Girlies in Skimpy Clothes: A Public Service Announcement

You know how every year about this time people start sending out all kinds of ‘warnings’ about shopping malls and late night parking lots and people swiping your bag out from under your nose? Well, this time ’round I got a new one.  A first for me, (maybe not for you, but just in case) and one I thought was worth putting out there…so you can warn your hubbie/boyfriend/whatever.

Men Beware: Holiday Season Scams!

For those men who may be regular customers at Lowe’s, Home Depot, or Costco, you need to be aware of this most effective scam. I became a victim of this while out shopping. Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to be quite traumatic. Don’t be naive enough to think it couldn’t happen to you or your friends.

Here’s how it works:

Two amazingly good-looking 20-something girls come over to your car as you are packing your items into the trunk or bed of your truck. They both begin wiping your windshield with a rag and Windex, with their breasts almost fallng out of their skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look. When you thank them and offer a tip for their services they say “No thanks. But could you give us a ride to McDonald’s?”

You agree to give them a ride and they get into the back seat. On the way, they start undressing. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and starts crawling all over you, while the other one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen August 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 220th, 24th, & 29th. Also on September 1st & 4th, twice on the 8th, 16th, 23rd & 28th. Three times last Monday and very likely again this upcoming weekend. So tell your friends to be careful. What a horrible way to take advantage of older men. Warn your friends to be vigilant. Walmart has wallets on sale for $2.99 each. I found cheaper ones for $1.99 at KMart and bought them out. Also, you never will get to eat at McDonald’s. I’ve already lost 11 pounds just running back and forth to Lowe’s, Home Depot and Costco. These women are dangerous!

And there you have it. The latest scam for the holiday season…and a new way for your man to lose weight.

polka dotted undies?

You’re probably going to think this is  little nuts, but I’m gonna share anyway. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know there isn’t much I won’t talk about. The shock factor is as much fun as the comments I get back. Besides, aren’t there already enough ’serious’ things in the world? I mean, COME ON! Let’s have some fun, shall we?

So here’s my goofy little offering for the day:

I went to Target the other day to get some household stuff and decided to cruise through the underwear/socks section to see if there were any good deals going on. I’m looking through the aisles, kind of blown away by how much a package of underwear costs. I’m not even talking about the ’sleek and sexy’ stuff here. I’m talking plain ol’ cotton undies for comfort. Same with the socks. Mostly I wear sport socks, since mostly I wear either cowboy boots or sneakers. So those thin, flashy kinda socks don’t really do the trick for me. I like cotton…and comfort!

Anyway, I’m about a size 6. Which would be a ‘ladies’ medium. My shoe size is around 7.5. So, I guess I’m pretty ‘average’ that way. I’m looking at these packages of undies, most of which had 3 pairs (per package) for…get this…$8.00! WHUT? For plain ol’ cotton drawers? Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me? Same goes with the socks. They were so ridiculously priced I wondered just how long it had been since I’d last bought any. Had to think about it for a bit, but it turns out it wasn’t all that long ago; maybe 6 months. How did they get so expensive? You can NOT tell me that cotton has somehow become some rare, exotic crop over the past 6 months. Not buyin’ that crap. So…I’m standing there looking at all this stuff when all of a sudden it hits me:

Hey! I could buy them from the “Girls” section. I’m small enough to fit in them and I’ll bet they’re half as much. So what if they have polka dots or goofy pictures of some cartoon character. It’s not as if I’m going to wear them under some slinky dress. Or to ‘woo’ some guy. We’re just talkin’ about everyday drawers here. So I cruise over to the Girl’s department and sure enough, I can get 6 pairs for less than half of what 3 in the Women’s section are. Eureka!

Then I went to the Boy’s department to look at the socks. Same thing here. I got 8 pairs of all white, all cotton sport socks for less than half of what 3 pairs would’ve cost in the Women’s department. Go figure.

