Lush Me

Lush, massage bar, I would so eat that

One question before I start.
Would you eat one of the above creations?
If you answered yes, please continue.
If you answered no, then you answered no.
Carry on.
Take out the garbage or go for a walk.
There’s nothing more to see or read here.

Here is a picture of a funny monkey to help you forget why you came here in the first place.

monkey

I have lived with 4 women/daughters for the better part of 29 or so years.
I’m used to all the stuff associated with their personal hygiene too;
hair products, hair brushes, blow dryers (they torch at least one on a monthly basis),
gel/goop crap for their hair, conditioners, face wash [with Hawaiian pumice!], ass wash, back wash, foot wash and feminine mouthwash.
It never ceases to amaze me the amount and selection of products available.
Guys have two major categories: shaving and deodorant.
We don’t need much more.

There are some products available to guys as well that simply elude me.
Axe body spray, for one.
Oh, it’s infused with pheromones so no woman can resist you.
Let’s lay that one to rest and say that if you stink like BO or smell like Charles Manson, no pheromone spray, body wash or Godly bar of soap will ever eliminate that.
No wonder you go home alone.

Living with women I’ve gotten used to oddly named products that have no relation to anything ‘male’;
‘The Brusher’, Pink Grapefruit Exfoliate, Slick Works, Catch the Wave gel, Got2B hair motherfu*&$^ Complex,
TRESemme Simply No Frizz with *Frizz Defense!( and God knows how many more).

I used to think these products were okay as long as they didn’t interfere with my life as a hair growing Neanderthal.
That thinking changed a few weeks ago when I went to the fridge after several perfectly chilled Harpoon Leviathan Ales.

Looking into the freezer I spotted an Italian Ice that was the perfect size for a nightcap dessert.
I picked it out and saw the name ‘Whoosh’ on the lid.
Judging from the color is was a blue raspberry ice.
Perfect.
One of my favorite ‘ice’ flavors.
As I began lifting the lid off I noticed that this was not ‘ice’ at all but something called ‘Shower Jelly’.
My monkey brain screamed: DO NOT EAT THIS!

The company that made it is was called ‘Lush’.
They make fresh handmade cosmetics.
Or do they?
Their shower jellies include ‘Sweetie Pie’ and ‘Whoosh’ (the one I almost ate).
They have bath bombs with names like Butterball, Bon Bomb, Dragon’s Egg, Sex Bomb and The Sicilian
(oooh, tease me with your seductive Italian flare! Grazie!)

This company has stuff called ‘Gorilla Perfume’.
Gorilla? For a woman?
Maybe a hairy woman.
Why not call it ‘Primate Scent Enhancer’?
What’s the difference?
The names are quite amusing though . . .
‘The smell of weather turning’ . . .  (here comes the big one, honey!)
‘Snowshowers’ . . .  (get out the shovel you lazy, fat bastard!)
‘1,000 Kisses Deep’ . . .  (not going there, evah)

The other thing I almost ate was a ‘Lush’ bath bar.
These things look like little oval white hunks of chocolate imbedded with yummy things . . .  like nuts and stuff.
I almost ate a ‘Wiccy Magic Muscles’ bar that looked more like a white chocolate Snickers bar than a massage bar.
My olfactory senses slowly connected with my brain and said, “Dude? The tummy ain’t gonna like this. It ain’t food.”
Nuff said.
I had learned my lesson.

Lush has some great names for their products though;

Nutts ( a massage bar. Not touching the name)
Strawberry Feels Forever (giving them a *Beatle for that one)
Heavenilli (looks like Sushimi, minus the wasabi)(rub sushi all over my face, please)
After 8:30 (looks like a piece of carrot cake with 1” of cream cheese frosting, who can resist?)
Dorothy (a bath bar that looks like a little doggie turd on a blue urinal hockey puck)(truth)

Guys like me can’t understand this stuff.
We are happy that it makes you happy but we will never comprehend the obvious product innuendo.
And there is much of it with ‘Lush’.

