Tag Archives: Blanche D’Almonds

move it

To be completely honest my life is turned upside down right now.  The moment in nature has ended.  A major relationship has ended.  The dream of a big project has ended.  Some of my stuff is here.  Some of my stuff is there.  Then my dear laptop friend Joan Crawford passed on, and until her replacement arrives I am at the mercy of the kindness of friends to update you.  No excuses.  Just letting you know why the erratic post schedule in case your pussy has been hurting over it or whatever. I know some you bitches are fanatical readers and for that I ♥ you.

They say write what you know, and lately I’ve become a reluctant expert in moving.  (Blanche, I know you feel me on this girl.  You and Ryan are about the only two fools that move more than I do.)  We discussed this topic before, but a few points are worth reiterating and a few worth adding.

You can never have too many boxes, especially smaller ones.  I like a mix of free liquor or grocery store boxes and specialty boxes.   For example, I purchase picture boxes properly sized to protect my art collection.  Yeah bitch, I got an art collection.  And what?  Make sure that if you pack a big box that you can lift the big box.

Smart movers know that tape on a well-made tape gun is an absolute non-negotiable.  You need a gun for everyone and a spare for when one of those fuckers misplaces theirs.  Buy tape in bulk.

Start packing early.  Kitchens, closets, and storage areas will take longer than you think.  Leave extra time.  When I rush, I make careless errors.  When you rush a move, you can actually injure yourself.  Wanna add a trip to the emergency room to an already stressful day?  (Blanche’s elbow says amen.)

I tend to shy away from hiring moving companies, but one way or the other you are going to need some muscle.  Just remember that no one will treat your things with the same care that you would, so keep an eye on folks lugging your possessions.  Move your own electronics.

Use linens to cushion breakables.  Watch how nicely those framed pictures slip inside a pillowcase.  Socks hug drinking glasses.

Clearly mark the contents of your boxes.  There will be a moment when you are surrounded by stacks of boxes at your new place when you are looking for something specific.  Unpacking a bunch of boxes to find the scissors will drive you bananas.

Make a list.  It may seem rather obvious what you are doing here – packing up and cleaning, but in a state of dishevelment a list provides direction and structure.  Plus, everyone can work off a list, so you don’t have to constantly stop what you are doing to supervise others.

Realize that moving sucks.  It kicks up a substantial amount of physical and psychological dirt.  View it as an opportunity to shed the weight of unused possessions, but recognize that process can be painful and difficult.  You will probably act like a twat, so budget some money to take your helpers out to a post-move dinner.

 

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: it’s just really expensive to feed you

Thank our girl Blanche for this one folks.  Early in February, Blanche received a tacky save-the-date email from two betrothed friends.  At the end of March, she received this email from the couple:

Hi Everybody!

We have decided to cut back the scope of our wedding and are now planning an alternative ceremony with immediate family and will be canceling the July 19 ceremony.

What started as a desire to throw a simple party for friends and family quickly grew into something neither of us wanted and no longer represented the evening we had in mind.  Thank you for all your love and support!  We love all of you, it’s just really expensive to feed you :)

With love,

(names withheld to protect the guilty)

Where to begin with this?  G-SUS.  Yeah, let it wash over you.  Rub it in your skin.  The pair has the audacity to disinvite guests whom they’ve already asked to save-the-date.  To add another layer of grime to the email, they dangle the morsel that they will still be having a festive little clan gathering, you just don’t warrant an inner-circle invite.  If that weren’t enough, the reason you can’t come is because you eat too much.  Well fuck you too then.  And don’t expect a gift either. 

 

 

Aim 2 Health My Daughter’s Hand & Body TheraCream

Last month my good friends visited and brought me some of their favorite products.  I love a little-known beauty secret, and I know you do too.  Perhaps you may enjoy Aim 2 Health My Daughter’s Hand & Body Theracream.  I know, I hate the name too, and I can feel you getting judgy about the packaging.  Let go of all the programmed expectations and accept this product for what it is – a damn delightful hand and body cream.

I enjoy the gliding slip of the application, the quick absorption, and the botanical base.  It is faintly and inoffensively scented.   I also appreciate it isn’t made by Procter & Gamble.

