The funeral parlor pickup line

By Amanda Gillooly

There are certain places you’d never expect to be hit on. These places include, but are not limited to funerals and the gynecologist’s offices. Thankfully, I’ve never been asked, “What’s your sign?” while getting my lady parts examined. But funeral homes? Apparently they are now fair game.

Or maybe it was just Darrell.

I can’t imagine many people aside from him screaming, “Damn woman, you lookin' sexy” at a passing driver while standing outside a funeral home in Coraopolis.

But then, it was Darrell, so I should have considered the source. And if nothing else, I should appreciate his patience and tenacity over the past 13 years. Some women live their whole lives without ever having a man hit on them consistently for more than a decade.

My friends know who Darrell is all too well. He briefly attended my high school, where we all thought he was some kind of idiot savant. It was only a matter of weeks before we discovered that he was just an idiot.

I was on my way home from getting my hair did in Pittsburgh last Friday, when I heeded a traffic light on Fifth Avenue, and found myself stopped in front of the venerable Copeland’s Funeral Home. I was starring straight ahead, waiting for the green light to beckon me forward while flipping through the radio stations to avoid yet another Hootie and the Blowfish song.

And I hadn’t noticed the young black man staring at me from just outside that building until he shouted, “How you doin?” Hoping that the light would change, I didn’t respond. But then, about 20 seconds later he shouted loudly: “Hey girl, how you doin?”

I finally looked his way and gave a half-smile of acknowledgment when it hit me: This wasn’t the first time I’d been on the receiving end of this dude’s advances. In fact, after the shock wore off, I realized that the guy looking spiffy in the beige suit was in fact Darrell.

He is the same guy who followed me home from the bus stop when I was 15, walking way too close for comfort . Just when I was about to reach my doorstep he spoke: “Girl, how about we go out sometime?”

“Go out sometime?” I thought. But I said: “Uh, sorry I’m only 15.”

His response has been a joke since then: “Huh, I’ll wait!”

Although he then knew my age, it didn’t stop him from hitting on me (and friends) while at restaurants or while buying groceries. The weirdest thing is that he’d creep up from out of nowhere in places you couldn’t easily escape.

Just like last Friday. Stopped at a red light, I was trapped. When the light finally turned, I gunned it, afraid he’d approach the window and want an update on the last 13 years.

But he didn’t. He just bellowed, “Damn, woman you lookin’ sexy!” as I drove away.

I smiled and gave him a quick waive in the rear-view mirror. At that point I saw mourners in black stepping out of Copeland’s, and doubted they appreciated the exchange as much as I did.

E-cloth clean without a hint of soap

The notion of cleaning the kitchen counter without a drop of soap seems impossible to this member of the “disinfectant generation” who depends on a bevy of household chemicals for survival.

So news about the launch of E-cloth, an Earth-friendly rag woven with millions of tiny fibers to gather dirt with the help of just water and elbow grease, arrives today on my desk with a heavy dose of skepticism.

The PR kit contains a plastic water spray bottle and two cloths - a green one for heavy dirt or dry dusting and another in robins egg blue designed for washing windows. They feel dense, heavy and sort of rubbery. They are supposed to last a year and survive multiple washings, too.

Produced in Korea for EnviroProducts Ltd. of the United Kingdom, E-cloth is endorsed by KitchenAid, Hotpoint, Seimans and a number of other customers.

“Old habits die hard, but cleaning with chemicals is one of those habits we can change,” according to the printing on the package. It’s especially recommended, the company states, for people with chemical sensitivities and others who care about protecting sources of water from unwanted pollutants.

Well then, I’m heading to the bathroom to perform an unofficial laboratory test with these E-cloths on those lingering toothpaste stains around the sink and on the shaving mirror.

……………..........

Returning a few moments later to this blog, I am surprised to announce that these cloths appear to clean exceptionally well without leaving smears on the bowl or dust particles behind on the mirror. Missing, though, is the fresh, sanitizing scent of lemon or chlorine that bathroom cleaners leave behind.

