Incense Supplies Buy UPDATE #2
As I said before, all minimums on all items have been met! Fantastic news!
This brings up the question–Should I close this buy early and place our order? All but one person has paid.
Please email me at serrathescented@gmail.com or post your thoughts in the comments section.
Thanks,
Serra
And the Award for…
Folks, love means never having to take shit because you left someone out of your Oscar acceptance speech.
Robert Richardson, winner of the Best Cinematography Oscar for his work on The Aviator, mentioned only one individual during his acceptance speech. He dedicated the Oscar to his ailing mother and the fine individuals taking care of her the past 45 days.
Daaaaaaaang, this guy is GOOD! Most winners know that no matter how many million people they thank, someone will surely walk up to them afterward and ask, “Why didn’t you squeeze my name in among the millions?” Robert’s not going to run into that. With one bold stroke, he gets out of hemming and hawing about why he didn’t mention this person or that.
Sure, I’m betting there’s a lot of people who watched him last night and thought, “Well, he didn’t mention me or anyone else? Oh, my Gods/Goddesses/Prince of Darkness/whatever!” But not one soul will dare tell another one about that thought, oh no! He managed to find the only acceptable way not to thank anyone, including the Academy, for his little gold monkeyboy.
I sat and giggled like the evil little bitch that I am for a full 15 minutes.
I Have A Peeping Tom
Ok, who took the picture of me this morning before I got coffee??
Answer me, dammit!
Thanks to www.mycathatesyou.com
The Thing I learned Today, Take 1
“NuqDaq yuch Dapol”
Is Klingon for,
“Where do you keep the chocolate?”
Thanks to Nat!
Incense Supplies Buy UPDATE #1
I have excellent news for the incense lovers among my readers!
All minimum quantities for this buy have been met! This means that everything listed in the buy will be purchased–we no longer have to wait for orders to make sure we can get everything that we want.
I am still debating about the DPG. While I can get a good price on it from this supplier, the price advantage would be gone once the DPG's shipped to me (especially with added freight charges for shipping pails) and I have to add the cost of bottles and labels. I'd love to just include it at a great price, but the fact is I can't get a better price than the current scentcrafting suppliers offer it for without going directly to a chemical manufacturer and ordering by the 55 gallon drum. With the space limitations I currently have added to the fact that my back won't put up with me trying to use that size drum, I really can't do that.
However, if I have enough interest in my including DPG in the buy, even though I can't supply it at a cost lower than prevailing retail I will add it. Email me at serrathescented@gmail.com with your thoughts, or just post them in the comments section of this post.
Thanks to everyone who's interested in this buy. Even if you haven't ordered but asked me questions about the items in the buy, you've encouraged other people to ask their questions as well. I love a chance to teach something I know well, and making my own incense has been a blast.
Asshats will be Asshats, page 1
Well, spring hasn't sprung yet, but it's warm here in Michigan. We're having snow in my personal area code, but other parts of MI are having just enough warmth to cook up the top Asshat Outdoorsman stunt: Getting stranded on thin ice.
A soaper I know posted to a list about some folks on Lake Erie (thirty of them, no less) who became stranded on a chunk of ice that broke away from shore and floated out approximately 1/2 mile. To quote the WDIV website and the Associated Press:
"Most of the anglers had to leave behind on the ice their all-terrain vehicles, fishing shanties and the rest of their gear."
Now, what in blue hell possessed these dipshits to not only go out on ice during conditions that anyone with a half-ounce of sense would know are not safe, but to take along their very expensive vroom-vroom toys AND A DOG? I don't know, but I do have some consolation.
Most organizations that are called on to go running after morons like this now have a policy/ordinance/law stating that if stupidity necessitates a rescue, the stupid will pay full costs of same. Since this happened a lot at Half Moon Lake in Eau Claire, the City Council instituted the Dumbass Tax several years ago. The local paper estimated the rescue costs at $3500 per dolt, and the City Council instituted a $2000 fine on top of that.
No word on what happens if you don't pay up after your butt gets saved.
I vote for putting their butts right back where they were found. Take the helicopter used in the rescue with the same men who saved these ungrateful clowns, pick up Duncy McVillageIdiot, tell him off with all due acidity on the way, then just shove his ass out the door. *
*No, I'm not a nice Silly Scented Serra today. Deal.
