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I have only two things to say.

One, Bath and Body Works sent me coupons for a free travel sized item (worth 5 bucks) and 20% off my purchase. Then they sent my husband, who has NEVER stepped foot in a B&BW and can’t even tell you where one is, got coupons for a free FULL SIZED item ($12.50), free travel sized item, and TWO 20% off his entire purchase.

I spend 100% of the money in that store. I make 100% of the purchases in that store. I give out MY email address to their marketing program. And they reward my HUSBAND?

Why? Because he is a man and the head of the household, according to traditional marketing research. It doesn’t even make sense to send him coupons. I get the mail. I do the shopping. I make the mall purchases. Those coupons are mine. I am going to get $20 worth of free merchandise (that cost around $2 to make, lbr) and be bitter that they chose to market their female oriented line to a man who will never make a purchase (not even for gifts. He has better taste than that). Way to go.  I won’t even use the 20% off coupons because now I’m pissed.

Two, Driving from one end of Florida to another made me realize that North Florida is a myth. It’s creepy. It’s like this place that calls itself Florida, but it’s not really Florida. It’s like when Wayne’s World moved to the studio and it was Wayne’s Basement, but not really Wayne’s Basement.

It’s a weird mix of south Georgia, old Florida that tried to stay relevant after Disney came in, and a place that tries really hard to look like all the things people associate with Florida. Cross the state line and all of a sudden you get assaulted with signs for Disney and oranges and there are planted palm trees on the medians of the interstate, but in a way it seems more fake than anything in Orlando. Those palm trees wouldn’t be there if the state didn’t put them there. Disney is hours away. Oranges you can buy at every stand at every exit on 95 were grown in central and south Florida.

And it gets fucking cold there. That’s not Florida.  I don’t feel like I was anywhere near Florida until we hit the Space Coast and even that still bears some of the I Dream of Jeannie-surf bum fantasy that started in the 60s.

And does anyone still go to Ron Jon’s? I think I last went in 1991 when I was a kid. I mean, I’m as sad as anyone else that Cocoa is a ghost town now thanks to the space program going tits up, but is Ron Jon’s really hanging on?

Anyway, I managed to take a vacation finally and I’m back now and I never thought I would be happy to see a palm tree, but I think I hugged one when I got home.

I should write now. You know, being a writer and all. I’ve been painting a lot and those won’t sell unless it’s a hundred years in the future or I murder someone.

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