I dropped the packages into my cart and skipped my way to the checkout counter. All the while I kept thinking, ‘boyhowdy. If this young lad knew who these were for, he’d probably bust a gut’. Can’t you just see it? This 50-something woman runnin’ around the house with Hannah Montana underwear?

What a hoot.

plans for your “old” age?

This is just too brilliant to keep to myself. I need to first tell you I didn’t write it; I found it. But when I did, I just thought to myself, “Self (that’s what I call me), this is BRILLIANT! Absolutely, positively brilliant!” So…I want to share it with you, so you can decide for yourself if you’d like to make such arrangements. Also, if you’ve got children who think they’re going to make these decisions for you, you may want to inform them that you’ve already figured it out. Besides, if you do choose this option, they won’t have to come visit you!

There will be no nursing home in my future………
When I get old and feeble, I am going to get on a Princess Cruise Ship. The average cost for a nursing home is $200 per day. I have checked on reservations at Princess and I can get a long term discount and senior discount price of $135 per day. That leaves $65 a day for:

1. Gratuities which will only be $15 per day.
2. I will have as many as 10 meals a day if I can waddle to the restaurant, or I can have room service ( which means I can have breakfast in bed every day of the week).
3. Princess has as many as three swimming pools, a workout room, free washers and dryers, and shows every night.
4. They have free toothpaste and razors, and free soap and shampoo.
5. They will even treat you like a customer, not a patient. An extra $5 worth of tips will have the entire staff scrambling to help you.
6. I will get to meet new people every 7 or 14 days.
7. T.V. broken? Light bulb need changing? Need to have the mattress replaced? No Problem! They will fix everything and apologize for your inconvenience.
8. Clean sheets and towels every day, and you don’t even have to ask for them.
9. If you fall in the nursing home and break a hip you are on Medicare. If you fall and break a hip on the Princess ship they will upgrade you to a suite for the rest of your life.

Now hold on for the best! Do you want to see South America, the Panama Canal, Tahiti, Australia, New Zealand, Asia, or name where you want to go? Princess will have a ship ready to go. So don’t look for me in a nursing home, just call shore to ship.
P.S. And don’t forget, when you die, they just dump you over the side at no charge.

ohhhh my achin’ back (really?)

Ever wake up in the morning and find your self looking like a human ‘S’? Oh yea. Fun stuff, huh? Well, I just wanted to remind all of you lovelies…this is NOT necessarily about some age thang. And don’t even try tellin’ me otherwise. Cuz I know better. Case is point:

When I was a younger lass, I was very athletic. In fact, I’ve always been very athletic, until about 2 years ago. That’s when the Kosmic Kween decided it was time for me to slow down. But I’ll spare ya that part. It’s not important. Prior to that experience, I’d always kept myself strong and lithe. Mostly because I couldn’t bare the idea of becoming a flabby old woman. Not to mention my very stubborn ’self-reliant’ nature. I like being able to do stuff for myself.

Anyway, somewhere around (the age of) 21 I had a major snafu coming off a diving board. Sent my back into all kinds of spasms that got steadily worse as the days wore on. After multiple trips to various MDs (who wanted nothing more than to slice me open), I ended up going to see a chiropractor. Turns out my spine was (and had been for years) not at all straight. Scoliosis was the term used. The reason I’d never had any trouble with it was because I’d always been so active and the muscles in my back were strong, thereby lending to keeping my spine from pinching those nerves. But it was around this same time that I’d taken my first ’sedentary’ job. As in, I sat at a desk rather than running around a dining room. This then lent to those strong back muscles not being so strong. Which in turn led to my spine pinching nerves. Again…I was only 21 when this started.

Now, the good news is that once I learned about all that, I made it a point to keep those back muscles strong so I wouldn’t have to experience this drop-you-to-your-knees kind of pain. And I did that for all these many years. Never had much of a problem with it after that.

