Tag Archives: bold

Just Another Great Canadian Sunday

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It’s not every day I take a picture of my shampoo, so you know there’s got to be some kind of weird story behind it, right?

There’s a really good reason for me staying at home while W does most of the shopping. He is able to pick up all the items on a list, no more and no less. I admire that about him. Well, about anyone, really. The lists I take with me become vague guidelines once I enter a store. My cart fills up, and when the cashier wants to know if I found everything I was looking for I just smile and nod. Because explaining that I made six substitutions and changed my mind ten times and probably forgot at least three essentials but now couldn’t be bothered looking for them because I’m exhausted and don’t want to retrace my steps and just would like to be done with shopping and go home…..I don’t think she really wants to hear all that.

Anyway, back to the shampoo. I find it very hard to resist a good deal, even though I also firmly believe you get what you pay for. So I am one of those annoying shoppers with way too much time on my hands who will block an aisle while I check out ingredients and best buys and packaging and brands and on and on so you can see why the process is exhausting. And yes, the shampoo, I’m getting to that, I swear.  Although you can’t see it clearly in my photo, right at the top it says Proudly Canadian and underneath that, Fiers d’être Canadiens which roughly translated means proud to be (a French-speaking) Canadian.

And this bottle of shampoo cost One Canadian Dollar. OMG.

What in the world makes a shampoo uniquely Canadian? Being manufactured in Toronto? And why is it so CHEAP?? Is it complete Canadian/Canadien crap? Is this one of those instances where the store made a crazy deal and is passing the savings along to consumers? If I use this stuff will my hair turn to dandelion fluff and blow away in a high wind? Do I have any Advil at home for this headache? Better pick some up.

Anyway, long story short, although it’s too late for that, I have used this shampoo twice now and am happy to report no disasters so far. My hair is clean and shiny and still attached to my scalp.  If the Daily Basics people would like to pay me for endorsing their product I would be perfectly fine with that.  Although perhaps with that retail price they don’t have much of an advertising budget.

So that was a rather successful impulse purchase, which I believe offsets this next one.

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When W is away I drink Tassimo coffee, because I can’t figure out how to get the other coffee maker to brew half a pot that tastes right, and although the Tassimo coffee is more expensive, it likely all evens out because I’m not dumping half a pot of coffee down the sink every day. By now, if you are still reading this I’m sure you are wondering where all this information is coming from, but, more importantly WHY I’m telling you all this shit in the first place. I wish I knew. Or maybe neither of us cares but there appears to be nothing much else going on for us at the moment, so what the hell.

What I wanted to buy was a double sized Tassimo coffee in a breakfast blend. There was none to be found on the shelves, and this was the only double sized there, and the midnight eclipse thing was very appealing to me. Midnight eclipse for breakfast. Why not? BOLD is not an exaggeration I’m here to tell you. This stuff will knock your socks off. Thank God I never wear any.

Okay, I’m going to paint something now to forget the trauma of shopping. After that coffee I will probably be awake for three days. With great Canadian hair.

Have a scintillating Sunday. If it’s not too late for that.

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Being Birdie Bijou

On a blizzardy night in December, as she tossed and turned in her big feather bed, Birdie Bijou Berengaria had a rather unsettling dream. She was walking across a beautiful ballroom filled with laughing, chattering, fashionable people when she looked down at herself in alarm. She was loosing her color, slowly blending in with the woodwork; fading, dissolving, disappearing. She called out to the people milling around her, but her voice was muted and soft and could not be heard. She reached out to touch a shoulder but her hand passed through the material and the bone as if they were mist, leaving no impression whatsoever.

This is totally unacceptable, she thought to herself, as she attempted to stamp her foot in dismay, but that appendage had mysteriously turned to soft rubber and made no sound at all on the ballroom floor. She began to back away from the horror of this moment, glancing furtively around for some way to escape when she caught sight of her now nearly transparent reflection in the gilt mirror over the fireplace. She was a little grey mouse. No shine, no sparkle, no flare. Nothing. I am nobody, she moaned in despair. I am vanishing. I will be gone and never missed, and no one will remember me.

Birdie Bijou Berengaria suddenly sat up in bed with a start. What do I have to do to get noticed around here? she wailed. And suddenly she knew the answer.

From that day on, Birdie was bold. She wore shimmering sapphire and blinding scarlet, ruffles and lace and jewels. She threw away all her sensible shoes and replaced them with glossy black buckled mary janes that clicked and clacked and stomped with a lovely great racket. She held her head high and adorned it with lustrously flamboyant bows. She felt radiant and glorious. And because she positively glowed, she attracted attention as never before. She smiled and laughed and basked in the sunshine of her new reinvented self and her wonderful, interesting, and now thankfully very physically solid, friends.

She was so delighted to no longer be overlooked and ignored that she never once stopped to ponder what actually brought about this gratifying change. Let her go on believing it was the giant winged hair bow that suddenly turned her life around. We know what really happened.

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