…is the flavorful compliment I received a couple days ago. I’ll back up.
I left for work on Tuesday in kind of a hurry. I threw on some rolled up boyfriend jeans, Keds, and a certain green shirt I’ve had for a couple years. It’s a little longer than average, with a mock bib and sort of puffy sleeves blah blah blah… it’s most distinctive characteristic is that it is very green. Like, REALLY GREEN. So green that instead of trying to describe it I will just point you in the direction of some of the leading experts on color:
- Crayola would call it “Slimy Green” and invite you to knock yourself out with one of their “Heads ‘n Tails” Double Sided Markers!
- Benjamin Moore would refer to it as “Clover Green” and passive aggressively hint that I don’t know… maybe that color is just a little too bold for your dining room?
- Wikipedia would proudly pronounce it “Forest Green” and be all “this shade resembles the color of trees and plants in a forest. Please click the links for questionably accurate information about trees, plants and forests.”
I really like it, yet every time I wear it I hesitate for a second. “Is this shirt just too green?” I ask myself. “If I wear it, will I look like a Sesame Street/Barney/Zoom cast member?” “Should I just save it for St. Patrick’s day?” “IF I wear it on St. Paddys Day, will people roll their eyes at the obviousness of my blatant celebration?” You know, just your average inner dialogue. But like I said, I like the shirt. So 90% of the time I end up shrugging and throwing it on anyway.
Back to today. I was wearing the shirt, loose jeans and Keds as I hopped out the door and began to walk in the direction of the subway. The man at the next apartment door was just leaving. He stopped on the apartment stoop and looked at me.
“MAN,” he said loudly, “That green shirt is bringing out all your sex appeal!”
My eyes widened, but only because a stranger had just yelled at me. The momentum of my power walk pushed me right past him and I was nearly halfway to the subway before I fully realized what he’d said. All of my sex appeal? Guys, I swear, I usually try to only bring out a maximum 40% of my sex appeal at a time. Why buy the cow, etc. This was just such a rookie mistake on my part. I mean Jesus, it was a Tuesday afternoon! Save some for the weekend, Madeline!
Now, I feel a little hesitant about saying this because to me it’s walking the line of saying “OMG someone complimented me but they are so wrong, there’s no way I look attractive!” which thereby obligates people to disagree with and, in turn, compliment you. I am really not trying to do that. I wear what I like and like what I wear – I don’t think I was doing bad at all. I just don’t understand the “sex appeal” crux of his compliment: the shirt has puffy sleeves and a big ruffled bib, it goes up to my neck, and is 100% cotton. What would this man say if he saw a woman in a tank top? Or a two piece bathing suit? His head would explode!
But hey, a compliment is a compliment and I just got one vote that says the color of my shirt is A-OK. Of course this incident brought up other things to worry about while deciding whether to wear this shirt…
Is this shirt going to bring out too much sex appeal? If I wear it, will I look like I belong in strip club/hip hop music video/Livelinks commercial? Should I just save it for my wedding night? IF I wear it on my wedding night, will my future husband wonder about my past professions?
Recently I was trying to check out a video on Tudou.com, which according to wikipedia is “one of the largest video-sharing website in People’s Republic of China.” Unfortunately the video was no longer available so an error page came up in its place.
Original Error Message
Just as I was about to give up on ever seeing the video or even understanding the error, Google stepped in to rescue me from ignorance. “Madeline, do not worry!” Google said. “I will translate this page into English for you!” I breathed a sign of relief and prepared to bask in Google’s infinite knowledge.
The page doesn’t exist? Man, that really is the potatoes. You know what else is the potatoes? Google’s translation of the entire page. [Click to view it full screen]
Number of times a phrase that includes the word “potatoes” is on this page, according to Google Translate: 6
- “If you think this is the potatoes…” (…Then just wait for what’s in store! :D )
- “My potatoes” (Collect your favorite pictures of potatoes here!)
- “Potatoes small customer” (This hyperlink leads to “The Potatoes Help System,” which helps you identify the type of potato you are looking at)
- “Potatoes recommended” (Don’t know where to start in your search for potato pics? Click here for user recommendations!)
- “Please read carefully the potatoes, use agreements and copyright policy” (This isn’t all fun and games. Don’t forget about our strict Potato Policy)
- “Copyright © 2005 – 2012 potatoes” (Bringing you the best Potato-themed social network since 2005!)
I never got to see the video but I’m pretty sure that Google’s translation of the error page was far more entertaining than it would have been anyway. If anyone reading this knows Chinese, can you explain how this happened? I really am curious potatoes.
Me in the the grocery store:
I need a new conditioner! Hmm, last month I bought an expensive one and it wasn’t all that. I think I’ll go back to the cheapo now.
[Madeline reaches her hand toward a bottle of Suave but is distracted by a LOWER PRICE]
Wait… what’s this? White Rain Energizing Citrus …Ninety-nine cents. Good NIGHT they’re practically giving this stuff away! Whew…I’m so glad I realized that expensive conditioner isn’t worth the money.
