Deven McKay's Open Salon Blog

DAY 2 Writing Prompt: It's hairy jus

Sat, 17 Mar 2012 14:03:20 -0400

(In an effort to try to kick start some disciplined writing habits I did what all Americans do, I downloaded a writing app. I am using “A+ Writing Prompts.” This is not an endorsement of this product; in fact I feel quite certain that at some point in the future I will receive a cease and desist order from the creators. I made the commitment to write something about each prompt. I feel this will go well.)

“Lemon jus brightens pork dish.” Source: SouthCoastToday.com

This is not going to go well. There’s no way around it, the word “jus” just sounds dirty. Combine “jus” with “pork” in a sentence and you’re just asking the reader to conjure up late seventies porn. Speaking of the land that depilatory forgot (my late seventies mental porn usually includes a cameo from Gene Shalit. Now yours will too.), I had my brows waxed a couple of days ago (warning: the following may appear slightly racist but is historically accurate):

“What you here for today? Manicure, pedicure, and facial?”
“I just need my brows waxed.”
“You need more than that. You look old.”
“No, just my brows.”
“I give you facial. You look fifty again.”
“I’m forty eight.”
“You really need facial.”
“No. Just the brows, please.”
::sigh:: “Go back to chair one. No shoe on towels.”

*****
“You skin looking bad. You need facial. I get rid of black dot heads.”
“Maybe another day.”
“Close eyes. What are those spots on your eyelid?”
“Oh. Those are just a weird spots that showed up a few years ago. They seem to be fading.”
“You should see doctor to get them scraped off. Do that and come back to me and I scrape off the rest of your face. Make you look fifty again.”
“I’m forty eight.”
“You need facial. Your skin look like rice sack.”
::rip::
“You brows very thick. You lucky. Some people have tiny, tiny eyebrow. You have hair everywhere.” ::rip:: “Open eye.”
“Yes?”
::pointing in random direction of my neck::
“You want to wax there too?”
“Where?”
“Your neck, chin, and lip. I make you special face price.”
“No just the brows.”
“You very hairy. I make special price for hairy ladies.” ::rip::
“Just the brows today.”
::rip:: “No. I do whole face.” ::rip::
“Okay. Whole face.”
::rip:: “Good. You walk out with hair free rice bag face.” ::rip::

***
“I did perfect job.” ::holding mirror::
“Yes. Very nice. You always do my brows nice.”
“Get rid of neck hair.”
“Yes.”
“Get rid of long mustache.”
“I don’t think I had a long musta...”
“You have very large mustache. I made you special price.”
“Yes.”
“I clean off chin. Hard hairs on chin poke boyfriend. Bad for love.”
“I don’t think I had...”
“Stiff, stiff hair. You could have ripped shirt with chin hair.”
“Okay. I think that’s all my esteem can take for toda...”
“Neck hair out of control. I fix.”
“Alright, alright. What do I owe you.”
“Let’s see, special price for very hairy woman.... twelve dollar.”
“And now I remember why I keep coming back here.”
“Thank you. You come see me again.”
“Okay, I’ll see you next month.”
“Oh no. You come back next week. Hairy lady grow back quick. You get facial next time. Make you look fifty again.”
“I’m forty eight.”
“You really need facial.”

Mostly hair free

****
For the record, other things that lemon jus brightens:

Asparagus
Meatballs
Crying Children
Excel Spreadsheets
Gene Shalit porn
Open Wounds
Red Velvet Cake

DAY 1 Writing Prompt: Tiny Truckers

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 16:03:55 -0500

(In an effort to try to kick start some disciplined writing habits I did what all Americans do, I downloaded a writing app. I am using “A+ Writing Prompts.” This is not an endorsement of this product; in fact I feel quite certain that at some point in the future I will receive a cease and desist order from the creators. I made the commitment to write something about each prompt. I feel this will go well.)

Day 1: Upon shaking the writing app the following prompt appears:
“Class AAA semis open up day 3 of PIAA wrestling.”

This is not going to go well. “Class AAA semis” brings to mind small trailer trucks that I would place in battery operated roads - probably backwards. If I had some small AAA sized trucks, I would call them “pot bellied trucks.” I’m not sure what kind of cargo we could haul with tiny trucks, but we could run them on Habitrails. I could develop a reality series pitch that would mesh “Ice Road Truckers” meet “Little People, Big World” meet “Meerkat Manor” (if I could train hamsters to drive the little trucks. I bet “The Dog Whisperer” could help out there). If I could figure out a way to add a dash of Hitler and top off with experts from a pawn shop, I feel like I could completely get this into production.

