Saturday, January 15, 2011

Candles, hand lotions, and emotional stability

My neighbor has my number, even if she doesnt realize it. She likes to host home parties. Specifically, lotions and candles–wonderful smelly lotions and candles. I know what your doing right now, you're saying "Why the $#@& would someone buy something that smells?" Not bad scents, delicious scents. Fruit, spice, sometimes even sweets. 

By rough count I have over 15 candles, all different and a drawer full of different hand lotions, mostly citrus scented. I love them! Every useless, smelly one of them.

Why do I keep picking out more? Cause I'm weak? I'm supporting the economy? I'm part of the mindless consumerist masses that cries at Hallmark commercials and boybat's Pixar movies? Seriously, I teared up at the end of Despicable Me when Gru kissed the girls goodnight. 

I'm not as far gone in the consumerist department to think that if Joe doesn't buy me a Lexus or a diamond at Christmas it means that he hates me and he's got a divorce themed Hallmark card in my stocking. Do they make those? hmmmm...
If I think about it–which trust me, I don't normally like to do, introspection bad, obliviousness good–the scents make me feel good, remind me of happy things.

Except for the crappy smelling lotions and candles, they can all bite it.

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