This gives me an almost uncontrollable urge to spray the area down with Lysol just to make sure it’s germ free. But then again, I’ve been shaving for a few days around this cesspool without developing a fungus.

Guevara comes out a loser in "Che: Part Two"

The movie “Che: Part Two” rightfully paints Dr. Ernesto "Che" Guevara as a zealous and misdirected leader of a lost cause following his triumph in Cuba.

Directed by Steven Soderbergh, the second and final chapter of the epic film about the Argentinean revolutionary takes him to Bolivia for a repeat performance of the freedom fighter's one-time success of overthrowing a dictatorship.

However, his soldiers arrive in South America unprepared for the rejection they receive from Bolivian peasants who distrust foreigners, especially those from Cuba. They never warm up to Che’s mission to treat their illnesses and give them money to gather soldiers in the war against oppression. In fact, some poor farmers side with the Bolivian military aided by U.S. secret forces. Starving and ill equipped, Che leads his men into a deep ravine where they are easily surrounded and either killed or captured.

This movie is long, slow-paced and nowhere as good as “Che: Part One” that chronicle’s Guevara’s heroic victory in Cuba and arrival as a power player in the Communist movement that so troubled Washington D.C. in the 1950s and 1960s.

This tragedy presents its hero as a loser with a swelled head. Near the end Che, portrayed by Benico Del Toro with Oscar-worthy skill, spits in the face of a Bolivian commandant before his own execution, adding another casualty to a noble cause that ends in disaster.

Che had by then delivered Cuba yet another dictator in Fidel Castro, whose poor leadership was equally to blame for this blunder in South America. While Che struggled in Bolivia, Havana lost contact with his ground troops because Castro provided them with faulty radio transmitters.

One has to admire this warmonger to some degree for his bravado.

But it’s a wonder anyone would still worship Che, to whom Cuban schoolchildren continue to offer their daily pledges of allegiance. Thanks, though, to Soderbergh for crafting this story without the bias of history-glossed romanticism.

Che Part Two

This should be a great movie if it's half as good as "Che Part One."

Artist gaining perspecitve

WASHINGTON, Pa. – Shelbie Jones studies the large portrait she is sketching from a magazine photo of a popular female rapper, stands back and notices a problem with the proportion.

“Something doesn’t look right here. I think it’s the eyes,” the 16-year-old Washington, Pa., girl says while working in a studio above an Italian restaurant in her hometown.

Her teacher at Washington Community Cultural and Arts Center, Jeffrey Katrencik, agrees and uses his hand and fingers to measure off the facial proportions in her sketch.

“You have the eyebrow down too tight to the eye,” said Katrencik, who is mentoring a half-dozen young students at WashArts in downtown Washington.

“I think it’s OK,” he said before encouraging her to draw in the hair and shadows to round out the features of the beautiful British singer and songwriter known as M.I.A.

Shelbie follows his instruction, saying she doesn’t get this kind of careful observation at Washington High School, where her art classes usually involve craft projects.

“For two hours here I’m getting individual attention from a serious artist,” she said. “It helps.”

Katrencik laughs at the thought of being called serious, although he has built an impressive resumé in the Pittsburgh art scene.

The Houston man was born into a family of artists, a son of a coal miner named Joe whose wife convinced him to enter art school. Joe Katrencik, whose parents were Slavic immigrants, then began a second career painting murals in local bars and hunting scenes on campers.

Jeffrey Katrencik earned his bachelor’s degree in drawing in 1985 from Carnegie Mellon University before obtaining a master’s in multimedia technology at Duquesne University four years ago. He earned a teaching certificate at Carlow University and also studied at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. He also teaches digital design online for the Art Institute.

He dabbled as a substitute teacher for a stretch, but found himself uncomfortable “bossing kids around.”