Moving on in the writing prompt: “...open up day 3...”

What happened on day 1 and 2? Or is there not a day 1 and 2 and everyone just agrees to start on day 3, which, incidentally, is what I’ve been trying to convince people at work to do for years. If we all just agree that nothing of importance takes place on Monday and Tuesday we could all sleep in. Of course then producers of reality programing would realize we had more time to devote to the “Real Housewives” and suddenly there would appear “The Real Housewives of Biloxi,” so maybe that wouldn’t be a great idea (I’m lying. I’d totally would watch “Real Housewives of Biloxi”). It could also make more programming room for my upcoming show “Aryan Pot Bellied Pawn Trucks.” That’s changed my position (flip and a flop). All those in favor of starting the week on day 3, say aye. The ayes carry the motion. Feel free to stay home on Monday.

“PIAA wresting.”

Yeah. Not a clue. That makes me think of Pia Zadora - which is a damn shame. For those of you that don’t know Pia Zadora, good for you. For those of you that do know Pia Zadora, c’mon, you would watch PIa wrestle.

So to sum things up nicely, I need to find a production team willing to shoot “Aryan Pot Bellied Pia Pawn Trucks.” We start production in Biloxi in June. It should be nice and Hellish by then while I wait for the snow and flying pigs.

Snow and Hazelnuts

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 15:01:57 -0500

48 hours before event:
Local news teases that snow event is possible. Run to pantry to check on supplies. Eat a tablespoon of Nutella to calm nerves.

36 hours before event:
Local news states that snow event likely to happen. Run to bathroom to check toilet paper supply. Go back to pantry to check Nutella level.

24 hours before event:
Local news has developed Snowmageddon news theme. Weatherman gleefully pops up before and after commercial breaks with one liners like “Snow event of the decade,” and “Hang on to your sleds.” Get dressed in everything I own and head to Costco.

22 hours before event:
Circling parking lot at Costco realizing that it’s 42 degrees outside and wearing eighteen layers of clothing has been a major boob sweating error.

21.75 hours before event:
Wedge between two minivans at Costco, attempt to pull off sixteen layers of clothing without flashing unmentionables. Attempt fails. Passing child cries.

21.74.5 hours before event:
Grab aircraft carrier sized basket. Present Costco membership card to door greeter confused as to why it’s necessary since you can’t purchase vast quantities without card. Contemplate buying 68” t.v. Realize that 68” t.v. won’t fit in my Prius or my living room.

21.5 hours before event:
Try sample of Mrs. Crandall’s Gourmet Petit Fours. Mentally search to find proper descriptive term for petit four; settle on “waxy.” Eat second sample to confirm that Mrs. Crandall does not understand the word “gourmet.” Throw box of waxy petit fours in basket.

21 hours before event:
Attempt to do math in head to determine best value for toilet paper. Give up and play odds in 60 count being cheapest. Created navigational blind spot by placing giant toilet paper package in basket.

20.5 hours before event:
Ram three people on way to bakery. Place double pack of white bread in basket; consumed with guilt place additional double pack of gluten free brown rice loaf in basket. Come to senses and take out gluten free brown rice loaves and replace with twelve pack of croissants. Have heated discussion with myself about purchasing an emergency sheet cake.

20.45 hours before event:
Place twin pack of Nutella in basket after mentally rejecting argument that just buying chocolate frosting would be cheaper. Search for chocolate frosting.

20.40 hours before event:
Make unwise decision to secure huge can of chocolate frosting.

20.30 hours before event:
Repentingly place ten pound bag of raw broccoli in basket.

20.25 hours before event:
Eat another sample of terrible petit four. Refuse to give into urge to snag another box.

20.24 to 19.5 hours before event:
Stand in line at Costco. Ease-look at other people’s baskets. Wonder why anyone would need 48 muffins, a neon Open sign, and 64 oz. jar of mayo. Look at own basket and decide to mind my own business. Resist urge to go back to bakery for 48 muffins.

19.45 hours before event:
Present receipt to door person. Realize too late that I could have smuggled out all manner of items under giant package of toilet paper.

19.4 hours before event:
Open Nutella jar in car. Eat finger-full to calm nerves. Look longingly at croissants, talk myself out of opening package. Eat another finger dip of Nutella.