[Dark clouds form overhead. Madeline puts the White Rain Energizing Citrus conditioner into her cart. She does not notice the ominous dark clouds even though she’s indoors and that really isn’t normal]
Fast forward to the next morning. I’m in the shower, putting on the conditioner, and completely damning my frugality to hell. Because White Rain’s Energizing Citrus is literally the worst conditioner (energizing or otherwise) that I have ever tried. Here’s why:
1) The “Energizing Citrus” scent is horrible. Although its smell does indeed “energize” me to get the hell out of the shower, by “citrus” they must mean “citrus-smelling floor cleaner commonly used in nursing homes.”
2) The consistency of this product is somewhere between relish and a watery salad dressing. This would not be an appealing condiment and it is certainly not an appealing conditioner texture.
3) Back to the smell, because I just remembered another thing it reminds me of: throw-up disinfectant. Seriously, throw some sawdust in the shower and the next person would be all “Hey, who threw up in here?”
4) What is “white rain” anyway? Acid rain? What other kind of rain would be white?
“But Madeline,” you say, “I don’t care about conditioner. I’m sure you are exaggerating.”
You’re right, I am doing that. But please do not underestimate how awful this conditioner is! Honestly, you would be better off if you just poured melted butter all over your hair and sprayed it with Febreeze. Your hair will be softer and it’ll smell better too.
I am now excited to report that he is showing some pretty amazing gymnastic abilities. Check them out.
I’m moving to Brooklyn in a couple of weeks!
Right on the border of HOOD and nothing. Eh, we’ll see. So far I am very happy with the variety of food options, number of trees, and proximity to Manhattan.
Oh and the price… there’s that.
Jason Mraz’s latest album came out last week.
My review: Good!
This is what Jason’s hair looks like now.
My review: Wtf? Not good!
What happened to the guy that used to look like this:
I think I’ve figured it out. This new hair is an important step for Jason. He’s transitioning. Like Britney, he’s “not a girl, not yet a woman.”
Or something like that, just stay with me. A lot of pop stars, both male and female, burst out of the 18+ gate, shoving their sexuality in our faces like they’re afraid that if they didn’t we’d just assume they lacked genitals. Britney Spears, Xtina, and Miley Cyrus danced their way through this stage. With the boys is happens a bit later, as their “handlers” no doubt encourage them to maintain a squeaky clean image to appease the strongest part of their fan base: twelve year-old girls.
But when the male pop star reaches around age twenty… the slimy songs begin.
Case in point: Justin Timberlake.
Sample lyrics: “He doesn’t love ya/ I can tell by his charm/ But you could feel this real love/ if you just lay in my arms” (Yeah, I just BET she could feel your “love” if she laid in your arms. Ew, Justin.)
Mr. Bieber, though only a naif 18, is already singing about “Chillin by the fire” and “eatin’ fondue” (which his mom no doubt heated up in the microwave, but still). His slimy songs will be here soon. No word though on whether his mother will continue to prepare snacks for him and his dates.
Back to Jason Mraz: he skipped all this! He sailed onto the music scene in his mid-twenties. He was gentle, smiley, and short-haired. Unassuming. Safe. A very talented singer. Jason just rode the coattails of his talent, never once bothering to titilate us or make mothers cover their children’s eyes. It was all very un-American.
And so in order to avoid forever being the same old boring, short haired, cute, normal-seeming, very talented singer, Jason had to make a splash sometime. His hair is that splash.
…very possibly literally, depending on how much grease that mop can’t help but hold.
Whenever I mention to my friends that I’ve thought about selling my hair, sometimes they look at me in a way that says “How did I ever become friends with this person?”
And I get it! Before I looked into it, the only association I had with the practice of selling hair was from the classic Christmas story, The Gift of the Magi. You know, the one the husband and wife are dirt poor but so in love and so selfless that the wife cuts off her knee length hair (and the story makes it clear that her hair is like her only selling point) to buy a chain for her husband’s watch, BUT MEANWHILE the husband sells his watch (his most prized possession – remember who he’s married to?) to buy his wife a beautiful set of combs. Neither spouse tells the other what they are up to, and on Christmas morning they realize why a clear channel of communication is so important in an relationship. Oh, the [situational] irony!
Okay since I might sell my hair, I guess I should put it out there to any friends planning on buying me a beautiful set of combs: please don’t.
Ok, great! Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way… er no I still feel really weird about it. Originally I was just going to donate my hair to Locks of Love, which I’ve done before. But then I read some articles that raised questions about the charity’s practice of selling “unusable” hair to offset manufacturing costs. There seemed to be some heavy implications that these hair donations may not all be going to children with alopecia. In an unrelated story, “Hear the Secrets behind Real Housewife of New Jersey Teresa Giudice’s Thick, Luscious Hair!”
Upon this discovery, I thought that maybe I would just sell my hair, make some money, and then donate to an organization that supports children with hair loss. So I looked into it. BuyandSellHair.com is the “#1 Human Hair Global Marketplace.” I wish they would just call it “EBAY BUT FOR HAIR.” I’m a bit skeptical of Hairwork.com, simply because they seem content with the website design they started with in 1997. Oh but wait they also sell horse hair by the pound.
Mmmmm I don’t know if I can do this. Most likely I won’t. Maybe. I don’t know, probably not. Should I?