Nate and I went to Honest Ed's today. Just for fun. And as we were leaving, I caught sight of something I've been wanting: a mini lint remover. Only $4.99! (Gotta love Honest Ed. As they say, "he's a nut, but look at the cashew save." No. Seriously. They say that. Right in the store signage.)
Anyway, I bought the lint remover, got it home, and was promptly confounded by the user's manual, which I shall now reproduce for you (in part), along with my translations.
THE MANUAL READS: Don't mix-use new and old or different type of cells and can't use charging battery.
JEN READS: Use new, matching batteries only, and no rechargables (even if you're an environmentalist loser).
THE MANUAL READS: Prohibit to deal with clothes wearing in body with lint remover, or it will result to hurt body.
JEN READS: Take your clothes off before removing lint from them (them being the clothes). If you don't, the lint remover might become angry, in which case we (makers of the lint remover) are not responsible.
THE MANUAL READS: Using after testing in the non-showy part of clothes.
JEN READS: This thing may destroy your clothing. Test first in an inconspicuous area. That way, if the lint remover makes a giant hole in your clothing, at least the hole won't reveal anything important, like say, a nipple.
THE MANUAL READS: The method of fast-remove: Move the lint remover back and forth on the shakeout clothes. Take the frame in small range removing to and forth on the clothes.
JEN READS: Use a to and forth motion. TO AND FORTH!
THE MANUAL READS: The method for the clothes with protrude fal-lals: Avoid the fal-lals.
JEN READS: Um... don't use this on your Barbie Glitter Ball Gown, or you will be sorry.
Now, I have two questions for all you web heads:
1. I think this is funny. Is that maybe just a little bit racist?
2. What is a fal-lal?
You tell me.
I'm not an idiot.
Or at least, I think I'm not an idiot.
Nonetheless, I occasionally do some very idiotic things. Case in point: last night. Last night, mensa genius that I am, I decided to make a pillow. Not just any pillow, but a down pillow. A down throw pillow that would be wonderful because it would be filled with the down from my old duvet, which has been inching it's way to the garbage since last week.
Look -- in theory, it wasn't such a bad idea. I'd just make a small opening in the old duvet and use the stuffing to fill my new pillow. Easy peasy, right? I'd be recycling! I'd be making something new out of something old! I'd be a crafting wonder woman! Martha Stewart and and the new environmentalist version of Leo DiCaprio would bow down to me in equal measure!
Can you guess what happened?
Down. Feather. Explosion.
Imagine, if you will, down everywhere. Down flying like a girly movie pillow fight. Down in my hair. Down in the air. Down all down my front and all down my back. Under the sofa. On the top of the book shelves. Down. Billowing and blowing into every corner of my apartment. And me. Standing in the middle of my living room, looking like a tarred and feathered mad thing. Laughing (until, that is, I burned my finger on the tip of my glue gun and my laughter turned to tears of pain, but that's another story).
The moral? Maybe I am an idiot. Or maybe I just like to try stuff that occasionally goes wonky. Is that a bad thing? A personality flaw I should try to correct? I'm not shy about my mistakes (and often post about them
on the chic blog) and some of my readers have said this is admirable
I don't know about that. What I do know is this:
After extensive vacuuming, a long shower and a refusal to give up, I do indeed have a new down throw pillow made from an old duvet. I also have feathers in my hair (which has been washed and dried TWICE... it's like the feathers are emerging from hidden crevices in my scalp on some sort of time release cycle). Oh, and I have a professional client meeting at my office this afternoon.
Luckily, I'm feeling quite light about it all. I figure you're all laughing at me, I might as well join in.* Image by Elisabeth Sophia Fuchs (Elisa Fox) on Stock Xchng.