19 hours before event:
Listen to radio reports of impending snowtastrophe. Announcer proclaims “End of life as we know it” and “Kids grab your mittens.”

18.5 hours before event:
Circle parking lot at Safeway for spot. Eye Nutella jar. Throw Nutella jar out of reach.

18.45 hours before event:
Grab two gallons of milk. Remember I didn’t purchase sheet cake; grab emergency red velvet cake supplies. Secure twelve bananas.

18 hours before event:
Arrive home exhausted. Determine that I can leave supplies in car. Grab milk and petit fours.

17 hours before event:
Make myself sick on bad petit fours.

10 hours before event:
Text everyone I know about impending snow. Obsessively check school website for possibility of preemptive closure. Return to car to fetch Nutella.

8 hours before event:
Pretend to be sleeping. Think about Nutella. Roll over and squint at window repeatedly.

1 hour before event:
Think about making steel cut oatmeal. Eat piece of cake.

THE EVENT:
Panic.

.25 hours into event:
Sit on couch with spoon and jar of Nutella. Watch SNOMAGEDDON 2012 coverage.

.5 hours into event:
Field phone calls from Mom. Mom reports sitting on couch eating peanut butter with spoon while watching SNOMAGEDDON 2012 coverage. Chastise Mom while eating spoonfuls of Nutella.

.75 hours into event:
Make myself ill eating too much Nutella. Attempt to settle stomach by bringing in snow supplies. Realize I forgot purchasing the giant can of frosting.

1 hour into event:
Eat raw broccoli dipped in chocolate frosting. Consider phoning Mrs Crandall about culinary investment opportunity.

3 hours into event:
Go get thrown Nutella jar out of car.

4 hours into event:
Realize there’s no way I will use two gallons of milk before expiration date. Google recipes using milk, white bread, broccoli, and toilet paper. Bet Mrs. Crandall has recipe for milky bread broc paper.

5 hours into event:
Proclaim cabin fever. Eat banana.

8 hours into event:
Exhausted from eating, attempt to revive myself by eating croissant.

9.5 hours into event:
Take major “private time” in bathroom. Find storage for 59 rolls of toilet paper.

10 hours into event:
Think about getting into bed. Realize that it’s 7pm. Eat slice of cake for dinner.

12 hours into event:
Go to bed. Pretend to sleep. Worry about dwindling stores of Nutella.

….IT’S STILL SNOWING! I’m almost out of supplies. You know what to send...

Salad and Snow: A Love Story

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 20:01:30 -0500

“Do you remember what buttons you pushed?”

“I didn’t push any buttons. I was watching Family Feud and suddenly it went to snow. Then it went blue and that sign popped up about accessories. I tell you what it is, it’s that greedy cable company trying to get you to buy more junk to screw into the t.v.”

“Uh huh. After it went to snow, did you hit any buttons?”

“Well of course I did. Do you expect me to just sit and watch snow?”

“Uh huh. Do you remember which remote you hit buttons on?”

“Which time?”

“Uh huh. So.... You hit buttons on all three remotes.... okay....”

“Name something people typically eat while dying.”

“What?”

“I thought chicken leg, like you swallow a bone. But then I thought maybe they meant like last meal...”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“The question on Family Feud.”

“.....”

“You’re having a menopausal moment. That was the question they were on when the snow started.”

“Oh... What was the question?”

“Name something people typically eat while dying.”

“That’s a weird question”

“Maybe they meant like your tongue”

“I thought dirt. Were there any answers on the board?”

“Yes, but they didn’t make any sense. Salad and cottage cheese.”

“What?....”

“I guess someone could just keep cramming salad down their throat until they die, but who would do that? And cottage cheese can make you want to die...”

“Mom, I think I figured out the question...”

“...and as a last meal, I guess if the prisoner had done something really terrible they could force him to eat salad and cottage cheese before they electrocuted him...”

“Mom, I’m betting the question was, ‘Name something people typically eat while dieting.' Dieting.”

“Oh. Oh that would explain why Louis Armstrong was all cranky about the question.”

“It must have been an old show, and it’s Louis Anderson, not Armstrong.”

“You know he’s sort of a good looking man.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to matter if you’re talking about Louis Armstrong or Anderson, I don’t think either man was very attractive.”

“I’ll agree with you about Louis Armstrong. He walked on the moon, but he wasn’t very dreamy. I mean Louis Anderson.”

“Mom, Louis Armstrong... you know, never mind. And really? Louis Anderson good looking? Are you kidding?”

