Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Look at my new, penguins-in-bow ties tube sox! See wood Bow Tie o’ the Day. See my white legs—the whitest white legs of all white legs! My feet are speechless! I’m too busy dancing in my new socks in The Tie Room to write more right now. #dancingthroughthepandemic
It was inevitable. When I re-posted the infamous thong-attached-to-bow-tie photo yesterday, I should have realized I would get requests for the bow-tie-tuxedo-briefs photo. This snapshot was taken on New Year’s Eve 2018. So, with even more gratitude for TIE O’ THE DAY readers who remembered it, here it is.
For your complete viewing pleasure, take it all in. Do not miss a detail. Around my neck: 6 Ties o’ the Day, 2 Bow Ties o’ the Day. Bow tie beanie. Christmas lights jacket. Matching set of pajamas, for once. Bow tie/tuxedo socks. My clunky “funeral shoes,” which name I need to explain to y’all someday soon. And the star o’ the pic: my bow tie/tux Briefs o’ the Day, which I bought online for 0 cents and $2.99 shipping.
I have a feeling the thong and the briefs will show up again, having new adventures, this holiday season.
I need to rant. I’m having a USANA Ampitheatre hangover. Last night was my first time attending a concert at the West Valley City venue, and Suzanne and I both declare it will be our last visit to the place. I was so disappointed in the venue that I went on strike while there, refusing to click any photographs for TIE O’ THE DAY posts. That’s right, I put my phone in my Saddle Purse for the duration of the concert. But here’s a photo of what I wore, in case you want to know. And I know you do.
First, I want to make clear that the band we went to hear, Mumford & Sons, was in fine form. My list o’ complaints has nothing to do with them. Fabulous musicianship. Intelligent lyrics. Point-on showmanship. Yes, Mumford & Sons delivered. USANA? Not so much.
Of course, the standard concert complaint issues were there too. I’m talking about the things that happen at nearly every concert. For example, concerts never begin on time. I wanna tell ’em, “Hey, Performer, this is your job. You chose the time, and I signed up to be here at the designated time. Hold up your end of the performance time commitment.”
Also, to my fellow concertgoers, I wish to say these things about what happens at almost all concerts: “I did not pay 8 billion bucks for a ticket to Mumford & Sons to listen to you sing the wrong lyrics off-key right outside my eardrum.” And “Hey, you in the seat in front of me– thanks for standing up the whole concert, blocking my view of the stage and one of the bigly screens. Why did you pay for a reserved seat, if you were only going to stand in front of it the entire concert?” And to those of you who dance while tipsy, “Stumble over your own feet and your own purse if you really must. Stay away from me and my Saddle Purse.” In summary, I want to yell it out: “I’m no stern sourpuss, but YOU ARE NOT THE BAND I PAID TO SEE. Go ahead, sing ALONG, but don’t sing OVER the band. Stand if you must, but remember there are old folks like me sitting behind you, and we can’t see through you. Do your dance, but not on my toes.”
My specific complaints about USANA begin with the traffic and parking. Let me be brief: At USANA, there is too much traffic, and not enough parking. We thought of offering a WVC resident cash to let us park in their driveway for the evening. By the time we had snaked our way through what seemed like every neighborhood in WVC, and finally got into a USANA parking lot for $20, we had missed the opening band entirely. (Did I say I had paid 8 billion bucks for our tickets?)
And I’m sorry, but the slope of the floor to which USANA’s seats were attached was close-but-no-cigar. It was impossible to see the stage while sitting in the seats, when even a very short person sat properly in their seat directly in front of me in the row ahead. Suzanne and I watched the bigly monitors most of the performance. We also moved to various empty seats twice before finding a “meh” view of the stage.
And then there was the mosquito factor! I’m itching and scratching as I type. No further comment about that topic is needed.
But the worst, most egregious irritant I found on my first and last outing to USANA was the stage design itself. Of course, it’s an outdoor stage. It’s like a cavernous black box, pushed back and up against the night sky. Bigly sky + cavernous black box has the effect of making performers look like HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS characters. The performers appear to be oh-so tiny. I had the sensation of looking through the “wrong” end of the binoculars while trying to spy coyotes from atop the Delta water tower. (Yes, I have been up there. Back in the day.)
Thanks for listening, tbloglodytes. I’m feeling much better now.
My Socks o’ the Day herald Bow Ties o’ the Day. This is, as you’ll recall, my view from my TMS treatment chair. Bow-tied socks relax me. And The Saddle Purse does, as well.
My purse goes everywhere with me. It sees and does everything I see and do. It’s a saddle, and saddles are meant to travel. It is a true, new companion. I never forget I have it, and I am vigilant about its well-being. It’s like a toddler. I HAVE A TODDLER AGAIN! I let it be independent, but I keep it close, and I constantly keep my eye on it.