I’m tellin’ ya this so you’ll stop using age as an excuse for ‘falling apart’. It just ain’t so! I don’t care how many trips around the sun you’ve made. You can keep your body strong and avoid all that crap that folks like to say ‘happens’ because you’re gettin’ old.

I call bullshit.

whaddya do when HE withholds sex?

I gotta tell ya, I haven’t met many guys who do this. In fact, try as I might, I can only think of one. Well…one that I was actually have sex with. Now, I can name 2. Only this second one isn’t my lover (praise the gods!); he’s just someone I know who tells me his junk. Much to my dismay. I know. I could tell him to NOT share this stuff. But the deal is I know he’s got nobody else to tell it to and I feel bad for the guy. He’s such a miserable dude and seems to have no clue as to why he’s so miserable. Ya’d think that by his age (mid-50s) he’d know a few things about himself. I guess there’s just no tellin’ about some people, huh?

So yea. I listen to him talk about his junk and he shares wayyyyy too much information sometimes. Depending on the mood I happen to be in, I’ll either take it all in stride or wait patiently as he ’shares’ (actually, “whine” is much more appropriate. You’d think the guy was a little girl the way he whines), while I silently chant a mantra in my head so as not to shoot him. Mostly the latter.

More recently he’s been bragging about how he’s witholding sex from this much younger chiquita who he says makes him want to eat cyanide. Why he continues to see her is beyond me. Every time he does, he spends the next 3 days bitchin’ about how she makes him nutso and all the reasons why. To which I continue to ask: “Well then, why do you keep seeing her?”

Of course he has no real answer. Or if he does, he doesn’t share that part. I know why he does it. But he seems to be in complete denial (and utter fantasy) about the whole twisted relationship. He keeps going over there and then complaining about how awful it is when he’s with her. So his latest thing is that he’s withholding sex; and taking great pleasure in this. Now, first thing that strikes me as retardo is that the only reason he started up with this gal was to get laid. Period. Or so he says. And for whatever twisted reasons of her own, she actually participates. I dunno. Maybe they’re both in the same ’space’ right now. Whatever. She’s doin’ the deed whenever he wants. Except that now he seems to think that this withholding thing is giving him some kind of edge. He goes on and on about how she wants to and he won’t and now she’s calling him a zillion times a day. Which, he says, drives him even more nuts cuz he can’t stand the sound of her voice. My God! What is wrong with this man?

So I got to thinking about that period of my life when my lover did this to me. It was a long time ago, so I had to really do some research. Which is to say, I broke out the old journals to see how I was feeling about it while it was happening. And what I did about it to find some resolution. And how that all worked for me.

Turns out, it didn’t. Turns out he was withholding from me because he was getting it elsewhere. He was doing that because he was pissed at me. He figured it was the best way to get back at me for whatever it was I was doing (I still have no idea. He never did tell me why). Because I was so sexually ‘charged’, he knew it would make me crazy and he was right. It did. For a while. My attention span isn’t that big (or is that ‘long’) so it didn’t take long before I got bored with the whole game and just decided to cut him loose. It wasn’t about the sex. It was about the game. I got tired of playing. I got totally bored. I figured out that this was going nowhere. Ta-ta, Mr. Man. Gotta go. SeeYa Bye.

That was my answer to the witholding thing. Now I’m listening to this other bonehead and wondering what his motivations are and why she’s putting up with it. I’m also wondering why I even give a rip. (this is the biggest part of my wondering, which is why I’m puttin’ it out there…so I can cut it loose and STOP with all this stupid crap.) I gotta believe that people do this, both guys and gals, because of some power trip. Based on this theory, then it stands to reason that they think sex is the only source of power they have. The fact that they even need to exercise power in a relationship is even more disturbing, doncha think? What IS that?

Whaddya think? Got a story? Want to share it?

Oh boy. Doesn’t that sound fun?

should YOU get a flu shot?

what’s it gonna take?

BoyHowdy! Are you feeling it too? Are you feeling that  itch in your britches to stretch out and tell everybody to take a hike? Does it feel like the world is shrinking? What the heck is goin’ on?