Product Ingredients: purified water, organic aloe barbadensis leaf juice, organic glycine soja (soybean) oil, urea, organic butyrospermum parkii (shea butter) fruit, vegetable stearic acid, cetyl alcohol (plant source), emulsifying wax (plant source), kosher vegetable glycerin, palmitic acid (plant source), potassium sorbate (plant source), phenoxyethanol (plant source), caprylyl glycol (plant source), tocopherol (natural vitamin E), organic aloe barbadensis leaf extract, organic azadirachta indica (neem) leaf extract, organic urtica dioica (nettles) leaf extract, organic juglans nigra (walnut) leaf extract, organic ocimum sanctum (tulsi) leaf extract, organic anthemis nobilis (chamomile) extract, organic calendula officinalis flower extract, magnesium ascorbyl phosphate (vitamin C ester), sodium bicarbonate (baking soda), citric acid (from citrus fruit).

No product is without its faults.  Upon first application, the cream burns and stings any cracks in the skin .  The sensation quickly fades.  This stuff soaks in and leaves behind a powdery finish.  Some of you will enjoy the texture of the finish and some of you won’t, but regardless this stuff won’t leave your keyboard greasy.  When over applied, it does have the slight tendency to pill, so go easy.The eczema and psoriasis set loves this stuff, and I hear on good authority it is quite soothing for a cracked ball sack.  Aim 2 Health has an array of different products for you to peruse at their website Aim2Health.com.  Worth a look.

