Remember the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you made a really bad choice in life? Something you knew, as you where doing it, would all go bad?
To my deep regret, after lots of pleading and begging, I let the young gentlemen from our last post borrow a pair of Riedel glasses to aid in his anticipated romantic liaison. Bad move – really, really bad move on my part. Just how bad it was going to get, I had no idea. But I had that sinking feeling as I agreed to lend them out.
Sunday morning I got a phone call asking where he could buy some of these wonderful glasses – he hadn’t been able to find any quite the same thing at the nearby dollar store. Having at that point only downed one cup of coffee and it still being rather early in the day, I didn’t pick up on the subtle messages being sent. I gave him the names of a few shops where he could find said glasses. Before I could ask him how the wine pairing with the object of his amorous desire went, the phone went dead.
Half way through my second cup of coffee, a voice mail arrived. Something was wrong with the glasses. I knew it would all become frighteningly self-evident soon. I was thinking of all the evil, nasty jobs I could give this guy when he next came onto my crew as a movie greensman. Digging ditches in a filthy, smelly swamp was the first thought that came to mind. I’ll forego mentioning some of the ones that came later.
A few hours later, the phone rang. Would I be home for a while? The young man wanted to return my wine glasses and two-stage corkscrew. All my evil thoughts dissipated. How little I knew.
He arrived carrying a Riedel box containing a brand new glass. I took one glance at the other glass and my worst fears were realized. Bright red lipstick – the brightest red lipstick I’ve ever seen. Now I know lipstick on crystal is hard to remove without using some form of nasty cleaning stuff, but this lipstick must be part Crazy Glue. It will just not come off.
His wallet – as he showed me – was empty. He’d already cashed in his beer cans, gathered up all his spare change, and borrowed some money from his mom to avoid the wrath he knew was coming his way. After beating on his head and shoulders for a while, he agreed another glass would becoming my way soon – not in the next ten minutes like I wanted, but by the end of the week. My visions of sending him into swamps became more focused.
Please, if there is any one who can tell me how to get the lipstick off, I would be grateful. If it involves a dishwasher, I’m out of luck as I am the dishwasher here. Meanwhile the red-rimmed glass sits on the counter.
Okay, so is this where I get to say “I told you so”? No, of course not! When Frank announced he was going to actually loan out prized glasses, I merely made a mild mannered comment. “Oh, it rather surprises me that you’d agree.” What self-control – on my part, not his. He is, after all, the one who agreed.
Now you have to understand Frank’s hatred of lipstick is… intense. Lipstick of any colour has been know to send him into a tirade usually prefaced by something along the lines of “Don’t they know it’s whale blubber they’re putting on my glasses?” Red lipstick? You get the picture.
For now, I’ll content myself to surreptitiously smiling every time I see the red-rimmed glass perched regally on the counter. Mind you, I do have a interior designer friend who is well known for her love of using everyday objects to create unique, artsy accent pieces like lampshades or sculptured plant pots or picture frames. Perhaps I’ll pop by with some old lipstick tubes. After all, Frank’s birthday is just around the corner.
Riedel is found at www.riedel.com