ORLANDO, Fla. – A 57-year-old man faces charges of attempted murder after stabbing another man over a bottle of cologne, according to the Orlando Police Department.
Nothing good ever comes from splashing yourself with perfume -
It’s amazing how nostalgic you can get about things that aren’t around anymore. I’m not talking about the “good old days” – grandma baking bread in the kitchen, your childhood trips to the beach, I Love Lucy on the black and white TV with the rabbit ears. No, I mean much more recent things.
This occurred to me the other night while my wife and I were watching television. A commercial came on. A pale, somewhat morose young woman looked dreamily into the camera, walked over to a wire cage and let some birds out to fly around the room. I seem to recall that she was wearing some gauzy thing that kept fluttering in the wind, although where the wind came from inside a room puzzled me.
“I’ll bet those birds are going to poop all over the place,” I said to my wife. “Do you think this is a cell phone commercial?”
“No,” she replied. “Cell phone commercials have happy people doing things with other happy people, and they’re all different races and religions and ages and some of them are in wheelchairs, and they all get along, and there’s usually balloons being set free, and confetti, and they aren’t dark like this. No,” she continued, “this waif would never do in a cell phone commercial. It’s getting near to Christmas. This must be a perfume commercial.”
She pronounced it ‘par-foom.’
“Par-foom?”
“That’s how they say it in France. Paris, France.”
She pronounced it ‘Par-ee.’
“Par-ee?”
“That’s where all your best par-foom comes from. Par-ee”
Sure enough, I turned back to the television and there was a small, elegant bottle of par-foom. The commercial ended. Over the next hour, we had several more par-foom commercials. The tip off was that for some reason, they’re all black and white, and the people are all wan and never smile, and they’re all young and could work at The Gap. The par-fooms have names like ‘Guilty’ and ‘J’adore.’ I think J’adore is a French word, because they call it Eau de Parfum, which means water-of-perfume in French. If you’re going to sell par-foom, a French name is a plus.
My wife said that this would be over after Christmas, which is good, because they’re starting to irritate me. All these mooncalves moping around, hair flying in the wind, flicking bird poop off their shoulders.
It makes me nostalgic.
For political commercials. I know I said I couldn’t wait for Election Day so I wouldn’t have to watch them anymore, but at least Donald Trump’s hair was never out of place.
Nothing good ever comes from splashing yourself with perfume -
ReplyDeleteIt’s amazing how nostalgic you can get about things that aren’t around anymore. I’m not talking about the “good old days” – grandma baking bread in the kitchen, your childhood trips to the beach, I Love Lucy on the black and white TV with the rabbit ears. No, I mean much more recent things.
This occurred to me the other night while my wife and I were watching television. A commercial came on. A pale, somewhat morose young woman looked dreamily into the camera, walked over to a wire cage and let some birds out to fly around the room. I seem to recall that she was wearing some gauzy thing that kept fluttering in the wind, although where the wind came from inside a room puzzled me.
“I’ll bet those birds are going to poop all over the place,” I said to my wife. “Do you think this is a cell phone commercial?”
“No,” she replied. “Cell phone commercials have happy people doing things with other happy people, and they’re all different races and religions and ages and some of them are in wheelchairs, and they all get along, and there’s usually balloons being set free, and confetti, and they aren’t dark like this. No,” she continued, “this waif would never do in a cell phone commercial. It’s getting near to Christmas. This must be a perfume commercial.”
She pronounced it ‘par-foom.’
“Par-foom?”
“That’s how they say it in France. Paris, France.”
She pronounced it ‘Par-ee.’
“Par-ee?”
“That’s where all your best par-foom comes from. Par-ee”
Sure enough, I turned back to the television and there was a small, elegant bottle of par-foom. The commercial ended. Over the next hour, we had several more par-foom commercials. The tip off was that for some reason, they’re all black and white, and the people are all wan and never smile, and they’re all young and could work at The Gap. The par-fooms have names like ‘Guilty’ and ‘J’adore.’ I think J’adore is a French word, because they call it Eau de Parfum, which means water-of-perfume in French. If you’re going to sell par-foom, a French name is a plus.
My wife said that this would be over after Christmas, which is good, because they’re starting to irritate me. All these mooncalves moping around, hair flying in the wind, flicking bird poop off their shoulders.
It makes me nostalgic.
For political commercials. I know I said I couldn’t wait for Election Day so I wouldn’t have to watch them anymore, but at least Donald Trump’s hair was never out of place.