Gurl, lemme tell you about Midtown

Hey ya’ll, I hope you had a fantastic weekend.  I took a little trip to Atlanta this weekend for Music Midtown, a huge music festival held in Piedmont Park.  Who played?  All these mutherfuckers…..Before entering the show, we decided to have lunch at The Flying Biscuit, a southern chain know for it’s vegetarian-friendly options.  After a 20 minute wait, we were shown to our table.  I ordered tofu scramble.  It arrived with an infection of tiny shards of turkey bacon.  I asked my waiter, “is this meat?”  I couldn’t exactly tell what the small pink strips were.  He scooped up my plate and not long after the manager came over to our table.  She slid down the wall behind her into a deferential squat and said “Words cannot describe how appalled I am that errant pieces of turkey bacon somehow ended up in your tofu scramble.  I understand that when you adopt a commitment to a certain lifestyle, that the commitment is important.  Your lunch is on the house.  Is there anything else I can get you.”  Take note, mistakes happen, but it is the way these mistakes are addressed that matters.  The manager handled the situation with the utmost of professionalism.  She acknowledged the error, expressed an understanding of why a vegetarian would be appalled at discovering turkey bacon in a tofu scramble, and immediately rectified the situation.  This scenario could have resulted in a death-blowing Yelp review, but instead I must take time to create a pocket of praise for the Flying Biscuit and their top notch manager.  After our free lunch, we walked over to the park.  Attendees covered the shady hills blanket to blanket by the time we arrived.  We headed down to the sunny field and sat for a bit of Adam Ant.  Working an OG Captain Jack Sparrow look, Adam played a decent, if expected, set to a half-interested crowd.  After Ant, we shuffled over to the mainstage for LudacrisWho hates crowd participation?  I do!  Ludacris spent most of the set trying to coax his “true fans” (approximately 10%, though he erroneously believed that percentage to be much, much, higher) to sing along with his catalog of hits and flip the bird at one another.  Most absurd?  He tried to pretend that the show was spontaneous and that he was just pulling tracks out of his hat.  To maintain that illusion, he probably shouldn’t have presented prepared background visuals and lighting to accompany his supposedly unplanned set.  Don’t insult us Luda.  To add further insult, three-quarters of the way into the set his DJ played Smells Like Teen Spirit.  Yup, you absolutely read that shit correctly.  Mutherfucking Nirvana.  It was as if he and his people looked at each other and said, “What do white people like?”  The completely irrelevant foray into mid 90’s grunge felt absolutely pandering and gross.  Much like Snoop and Dre at Coachella, I felt intense 3rd person embarrassment and shame for the washed-up rapper. Next came Florence + the Machine, a band that has impressed me live in the past.  Florence flubbed her intro; it was not noticeable to the general crowd, but she must have referenced the mistake at least 4 times in the 75 minute set.  It wasn’t a big deal, but she belabored it to the point of annoyance, comparing the experience to arriving at school naked.  An absolute PLAZA QUEEN set up next to us with his cheesy Bob Marley backpack and bracelets and proceeded to sing every single song at the top of his lungs completely off-key.  It was so loud, disruptive, and pitchy that I unapologetically and continuously laughed out loud through the Coachella-similar set.  He was so enthusiastic, I couldn’t bring myself to remind him that it was not his American Idol audition.  It wasn’t just that his singing was bad, it was also the intensity and mood he was bringing to it – like he was at a Slayer show or something.  At one point the kid threw up the sign of the beast – AT A FUCKING FLORENCE + THE MACHINE SHOW!  Blanche, you’ve been dethroned; there is a new PLAZA QUEEN clawing at your crown, and he has a soundtrack child!We secured such a favorable position for Florence at the mainstage, we couldn’t bring ourselves to give up our spots to navigate across the crowded field to hear GirltalkGirltalk is super fun live, but we remained focused on the reason we came – Pearl Jam.  When Florence finished, and the crowd began to shift, we gained another 30 feet towards the stage.One major difference between Midtown and Coachella is that Coachella has way more geographical space with the polo grounds and all.  By the end of the night Piedmont Park was asses to elbows everywhere we looked in every direction as far as the eye could see.  I know Leah Love, your greatest fear right?  The uncontrollable mass crowd could easily become a riot or stampede at any moment and there isn’t shit law enforcement, Jesus, or Eddie Vedder can do to stop it.The dense crowd had more than its fair share of rude pushy assholes.  Or maybe I was just in a mood, I’m not sure.  I made some friends and I made some enemies.  So we’re all standing around waiting for 60 minutes for PJ to start.  The natives are getting restless.  We’re staring at an empty stage.  The crowd thickens and two girls roll up.  Late twenties-early thirties, taller, one blonde with tats, the other dark brown overgrown frizzy curls.  Brown-haired girl has shorts on and some sort of white doily top.  At first all is chill.  We’re all respecting each other’s personal space.  But soon brown-haired girl gets a little sloppy, a little loud, a little big.  And by big I mean her big ass is continuing to bump into me.  In a crowd like this, people bump into each other, no big deal, I blew it off.  After the third or fourth relatively firm contact, I gently guided her back to her spot and sweetly said “Mama I’m going to move you back over where you were.”  All is calm.  Girl is moved.  The waiting continues.  Her ass hit me again and this time in a wedge-in-front type of manner.  Again, I say “could you please stop hitting me?” a little firmer this time.  I stood my ground.  This is the part where half of you will lose respect for me and the other will throw a fist in the air.  Let me be perfectly clear: I’m not proud of what I’m about to confess.  I overhear the girl saying to her blonde tatted friend I’m just going to stick my ass into this girl (meaning me obviously).  The audacity!  I was appalled.  Anger surged through my body like steroids.  So against all logic and common decency that’s when I hip checked the girl – hard.  When she turned around surprised I sarcastically said excuse me in my best bitchy.   She responded by saying she knew it wasn’t an accident.  To which I respond, “You wanna tussle in this crowd?”  She had a beer can in one hand and began to raise her other hand.  I doubt seriously she was going to hit me, but this is where I would claim self-defense in a court of law.  I reached up and I snatched a handful of hair and took the bitch down.  Right there in front of everybody, to her knees, one hand.  I really wasn’t trying to hurt her.  If I were trying to hurt her I very easily could have taken out her front two teeth with my unicorn ring which I always wear to rock shows just for this very reason.  Blonde friend freaked and started to go for a handful of my hair when my brave companion stepped in and pushed everyone apart.  I threw up the fist, unicorn gleaming and said next time it’ll be this. (My very best “you wanna knuckle sandwich?”)  That’s when the verbal bitch slap began.  Blonde tatty kept shrieking “why?, why?, why?!” over and over again.  “Why do you have to get ghetto?” (Which I found fucking hilarious, because really how else can you be in a fight but ghetto?).  I said, “I asked you twice to stop touching me.  You continued to stick your fat ass in my face, and I will not continue to be assaulted by you for the rest of the night.”  Then brown-haired girl says, “My boyfriend loves my fat ass.”  And I said, “I bet he does when he’s got you bent over fucking you up the ass and you’re screaming and you love it.  I know your kind.  (insert slow head to toe bitch scan) Yeah, I know your kind.  I know your kind. (3X slow for effect) You are trash.” 

