Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing

Distressed to find this in my inbox yesterday: Lindsay Lohan's homage to Marilyn Monroe.  Unless you happen to work at Defamer or "work" while at a cafe, this is probably not safe for work.  And if you care for Marilyn Monroe at all, it's also not safe for you because this is the photographic equivalent of Madonna covering "American Pie," a song which does NOT need to be covered, and then still doing it so terribly that even she saw her shadow and immediately emigrated to the UK where, in quick succession, she adopted a British accent and a guy named, well, Guy.  All this in service of a movie which she did solely to show off how good she was at yoga.  Madonna, you get an A for bendiness and an F for acting and song choice.  Even Paula hated you and she never hates anyone. And Randy thinks you're pitchy, or at least that's what it sounded like.

In other news, we got a bunch of stuff delivered via UPS the other day - boxes and boxes of home goodies - and all of it was packed in what I considered to be an unreasonable quantity of styrofoam peanuts (5:1, peanut:goody).  Worse, when I started to unpack the first box, the peanuts, freed from their cardboard prison, were suddenly high on static electricity and too many Prison Break reruns: they began to CRAWL up my arms.  Trying not to lose my shit, I brushed them off and they returned in force - and the ones that didn't started to STICK TO THE WALLS.  I'm sorry, but I don't care how well adjusted you are, but when inanimate objects begin to make a run for it, I get a little anxious. 

I fought to get them into a plastic bag, but they fought back, and soon there were peanuts everywhere.  Just scoop them up, right?  Just deal with it and move on, right?  Wrong.  (I feel like the word should be German just to convey to you how wrong this was: wrongfahrt.  Wrongfahrtgruven.  Like that.)  As I tried scooping them up, they stuck to everything I used to scoop them up - my arms (again and still - oh, still so incredibly unnerving), a paper bag fashioned into a shovel, a swatch of cardboard bent into what I thought might be a humane peanut-catcher. 

But no.  Twenty something minutes later and the floor was still covered in peanuts.  A lesser soul might have thought that these were sentient beings, sent to torture me.  ("They'll never suspect packing material," said Commandante Duct Tape, as the UPS store was rendered into HQ...)  Not I.  I thought, it must be dry out!  Low humidity!  Nothing weird about - hey, is that a peanut on the ceiling...?

I went to Plan B.  Sometimes, Plan B's can be good.  Sometimes, Plan B's can even be great.  You go in, not expecting much - it's Plan B after all - and when it comes together, you feel like a genius and like the world has smiled upon you.

This isn't that Plan B. 

See, I decided to vacuum.  For one, we've got a great vacuum cleaner (sidenote: I adore vacuuming. Don't ask me why, but I love it) and secondly, I've vacuumed up these suckers before and knew the trick - only vacuum up the little pieces of styrofoam and not the entire peanut, for the peanut, when laid crosswise, is exactly the same width as the diameter of the vacuum's hoses.  Which is to say, one perfectly positioned peanut and you will lose all the suck out of the vacuum.  And, like Condoleeza always says, the peanuts only have to be right once which is why you must be naked to get onto a plane.  Otherwise the terrorists win.  And so, frequently, would Mr. Blackwell.  (If I see one more applique sweatshirt on another flight...)

Armed with all of this information, I started to vacuum.  This worked for a patch of carpet roughly 6"x 8".  After that, the vacuum didn't lose suction but rather began to PULVERIZE what little bits were on the floor. It was though I had set the vacuum to liquefy when really, no, I wanted a completely different household appliance experience altogether.  Pulverize suggests that I'm about to have a delicious breakfast smoothie.  Liquefy says, 'hey, you lucky lady - it's Margarita Tuesday!'   When it's the vacuum that's doing these things, you understand that something has gone horribly awry and no margarita shall be forthcoming.

To really get a sense of the damage, I will have to share with you a crappy photo that I took with my cameraphone.  And don't think the dogs didn't manage to become completely covered in styrofoam, because they did, and then walked - as they will - all over the house, ensuring maximum dispersal.  (The carpet is supposed to be a dark brown, btw, but what I dig about all of this is how the Attack Bichon looks like some non-recyclable CFC-laden miniature Yeti.)

Comments

[Magpie]

Is that part of a peanut stuck to your camera lens? Awesome.