I wish my exes lived elsewhere
I had a little tiny bit of time between a suprise rush order and packing my house to read a new blog. Bry's the author, and the name is Bryanna and the City. She's a funny camper–well worth the read! I found the link to a rant of hers on Bottling Up The Crazy, MooCow's fountain of near-limitless insanity (another excellent read, but wear your Depends and don't be eating or drinking anything while reading). She's detailing a run-in with an ex, which reminded me of the screwiest phenomenon I've run into yet–people who sit and read new phone books.
The last year I lived in Eau Claire, my phone number wound up being published. To illustrate the ensuing proof of the Darwin Theory, I now bring you Serra's Sock Puppet Theater.
RIIIIIING!! RIIIIIING!!
Me: Uh…hello? still scanning an email on safe use of Peppermint essential oil
Him: Hi–it's (insert name of man I had fired for sexual harassment on the job 7 years before). How's it goin'?
Me: It's going great here! I'm dating an automotive engineer. He's a wonderful guy and he spoils me rotten. How's your wife?
Him: I ain't workin' where I was. My boss was a bitch and I told her tuh shove it.(translation–I groped her ass and she canned me)
Him: The Wife's cut me off–told me I hafta go find another woman for you-know because she ain't never giving me any again and ain't givin' me a divorce.*
Me: Hm, interesting.(Interesting that it took her 7 years to do it–she worked at the same nursing home he and I did and knew damned well what got Hubby's ass canned)
Me: So, what made you decide to call me?
Him: Well, we got the new phone book on the porch today and I was readin' thru it…and I saw yer name and ya know I always, uh, liked ya…
Once this evolutionary mistake got it thru his head that I was most emphatically NOT AVAILABLE, he had the nerve to ask if I'd "fix him up" with one of my hot slutty friends. Yep, he specified "hot and slutty". It didn't break my heart to tell him I didn't know a single woman I hated that much.
I wasn't surprised that it happened once. I was suprised that it happened several more times that week. All of these ex-boyfriend calls contained the line, "Well, I saw your number listed in the new phone book, and I really miss you so I thought…"
"I really miss you" translates to me as, "I'm hard up and you're good enough again, so if you're not busy…" Oh. Yeah. Oh. Baby. Oh ~flip phone sex script page~ yeah. Nothing makes me hotter than a guy assuming I've changed enough to put up with his sorry ass twice.
Did it not dawn on any of the 8 men who'd called me that week that, if he really had it going on, he would not have time to dig thru a brand-new phone book all the way to the SSS's? Wouldn't naked chicks show up on his doorstep in droves, each carrying her very own six-pack of his favorite beer?
To steal a saying, "No matter how good he looks or how hot he is, some woman somewhere is sick of his shit."
*Apologies to Mr. K and anyone else having a seizure over the grammar here. It's my best recollection of Fucktard's words.
My Brain is What?
Thanks to Moe and BathroomReading for this chance to totally confuse myself:
| Your Brain is 26.67% Female, 73.33% Male |
|
You have a total boy brain Logical and detailed, you tend to look at the facts And while your emotions do sway you sometimes… You never like to get feelings too involved |
Incense Supplies Buy
Hi everyone! Due to being asked very nicely by some great ladies, I’m running a pre-buy on incense-making supplies! Making your own excellent incense is not only possible, but practical and fun too! For those in business, incense, especially in the unusual and great scents we can get for soaping and candlemaking, makes an excellent sale item with a large profit margin.
Send orders and questions to serrathescented@gmail.com
Here are the details:
Incense Supplies Buy
START: February 25, 2005
ORDERS CLOSE: March 5, 2005
INVOICING BEGINS: ASAP
ORDER PLACED: March 10, 2005
Ship time to me: 10-14 days
Pack and ship to you ASAP once I receive
Payments accepted: PayPal, money order, checks with prior approval.
SHIPPING: USPS Priority Mail will be used as much as possible to keep costs down. I will use Flat Rate boxes for order sizes that allow adequate packing protection. I will ship only bags in Flat Rate envelopes—I will NOT ship sticks this way! Do note that the sticks are somewhat fragile and I pack assuming that the Postal Service uses big gorillas for shipping staff. I do suggest insurance for these items and will be happy to accommodate those who want it. UPS will be available for large, heavy orders.
