Posts Tagged ‘paint’

“I Never Promised You a Beer Garden…”

Once upon a time, it became obvious to me that having fun is fun…only as long as I never allow someone else to require it of me.  The simplicity of it is connected to wanting the freedom to have fun, and understanding how to make that happen.  The problem for most people that keeps them from allowing it to become a way of life, is that they feel obligated to pursuing activities driven by concepts that move them further and further away from understanding.  The motivations for people to plant gardens and work in them will vary.

Those who believe the effort is just about not having to buy their veggies at the store need to consider the economics of their time spent.  For most of us, the simple math will suggest we’d be better off pursuing other performance activity.  The same is true for those of us whose hobbies include making bread, cheese, beer, and wine.  If fun is left out of the equation, you could be pursuing a false economy.  There is work involved, not the least of which is washing and sanitizing containers and utensils, that needs to be considered if you place any value on your time at all.

An avid sportsman told me the cost of fishing and hunting, besides dues to hunt clubs, included boat, trailer, camping gear, fire arms and munitions, an extensive apparel wardrobe, licenses and fees, the expense of trained dogs, and that doesn’t account for his investment of time.  He said altogether, his cost of meat and fish last year averaged about seven hundred dollars a pound.

But if you want to hunt, fish, or garden (or make bread, cheese, beer, wine, etc.) and enjoy doing it, all the other reasons to justify the behavior, including the concept of having control over the contents of your food and beverage supply, are secondary.  In fact, if you don’t enjoy it but do it anyway, how is that different from all the other compliance regimens that require us to be aboard some agenda other than our own?

Hobbies and avocations should be fun, and not allowed to become donkey-work.  And that also goes for many other projects, even home maintenance.  If the rent for allocated storage space for ladders and tools, the cost of getting those tools, and if the value of your time is not a consideration, the only cost of repainting your house is just the price of the paint…plus spackling paste, caulking, thinners, cleaners, masking tape, drop-cloths, rags, antibiotic ointments, bandages, splints and crutches (which you will need when you fall off the ladder), along with other supplies including liquid refreshments for the painter.  You might consider these last few items to be essential if your other hobbies include making beer and wine, with a possible exception for refreshments already paid for.

For the pure fun of it, try this:

Pick out a small patch of ground (or a patio box if you have an apartment with a balcony or patio), and plant caps from beer bottles.  Then, show it to people from time to time, and act as if you genuinely expect it to grow a beer garden.  Be enthusiastic about it.  The more excited you seem, the more fun you’ll have with their reaction. One visitor was so taken by such lunacy that he left immediately to go to the store, returning with a case of beer and placed it in my garden.  I left it there.  The next visitor was invited to go with me to my garden to pick beer.   If this doesn’t happen for you, I’ll beg your pardon.

There’s just no end to the fun you can have with this sort of thing.  Next year, I’m planting the corks from bottles of expensive wines.  If a case of Chateau Latour, Chateau Margaux, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, Dom Perignon, Giacomo Borgogno Barolo, Ghost Horse Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon, or any Riesling Trockenbeerenauslese shows up, I’ll call you.  Then, we’ll plant Scotch bottles!

In the meantime, I’m going smile hunting.  Game warden says it’s always open season, no license needed, and there’s no bag limit.  Additionally, the more you catch and release, the more you harvest.  If you want, you can throw in a few handshakes and hugs if targeted recipients of them find it acceptable, and rock on chilluns, rock on!

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The Roar, The Smell, The Feel, and the Flavor of the Greasepaint…

The natural woman is a beauty.  So, is the beautiful woman a natural?  Sometimes she is.  The girl who knows herself to be pretty might let go of the crutches of enhancements once in awhile, or not use them at all.  And the unassuming one without pretentiousness that leaves it alone can be wonderfully alluring, and not even know it.  But the painted woman, exotically so or not, can also be attractive.  When tastefully applied, certain shades and highlights can attract in a fascinating way, even perhaps be temptingly erotic.  Leave it rare or medium-rare, and not overdone.  Remember:  Overdone is not necessarily well done.

In fact, the incorrectly done can look clownish, obviously exaggerated, and even plastic when seen up close.  Some ladies mark and draw all over themselves as if to be seen across an arena from the back of a chorus line, but up close take on an almost ghoulish appearance rather than girlish–untouchable, almost dirty, glaringly advertising that a deception is afoot.  All the obvious accouterment gives it away.  If your mascara has big lumps in it, a man might think you got your face too close to a bucket of roofing tar.  In that case, he might want to hire you to help him work, but not necessarily want to dance with you.