Been getting all kinds of calls, emails, visits from folks who all seem to be fighting those ants in the pants.  Like there’s an impending storm just beyond the horizon that the weatherman isn’t telling us about. Like something BIG is about to happen but nobody knows what kinda big. Is it going to be a good big or not so much? Fearful, anxious vibes that are bouncin’ around like those old Super Balls we used to wing around the house while mom yelled about us breaking stuff.Remember those? (they were so cool. We used to try to bounce them up onto the roof. Drove my dad nuts.)

I don’t know what it is either. But what I do know is that we gotta chill out. Take a breath. Go lay in the sun for a bit. (Okay…if you happen to live somewhere that’s not exactly ‘lay in the sun’ material at the moment, you could still go lay in the sun…in front of a window. Point is…just lay still, ya know?) We all do this thing where we think we have to get it all done right now, today, at this very moment. We’re rushing around like crazy people, on the verge of panic cuz that meteor is hurtling down from the sky about to blow up the planet.

Ya know what? It just ain’t so. It’s all made up…in our heads. All this frenzied manic insanity is all coming from us. And here’s your newsflash:

You’ve been on the planet long enough to know a whole lotta stuff that you’re not using. You already know you’re eventually going to leave the planet, right? You know that kids grow up and move away. Your body goes through changes all the time. Your friends change too. Maybe even your job or your spouse or where  you’re living. Big stuff, little stuff…all the stuff that makes up a life. You already know all that.

But do you also know that you get to choose how you live it? Don’t you know that you’re not the only person on the planet who has 24 hours in a day? You have to know this. How can you not? But you’re still thinking ‘there’s not enough time. I’ve still got to….fill in the blank’. Whaoooo there, Nelly. Drop down to a trot. Let your heart rate get back to some semblance of ‘easy’. You’re not Super Mom (or Dad). You’re a beautifully brilliant being who’s supposed to groovin’ right now…not trying to run the World Cup of Marathons.

I’m putting this out there today because it just needs to be said. You’ve earned the right to enjoy your life. You’re worthy and you’re enough and there’s nobody that gets to take that away from you. That is unless you let them. Back to the little nugget:

You get to CHOOSE.

Lighten up. Have some fun. Play in the snow or rain or whatever is out there. The world is NOT going to stop if you do.

I promise.

drum roll pleeez….

Okay. Normally I don’t do the whole ’self promotion’ thang, but this is just too exciting NOT to. So humor me, okay?

The charming and delightful Eileen Williams of FeistySideOfFifty asked to interview ME! Can you believe it? Well, it’s true. And so…I just had to let you know…so you can have a listen. It’s a mere 15 minutes…but I think you’ll enjoy it. Won’t know if ya don’t go.

Click HERE.

P.S. And please go have a visit to Eileen’s site too. You’re gonna love this lady!

FeistySideOfFifty

how do you do it?

One of the most frequent questions I get asked is “how do you do it?” People are always curious as to the consistency of my attitude. That is to say, more often than not I’m in a ‘good’ mood.

The fact that people even ask this question is a pretty clear indication of just how ‘hard’ they think it is. And, for the record, I’m talking about people (not just women) who are in what outta be the PRIME of their lives. I mean, come ON people, how did you manage to get this far without shooting yourself? Is life really that freakin’ horrible?

Lots of ’scientists’ say that we’re hard-wired for certain dispositions. Like, we’re born with these genes that either make us innately Goofy Happy or Cranky Pants types. According to these geniuses, if you’re wired one way or the other, you’re stuck for life.

Gee. How encouraging.

Then there’s the other school of thought. The one that says there’s nothing that can’t be rewired. That our brains are maleable and perfectly capable of building new road maps. That we have the capacity to be whoever we want by mere desire (and attention) of it.

