You are Entering... the T-Shirt Zone

Red... Redder than the red-red-reddest boiled lobster in a hot tub at the Scalding Hotel and Eternal Crispiness Spa in the tornado alley of the fifth ring of Hell.

Of course, I have only myself to blame. So caught up was I in the joys of roasting processed meat on sticks, and smearing toasted marshmallows into my face, I was lulled into the security of the towering trees over the picnic area. I thought they would shield me...

Knowing full-well that people of my particular complexion are at odds with things like, oh, direct sunlight... Or indirect sunlight... Or 60 watt table lamps... Or overbright pen lights.

Knowing full-well people of my complexion are most usually seen as the central attraction in CSI crime scenes.

Red. I am...

It's not just for haircolor anymore.

Of course, anyone who's had a bad sunburn before can probably imagine how my morning has gone so far. Things you normally take for granted as simple, everyday activities become detailed events involving strategy, procedure, and not a small amount of shrieking.

Like taking a shower. Calculating the right temperature of the water so it isn't so cool the water sizzles into steam the moment it hits your arm. But isn't so hot the nerve endings under your skin react like prisoners in the Spanish Inquisition and plead that they will tell you anything, ANYTHING, you want to hear. Just make the torture stop. ("Okay, okay, there is a mole here that might need to be looked at. I confess! It's true! Now go see your doctor. Just step OUT of the SHOWER!")

Yup, showering takes some extra time.

Choosing clothes is a similar thing. Sure, you can choose something to wear which might not touch the burn. But how do you get that item of clothing on your person? This involves a particular dance I like to think of as The Sunburn Samba. It's a seductive traditional dance with both Latin and Tai Chi influences, and relies on slow wriggling, the holding of one's breath, and a sudden bracing dive.

Putting a bag on your shoulder can be an interesting and eye-opening moment. So can buckling a seatbelt. Or being in the way of particularly enthusiastic summer breeze.

But on the plus side, I am radiating an amazing amount of heat. So much heat, I think that scientists really need to look into the possibilities of sunburn power as an alternative energy source. I mean, when we talk about alternative fuels, red very well might be the new "green." Inevitably, in spite of the warnings about the dangers of sun exposure, there are going to be a certain number of people every year who are as dumb as I was yesterday. So let's see how we could harness this warmth to bring comfort to needy people this winter, who might not be able to afford traditional heating methods.

How that can be done, well... I'll leave that up to the scientists to work out. Me, I have to go. I'm feeling compelled to write a love letter to the Noxzema people, for the beautiful coolness of that lovely, lovely cold cream.

I also would like to suggest they make some slightly bigger jars. Ones that are, say, the size of a kiddie pool, where I could just climb inside and stay for a while.

I could work from a laptop, I think.

Hey, stop laughing. I'm serious.

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Ideas to Labor Over

Ah, Labor Day-- a time for workforce appreciation, blowout this-weekend-only furniture sales (until next weekend, when we have another one), and me, off stuffing myself with hotdogs, pasta salad and roasted marshmallows at a friend's annual picnic. Woo and hoo!

And, see, I like you SO much-- you excellent Friends of Cabbages-- I didn't want to leave you without any Cabbagey-goodness today, should you happen to pop by between the potato salad and watermelon. So this holiday Monday I offer you some "Ideas To Labor Over"-- a small photo collection of things that maybe could have been thought through just a bit better...

Like these detour signs I spotted on my way to work Friday morning. See the orange signs on each side of this street?


I wanted to give you a big picture view first, so you'll see I'm not jiving you...

How about now?... No?


Closer?-- Okay, how about now? Here is the left hand sign...


"Trail Detour" and an arrow pointing left. Now, on the opposite side of the very same street....

That's right. "Trail Detour" and an arrow pointing...right. The exact opposite direction of the other sign, yet 50 feet away.

Yep, welcome to Wonderland. This is my city. And I am so, so proud.

In addition to my chat with the Tweedles -Dee and -Dum in Public Works, I would also like to have a little word with the very non-local Garnier Fructis People. It's a nice shampoo, I really can't complain about the product. It's their packaging...

See, I'm a marketer myself, I know how these things go. Someone probably said a goal for this product was to look environmentally sound-- "green"-- but "hot" and "today" and "high-tech." So someone did some mock-ups of what the bottle would look like... if it mated with a rollerball mouse...


Oh, it's cute and all. Rollerball mice always are. But the thing is-- and say I lack vision if you must-- this is still a shampoo bottle. And one of the main things people do with shampoo bottles, is turn them upside down so the shampoo is easy to get out.

Rollerball mice do not function well in a face-down prone position.

Neither does this bottle. Nevermind the fact that the first time I got one of these bottles, I spent ten minutes thinking the ball was actually integral in some way to getting the bottle open.

It's not. It doesn't roll, it does nothing but flip like any other shampoo lid. The thing is, round, ridgeless flip tops are also extremely hard to grip and lift with wet hands. Wet hands which you probably have in, say, the shower.

Flat tops, Garnier People.... tops as flat as Jim McMahon's hair. That is what I want.

Now this-- these may look like simple plastic shower loofahs to you. But what you see here are actually "Loofites," an alien species which has subtley infiltrated Earth as harmless skin exfoliants, in its unending quest for World Domination.


I mean look at how they start out. The Loofite on the left is small, cute, compact, and available at the grocery store for the affordable price of $1.

But within weeks, due to the wet environment in which they thrive, the Loofite has grown to two, nay, almost three times its original size! If I did not send the larger of the two Loofites away from the moist atmosphere it needs to grow, it would now be evicting me from the shower in a deep baritone voice, and calling in its mother ship, which some say looks like a giant backscrubber but is actually just very advanced alien technology.

Well, that's it for today. To folks here in the U.S., I wish you a happy day of non-laboring. And to my friends in the UK, Canada, and elsewhere around the world, well, you probably just had a bank holiday or something, didn't you? I will have a lips-and-beaks-filled processed meat casing in your honor!

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