Oh, by the way, don’t overdo the artificial aromas, either.  Teenagers, lacking the experience of years of proper practice, mingle in herds as if they are all trying to out-smell each other assuming it to be of some benefit.  At that age, to be irresistible to a boy is not nearly as difficult as some young ladies presume it to be.  To be sure, a lot of the perfumes and colognes available and sold everywhere from salons, department stores, and even service stations, are rather offensive smelling to men, unless it has motor or gun oil in it.

By saying men might find your store-bought fragrance to be unpleasant, I let a cat out of the bag that might otherwise suffocate.  It’s an amazing truth well hidden behind an avalanche of advertisements.  And the lie sells by the ounce.  The industry does not want you to be aware at all that what you’re buying costs a thousand bucks a gallon.  Most of the time, you’d get better mileage with about twenty-five cents worth of soap and water.  To bathe might be nice, but natural pheromones override fraudulent ones almost every time.

But don’t worry about it.  Once you’ve gotten their attention, they will put up with the odor of it even if you sprayed it on with a fire hose.  If it is a disagreeably odor-some distraction to them at first, be certain men are tough, and will charge full steam ahead as if going into battle given half the chance, or even the hint of any chance at all of a victorious outcome.  A good rule of thumb is the more you pay for a perfume, the less the man will care for it.  But other women will be jealous of you if they get a whiff, which, if you’re being honest with yourself, may be why you have it on in the first place.

I remember a young age when the boys were having to learn how to use their voices as hormones began to erode their ability to sing soprano.  During that time, the girls in my school peer group began to experiment with base makeups, eye shadows, and lipsticks.  It seemed customary to not paint the entire wall, but to abruptly stop at the chin-line so as not to get it on the collars of their blouses.  But I was willing to let them get it on mine, if I’m recalling correctly.  Yes, I was, and a bit curious about the taste of that lip gloss as well.  At that age, the game seemed to be to transfer all the paint from her face to mine, and wear it home almost as if it were a trophy, even though the prize won was only a kiss and the hint of a possible future promise.

One night I came in having spent the absolute best part of the evening in pleasant company.  As soon as I walked in the door, my father said:

“My God, son!  Don’t you carry a handkerchief?  Wipe your face before your mother sees you.  And learn to launder your own shirts from now on so I won’t have to see her cry.  Mercy!”

In theater, makeup is a part of the illusion, sometimes exaggerated to allege youth, or to confess age.  From any proper aesthetic distance, without makeup, the audience might just see washed out and almost shapeless faces in the bright lights, with features of any definition remain unnoticed.  Up close, the illusion doesn’t work.  And once the colors are known to be artificially applied, the illusion is broken, and all who see know that what is in the package is covered by more wrapping than required to make it pretty.  Other than that, it’s just ceremonial war paint, so be mindful of that as you head out the door to do battle.

I began performing as Mark Twain almost forty years ago at this writing, portraying him as a man in his seventies.  Back then, I needed the crutch of lots of makeup to be convincing.  Today I still spend hours in the makeup room, but not to put on much makeup, now.  No, I need the extra time just to fasten the buttons on the vest of the costume, as over the decades it seems to have shrunk tremendously around the waist.

So, to paint or not to paint?  Ladies, that is up to you.  But be ye not deceived about the benefits of it.  Please accept that you do it to declare something you might subconsciously feel necessary to compete with the other girls–not so much to outshine them at attracting the boys, but to declare rank.  If you even for one wild minute presume the boys will not be attracted to you sexually without a thick coat of mud on your face, you will be mistaken.

Want to make sure to be attractive to a man when standing close enough to see each other’s face?  Just make eye contact, and hold that gaze a bit.  And just as you break the stare and look down as if to blush, smile at him.  He will read your direct attention as an inspection, and read your smile as a clear sign of him passing it.  All men are vane in that way.  And if you court that vanity and if he likes you at all (and trust me he does), after that you can then drag him about by the nose if you wish.  You’ll not need to spend a penny at the makeup counter, trust me on this, as well.

One more thing:  Don’t play dumb.  The best thing that conveys, if there is any benefit to it at all is, you might be easily persuaded to make hapless decisions, or even stupid ones.  And if you think that is what the boy is looking for, go out and find another boy.  They’re around.  A new one is born about very twenty seconds–that’s more than four thousand of ’em a day.  Just be careful you’re not the one birthing a disproportionate number of them all by yourself with no one wanting to stay around to help.  But that’s another story entirely, isn’t it?