Fruit Tattoo

long time no post

and how when your walkman is low on batteries, you have to take your cassette out and rewind it with a bic ballpoint pen.

Don't you mean fruitless attempts? Or is this another one of those things that I've been saying wrong all of my life? Or were you merely interested in avoiding a pun?

Bootless, Fruitless, Sleeveless

Yes, and when the sound gets all wonky and bassy sounding, you need to take it out and slap the cassette against the heel of your hand.

Bootless and fruitless are pretty similar, but you know, when you learn the damn words, you need to take 'em out and see if they work.

Bootless: Unavailing; unprofitable; useless; without advantage or success. Synonyms: futile, fruitless, unavailing, useless, vain

Fruitless: Unproductive of success. Synonyms: bootless, futile, sleeveless, vain.

That sleeveless one--that's a new one for me.

sleeveless

adj 1: having no sleeves; "sleeveless summer dresses" [ant: sleeved] 2: unproductive of success; "a fruitless search"; "futile years after her artistic peak"; "a sleeveless errand"; "a vain attempt" [syn: bootless, fruitless, futile, vain]

God is in the anachronistic details. Or at least an apostle is.

Lordy. Hullo, you, finally.

Plastic wrap doesn't have that sharp edge thing anymore? I don't ever buy it. What replaced it? Micro-perforations? Lasers? Tiny slicy robots? Do tell.

Also: The long, unsturdy, warbly tone of an analog answering machine, when you had lots of messages, the rusty, accumulated-rain smell of metal wire window screens, the beauty of a vest or door curtain made of flip-top pull-things from soda and beer cans. Okay, not beauty so much as novelty. But still.

The devil is in my cat. Help please.

Ur, yes. Sorry to bother you again.

Plastic wrap, at least among the leading brands (and I know how you love them), have things like an EZ Slide Cutter. Basically, you gently drape the plastic wrap over the edge and gently slide the EZ Slide Cutter to the opposite end, and you're left with a clean edge and freshly cut plastic. Who says there's no such thing as progress? (Well, my mother for one, who hates these new additions, as they (admittedly) do not permit the type of one-handed operation necessary for today's hectic chefs, but I'd bet it avoids some expensive legal affairs.)

(As an aside, this has been one bit of reluctance to replacing our paper towel holder, which resides under our cabinets. It is a spring-loaded operation that appears to have god in it, and because of it's copious pressure, it leaves little paper towel shavings on the counter after some period of use. Some short-sighted [I almost wrote short-sided] members of the household had made motions to replace it, but it has undoubted, nay indubitable, advantages, primary among them, the easy one-handed use, because it, for most of the roll, provides the precise amount of pressure required to permit length extension while ripping when a sudden tug is provided [when the perforation reaches the proper point of rotation]. Of course, nothing is perfect, and as the roll reaches near the end, the pressure becomes excessive--one handed operation will result in having a small scrap of paper towel in the hand and curses flying out of the mouth. Near the end of the roll, one must use two hands and pull more slowly to avoid premature rippage. And speaking of name brands (and I don't know why I argue these things with you--I'm a generic boy myself, but let's face it [yes, this means you] there are exceptions), don't waste time with anything but <a href="http://www.vivatowels.com/>Viva</a>. Seriously.) And, wow, flip top curtains. That, I've never heard of. But then again, I don't hang out with the bon ton much.

Hey, what happened to my link. I obviously don't know how to use html anymore. I know you're dying

from the suspense of it all.

Don't waste time with anything but





Viva..

And the rest of the message talked about how I've never heard of pull-tab curtains before. Really? And then I said I don't hang out with bon ton much. It was funny.


Really.

Ha ha.

I DO buy Viva! I DO!

I thought it seemed sort of abrupt, but I figured you just lost interest in antagonizing me with your fancy-pants brandiness and your consumery gestaltishness.

Bon Ton? The midwestern department store chain? I remain rapt, yet confused.

Good job, young man.

