I’m not one of those girl who lights (or even buys) candles. I’ve got a green mottled one that has moved with me since 1999. I know this because, well, I just do. Leave it at that. I always intend to light it, I intend to utilize its forrest-scented-ness, but I end up spraying some febreeze instead. Because spraying a bottle of overpriced smelly water in the air is wicked easier than finding a lighter.
The other day I was shopping with Amanda for some apartment accoutrements. She is moving into a two-bedroom duplex that gives her and her new husband roughly forty times the space of their current living arrangements. No one is happier than Amanda with this development, except for maybe Senora Robin. This is very selfish of me, but the thought of sharing a space the size of my bedroom with another living, breathing, excreting human being makes me want to claw out my eyeballs and serve them as appetizers.
So along with helping pick out curtains and table covers, I was suckered into throwing a super spiffy oven mitt in the buggy. I should have done this a long time ago but I’ve always been relatively content to wad up paper towels to protect my fingers from the oven’s flesh-searing metal. But after a near-miss on Saturday when the pizza pan became unbalanced and almost landed on my delicate and unprotected feet, I decided it was time to take a big girl pill and pony up.
After the kitchen aisle came the candle aisle. I am normally loathe to stop here, a) because the mix of honeysuckle, vanilla, sage, rose and patchouli makes me want to hurl, b) I am indecisive about candle scents- do I really want my house to smell like Jasmine and Honeydew? and c) TWENTY BUCKS FOR A FUCKING CANDLE? ARE YOU HIGH?
But there was a sale aisle, which was right next to the Relaxing Music display, the kind where you get to push the buttons and hear tracks from each CD play somewhat obnoxiously over cheap speakers. Amanda had already gotten onto me for making the oven mitt talk (it looks like a puppet, dammit) so I had to keep my excitement to a minimum. I was busy switching between Inspiring Salsa and Big Band Classics when I noticed a sale shelf of candles.
So I bought one. And now my house smells like cake, just like the ad said it would. I am also very hungry because of said candle.
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7 comments:
Now your house smells like cake? How fucking awesome is that! So they have some that make your house small like turkey and gravey?
i'm not sure if i'd dig a house that smells like dead bird and dead bird's drippings. blech. but cake is nice. though i'm fighting a losing battle here... i am SO about to go to the bakery and get a piece of cake. fat ass be damned.
We had an Oatmeal Raisin candle...talk about torture...I'd rather just have had a plate of cookies...
My wife digs candles. Back in our DINK days we'd always stop by Yankee Candles in the neighborhood mall and spend an hour smelling every scent they have to offer.
Now? Let's see... $20 will buy diapers for about a week. And I don't even want to think about the possibility of Thing 1 or Thing 2 burning down the house.
My flat mate burns oils. One of these oils makes the house smell like baby.
Cake is far more appetizing than baby.
I have a serious things for candles. I like gardenia and Jasmine... and when its cold out I like vanilla. I ALMOST bought a $38 candle the other day online and then I caught myself..... I'm such an idiot sometimes.
I had to throw away my brownie scented Yankee candle. I gained about 15 lbs just smelling it. I suppose the trays upon trays of ooey gooey Pilsbury oven baked brownies that I consumed over that year and a half had something to do with it too.
I choose to blame it on the evil candle and it's hidden smoke signals that said, "EET MOR BROWNEEZ!"
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