Monday, February 14, 2011

And this is why I (heart) Witches

A conversation between myself and Brother Christopher:

BC - "Happy Valentine's Day! Got any fun plans?"

Me - "Ugh. I hate this holiday. I'm going to spend the rest of the evening hiding in my apartment with a pint of ice cream and a box of wine. What've you got going on?"

BC - "I bought a bunch of silly, Disney-themed cards and blessed them on an altar dedicated to Aphrodite. Later, I'm going to hit the town and hand them out to random strangers."

[beat]

Me - "You completely freakin' win."

BC - "Yeah. I know."

Officially, I still hate this holiday. But off the record, Brother Christopher smacked me upside the head with a nice, hefty clue-by-four, reminding me that the world can be a hell of a lot of fun, provided one doesn't take certain things too seriously, stubbornly or pessimistically.

Such as oneself.

So Happy Valentine's Day, dagnabbit. Now cue the music.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

A Tasty Chaser of Rusty Nails

I don't think I've ever had as much fun shopping as when a dear friend took me on a tour of Salem last year. In one boutique, we came across these cute little handcrafted witch bottles, and I snatched up a pile of them to bring back to the Co-Witches. Mine ultimately ended up on a shelf in my dining room, nestled between my geomancy books and a statue of Thoth, where it sits to this day.

On a metaphysical level, a witch bottle basically acts as a sponge, absorbing any harmful spells or curses directed at its owner. According to the charmingly Medieval brochure that came with the product, "Witch bottles have been discovered in the walls and chimneys of old European houses for centuries. These bottles were placed in the houses for the protection against Dark Magick, and Evil or Mischievous Spirits." Then, in ominous bold italics: "If the witch bottle is ever opened, everything that has been trapped inside will escape, with much mischief, and the magick will be spent."

Last night, I dreamt that I drank my witch bottle. As in, I popped out the cork, poured in some water, shook it vigorously and slammed it like three fingers of whiskey.

I woke up nonplussed.

Although I've never seen this particular doo-dad as anything more than a kitchy souvenir, the idea of ingesting the contents of a witch bottle is unsettling at best, if not flat-out toxic, which makes me wonder why my subconscious came up with the image.  From an occult perspective... well, perhaps it's time to deal with some of the unsavory and/or malicious influences in my life, absorbing and transforming those currents to strengthen myself instead of letting myself get beat down by them. On the other hand, this could very possibly be my liver trying to telling me I really, really need to cut back on the 5-Hour Energy Shots.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Today in Corporate Chutzpah

I ran out of soap this morning. As such, after work, I stopped by a nearby drugstore to buy more.

The side note here is that it's winter, which means it's cold, which means my skin's all dried out and itchy. So I wanted something moisturizing and exfoliating. Found a reasonably priced bar of oatmeal soap, with NOT TESTED ON ANIMALS printed boldly across the package.

Intrigued, I turned the box over to read the ingredients.

The main ingredient was tallow.

So... cruelty-free rendered beef fat? We don't test our animals on other animals?

This has been Today in Corporate Chutzpah.