From where I sit, that makes a whole lot more sense. AND it sure is a whole lot more encouraging, wouldn’t ya say? I mean, if the former group of so-called geniuses are correct, that would mean a whole lotta trouble for folks who were born with the Cranky Pants gene, right? Why in the world would anyone even want to keep getting up every day? If they’re predestined to live the Cranky Pants life, why not just take that gun and put a bullet in the head? What’s the freakin’ point?

Okay. So maybe it’s easy for me to say this since I’m a Goofy Happy not a Cranky Pants. And I guess I’ve pretty much always been this way. I remember one time, during my second year of college, I was talking on the phone with my Dad, telling him what classes I’d registered for. They were, for the most part, FUN classes. Stuff like Music History and Creative Writing and English Literature and even a dance class (BIG mistake on that one. Got this Nazi-ish woman who insisted that ballet was not for the faint of anything and if you did one tiny thing wrong she went ballistic. Hightailed it outta that class faster than a tap dancer on speed.) So I’m telling my Dad and he suddenly goes a little ape shit himself, screaming about how I “think life is just one big party”.

Man! Talk about hittin’ the nail on the head!

It’s true. I DO think life is one big party. I’m not talking about the get drunk and naked kinda party. I’m talking about celebrating every lovely thing I can wrap my head around. Little stuff and big stuff and all the in-between stuff. Toilet paper (ya think it’s not something to celebrate? Try doing without it for a day.) And indoor plumbing. And electricity. And a cool purple truck that runs like a champ. And this computer I’m typing on right now. And a gazillion other things that make my life so wonderful. And those are just the tanglibles!

What about stuff like good friends? And hugs? And critters that love ya no matter what? And those kind strangers who pull off when they see you stuck with a flat tire in the pouring rain? Aren’t those things to celebrate too?

Here’s the thing: you get to choose. Yep. That’s right. You get to choose how you walk through each day of your life. And if you wanna choose Cranky Pants, that is most certainly your right. But don’t go ’round tellin’ people that life is hard. Cuz it just ain’t so. Life is precisely what you make it. And I don’t give a rip how many trips around the sun you’ve made. It seems to me that the more trips you’ve made, the better equipped you are to make those choices. Besides, the only other option is to stop making those trips. As in…

Live or NOT.

Enough with the spiel.

when shift happens?

A very funny thing happened last night, and I had to come back here and ditch the piece I was working on, in lieu of something a bit less…aggressive. Even as I type, I marvel at how much funnier ‘aggressive’ is than ’soft and kind’. Soft and kind isn’t funny. It’s just … soft and kind. So I’m in a bit of a conundrum here. Funny or soft? What to do?

I was going to write about ’shooting his ass’. To me, that’s funny. Just the thought of shooting someone for being a bonehead is funny. Of course, I wouldn’t really shoot anyone, but thinking about it is fun sometimes. Call it repressed aggression. Call it my inner Mafiosa mentality. Call it whatever you want. It’s still funny.

But today, I’m finding it rather challenging to even think about that. Because now, after what I experienced last night, I’m feeling all kinds of soft and kind. Some kind of shift happened…and I’m feeling like there’s gotta be another way to handle those repressed aggressions…and still see the humor. Ohhhh. A conundrum indeed.

So I’m stretching here. I’m gonna see if the Muse will offer up an alternative. I’m gonna wait until the Genius strikes and see what happens. Until then…I’m gonna leave you with this:

What if, the next time you really DO feel like shooting some bonehead for being on the planet, you got one of those guns with the sticky dart thingies. You know the ones…they have a suction cup at the end of the ‘bullet’ and they stick to whatever they hit. Remember those? Used to love those things. I’d play with my brother for hours, hiding behind trees, waiting to ambush the first unsuspecting kid that walked by. We’d shoot and run. It was fun!

Oh my. No wonder I’m such a mess. Got the giggles just thinking about it. Geez. Maybe I should go float in some water for a while and let all that testosterone leak out. Who said women aren’t warriors???