Yesterday, at my pain doc appointment, The Saddle Purse sat quietly in the exam room. Of course, Dr. Bow (my nickname for Dr. Bokat) noticed it, and I showed her its finer features. I am especially in purse-love with its tiny saddlebag. As I was leaving my appointment, Dr. Bow asked where I had purchased the purse. I told her I found it at SLC International Airport. I’m guessing she will probably buy the red version because she works at the U of U.
I have been a diligent bow tie/tie missionary for decades. Despite never owning a purse until I turned 55, the one I bought– after it called to me– has converted me to its mission. It is the one and only true purse upon the face of the earth. Apparently, I have now been called to be a saddle purse missionary– without even trying.
NOTE: The highlight of my pain doc appointment was not actually The Saddle Purse’s mesmerizing of Dr. Bow. Nope, the highlight for me was telling Dr. Bow I no longer need the amount of pain medication I’ve been taking. It is clear my pancreas surgery helped my pain situation so very much. It’s been almost a year since the operation, and I feel close to completely healed from the surgery itself.
I’m glad Suzanne made me have the surgery. And she really did FORCE me to be gutted. Seriously, she locked me out of the house and told me she wouldn’t let me back in until after I finally had the surgery I should have had years ago. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But not by much.
As opposed to regular ol’ S.W.A.K.
Here’s the same bigly, jumbo-ly Bow Tie o’ the Day as this morning’s post photo offered up. In this snapshot, my hairs and I were getting ready for today’s TMS treatment. In fact, it was my TMS technician, Tenzin, who finally mentioned the lip print I had on my cheek. Doh!
When Suzanne told me goodbye as she headed out to work this morning, she told me to NOT forget to wash the goodbye lipstick off my face before I went out into the world of neuropsychiatric treatments. And what was the first thing I promptly forgot to do right before I, myself, left the house for my appointment? Yup. Off I went, feeling just slightly more loved on my left cheek than on my right cheek– but unable to come up with the reason for the strange imbalance I felt.
Vonnegut Grace Vibe was gas-less, so I gassed her up before hitting the freeway. The woman I chit-chatted with at the 7-11 gas pumps didn’t point out my cheek’s lip print . Jack, the dude who seems to work at the Centerville 7-11 24/7, didn’t clue me in about it either– even as I stood at his register gabbing with him and buying a bottle of Diet Coke. The two office assistants I spoke with in the reception area at my TMS clinic spoke nary a word about it either. Finally, Tenzin commented on it.
Looking back, none of these folks seemed fazed by what was on my face. Clearly, you don’t have to know me well to figure I must have meant to do whatever I did, fashion-wise. To know me even a little is to expect to view an odd style. I decided to wear the lip print for the rest of the day, and the people who assisted me as I got a new phone at the Apple Store didn’t bring it up once.
So far, nothing unpleasant has happened to me or my cheek. In fact, the whole lipstick faux pas is generating ideas about what else I can get away with putting on my face– causing people to notice, but not tell me about. I see it as a new challenge. And I think Suzanne needs to invest in a bunch of much brighter lipstick than she already has. Like she says, “If you’re going to wear lipstick, make sure people see it.” Amen to that.
I’m positive anyone who saw me noticed my smooch print, but I think they were jealous. I was lucky enough to have a kiss on my cheek, while their cheeks were kiss-less. I think the red remnants of the kiss I received actually made some people feel unloved. Sorry. But not.
Hey, humans, kiss your people goodbye each day as they go out to conquer the world. They are going out there for YOU, you know.
BTW Yes, I do have another pair of paw print Sloggers just like this at home.
Snoopy and Woodstock Easter Tie o’ the Day is pleased to report that I am getting used to the weekday head-thumping I’m getting from the TMS electromagnetic gadgetry. It’s shooting into my noggin with the same intensity as it has been since I began the treatments, but I’m acclimating to it to the point that it feels more like annoying discomfort on my skull, as opposed to weird pain. That’s a good thing.
Every few-second series of zapping makes my eyes and forehead twitch a bit while it’s going on. I am NOT pulling faces in these pix. I tried to snap my face in some mid-twitches, but I didn’t catch the bilgiest spasms, cuz it’s tough to take selfies of your twitching eyes when your eyes are twitching. I’ll keep trying my best to catch my inner spaz.
Sloggers o’ the Day offer flowers and butterflies. And Sasquatch/Bigfoot wears its own Socks– from bigfootsockco.com.