I am not really a consumer. OK, I am a consumer, but we all are. I do not flash brand names (except in posts to you).

bon ton \bahn-TAHN\, noun:
1. Fashionable or elegant manner or style.
2. The proper or fashionable thing to do.
3. Fashionable society; a fashionable social set.

Here, braving the bon ton of New York in the early 1900s, he seemed uncomfortable throughout, as if he had been invited to an Edith Wharton party for which he was not suitably dressed.
--Stanley Kauffmann, "Women in Danger," New Republic, January 15, 2001

Though he was a college junior, his father, Bruno, was an owner of . . . a restaurant in Manhattan popular with the bon ton, so he knows what he was talking about.
--Anthony Haden-Guest, The Last Party

The bon ton here is to be grave and learned.
--Horace Walpole

Eaten any good pandas lately?

Firstly (adverb, hence the awkward '-ly'): "bahn-TAHN"? I'm not blaming that on you, obviously, but really: it's like France, by way of New Jersey.

Secondly: Walpole. That sounds dirty. Wa-a-a-a-a-a-llll-pole. Obviously I am more hoi polloi than bon ton. More hurly burly than hoity toity.

Thirdly: you do not flash brand names at me so much as brandish them at me. With a little bit of theatrical flailing, for good measure.

Just yesterday, in fact.

One: I've never been to France, but I've been to Jersey (recall brother and sister. I hope they're different.

Two: So does Horace. Horace. I am a straddler, a hoi ton, a hurly toity. There, I said it.

Three: You deserve a good theatrical brandishing now and then.

One hand. Feh. You have paper towel training wheels.

See, you expect me to be antagonized by the name brand part, but I'm more perverse than that. In the same pioneer spirit of the hair-cutting with generic disposable razors, I don't support the notion of paper towel holders. I am a master, a whiz even, at extracting a single panel of paper towel (a pricey name brand, if that helps) while the roll remains free-range, unencumbered by any sort of contraption, just perched gracefully on my countertop.

Paper towel holders are for sissies, along with electric can openers and cordless drills. Now I'm not calling names, I'm just sayin'.




I used to faithfully buy really cheap, thin, significantly unabsorbent recycled paper towel, for about seventy-nine cents a roll, until I switched to a grocery delivery service and then A) my purchases were (somewhat) anonymous, so I switched to something exorbitantly wasteful and quilted (but still plain white: no motifs for me) and B) the delivery service didn't carry any recycled options. That may make my highly honed tearing-off skills somewhat simpler, but still, you have to admit: I am an impressive man, paper towel-wise.Also: I missed your posts.

So long as yer just sayin

Yeah, ok. I want video. Yeah. Seriously.

P.S. I don't own an electric can opener. Does anyone?

P.P.S. Nor a cordless drill. Well except that one that was a gift, but I don't use it. It's total crap.

P.P.P.S. Paper towel motifs make my death instinct rear its ugly head.

P.P.P.P.S. Really? I didn't miss my posts. But, really, thanks. Seriously. I am a creature of ambivalence (at least when I'm thinking about it), and LiveJournal is included in that sphere.

I am going back to my glass house to get some good throwin' rocks. Back soon.

Sure. Old lazy people. Rich sixties-ish parents in condos.

Okay, I own two. I am an acknowledged, remorseless sissy though. Up to a point, naturally: I own them because I build crap, and having two prevents me from having to swap constantly between drill bits and screw driver bits.

Especially geese with kerchiefs. Or cutesy, anthropomorphic toadstools.

Yes. I check periodically, to make sure I am not missing out. I have even sighed dismayedly on occasion when coming up empty. Ambivalence is a modern day defense mechanism. A necessity. But a luxury.

I miss the world while I'm still in it

accumulated-rain smell of metal wire window screens.

Sigh.

Re: I miss the world while I'm still in it

I bet I spent half of my childhood with a sooty grid pattern on my nose, because of sniffing window screens.