Wednesday, June 11, 2014
I saw a TV commercial for the upcoming season of “Naked and Afraid” on The Discovery Channel. What is up with these people? Shark Week isn’t enough stomach-clenching action for them? They feel the need to bump it up to the Next Level? On the commercial were scenes of sharp pointy things in the jungle, snakes, and deadly looking spiders hanging out in their webs. There was also a scene of a squishy-looking man on a stretcher, being whisked away from all the danger (still naked, only wearing the straps that were holding him on the stretcher). I think the term “naked and afraid” should apply to the poor ambulance attendants having to treat the nudie guy. That’s what rubber gloves were invented for. I believe the man and woman on each episode are strangers to each other. Hmmm... way to break the ice. Whenever I contemplate what it would actually be like to participate in this show, the bottoms of my feet hurt. No shoes... just shoot me. Forget about getting naked in front of my stranger partner, camera crew, medical crew standing by, and various dangerous insects and animals. I wouldn’t make it three yards without shoes. I have very tender feet. I won’t address the nakedness, as that is too horrific to contemplate. Buns and underarms flapping in the breeze, cellulite on view to the world. No way. The most horrific element on the new TV commercial was at the end. The two contestants jump on surf boards and paddle like crazy, supposedly in shark-infested waters. I would think a naked man wouldn’t want to have his dangly bits anywhere near rows of sharp teeth. The Discovery Channel needs counseling. On one big giant couch, to see why they keep coming up with these shows. Then again, there must be a need they are filling. Maybe the screwed up people are the viewers. Good to know I’m not one of them. I can sit in judgement, fully clothed, shoes and socks intact. Sounds like this stupid TV show fills a need I have after all. And I don’t even have to watch it.
Monday, June 2, 2014
I cleaned the bathroom this morning. I tossed the old shower curtain liner, and excitedly got out the new one. The smell of new vinyl curtains always remind me of a new doll. I am transported to Christmas 1960 when I got my favorite doll, Whimsey. That plastic smell usually permeates the house, and for a while I’m thinking of all the dolls from my childhood - Chatty Cathy (She said dumb stuff and had teeth, which I found creepy.), Poor Pitiful Pearl (seriously... a doll you had to feel sorry for.), Betsy Wetsy (OMG... a doll that peed. We never bonded.), Madame Alexander Kitten (She was a baby doll that supposedly looked real. We took her around the neighborhood to see if we could fool anyone with our “new” baby sister. Nobody bought it.), and various Trolls. I loved that smell. As I hung the new liner, I kept waiting to be transported back to my childhood. Sniff, sniff, SNIFF. Nothing. It had no smell whatsoever. Weird. I got the packaging out of the garbage, just to see which one of us was crazy. It turns out this liner is made from something called PEVA, by our crafty friends in China. I looked online to see what PEVA is. It is a non-toxic material, unlike vinyl. According to the article, vinyl shower curtains leach off a toxic smell for the first month. They also have a bunch of other chemical-related bad things in their content. Great. My whole life I’ve loved the New Doll smell. It figures. I never seem to embrace anything that is healthy (I’m talking to you, tofu and brown rice). If I love something, chances are pretty good it is fattening or deadly. So looking back on all my dolls, I probably only nuzzled a couple of them. The other ones, not so much. But hey, I guess I didn’t need to get all that close. Chatty Cathy could sit there smiling with those perfect little white teeth, all the while leeching toxins into my bedroom. I didn’t even need to get close enough to pull her string, to suffer the effects of her vinylness. When she said “I love you!” or “Let’s play!”, she really meant “I’m trying to kill you”. Oh well, healthy stuff hadn’t been invented yet when I was little. We were dumb, and we liked it that way. Sniff, sniff...