While hesitating to “pigeon hole” himself by labeling his art style, Katrencik said he considers himself a modernist.

“I like to twist things around,” he said.

Some of his work involves portraits of nude women, and in one piece he grossly over-exaggerated the woman’s muscles. It’s done in pen and ink, and swaths of silver glitter.

To put it mildly, he doesn’t produce hunting scenes or those featuring Indians, art that he says would find a market in Washington County.

“That’s the dilemma with some of (my) stuff. It limits where I can exhibit. I don’t want to cater to this area too much.”

He also dabbles in political art, painting a couple colorful portraits of former President George W. Bush. One was drawn of Bush with hot pink outlines and walking in a blaze of yellow flames. It has an empty cartoon “balloon” pointing to his mouth.

It’s mocking Bush’s “unclear agenda,” Katrencik said.

He also has a book cover illustration featuring Bush and two other politicians being hounded by an angry mob. A public school is burning in the background in the cover of “No Bad Schools,” a critique of American education policy by Ron Sofo and Bill Renko.

One of his more visible works can be found on a large wall at the East Parkway Bus & Ride lot in Wilkinsburg. It features a colorful montage inspired by his painting of Joe Magarac, Pittsburgh’s mythical “Man of Steel.”

Legend has it Magarac was made of steel to protect steelworkers and eventually melted himself down for products to build a new mill.

Katrencik painted the folk hero on a lark in shades of blue, green and black, assuming Joe would be a popular subject among artists competing for the public murals. Turns out, Katrencik was the only competitor with such an entry.

“I’m very much a free spirit,” he said.

(Caption: It would have been much better had Shelbie been on the other end of my camera lense, but, that is Katrencik teaching drawing at WashARTS)

Amanda's musings: Out with the old sports bra

Bra Fence (same), originally uploaded by imagesnzimages.

Dear CW-X executives,

“Flopping” and “boobs” are two words that should never be uttered in the same sentence. But in the midst of an elliptical workout this morning, I found myself contemplating if one of my breasts were going to jump ship and liberate itself from my sports bra.

Not a good thought. Hmm. Not really a good image, either. And for that, I apologize.

I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your concern for my girls (and girls everywhere), and ensuring that they are stationary even during the most rigorous workouts.

It’s a touchy subject for me personally, because while I welcome weight loss, any woman who has been overweight for any length of time laments what goes first: That extra cup size you inherited along with those 30 pounds.

Yes, I am really pumped about my shrinking figure, even while silently crying over the boob situation. I can deny, deny, deny, but when a breast almost jiggles its way out of its support garment, you have to face facts.

So I’m going shopping tomorrow for a new bra. One of yours, in fact. The CW-X Ultra Support Bra has to be the most high-tech model out there, what with the “nine fully adjustable back and shoulder closures,” which offer a whopping 18 combinations for a snug fit.

Then there is the “Coolmax” fabric, which the ad indicates “wicks moisture away from the skin.” All I can say to that is a healthy “hallelujah.” Anyone who has battled the detested boob sweat hears me.

Most impressive, though, is the “motion control” cup designed to keep excessive movement at bay (If you ever need a new research and development guy to test those puppies out, my friend Paul said he would be into it).

This bra means business, indeed. And while I intend to pick one up, I want to offer one suggestion to make the garment even more useful. Two words: Side pockets.

Before you snicker, please know that yoga pants and other workout gear rarely have pockets, making a jog on the nearby Montour Trail or gym workout cumbersome. A girl never knows what to do with her keys, cell phone or Ipod. Hence the pockets – everything you need in a safe, secure area.

While some men would say, “Lumpy boobs should not be a trend,” I assure them more women than people realize utilize their brassieres for extra storage space.

Yeah, that one fire chief DID give me the stink eye when I whipped my cell phone out of mine to check the time, but it works.

Just a suggestion.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “help me lift and separate” Gillooly