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What's Your Mascot?
Apr. 13th, 2005 04:00 pmI read Louise Rafkin's Other People's Dirt: A Housecleaner's Curious Adventures. It was almost as informative, but not as much fun as I hoped it would be. This is probably because the author comes off as shallow and spiteful. And those strike me as common qualities in my country, and that embarrasses me.
But I did greatly enjoy the chapter where she explains how in each house she picks out the most useless and ugly item and designates that as the mascot for the house. (Garbage doesn't count.) One time she was with a co-worker with the philosophy that anything made from shells is an automatic winner. Her friend brings out the bird made of shells. Acts like she's talking in bird talk, "Pick me! Pick me!" Then the author, says no, it's got to be the foot-long clay turtle on the dining room table. With the bride doll riding it bareback. After a few seconds, Turtle Bride was declared the winner. From then on, the house was referred to as "Turtle Bride," as in "I have Turtle Bride tomorrow." The owners of the place were referred to as Mr. and Mrs. Turtle Bride (not to their face of course).
Which leads to the question of what would my mascot be? Two totally tasteless things come to mind. First, the music box I selected from among my grandmother's things to bring home. It's a snow globe. When you wind it up, the dancing mouse inside revolves. And the piece de resistance: the title on the bottom of the piece is "Rabbi Mouseltov." How could I resist?
But then there's also my pink poodle head mug with the green cat-eye glasses. In which I store a flower and a rubber stress ball in the shape of a brain, which just peeks out of the top.
Not to mention I still have some stuff around that I made or received as a gift when I was a kid. So perhaps the abstract sculpture cut from a block of plaster that was set in a milk carton. Or maybe the ceramic Alice in Wonderland, Lady from "Lady and the Tramp," and/or dalmatian from "101 Dalmatians" given to me by a favorite uncle. Or the picture of an antique car which I cut out from a greeting card and stuck onto a peanut butter jar lid (for a frame). Or the I Love My Dog wall hanging I embroidered.
Robin says no, it's my cheap-ass scroll paintings. Long, skinny bamboo mats with big, bright flowers painted on them. He thinks they look cheap and trashy. They remind me of some that my parents have that are done on silk, and I think of them as the coolest things Kmart had when I worked there, and a great bargain at $1 a piece. Maybe he has a point. Though one does cover the exposed breaker box quite nicely. I told him that if he finds better scroll paintings, I wouldn't mind switching.
Which brings me to Robin's stuff. Heh heh. Based on the comments of visitors, I can guess the two top contenders: Tarantula and Bottle Cap Table. One is a clear paperweight with a real tarantula inside. An adult, brown, hairy tarantula. Many people are disgusted. I drape a tissue over it when people make a fuss, although just knowing it's there in the same room can still squick people out. The other is a large round coffee table in beautiful old wood with large metal things on it in the shape of bottle caps. Apparently many people find this to be hideous.
But Robin pointed out that my least favorite thing of his is probably the Matisse piece called "Sword Swallower." That's a nice title, but it doesn't match what I see, which is a guy gagging on three giant french fries. There's even a tear rolling down his face. I don't enjoy torture art.
What's your mascot?
But I did greatly enjoy the chapter where she explains how in each house she picks out the most useless and ugly item and designates that as the mascot for the house. (Garbage doesn't count.) One time she was with a co-worker with the philosophy that anything made from shells is an automatic winner. Her friend brings out the bird made of shells. Acts like she's talking in bird talk, "Pick me! Pick me!" Then the author, says no, it's got to be the foot-long clay turtle on the dining room table. With the bride doll riding it bareback. After a few seconds, Turtle Bride was declared the winner. From then on, the house was referred to as "Turtle Bride," as in "I have Turtle Bride tomorrow." The owners of the place were referred to as Mr. and Mrs. Turtle Bride (not to their face of course).
Which leads to the question of what would my mascot be? Two totally tasteless things come to mind. First, the music box I selected from among my grandmother's things to bring home. It's a snow globe. When you wind it up, the dancing mouse inside revolves. And the piece de resistance: the title on the bottom of the piece is "Rabbi Mouseltov." How could I resist?
But then there's also my pink poodle head mug with the green cat-eye glasses. In which I store a flower and a rubber stress ball in the shape of a brain, which just peeks out of the top.
Not to mention I still have some stuff around that I made or received as a gift when I was a kid. So perhaps the abstract sculpture cut from a block of plaster that was set in a milk carton. Or maybe the ceramic Alice in Wonderland, Lady from "Lady and the Tramp," and/or dalmatian from "101 Dalmatians" given to me by a favorite uncle. Or the picture of an antique car which I cut out from a greeting card and stuck onto a peanut butter jar lid (for a frame). Or the I Love My Dog wall hanging I embroidered.
Robin says no, it's my cheap-ass scroll paintings. Long, skinny bamboo mats with big, bright flowers painted on them. He thinks they look cheap and trashy. They remind me of some that my parents have that are done on silk, and I think of them as the coolest things Kmart had when I worked there, and a great bargain at $1 a piece. Maybe he has a point. Though one does cover the exposed breaker box quite nicely. I told him that if he finds better scroll paintings, I wouldn't mind switching.
Which brings me to Robin's stuff. Heh heh. Based on the comments of visitors, I can guess the two top contenders: Tarantula and Bottle Cap Table. One is a clear paperweight with a real tarantula inside. An adult, brown, hairy tarantula. Many people are disgusted. I drape a tissue over it when people make a fuss, although just knowing it's there in the same room can still squick people out. The other is a large round coffee table in beautiful old wood with large metal things on it in the shape of bottle caps. Apparently many people find this to be hideous.
But Robin pointed out that my least favorite thing of his is probably the Matisse piece called "Sword Swallower." That's a nice title, but it doesn't match what I see, which is a guy gagging on three giant french fries. There's even a tear rolling down his face. I don't enjoy torture art.
What's your mascot?