Consider their Body Butters:

King of Skin
Schnuggle (so cute the name alone makes me gag)
Aqua Mirabilis (?)(is that a constellation?)
You Snap the Whip (Shades of Quentin Tarantino)
And last but not least, ‘Buffy’;

Massage our Buffy body butter all over your wet skin in the bath or shower to make you softer and smooth to the touch, paying special attention to your backside. We add ground rice, almonds and beans to Buffy to act as exfoliants; the rough textures eliminate lumps and bumps and sloughs away dry skin cells to reveal brighter, fresher looking skin. Rinse off the exfoliating bits and pat yourself dry. There’s no need for body lotion after a Buffy slaying session, because the cocoa and shea butters keep your skin beautifully smooth, moisturized and soft to the touch.

Smack my ass and call me Sally, this is true.
I would write more about this company but I have a mad date with an extravagant bath bar called, ‘Blue Skies and Fluffy White Clouds’.
And I think she’s taking me for one hell of a soapy ride . . .

A Giant Sleeps

peace, love, life, Kirkland

Kirkland Oliver  was a regular on Friday afternoons at the cigar store where I work  in Boston.
He was an affable and enigmatic man still living life like it was 1969.
Truth.
We hadn’t seen Kirk in over three weeks, a rare thing for a guy that you could count on like clockwork
to show up and get some rolling tobacco and papers  (6oz of 3 Citadels and 17 Modiano Club Papers).
On a dark whim, I Googled ‘Kirkland Oliver – obit- Boston’ and came up with a result that broke my heart.
Kirkland died July 29th at 66 years of age of prostate cancer.
What follows is a personal obituary and tribute to a gentle soul many people have never had the good fortune to meet.
This was written in part by myself but a more substantial portion was written by my dear friend and associate, Will Marks.
Enjoy our candid view of a man that truly knew who and what he was.

 

Kirkland used to make collages out of stuff most folks would discard.
He would make stuff featuring his pals’ names featuring all kinds of symbols and references.
The message was pretty much the same: Kirkland was telling us that we were cool by his calculus.
These works of art weren’t made for everyone.
Just the people that Kirkland let into his cosmic circle.

 Speaking of calculus, one time a fellow was in the store going on and on about his math ability.

Kirkland asked him what he did and the fellow said, “I’m a quant!” then he shared some detail in a condescending tone to make sure Kirkland got it saying, “I’m into heavy math for the investment industry.”
The store got quiet and Kirkland looked at him and said, “Yeah, I was into math too, used to make my dick hard in 3rd grade so I got into making shapes and artwork all based on math.”
Sizing up the quant he added “…but I outgrew that stuff, if you dig.”
KO had an unmistakeable ‘jazz’ quality about him.
From the way he walked (with a huge wooden walking stick) to the way he talked he had a rhythm and undeniable groove.
It was his ‘groove’ and his alone as he walked to the beat of his own personal drummer.

There was nothing quite like Kirkland striding into the store with the overpowering scent
of a double dose of patchouli oil announcing his arrival.

He’d flash that winning crooked smile and say “Peace” and get into the discussion always leading it back to the tenants of his homespun philosophy (equal parts Hendrix/Shakespeare/McLuhan/Grateful Dead/Health Food Store Chatter/Cantab lounge misinformation) with detours along the way typically including the night Sun Ra played Slug’s when he was blitzed on Owsley acid or how Mingus tore it up another night, his recent favorite band Girls On Top,
or how the Boston Public Library’s address was proof of dark plots.
“You know what the number of the Boston Public Library is, man? 666! It’s the sign of the ‘Cipher’, you dig?”
Kirk would chuckle and say, “Peace . . .  peace.”

Naturally, Kirkland bragged about his family and how he played the violin.
Then there were his cosmic rants about people who were too uncool to be friendly.
When Kirk would get rolling papers (always 13 until the size changed and it went to 17)
he always challenged me to grab the correct number of papers.
Sometimes I would and he would smile and say, “Nice, man. Peace.”
And he always rolled one menthol cigarette on Fridays.

Kirkland’s Friday pronouncements—“All the world’s a stage”, “What goes around comes around”, “Ain’t nothing new under the sun”, “Can you dig it?”, “It’s the Illuminati man they are controlling everything these days”, “Man I was checking out the internet you know where that is man?”, “Did you know I was in a coma man? Yeah, didn’t even know my wife when I woke up!”, “I love the smell of that cigar it’s getting me high.”, “I’ll take some menthol and 17 packs of rolling papers.”—are now a thing of the past; part of the store’s hallowed lore.