“Don’t be so critical. He’d be good looking if he got his teeth fixed, had a nose job, lost some weight, had another hair color, and was taller.”

“So in other words was a completely different man.”

“You know who’s handsome? That Mr. Garrett in 217.”

“....Okay back to the snow; so I’ve eliminated the accessories option on the DVD player...”

“Mr. Garrett is under seventy.”

“Uh huh. So now I don’t think I programmed your cable remote to synch with your t.v. options...”

“He walks to Costco twice a week to get a hot dog.”

“...so T.V. then video out...”

“He’s very spry.”

“AH HA! T.V. accessories. Cable, satellite in...”

“He has a car.”

“...where is the dumb submenu...”

“I think he still has his own teeth. I don’t think dentures could look that bad.”

“...okay, now cable box in...”

“You know you could do worse.”

“Huh? Are you thinking of asking Mr. Garett out? Or in your case, ask him in?”

“What?! No, you should!”

“Me? Oh Mom, no!”

“Well why not? You need to get back into the game of life. You’re too young to just skid into a retirement home.”

“I’m too young to just skid into a retirement home, but not too young to date a man in a retirement home?”

“You’re just scared he’s going to die. Not all men die.”

“Well I’m not going to be the one to break that news to you. You ask him out if you think he’s such a catch.”

“I’m looking for someone different.”

“Would that be a man that eats one Costco hot dog a week or three?”

“None I don’t want a man that moves around that much.”

“Found it!”

“Found what?”

“The way to thaw the snow on your T.V. Ta da!”

“So you’re not going to even entertain asking Mr. Garrett?”

“No.”

“::sigh:: Okay, well the ladies and I are just going to have to come up with a plan to find you a man.”

“Oh please God no.”

“No, no. I’ve decided. We’re going to get you a man.”

“I have the sudden urge to cram salad and cottage cheese down my throat.”

Parastupid Activity

Sun, 28 Nov 2010 17:11:14 -0500

Louise: I’d like to welcome us all back to the Lakeside Retirement Home Movie Club. I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly missed it.

Thelma: *@@*

Me: You know y’all didn’t have to stop having Movie Night because of me.

Tansy: Dear we wouldn’t have had one without you. It wouldn’t have seemed right. Besides we did get together to watch videos, just not movies.

Thelma: *@@*

Mom: Last week Charlotte showed us the video from her granddaughter’s wedding.

Tansy: That was so romantic.

Louise: Romantic? It was blurry. You couldn’t hear a thing above the cameraman’s breathing. Not to mention five minutes of all the groomsmen shoving the camera down their pants.

Me: What!?

Thelma: *@@*

Louise: Yes. So you can see we didn’t go bored while you were... recovering.

Me: I want to know more about the camera in the pa....

Thelma: *@@*...*@@*... IT’S NOT FAIR! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE. GOD’S NOT FAIR! WHY SHOULD YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH ALL THIS AT YOUR AGE? I’M SO MAD I’M NOT EVEN TALKING TO GOD ANYMORE! IT’S NOT FAIR!

Me: Ms. Thelma, it’s okay. Bad things happen to all kinds of people...

Thelma: You use to be so happy, I thought something was wrong with you. And now I see you in the hall and I can tell you were crying in the car, and I have to sit in here with these ninnies...

Mom, Tansy, Louise: Hey!

Thelma: ...and watch shameful awful fool home movies and I can’t even share with someone that those boy’s penises looked like hamsters trapped in a hay bale...

Me: I so want to see this video now...

Thelma: ...because all I can think about is how Betty’s daughter should be here... [breaks into sobs]

Me: Oh Ms. Thelma....

Thelma: Don’t touch me! Everyone just back away.

Me: Ms. Thelma, I’m doing better. I’m sorry....

Thelma: Don’t you dare be sorry. God should be sorry. That’s who should be sorry...

Tansy: Here Thelma, take one of my excited pills...

Thelma: What the hell is Viagra suppose to do for me now?

Tansy: Not Viagra. They’re my Xanadus. I’ll crack it in half.

Thelma: Thank you Tansy. Here I’ll walk down to my apartment and take it. When I get back we will not talk about this.

Me: Shoot. I wanted to know about the hay bales.

****

Tansy: I heard this is a real scary movie. How exciting.

Me: It’s a creepy movie.

Thelma: Can’t be creepier than the wedding video.

Mom: Shhhh. It’s starting.