Prices and charges:
11″ Charcoal sticks 1.65/100
11″ Plain sticks 1.30/100 (5,000 minimum needed to order)
19″ Plain sticks $2.50/50 sticks $4.00/100 sticks
2X12 Zip bags $3.50/100
3X19 bags $6/100
Charcoal rolls (for burning loose incense)$3.30/roll, $28.60/10 roll box (10 rolls needed to order)
Plain burners/white inlay .60/each or $5.75/doz (1 dozen minimum to order)
19″ burners $1.25 each (1 dozen minimum to order)
Light Bulb Ring Diffusers .50/each (1 dozen minimum to order)
Hostess Fee: $2.50 to cover packaging and PayPal fees
Charcoal sticks, 19″ sticks, 2X12 and 3X19 bags will definitely be ordered, since I need to stock them myself—other items must meet a minimum for me to get at the listed prices. I reserve the right to cancel any item not meeting minimum quantities. I can make pictures available upon request.
The supplier for this buy does carry DPG but while the price is all right you’d be paying shipping twice on a very heavy item. I suggest getting DPG from one of the stellar suppliers you already know and love.
Payments MUST be in and cleared by March 9—anyone wishing to write eChecks through PayPal need to have payments in with plenty of time to clear. Any orders not paid by March 9 will be dropped from the buy.
Busted?
Well, he's finally done it.
By he, I mean Honey.
By it, I mean read this blog.
Guess telling him the Canadian Porno comments wound up here just teased his insatiable curiosity enough. Yeah, right, who am I kidding? He's known I keep a blog since November when I started this bitch and finally earlier tonight he asks me what the damned URL is? He wanted to see the post on curling and find out if it made him look silly.
Then he read farther, I think…all I heard was baritone, suffocated giggling for about half an hour.
I did ask him what he thought. He said, "I was laughing so hard my nose was running."
I dunno if that's a ringing endorsement, but at least he isn't cutting off the bow-chica-bow-bow.
Just for you, Texas Biscuit
Texas Biscuit has apparently decided to hand out assignments on holidays.
I have no objection, since it’s a nifty way to avoid real work…here’s the deal:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
All righty, TB, how’s this for not-intellectual and not-cool?
My excerpt is from “The Soapmaker’s Companion*” (Yes, it was the closest book–I’d just been looking up proportions for making alkanet oil), page 123, sixth, seventh and eighth sentences:
“Finally, make one bar of soap (see the recipe for the Experimental Bar on page 24) using the colorant in the phase that proved stronger (lye or oil). You can make a second bar if you want to try adding the powdered, coarsely chopped, or whole plant material at the trace. After using a variety of plant colorants, you should have a feel for how much plant material to experiment with per bar.”
*Copyright 1997 by Susan Miller Cavitch. All rights reserved.
Canadian Porn
"You know, when we move in with Ma and Garand they're gonna find out about my watching this stuff…"
Out of the blue, in the middle of a snowstorm, a week before we can possibly be moved out of here, he's thinking about his family finding out he watches CURLING? And WORRYING about it? Uh, Honey, I'm more worried about where to store the leather lingerie you've bought me. After all, it's not like they're naked…or pretty…
Yeah, Honey watches Curling on CBC . Every chance he gets and he prefers women's to men's. I would totally understand the draw if it weren't sometimes as slow as watching paint dry, but there are time it is indeed that ~yawn~ slow. To me, the best way to describe curling is eight people attempting to play chess by throwing 40 pound pawns around the ice. The catch is that you have to toss them the length of an ice hockey rink and make them spin around and around on the way down.
~Shrugs~ At least there's another use for a hockey rink?
Make the Homeys Say HO
I am Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force!!
Which Aqua Teen Hunger Force character are you??
Meet the Husky
Seeing this subject on soapmaking lists and seeing part of the Westminster Dog Show on USA Network reminds me of something that happened at a show two years ago…
Balloonfest in Howell, MI has one day for folks to bring their dogs along to the fun–lots of doggie goodness with activities, some sort of contest and of course the folks next to us had a stand with handmade puppy visors and engraved tags. Being new to having dogs and just getting thru housebreaking TWO at once (don't ask, yes it sucked and I hate my cream-colored shag rugs), I loved seeing all the different breeds and I got a lot of sales during a slow show from letting people bring their fuzzybutts into the tent.
Well, a couple walked up with a gorgeous, HUGE Husky in tow! Oh, baby, I'd never seen one up close and the woman's nearly drooling because she loves handmade soap. Could I resist? Hell, no–I told her to feel free to bring the cow-that-barks in.
