Gigi here! Bear with my lengthy rambling, please, as I promise that my complaining will culminate in a product review. Without my annoyance, I never would have tried the item about to be critiqued.
Pittsburgh is the most “garbled language” capital of the world. Pittsburghers slaughter grammar, drop word endings, cannot spell, and have a disgusting sort of “shorthand” when it comes to speech–it comes from a lazy manner of combining several words together to save time.
Most natives can’t grasp that the word “you” can refer to more than one person, and thus there are bastardized variations of it, such as “Are ‘younz’ (or ‘yous’ or ‘yinz’) gonna go ‘wit’ me see the ‘Stillers’?” (The “Stillers” would be our recently humiliated, would-be Super Bowl champs.) Reporters who labor over news stories are guilty. I am weary of phoning our local television stations, telling the anchors that the dead body was not “layin'” in the street but “lying.” The response I receive from those who studied journalism? “Hauscome?” Kindly translate “hauscome” into “why” and it will make sense. And thus I give them easy ways to decipher when to use “lie” and “Jeet?” “lay”. translates as “Did you eat?” and “Djew?” is not a nationality or religious slur, but a word which can mean “did you” or “would you?” In Pittsburgh, it seems that the mentality is, “So many words, so little time” and thus we dispense with most of them.
I am impressed by the gentle lilt many Canadians give to the end of a sentence with a charming “eh?” On vacation, I purposely engage others in conversation to hear it. Pittsburghers end their sentences with a guttural, nasal, repugnant “n ‘at.” I guarantee that you will understand more of what is said in Tokyo than here. My exasperation has grown to such an extent that, through a consortium for teachers, I offer seminars called “Free Yourself from Pittsburghese n ‘at.” At the end, my pupils will generally tell me that it was “rilly” informative as they thank me for “teachin'” them. Evidently, It “Din’t” make no “differenz.” Oh, and then there is the plethora of pharmacies with enormous hanging signs for “Incontinents.” I gently explain to the managers that it should be “incontinence” and am told with an irritated sigh that no one else has “probly” (probably) noticed the glaring error.
I make at least one mistake with each comment at Meg’s and carry my share of shame. However, an advertisement for the public requires attention tI make it plural) and “Take 75% off all hairo detail. If the store doesn’t handle it, I do–with one of the many markers I carry in my purse. I change “Tomatos” to “Tomatoes”, “Chicken leg on sale” (right or left leg? moose.” Ouch–wouldn’t that hurt your head? No wonder it’s marked down!
Recently I visited a drugstore and saw a huge basket. I yanked the handmade sign above it and changed the handwritten “This does work rilly good!” to “This works very well” with one of my pens (I have a color for all). The basket had held a supply of Gold Bond’s Ultimate Healing Lotion in trial sizes. There was one left and I bought it out of guilt for defacing yet another store’s decor. I have a thousand lotions yet my hands still cry for help. The products which perform best leave a heavy film.
Gold Bond most likely conjures up in your mind a medicinal powder with a pungent scent, healer of rashes and skin disorders. Or perhaps you think of Gold Bond’s lotion with a more potent formulation. Both are something which deliver on their promises but not something I would not choose to put on my hands daily. I like girly, I like pretty, I like fragrant. I love Gold Bond’s latest miracle–look for a white container, a bottle or tube (the concentrated version). This is not your mother’s Gold Bond, but a radical version certain to tackle winter-whipped skin all over your body, including your face, in a feminine way. Although it may not be Ellen Sirot Hand Perfection, this drugstore knock-off will please and perform at a truly pocket-friendly price (about $10.00 for the largest size).
Gold Bond has a pleasantly faint powder-like scent. It glides on and seeps into skin surprisingly well and quickly, with no oily feel or coating so that you don’t need gloves to prevent the ruination of anything you touch. A mix of intense moisturizers works immediately (among them are powerhouses like glycerin, Jojoba, Aloe, and collagen). It includes vitamins to eliminate dryness. Not only do your “hans” become like velvet gloves, but cuts and abrasions vanish with habitual use.
Benefits accrue over time. The most ravaged skin will improve, as raw, red patches morph back into human skin and even itching is calmed. Poor raggedy cuticles are treated to the same luxury, so rub it in generously. Go–wash your hands as often as needed during the day and venture “aht” in the cold, as you are now protected. This is among the Cadillac of drugstore/department store hand creams. I keep a trial size with me to use on the go. I give it five frozen flutes!
By the way, what would happen if Goldfinger’s daughter wed James Bond? She would be “Mrs. Gold Bond.”) Did “yinz” think that joke was lame “‘n at?” It was–“fer sure!”
Who else loves Gold Bond? In any language!