I've Always Wanted My Man to Smell Like........ The Pope?

Once a month or so we get a publication in the mail called The Georgia Bulletin.  It's a little newspaper about the goings on of the Catholic church in Atlanta.  Mixed throughout the articles there are usually advertisements about Catholic schools, religious movies, church bookstores - you know, the usual - very targeted advertisements.

We usually thumb through it, perhaps read an article or two and then toss it. The same thing happened this month; however one of those very targeted advertisements caught my eye.  See below:

An aftershave that smells like the Pope?  I'm not sure about you, but when I think of aftershave, I think of a rustic manly smell.  I think TB's current Old Spice says something like, "smells like wilderness, open air and freedom".  Corny?  Yes.  But I suppose it makes sense.  And it probably works well from an advertising sense.  But the Pope?  Nada.  I just can't make any sense of that.  This puzzled me so much that I thought maybe if I visited the website I could understand it a bit more.  I did find a further description of the product - but did I make more sense of it?  Nope.

Benedictus - The marriage of linden blossom from Benedict's native Germany with frankincense from the Holy Land and bergamot from Italy creates a subtle and dignified fragrance, befitting a man of finely cultivated tastes. Barely perceptible is a nuance of citrus, and as it evolves, a discrete hint of musk. The overall impression is one of understated elegance.  A slightly astringent and balsamic quality makes it a soothing and refreshing aftershave.

$27.00

"Befitting a man of finely cultivated tastes?"  With that description, my mind immediately goes to the Pope.  Right?  Doesn't yours?  But hey - at $27 and free shipping to the US, what a steal!

Upon further investigation of the website, I did discover that if Benedictus isn't exactly your speed, there are other options.   Made from the "private formula of Pope Pius IX" no less.  Christmas is coming up after all. 

Airport Dating. The Non-Creepy Kind.

I've come to the conclusion in the past few weeks that we don't lead a normal life.  We keep an odd schedule.  To say the least.
Between both of us having traveling jobs, weddings, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties and football games - we have hardly had any time at home.  Much less for a date.  So what did we do?  We improvised!

It all started 2 weeks ago.  I was flying home from a work trip on a Thursday evening - TB was connecting through the Atlanta airport - from work, but continuing on to a bachelor party.  He had a bit of time between his flights and it happened to coincide with my flight landing.  Perfect!  So we had a nice date at the Wendy's on the main concourse at ATL.  We caught up, shared some fries and it worked out wonderfully.


The next Thursday, I was flying home from a work trip and TB was once again connecting in ATL but continuing on to another trip.  We did a bit more planning and had a nice sit down dinner in concourse B.  Glass of wine and all.  But we did split the check, since we were both expensing our dinners..... perhaps that wasn't romantic.  But it sure was economical.

The following Monday morning, we both had flights out of ATL at the same time.  TB headed to NY, and I was headed to Orlando - but we had time to share some Starbucks and biscuits.

At this point, I'll take what I can get.  I've even done some research on airport restaurants and I hear there's a good one on concourse E called One Flew South.  Yes, it's true.  An airport restaurant that doesn't have fried food as half of the options.

As I was trying to find some pictures for this post (because it never occurred to me to snap a photo of our airport dates), I found a whole bunch of photos of that movie - Up in the Air.   None of them really struck my fancy, so I kept looking.  Until I hit the jackpot.  It appears that TB and I are not the only ones who like to meet up at the airport.   This find was so interesting that it trumped photos:

www.meetattheairport.com.

For realz.  Check it out.  The website claims that you can meet new and exciting people all over the world.  Read the excerpt: 

"Meeting someone new at the airport is fun and exciting. We've all thought about it while waiting for our flight. It's a bit of adventure that adds spice to your everyday life. MeetAtTheAirport.com can now make a fantasy a reality. Find fellow travelers that are looking for that added sense of excitement that you only get when meeting someone new. Share a drink with an attractive stranger in the totally safe environment of a public airport. Perhaps, share a brunch or romantic dinner while waiting for your flight and explore the enticing possibilities that are presented to you. Romance, friendship, travel companion, networking... The possibilities are endless. If you're tired of reading a magazine while waiting for your flight, don't hesitate, register now."

Add spice to your life?  Make a fantasy a reality?  All I can imagine is some scandalous happenings.  In the airport bathroom perhaps.  Remember that senator a while back that got caught meeting fellows in the airport bathrooms.  I wonder if he ever used this service?  

You have to create a profile to see any other details and although I love a good investigation,  I was too chicken to do that.  I could only imagine the creepy characters.  This will make you wonder the next time you see a couple having a drink at the airport......  It could just be someone like TB and I, or it could be someone that got bored of reading magazines and decided to meet an attractive stranger.

Keep Left

Driving on the left side of the road is reserved for the UK and Australia.  At least I thought.  But it looks like I was wrong.

For some weird reason, the US Virgin Islands require you to drive on the left - which we quickly discovered on our recent trip.   But they have American cars with steering wheels on the left.  And most tourists in the USVI are Americans.  So we have American cars, American drivers - but you have to stay left.  Hmm - looks like a lot of confused people to me.