She did, of course, and he walked up to me–big, gorgeous eyes, fur that just begged to have fingers run thru it, soft-looking, clean-smelling, mellow, massive, solid, huge dog. I put a hand out and he sniffed, licked, then moved up close, faster than I expected….closer…until his face was an inch from mine.
Before I could even say, "Uh, he's friendly, right?" I hear gasps all around me as the dog moves in, opening his big mouth…
…and sticks a huge sloppy tongue out and lick-kisses my entire face!
I didn't even raise my hand to wipe the drool off–I was so grateful that he didn't eat my head in one gulp that I just put my arms around his thick neck and hugged, while he nuzzled my ear and slobbered on my neck, the sound of exhaled gasps and nervous laughter filling the tent.
Monster-dog and I finished the ritual meeting as his owner started making a big pile of soap to buy. Other people were suddenly very very interested in the merchandise too. That day I equalled the sales from the first two days put together–seems the crowd that assembled to see if I got mauled attracted more people, who attracted more, etc. etc etc. So the show broke even for me and I found out that huge huge dogs don't eat everything in sight.
For Sale—no, For Trade for Monoi de Tahiti—-no—not right…ok, I have it now….
WILL GIVE TO GOOD SOAPING HOME ALONG WITH 8 OZ OF GORGEOUS, ORGANIC, VIRGIN MONOI DE TAHITI:
(yeah, that's the ticket…)
ONE CAT–4 years old, not spayed, not declawed, much loved, gray tortoiseshell longhair. Answers to Desdemona, Messdemona, Desi, Desi-kitty, Fuzzball, Stoopid, "Shut the fuck up, nothing here is going to do you!", tongue-clicking noises, fingers waggled over a lap or at the side of a chair.
Comes with Cat Chow, 1/2 lb Monoi de Tahiti, hairball remedy, food and water dishes, snotty attitude, and a yowling, clawing, pain-in-the-ass case of being in HEAT!
See Agape's kitty page for pic, here's the URL.
***Disclaimer: This is not an ad–I will not be giving away my yummy, expensive, exotic Monoi de Tahiti oil. No cat dish is available; neither is the Cat Chow, hairball remedy, food and water dishes or any other feline life enhancers. Anyone assuming they can have my cat is out of their rabbit-assed minds. This is a satirical, parody post. I hate asswaivers but the nature of the Internet and life in these United States makes them necessary.
Life’s too short to eat green candy
Here we are, two days after VD and I have made my pilgrimage.
Anyone who knows me knows I have a huge sweet tooth. For me, the neatest shopping days are the ones after a candy-pushing holiday, such as Valentine's Day–candy's at least half price and I don't have to feel like a total dipshit while buying more than one sitting's worth of goodies. It's a great chance to buy something I wouldn't normally buy myself, like boxed chocolates, or assortments of favorite goodies. Besides, I get much more for my money than I would paying the jacked-up costs associated with supporting this bloated commercial holiday.
That said, one of the things we picked up during the candy crawl was a bag of fun-size Skittles and Starburst. I like both of these, but I sit and pick the green ones out of the Skittles bags and pass them over to my adoring Honey.
Why? Why would I deprive myself of sweet, tart, lime-y goodness? Simple. It's not goodness–it's just artificial ick enrobed in a candy coating. Blick. Bleh. Ew. Yuck! I know there has to be a better lime flavoring than the artificial ester currently used by the majority of the candy industry, but I have yet to locate anything made with it. Lime essential oil is luscious and not very expensive–whyinhell would it be so hard for some company that needs gallons of good flavoring to go thru the process of getting a better flavoring when the base ingredients are plentiful and cheap?
I don't know what the problem is. All I know is that life's too short to eat green candy.
It’s ok Officer, I’m just…uhhh…
Last night wins hands-down for the shittiest Valentine's Day ever.
I spent most of the afternoon packing up the laboratory–I mean, the kitchen. It's where all my soaping supplies are, with the exceptions of the ones that won't fit anywhere in the kitchen. The exception-supplies are scattered throughout the house, raining hell on anyone not wary enough to notice where the hell they're walking.