Kirkland has joined the pantheon of greats who went before him.
No sweat, Kirkland the larger than life friend to all who were willing, who put the “hep” in hepcat,
will live on in the hearts of all who were lucky enough to have been touched by his friendship and love.
I know many things about this man but some I can’t share here.
These were his gifts.
I know he always made me smile in his own and original hepcat way.
And although the sun was shining in Boston today, the city for me was just a darker shade of grey without Kirk . . .
Sleep well, my friend.
Oh, and Peace . . .

Hail to Kirkland for he knew who and what he was:
http://www.mysouthend.com/index.php?ch=columnists&sc=south_end_character&id=136049

~m & Will Marks

One Thing

 

This video moved me in so many ways and I am proud to share it here on my blog.
It was suggested by SKennedy of the Alzheimer’s Foundation.
I hope and pray that people watch the video, send this link to family and friends, share it with the world.

What is the one thing you never want to forget?

Your name?
The day of the week?
Holidays?
Seasons?
Favorite songs?
The names of family and friends that you love?
Birthdays?
Ordinary everyday objects?

Caring for loved ones afflicted with this insidious disease, I have personally witnessed all of the above at one point in time.
Your heart breaks for them but you know you have to move on because the progression of Alzheimer’s
never sleeps.
Sometimes, as a caregiver, nor do you.

I personally never want to forget how much I love my Pamela, my three incredible daughters and my twin sister Maureen.
(there are so many more on my list but I needed to shave it or you would be here forever)
If ever I should forget, I pray that they all softly remind me from time to time.
This disease takes and takes and takes until there is literally nothing left but skin and bones.
Just imagine a world without Alzheimer’s.
That, my friends, is a beautiful thing.
Once again, please consider supporting me in my Walk to Remember on September 30th. [see my link below]
I will be walking for my Mom, Dad and Pamela’s Dad who is currently in the middle stages of this leviathan monster.
I can’t seem to get away from it so I walk.
And I will continue to walk.
For all the lost souls . . .

One thing.
Just one thing.
It’s something we can easily remember.
But how about them?

A world without Alzheimer’s is a beautiful thing.

~m

the link for my personal fundraising page
WALK TO REMEMBER

When tomorrow comes

love, family, Alzheimer's Disease, memory

 

I read a post on Facebook from a ‘friend’ tonight.
I have no idea if he wrote it or found it on the interwebz.
That said, it moved me to tears reminding me of my Mom and Dad’s struggle with Alzheimer’s.
It’s called ‘When Tomorrow Starts Without Me’ and is a simply beautiful epitaph and message of hope that should be shared.
I’m missing my Mom and Dad tonight the way they used to be . . .  more than usual.
I’m over remembering the bad stuff.
Moving on.
Please share this . . .
Thank you, JohnD for posting!

UPDATE 8.6
attributed to David M Romano


When tomorrow starts without me
And I’m not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me.
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry
The way you did today;
While thinking of the many things
We didn’t get to say.

I know how much you love me
As much as I love you;
And each time that you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me
Please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name
And took me by the hand.

She said my place was ready
In heaven far above;
And that I’d have to leave behind,
All those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
A tear fell from my eye;
For all my life, I’d always thought
I didn’t want to die.

I had so much to live for,
So much yet to do;
It seemed almost impossible,
That I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
The good ones and the bad;
I thought of all the love we shared,
And all the fun we had.


If I could relive yesterday
Just even for awhile,
I’d say goodbye and kiss you
And maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized
That this could never be;
For emptiness and memories
Would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things
I might miss come tomorrow;
I thought of you, and when I did,
My heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven’s gates
I felt so much at home;
When God looked down and smiled at me
From His great golden throne.

He said, “This is eternity
And all I’ve promised you;
Today your life on earth is past,
But here it all starts anew.”
“I promise no tomorrow,
But today will always last;
And since each day’s the same day,
There’s no longing for the past.”
“But you have been so faithful,
So trusting and so true;
Though at times you did do things,
You knew you shouldn’t do.”
“But you have been forgiven
And now at last you’re free;
So won’t you take my hand
And share my life with me?”

So when tomorrow starts without me,
Don’t think we’re far apart
For every time you think of me,
I’m right here in your heart.