TGIF

For my birthday, Joe gave me the verb exfoliate and the noun to do it. About three feet long and a foot wide, it’s a rough, waffled plastic sheet for scrubbing my back. Joe was looking for blue but pink was available and my back doesn’t mind. Hearing I like it, for Christmas he gave me three bottles of scented body wash: eucalyptus spearmint, lavender chamomile, and my favorite, orange ginger, labeled “Energy.” Dribble body wash down the scrubber, pull back and forth across the backside and smear all over, great fragrance. An old man can smell nice even if he isn’t. 

Trying to be less crochety with blog posts, sometimes returning apologetically the next day to edit out in your face language. On the other hand, in Australia one morning years ago I went in to the office to hear colleagues sharply criticizing the managing director because he’d apologized for something he’d said the day before. Their consensus was that apologizing makes a man look weak and diminishes his authority. His apology disgusted them.

In my time I’ve apologized much, because I’m a total alphabet-up, but I only remember ever receiving two apologies in my entire life, both from my mother when I was a teen. Writing this I wonder how others feel about apologizing? Both saying and hearing.

Coke on TV about that Superbowl commercial, “America” beautifully and movingly sung in several languages. We call ourselves a cultural mixing bowl, and we are. A nation of immigrants. Criticism of the Coke commercial as “unAmerican” is smallness beneath incomprehensibly asinine. English is a foreign language here, perhaps the raca would want it sung in apache or navajo or ... ? Nation of Latter Day HUACs. Get over it. Get a life.

As said, sometimes the next day I return to edit intemperate language. Not often. Don’t count on it.

Bath time. Maybe lavender chamomile this morning.

Anon