Of course, with the frenetic packing I have to do and the clothes-washing and all the other details involved in getting out of this house, my back is giving me more shit than usual. When I can't stand the incessant, whining pain, I sit down at my computer for a rest. Usually this is a good thing. Last night, I was reaching for a piece of paper to load into the printer, twisting, and…WHAM! The entire left side of my back curls up tightly in protest, sending shooting pains down my right arm, right leg and over the entire left side of my back.
Two hours later, I'm still in the bedroom, whimpering every time I reach for a smoke, drink or other silly bodily need. Honey gives up trying to watch 24 and grabs his car keys for a trip to the Emergency Room. Shit. I really don't have a choice but to go, since I was trying like hell to watch 24 also and missed most of it.
ER went the way I thought it would…they're hoping I didn't blow a disk and meanwhile rest and medications are the treatment. Dilaudid, to be precise…a synthetic derivative of heroin. It works great, but the couple times I've had it given to me it's made me ill. VERY ill–as in worshipping at the Altar of the Great Porcelain God, Ralph, and starting at some point along the highway on the way home from the hospital. Last night was no different–we'd only gone about 5 miles from the hospital when I clapped a hand over my mouth and told Honey to pull Baby over.
The last time I had to bring the Impala ride to a halt was just as we were turning off the highway onto our road here 5 miles outside of town. As he was slowing to turn I was ripping off my (mandatory) seat belt and trying to make myself understood once again thru my hand over my mouth. Honey's an engineer–he designs cars for a living, so he can translate "Mmmf…orrffff…..mowww…" as "Pull this bitch over before I barf on the butter-soft leather seats".
I had a feeling this was going to happen tonight, starting the first time in the middle of the town next to the one the hospital's in. I could almost picture a city cop nodding as I 'splained, looking less convinced than Hilary did when Bill told her, "I did not have sex with that woman". He'd sit there, nod, then yank my 6'3'' Honey out of the car, search for open booze, ends of marijuana cigarettes, $100 bills that test positive for methamphetamine. When he didn't find them, there'd be an ugly but thorough search while I struggled not to blow chow on his pretty navy uniform.
Yep, I'm just trying to catch my breath at the back bumper of Baby as the approaching car brakes hard, then turns on a dime and moves behind. Just as it stops, the blue-and-red flash begins, making me feel like I'm on a cheap and broken carnival ride. Yay. The local constabulary has arrived where they're not needed once again.
We begin the dance–I 'splain, then tell him our address.
"Oh, I remember you folks–I helped you change a flat tire down at the restaurant a couple years ago…cold cold night, that one."
Huh? He's being nice?
"Head home and get some rest, Ma'am. Hope your back gets better."
I nod, smile and head for the passenger seat, then buckle in as Honey restarts the car.
Sometimes it's nice to be in a small town.
Gaseous indiscretions
This story was brought to mind by a raft of posts on one of my soapmaking discussion lists–on topic, after all, considering there has to be a remedy for massive stenchy farts. Took a few moments out of moving for this one…it's a true story, and was the answer I posted to the list on the subject.
I dated my fiance long-distance–9 hours one way for dates! Since he didn't have his own place, we usually stayed with a friend of his in Flint, MI. This particular friend lived next door to a greasy spoon (Coney Island variety) and saw no reason to actually learn to cook anything but bacon–not eggs and bacon, just bacon. Yeah, his cholesterol sucked, but that's off the subject.
The night before, we'd gone to Chi-Chis (the guys let me pick the restaurant and I love deep-fried ice cream) and during the course of the evening Honey had a margarita, followed by Seafood Cancun. Seems this was a mistake on my part.
The next morning, we were going to the diner for breakfast and headed out the door, me first, sans purse. Nice. Just as the guys were hurrying out of the house (to catch up with me? Hollow laugh) I realized the absense of my purse and went past them to get it.
They did have the good grace to warn me. They really, truly did. Unfortunately, the bulk of the warning was delivered after I reached the living room…which had an odd, emerald-tinged cloud (I'm not kidding, I can get signed, notarized statements backing this up). As I sucked in a breath to ask what in green Hell this was, I caught The Stench.
Yep, turns out Honey shouldn't eat seafood and have tequila at the same time. Apparently my fiance-to-be had farted, realized he'd committed a grave dating error, and hustled his buddy out the door, hoping like hell I wouldn't ever know about the major environmental incident.
Yeah, I'm still going to marry him–this happened about four months before he proposed. Why am I going to marry him? Let's just say he has, um, redeeming qualities, and leave it at that.
