumed he'd get meatballs and sausage in gravy. For those out of the Gumbah loop, gravy is tomato sauce or red sauce.
Out comes the eggplant parm, drooling with melted mozzarella, looking like a million dollars. Out come two little meatballs, sitting in a little pool of gravy. And out comes four BREAKFAST SAUSAGES, dry, sitting on a plate. I looked at him, he looked at me, we both looked at the server. She told us she'd check on us in a bit and left us alone. Alone in the silence and horror of BREAKFAST SAUSAGES dry on a plate. She might as well have brought a turd to the table! We looked at each other, my big eyes bulging, his little "Chinky" eyes slits of disgust and disbelief. You could hear the crickets chirping. More silence. The server returned to see how we were doing. Please Dear God I moaned in my head, don't let him say anything! And the saints were with me because he said we were fine. Fine! as the bastardized sausages sat there in disgrace.

Do servers play favorites?

Whenever my husband and I go out for dinner, I always get the better meal. We can order the same exact thing, and the server always gives me the better of the two plates. At a steakhouse, although we may both order the same cut, both rare or medium rare, mine is bigger, prettier, more drool-worthy. At a seafood place, he will get five shrimp to my six. At breakfast, his homefries are okay, mine overflow the plate. He brought this to my attention a while back, and he's right. He always says "they gave you my plate" because he is the bigger person with the bigger appetite, I pick at everything and never finish anything.
I attribute this to my terminal cuteness, and to a lesser degree, my sweet nature. I can be having the worst day ever but my server would never know. If I told him or her I was having the worst day ever, there would be a little something extra for me. My husband, bless his little black heart, has no problem showing his discontent. When the server chirps "How are you today" he tells them "lousy" if he is indeed lousy.
Then there's his steely, narrow-eyed facial expression. He looks like he could eat nails. I look like Bambi's older sister, big eyed and baby faced. The servers just naturally give me the best stuff. I am a baby bird and it's their job to feed me. The hawk across from me can fend for himself, which he does, right off of my plate. Help yourself, I say, there's plenty.

Misleading Mascara Ads!

I am more annoyed than ever at mascara commercials. First of all, if aliens saw that most of our prime time commercials are for mascara, allergy meds and ween pills, they'd think we were a species of limp lashed, sneezing impotents. The mascara ads feature models wearing false eyelashes, sometimes two or three pair! If I were to wear all those eyelid awnings I wouldn't need mascara. Are we such lemmings that because LashyLash curls and lengthens twice as much we must run out and buy it? Yes! At least I am. And I know you can't get the same results using just mascara...but that nagging inner voice cries what if it's really good? Still, I am annoyed by the "false" advertising. Much like in the '80's, we were told "Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't" but they never bothered to mention that if you felt like a nut you better also feel like milk chocolate, because Almond Joy was made with milk chocolate and Mounds were made with dark. So if you wanted dark chocolate, you damn well better not feel like a nut, and if you do, too damn bad.
So either spackle on the mascara so thick you can barely blink, or get yourself some falsies. Or do both. Guaranteed, you'll feel like a nut.

I think I have something to say.

I've been asked over the years why I don't blog, especially since the advent of Facebook. So, after very little consideration and no real planning, I become a blogger. While expecting almost no one to read these musings, I will write about whatever strikes my fancy. That could be books or music, beauty or food, or my little life in the woods. I am an animal/ nature geek, and even a possum fascinates me. Although not a people lover, I am in love with my family and friends, and the occasional stranger. And I may just have something to say!