[Yup, I’m still working on the me-and-TMS post I’ve promised to write. For some reason, I’m finding it difficult to talk about my current bipolar speed bumps. Heck, I post about everything on the planet, with no hesitation whatsoever. But wherever my head is at right now, I’m tongue-tied. Don’t worry. I’ll be yapping about every last detail of my mental health history– before you can say LOONY BIN.]
Mustache Bow Tie o’ the Day. Sasquatch Socks o’ the Day. And animal print Sloggers o’ the Day. The Hairs o’ the Day are doing the front-ponytail-through-a-backwards-baseball-cap thing.
[I haven’t quite finished writing the post I promised yesterday, about why TMS treatments are a good choice for me. It is coming.]
Skitter can’t be in this photo because she’s outside pottying while wearing her french fries costume. She decided she didn’t want to wear any other costumes today. That’s how much she likes french fries. Spooky Tie o’ the Day provides decorative jack-o-lanterns for our Halloweening.
As you can see, I chose to wear a Helen A. Wright costume. How could I not? She claims she’s a witch. She claims Halloween is her day for riding her sharpened broom. She claims she is frightening when her hairs are not did.
Now, let me make some important comments about the finer points of this costume.
First– Mom’s hair. This is the best I could do to imitate Mom’s pre- Hair Day mop, cuz my hairs are now much longer than hers. If Mom’s hairs get out of control before Hair Day, she puts in a few curlers. She uses bobby pins to keep the curlers in place, but I have also seen her use toothpicks to do it when she can’t locate the bobby pins. Mom is creative when it comes to keeping the hairs in line. Don’t get me started on how many cans of hairspray she goes through in a week. And I must add that for some reason Mom always thinks she needs a perm. “My hair just needs a little oomph,” she says. “I need that height.”
The second item I need to explain is this set of reading glasses. I don’t know if you can see it, but the left lens is gone, and the right ear bar of the frame is gone too. This doesn’t mean Mom thinks the glasses should be thrown away. No, they should stick around– just in case. I managed to grab this pair one day when I saw its condition– forcing her to use the new pair I bought her.
Our third item needing commentary is the earrings. I borrowed these from Suzanne to give you an example, but they are not clip-on earrings like Mom likes to wear. Also, Mom prefers to wear earrings with a cluster of big colorful jewels. Mom will choose costume jewelry over precious stones every time. When Mom was still living in Delta, but was too frail to go to church, the ward priesthood guys brought the Sacrament to her at her house. She wore her duster and sat on the porch to wait for the Sacrament deliverers. And she insisted on wearing earrings for them, even though she was wearing a duster.
Fourth– the duster. Except for when Mom gussies up to attend church, I have not seen her dressed in anything but a duster for at least four years. It is her uniform. It’s like my ties are for me. It’s how we roll. BTW Mom prefers to wear her worn out dusters rather than her newer ones. They are softer. And they are see-through. Sheer makes her happy, I guess.
Fifth– the socks. Although these are my socks, Mom would wear them in a heartbeat. She loves wild, comfy socks. For the last few years, crazy socks have been the only gifts Suzanne and I have given her for Christmas, birthday, and Mother’s Day. We are always on the lookout for bright, busy, soft ankle socks. Mom doesn’t have to wear a matching pair. She mixes ’em up. She doesn’t try to mix-and-not-match up on purpose like I do. But she’s fine with the not-matchy, if she can’t find a sock’s mate.
And finally– that newspaper tucked under “Mom’s” arm is, of course, THE CHRONICLE. It’s hers. If you value your fingers, don’t touch it. ‘Nuff said.
It must be Socks Week. Look what I found in my sock drawer: Bow Ties o’ the Day. Yes, I have another pair just like them. I’m wearing this pair to Sunday brunch today. It seems we’re starting a Sabbath brunch tradition, since my operation. And we haven’t been to the same restaurant twice, which is most likely going to be part of the routine. 🍽The thing about groovy socks is that few people get to see and appreciate them when you’re out and about. Long pants cover them up. It’s true that you can wear shorter socks with shorts, but they don’t show off the socks’ designs very well. Wearing long socks with shorts is the one look I won’t do. In fact, it’s probably the one fashion mistake that I won’t try to make work. FYI I want to point out that in this photo you can see how white my leg is. This is proof that I am, in fact, the whitest white person ever created. I’m one shade away from being albino. ☠️
Tie o’ the Day is part of a dog-themed ensemble: all dogs, all clothes. Although there’s a theme, the look is still eye-catching and non-matchy. I’m a dog– and neckwear– missionary. If you aren’t a dog person, you’re missing out. They really are like shorter-than-us people. I’ve lived with a host of dogs, and I can attest to the fact that their personalities are distinct. Suzanne never wanted dogs, but I told her I’m a package deal. Now, she’s a fan. Maybe “resigned” is more accurate. 🐕