There are signs everywhere that say, "Keep Left".  And when you rent a car, the rental agency nicely reminds you several times to "Keep Left!".  All of these reminders are nice in theory, except that they can also create additional confusion.  For example:

An American guy is driving his American car, with steering wheel on the left - except he has to drive on the left since he's in the USVI.  His navigator wife is giving directions from the paper rental car map and sees a fork in the road.  Being a nice navigator, she says:

Navigator: "Up here, you'll want to keep right."  To which American guy replies:

American guy:  "But I'm supposed to keep left."

Navigator:  "No.  Drive left, but keep right"

American Guy:  "What???"  "How do you keep right when you're driving left?  Would that be a right turn?  And right turns are different when you're driving left."

Navigator:  "What???"  "OK, keep left"

American Guy:  "But I thought I was supposed to keep right!!"

See where I'm going with this.....

We only had our rental car for one day and opted for a taxi after this.  Luckily there wasn't much driving on this vacation and we spent most of our time out on the water.  Where left and right didn't matter.

My (almost) Most Embarrassing Moment

A few weeks ago we met some other couple friends for dinner. They were new friends, so we wanted to make a good impression and not do anything stupid.  So of course, I (almost) did something stupid.

It was on a weekend, so TB and I were running around doing errands during the day before our dinner date.  In an effort to put my best foot forward, I took a rinser before we were supposed to meet our friends.  I'm normally a once a day showerer.  But I went out on a limb this time.  Although I took a rinser, I decided I'd throw on my same jeans and change shirts and shoes.  As I'm selecting my outfit, TB is yelling, "Hurry, hurrrrrrrrrrrry, huryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!".  Keep in mind, we're not late.  He just likes to stress me out.  For some reason, he enjoys this.  And it works every time.

I threw on clothes, slapped on some makeup, half buckled my shoes, hurried out the door and into the car.  The drive was only about 2 minutes away, so as I was still arranging things in my purse, we hopped out at the valet and into the bar to wait for our friends and my heart was still beating fast from all that action.  AND, we did have to wait at the bar.... because we WERE NOT late.  We were the first ones there.  By a long shot. TB just likes to play this little prank.

As I was settling into my first drink, our friends arrived.  At that very moment of saying hello and making small talk, I realized something was not right.  Something with my outfit.  I'm going through the typical hellos on the surface, but I'm just trying to figure out what was wrong, without a look of sheer panic on my face.

I slowly figured out what was wrong.  There was something wrong with my jeans.  Inside the left pant leg, just behind my knee, there was something lodged between my knee and my jeans.  I quickly did a run-through of my getting ready process and realized it must be my old underwear.  Yes.  I changed underwear during my rinser and when I hurriedly put the same jeans back on, the old pair must have been stuck in the jeans.  And I didn't notice they were there the whole time I was getting ready.  And they were still there.  And I'm in public.  With people that I didn't know very well. What was wrong with me!!!

As I'm coming to the conclusion that I have a dirty pair of underwear stuck in my pant legs, I can feel the underwear slowing start to slip down my pant legs.  I'm trying to hold a conversation with someone about a wedding or honeymoon, or something - I really couldn't concentrate on the conversation and could only nod and smile at the appropriate time, while trying to hold my leg in a position that would stop the underwear from sliding down my leg, to the floor of the bar and have everyone look down to see a pair of purple underwear laying on my foot.  Talk about never going to dinner with this couple again.

It finally reached the point of no return and I had to abruptly excuse myself to the restroom- while getting a weird look from TB for my odd behavior.  I looked around frantically for the restroom sign, only to see it on the other side of the restaurant.  Crap.  I began to dodge my way around tables, waiters and slippery floors all while keeping my left leg bent enough to keep the underwear trapped behind my knee.  But still needing my left leg to walk.  It made for an awkward and very nervous trek across the restaurant.

As I pushed open the door to the restroom, I immediately locked myself in a stall and grabbed the underwear.  I think any sane person would have just thrown away the underwear and cut their loses.  But those were good underwear, and I couldn't stand the thought of giving them up.  So.  I stuffed them in my purse.  And hoped I wouldn't need my purse.

The night ended on a normal note - without needing my purse - and we still have those friends.  Thanks to my quick thinking and a bit of good luck, the night ended up being my (almost) most embarrassing moment and not my most embarrassing moment.

Worse than a Crying Baby

The only thing worse than sitting next to a crying baby on the plane is....

Sitting next to unaccompanied minors.  Two unaccompanied minors.  Brother and sister.  Roughly aged 8 and 6.

I endured an entire flight of pinching, biting, nose picking, 10 minutes of "Ilovejustinbieberilovejustinbieber", singing, yelling, drink spilling, peanut throwing, seat shaking and tray slamming.  It was absolute torture.  Torture.  But perhaps the best part of the flight was the conversation regarding backwash.  Yep. Backwash.  See the rough transcription below.....

Bieber Lover:  (Yelling) "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!! You have backwash in your water bottle!  Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!"

Nose Picker:  "It's just backwash.  You know what backwash is, right?"