Louise: Is this a documentary?

Tansy: I think you popped in the wrong tape dear. This is someone’s home movie.

Thelma: If that camera ends up in his pants, I’m out of here.

Me: It’s just made to look like a home movie.

Mom: You mean someone was too lazy to write out all the words and they’re just letting the actors jabber.

Thelma: They expect people to pay attention to this?

Tansy: Is something scary about to happen?

Mom: They seem to have a lot of time to goof around. if they stayed busier, maybe they wouldn’t notice scary things.

Tansy: The keys moved!

Louise: Moved keys? By that standard, I’ve been haunted for seventy years.

Tansy: Oh they’re calling a psychic. This should be interesting.

Me: As I recall, not really.

Thelma: This is like watching someone get a ‘flu shot, except without the excitement of the shot.

Mom: If this started when she was eight, that’s probably a more interesting story than this. Why don’t they show us that?

Tansy: The psychic is leaving. I thought something scary was going to happen.

Louise: Maybe we should fast forward through some of this...

Tansy: Wait! She’s screaming!

Mom: It’s a spider. I’m going to check the mail.

Thelma: NO! No one is leaving. We’re all here for the first time in what feels like ages. We’re all going to suffer through this as a group.

Mom: Okay, but only because you cried earlier. I can tell the Xanax hasn’t melted yet.

Me: I think Ms. Tansy said that was a Xanadu pill.

Mom: I’m pretty sure she meant Xanax.

Me: I’m forever going to call them Xanadus.

Tansy: They’re Xanadus.

Me: See?

Mom: [shaking her head no behind Tansy]

Me: We should watch that movie.

Tansy: Which movie?

Me: Xanadu. It has roller skates.

Tansy: I don’t think it would be safe to take Xanadus and then roll around.

Louise: They’re going to bed. It might get more exciting once they’re asleep.

Mom: Shouldn’t it have told the movie maker something that the most interesting parts of the movie happen when the actors are unconscious?

Tansy: There was a big thud!

Thelma: Calm down...

Tansy: The lamp is swinging!

Mom: Well they went all out for these special effects.

Louise: You know it might be fun to make our own scary movie...

Me: Yes!

Mom: We would have better special effects. We could have Mr. Thompson pop off his fake arm.

Tansy: She’s standing there!

Thelma: I’d be more scary just standing there.

Tansy: Yes you would be.

Mom: I don’t think sleep walking should be a special effect.

Tansy: It’s moving the thing on the thing! It’s on fire!

Mom: It went through all the trouble of catching the board on fire and then it ran away? Why wouldn’t it tump some things over while it was at it?

Thelma: We don’t care what the thing said on the board either. Let’s move this along.

Louise: You’d think they’d be a little more worried about a mysterious fire in their house.

Mom: He thinks he’s going to make it better with baby powder. Maybe if this thing has athlete’s feet.

Louise: It makes no sense that he wouldn’t want to call the demon man. If he believes there’s a weirdo thing in the house, then he’d have to believe there were weirdo people that study the weirdo thing.

Tansy: There’s hoofy footprints!

Thelma: A devil pig.

Mom: I bet that’s where deviled ham comes from.

Tansy: Don’t go in the attic!

Thelma: Go into the attic!

Louise: Maybe we’ll finally see the thing.

Mom: A burned up picture. I’m telling you, we could make a movie.

Tansy: It slammed the door!

Thelma: I don’t blame it. I find these people irritating too.

Louise: If someone told me that leaving the house wouldn’t help, I think I’d go anyway and see if it would or not.

Mom: When we make our movie, we’ll make it that the doors to the apartment were painted shut. That way it would make sense that we couldn’t go some where else.

Tansy: The cover moved! The light turned on! The light turned off! Her eyes are moving! There’s a shadow! She stood up! She’s walking!

Thelma: For God’s sake Tansy, we don’t need closed captioning for the obvious.

Tansy: She screamed!

Thelma: We heard it!

Tansy: He screamed!

Thelma: For the love of...

Tansy: It’s quiet!

Thelma: No, you’re shouting.

Tansy: She threw him across the room!

Mom: That’s it?

Louise: Seems like it.

Mom: The wedding video had a better ending. At least they had a fight scene.

Me: There was a fight in the wedding video?

Mom: Just a little one. We’ll have a fight scene in our movie.

Thelma: I’ll punch out Tansy.

Tansy: I’ll put the camera down my pants. Heheheheeeee.