1. They’ve started providing us with company-branded hand sanitizer at work. Up until Friday, none of us had touched the stuff because we had name-brand sanitizer, and we assumed the company’s stuff would be low-quality, like most of the company-branded stuff with which we are provided.
However: we ran out of the name-brand stuff, and K’s got a cold she’s trying to keep from spreading, and she finally popped the cheap-ass bottle open and slathered some on. I figured I might as well try some, too.
And to my wonderment:
The sanitizer is indeed cheap-ass; it’s too sticky and leaves a residue on your hands. But its odor is oddly potent so that when you take a whiff (a hit, if you will), you suddenly get this great rush of alertness tempered by a gentle lightheaded feeling. It’s pretty swell.
This prompted K to tell me a story about this delightful industrial-strength pen she and her friends shared in college. When they were hungover, everyone would pass the pen around until they were lucid enough to take their exams. This made me marginally wistful for the college experience I’ll never have, until 2 seconds later I remembered that I have my own shower, and am sober about 95% of the time.
2. The Essential Dolly Parton! Bought it this weekend at Everyday Music, and the first of the two albums is much better than I would have expected. Up until the 80’s, she wrote most all her own stuff — which impressed me — and pretty much all of it is pretty nuanced and interesting. You get this sense of great humility from her, that she enjoys the fame her music has brought her, but at her core she’s doing this because it’s what she knows she’s good at, and the best way to achieve the prosperity she so sorely lacked in the first part of her life.
I think Whitney Houston’s great and all, but Parton’s version of I Will Always Love You is the definitive one for me. Houston’s sounds regal and entitled, which just isn’t the way that song should be done. Performing it on Hee Haw with a lone guitar in a sparkle-y jumpsuit under a mountain of blond tresses is the way that song should be done; the lack of class serves as a foil for the beauty of the song. That the owner of Dollywood wrote that song makes me happier than I can say.
I’m also addicted to this song:
3.The replacement for my stolen phone came in the mail yesterday. Now, of course, I have none of your phone numbers. My phone number is the same, so just text me your name and number, and I’ll add you to my phone book.