Bieber Lover:  "No.  I just know backwash is gross"

Nose Picker:  "It's just pieces of my sandwich.  They were in my mouth when I took a sip of water and then fell to the bottom of the bottle.  Look, you can see pieces of bread and cheese floating the bottle."

(Bieber Lover and Nose Picker both intently stare at the backwash in the VASA water bottle)

Bieber Lover:  "Oh.  OK.  It's not that gross."

Nose Picker:  "Yeah, backwash is cool."


Ahhhhh. More adventures from the road.

Vegas: According to Your Ears

No, that wasn't some lame audiology joke.  Vegas is one of those places that appeals to your senses.  Sight, taste, and especially sound.  Even if  you've never been to Vegas, everyone has a mental idea of the sounds you will experience.  Particularly the casino sounds.

I've been to Vegas a few times, but this most recent trip was my first since college and at the risk of sounding like an old person, things just weren't the same as they used to be - at least the same according to my ears.  On the college trip, I distinctly remember a few things that were missing on this adventure.  Some auditory distinctions to be exact.

A few years ago you went into the casino, sat at a slot machine, pulled the side handle and (hopefully) won a little coin.  As soon as those lights started flashing, you immediately heard the distinct "dink dink dink dink" sound of the coins hitting the tray as they fell out of the machine.  Then you grabbed one of those plastic buckets on top of the machine, gathered your spoils and jingled the bucket onto the next machine.  It all went down a little something like this:

Really a glorious experience all around.  Until some genius decided to change it.
Now a days, you sit at a slot machine, pull the side handle and when you get lucky, the lights still flash, but there is no sound of coins falling.  Nope.  The metal tray to catch the coins is still there, but nothing falls out.  If you listen closely, you hear a different sound. A receipt printing.   No kidding.  A receipt.  They did away with the coins and spit you out a receipt stating your exact winnings.
I almost felt like I was at the gas pump pressing "Yes I want a Receipt" on the key pad.

And even worse than the absence of coin, there are no more plastic buckets.  I guess that makes sense. Walking around jingling your receipts in a bucket just doesn't seem to have the same effect.


If Vegas had a suggestion box, I would drop a note saying we should bring back the coins.  And the buckets.

A Retainer is Never Cool

Remember back to the middle school days, when there was some lucky kid that got to have a retainer?  That kid had already graduated from the old metal braces with rubber bands and corn on the cob stuck in the teeth to the seemingly cool retainer.   The dead give away that you were one of the lucky ones was that distinct lisp the retainer gave you.  If you were super lucky, your orthodontist would make your retainer in a bright color and you got to show it off at lunch time when you removed it to eat.  You then put it in the plastic retainer box and got to show it off once again when lunch was over and you had to put it back in.  And then inevitably one day, you would throw the retainer away and have to dig through the trash to find the retainer to keep your mom from yelling at you about how much your braces cost.  Anyone else remember this?

Well, I did actually go through the ugly braces stage and I eventually got a retainer.  Although my retainer didn't come until high school.  Which meant it was no longer cool.  But I wasn't really a cool kid anyway, so I did diligently wear that sucker until sometime in college and then I fell off the wagon.  A few years ago, I realized that darn retainer really did make a difference and without it my bottom teeth had started to move.  My vanity eventually won out and I started looking into some options for fixing my bottom teeth.  I quickly found out there was no need to go back to the full on braces stage (sigh of relief), which meant that my option was a retainer! But it wasn't that old retainer that I remembered from middle school.  It now looked a little something like this:

No cool colors, but at this point in my life - I'm OK with that.  It's actually quite invisible and doesn't give you that tell tell lisp when you talk (which is definitely not cool now).  The one thing that inherently can't be fixed, is that it does have to be removed when eating.  Unfortunately, there is no way to do this without being totally disgusting.  You really have two choices when it comes to retainer removal:

1.  Reach to the back teeth, pry it up and then pull it out of your mouth - along with a long line of spit. 
2.  Reach to the back teeth, while prying it up, slurp the spit and then pull the retainer out. 

Neither option is what I would call appropriate for the dinner table.  Or around any other people for that matter.  And it doesn't matter which option I choose, TB always makes a barfing sound when I remove the retainer.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the necessary retainer holder box this go around.  So when I remove the retainer for meals, I often slip it in my pocket or purse.  When I'm cooking at home, I do often set the retainer off to the side on the counter, so I can taste my food.  The only problem with this process is that the retainer is clear and can blend into the counter.  Not a big deal, unless you have company coming over for dinner and you suddenly can't find the retainer minutes before your guests are about to arrive and you just KNOW that you set it down on the counter just where the plates are set.  It would be just horrible to find someone else's retainer sitting beside your dinner plate.  After a few panicked moments of frantically searching for the missing retainer, it was found just before our guests arrived.  Phew.  I really need to get a retainer carrying case.

Although the middle school me thought that a retainer was cool, I was so very wrong. What was I thinking back then?  The spit lines, slurping noises, losing the retainer and the thought of searching through the trash for it...... something that causes all of these things could never be cool.  Never.