They then slinked away in humiliated defeat and I became the most celebrated figure in a 50 person radius with everybody wanting to know if I was indeed the girl in the fight.  A drunk Joel Roganesque dude kept coming up to me and saying over and over again “You won that, you so won that!”  If only I could win my dignity back.  Look it wasn’t ladylike, smart, mature, or classy, but in the immortal word Steven Hyde, Where Zen ends ass-kicking begins. If you are still reading, when those two bitches left we had a great time.  As an added bonus, the fight cleared quite a bit of space so we had a little breathing room.  Plus, we made friends with everyone around us because 1) they wanted to know the fight gossip firsthand, and 2) they wanted to stay on the good side of the unstable hair-pulling psycho girl.  Pearl Jam absolutely rocked our asses off with a killer set list including:  Rearview Mirror, Crazy Mary, + the obligatory Black, Alive, Elderly Woman, Nothingman, and Betterman

The show was fantastic, and almost worth all the bullshit.

 

Demeter Clarc Word of the Day: Plaza Queen

Plaza Queen: a man or woman who is obnoxiously effeminate in a group setting.

That bitch is such a plaza queen, everybody within 10 feet cleared the dance floor.
This lesson brought to you by Blanche D’Almonds.  Serving warm nuts.

Fall 2012 Couture: beads, buns, and butterflies

Couture cotton balls at Chanel. Limp dick beaded buns at Armani Privé.Tucked tidy as Blanche’s balls with a hairnet at Valentino.Who’s bold enough to work a veil outside of the altar?Buns served on a bed of fishnet bondage bank robberess at Jean Paul Gaultier.Super upscale lesbian chic at Chanel.A good distraction for a challenging face day by Giambattista Valli.Say bye with butterflies from the back.

Lazy Ass Bitches

How over bad service are we?  I know Blanche D’Almonds doesn’t hesitate to express her feelings in writing and send it straight to the top.  I admire this tactic, though I personally rarely employ it.  I hold grudges forever.  Provide abysmal service once, and I will never go back – ever – no matter how inconvenient the establishment is to avoid.

There is a property I want to see.  I’ve called the listing agent 3X over the last week  and the lazy bitch still hasn’t called me back.  You wanna sell a house or not?  Why am I having to track your ass down to see your listing?  Where the fuck is Josh Flagg when I need him?Rather than expect it as a rule, now good service surprises me.  I provide lavish praise and gratuity when I receive it.  I do my part.  I come to the interaction with kindness and patience.  Meet my eye.  Say hello and goodbye.  Please and thank you too.  It’s not that hard to do.

 

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: On Public Grooming

After several recent appalling experiences on the subway, Blanche D’Almonds requested a Demeter Clarc Manners Moment on the social boundaries of public grooming.  This one’s for you Blanche. No public nail clipping please.  In China public nail clipping is a socially acceptable practice, but you don’t live in China do you?  I’m pretty sure this website is banned in China.  Public nail clipping should be banned everywhere. A tacky bitch labors under the delusion that a public lipstick application is some sort of foreplay for the orally fixated.  Do not break out your compact and lipstick at the dinner table.  Ever. Along with your compact and lipstick, keep your hairbrush in your bag until you reach private quarters.  Furthermore, keep your hands out of your hair whenever in the presence of food. No matter how tempting, keep your fingers out of your mouth in public.  This prohibition includes teeth picking, nail biting, and thumb sucking.  Note how enchanting Catherine Zeta-Jones looks extracting her appetizer from her incisor.

It’s Blanche’s Birthday Bitches