Ring Around the Collar

When I was a child there was an ad for a stain remover, its catch phrase was "ring around the collar". It couldn't have been that effective of an ad, mainly because I can't remember for sure which stain remover it was. Was it Spray and Wash (TM)? Shout (TM) perhaps? I don't know. Maybe it was for a detergent? But I do remember my mother used to say, "Her husband needs to wash his neck!" This sounded logical at the time.

Years later I discovered, being a B blood type that it is impossible for me to wear white without getting: you got it! Ring around the collar! My sweat is highly acidic and turns everything yellow. I wonder why they didn't talk about pit stains. Now those are an abomination. Perhaps it was considered too raunchy for TV. I don't know. I just wear black now; it's easier.

There are, however, worse things than ring around the collar and pit stains and so, now I shall present the seamier side of life, the squalid bits that I have not yet revealed. The horror, if I can tell it.

I have a friend from online (who shall remain nameless) that I have recently had occasion to visit because, well, she invited me over. Thinking that perhaps we might engage in a little cooking together, I brought over a bottle of wine, thinking that for sure she would have a chicken in her freezer.

The minute I arrived, the smell hit my nose-and I could not believe it. Would not believe it.

"You can park over here," she said, cuddling one of her darling babies (she had four little catties).

I parked.

Came in.

And spent an excruciating two hours viewing the movie she'd invited me over to.

"Popcorn?" She offered.

I declined. The smell did not lead one to want to eat. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

In addition to the cat poo smell, I could not fail to notice that she had neglected both bathrooms (can anyone sing the ring around the toilet song?!) and that the living room was also in shambles. This from a woman who had previously boasted that she would never pay anyone to do anything for her that she could do herself (she cut her own hair with astonishingly good results) and so this was why didn't hire anyone to clean, despite the fact that she made well over 100k a year.

When the movie was over, bid her adieu and left.

GOD! Cat Poo. No wonder my friend was so thin.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson