While we’re on the subject…

I like the Brazilian.  No, not the steakhouse. You know, the wax. Down there.  Everything but the landing strip (because looking like a prepubescent girl is not my thing.  I find it kinda creepy). Add this to the list of things you know about me.

Don’t ask me why I even ventured down the dark path.  Curiosity?  Peer pressure?  It started with the bikini wax.  It was good, but it was like marijuana, you know, a gateway drug (HA!).  From there I just kept going  – tighter and tighter. Pot to coke.  I just kept chasing that high, man.  Eventually it wasn’t enough. I made the jump.  That’s right. The Brazilian. The crack of waxes.

For the uninitiated, the process of hair removal by waxing goes like this:  Step 1) Prepare the area by trimming the hair.  It must be long enough for the wax to grab, but not too long. Figure it out;                         Step 2) Using what appears to be a tongue depressor (no kidding), apply hot wax to to the hair, a section at a time (not the candle kind of wax – so don’t go melting candles on yourself or your friends.  unless you’re into that);  Step 3)  Lay a strip of cloth on top, rubbing it down and then…Step 4) In one quick motion, pull the cloth in the opposite direction of the hair growth.  The result?  The cloth sticks to the wax which sticks to the hair and…OUCH!  Repeat this over and over until you have a completely clean work surface.

Ok.   Who invented this??? The Japanese as a torture method during the war?  Seriously, this could replace waterboarding.  Remember when you were a kid and you’d get a Band-Aid stuck to some hairs on your arm and you were afraid to take it off because you knew it was going to hurt like a bastard?  You’d try anything to avoid violently ripping it (and the hair) off?  Well imagine that DOWN THERE. And paying someone to do it.  Uh huh. Now you’re getting it, Marquis de Sade.  That said, it’s quick (so there’s that).  It’s not that I’m into pain. It’s just that the end result is….well, it’s good.  Real good.

As I lay on the waxing table at my last appointment, half naked and legs contorted, I wondered why the hairless pelvis came to be so popular (no more bearded clams, my friends). You know why?  One word:  PORN.  Porn is responsible (add it to the list of appetizers porn has put on the menu of everyday folk.  Along with dressing up like Catholic school girls, and ass done three ways. Actually I think the Romans are responsible for that one.  Actually both of them).  And that’s cool, but let’s think about it for a sec…There is a practical reason for it in porn. It’s all about the “Money Shot.” That perfect frame of film where we can see it all perfectly clearly, without obstruction.  The whole business. Play by glistening play (feel free  to substitute your own favorite adjective).  ‘Cause that’s what makes it so hot, right? Ummmm……Perhaps.  [we just covered this – see prior post]  Different strokes for different folks, I guess.  The guys in porn do it too because….that’s right!  It makes their penises look bigger!  And bigger is better.  We all agree on that (and don’t say size doesn’t matter because it certainly does. Does anyone really believe it doesn’t?  that LIE was obviously spread by a guy with a small dick who was trying to make himself feel better – and better able to get some ass.  there is a lesser known but more compelling expression:  “If you can’t touch bottom, you better be banging the hell out of the sides.”  there you go. just throwing some hope out there for you. you know who I’m talking to.  Work it).

Seriously, if you’re not planning to be in films, why go through it? Ain’t no one taking that close a look.   Are you on call for the Money Shot? For most of us, no. But now the bar has been set.  There are young men out there who have never been with a woman with pubic hair.  If this keeps up, staying in our more natural state will fall outside of our “porn norm” and those who choose not to submit will be outcasts, shunned and gettin’ none. OR maybe they’ll be kickass rebels who won’t answer to the man, who’ll opt out and start a movement of free love and full bushes (Just say NO to depilatories!), who’ll live in communes and camp out and smoke weed and…uh-oh.  the gateway drug!  NOOOOOO…..next thing you know they’ll move on to coke and then, you know, it’s on to the rock, and they’ll need more cash so they’ll start doin’ porn…

Anyway…

OK, I have to be honest. There are some pluses to the wax. For a guy, a clean package not only looks “manly” which is a good thing (see prior post – which also relates to my whole theory of evolution.  see prior prior post); it has practical implications as well.  It solves an age-old problem.  If you can’t guess it, let me just say I already floss twice a day, and I prefer the minty kind.  Wink-wink, ladies. Same goes for us girls.  Maybe if it didn’t take a John Deere to get there, more men would eat at the Y.  A man likes a clean work surface.  So I’ve heard.

That said, why is it the norm for a woman to groom her pubes but most men don’t provide us with the same courtesy?  We bear your children, dammit. Now this?  How much pain do we have to endure for your benefit?  Personally, I’d like to see a little more reciprocation.  Just saying.’

Truth be told, no one’s gonna turn down the sex because of poor grooming. It’s not like you’re gonna take your pants off and he/she is gonna be like:  “Oh, wow…uh, yeah, this isn’t gonna work. It’s not you, it’s me.  I’m just not into that whole Clan of the Cave Bear thing you got going on.”  So I say, if you’re going to      wax on-wax off,  do it for the right reasons…your own selfish reasons.  Don’t cave to pressure or follow someone else’s ideals or ideas of “normal” or of beauty.  EVER.  If they don’t dig you as your are, fuck’em.  Or fuck’em anyway.

Personally, I was thinking I’d quit.  Not because of the porn thing or to make a statement.  My principles are not that haughty. I actually don’t mind porn (the acting is stellar, and the storylines are so…well-developed).  I just thought I’d go back to a more natural state.  You know, keeping it real. I gotta say, it wasn’t workin’ for me.  I’m not into goin’ all tribal (I don’t even like camping).  It’s like my front yard:  I like some curb appeal.  I like a well-manicured lawn, bushes neatly trimmed.  A little landscaping.

…I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.

 

So I heard an ad on the radio this morning. It was for a strip club where the dancers are COMPLETELY NUDE.  How awesome is that, right?

…Is it?  We’re not talkin’ topless here, we’re talkin the full treatment. I gotta say,  I’m on the fence about this one.  I’m trying to be objective.  Being of a persuasion that does not derive pleasure from the female form (other than my own) should make it easier.  Maybe not.

First thought that comes to mind is:  Why?  I mean, I get it.  The female form is beautiful.  Most of its parts are lovely individually as well.  But the va-jj?  Ummm….not so much, really.  You can call it intriguing, intricate, mysterious even.  But beautiful to look at?  Come on, people!  Beautiful is not the first word that comes to mind. Not if you’re being honest (and if you’re not, you don’t get to play).  Anyway, I am reminded of a joke my 75- year-old aunt told me.  I can’t remember the whole thing but the punch line was:  “Looks awful but feels great? It’s a vagina!” That there was a joke about it at all is meaningful.  It tells us that it is a universally held opinion that vaginas are not pretty.  Otherwise the joke wouldn’t be funny (which it was, and not just because my 75-year-old aunt said “vagina.”  although that was pretty freakin’ funny).

So why do some guys want to see it all?  Is a woman dancing in a little g-string not enough (or little enough)? Maybe it makes the fantasy perfect because it removes any barrier to them getting laid.  Maybe because now they think they could actually get laid, or they can imagine performing some other act – that would ultimately lead to them getting laid.  Seems to me it’s all about the dude getting laid.  Gentlemen, please tell me if I’m off-base here.  If you tell me I am and that you think it’s just pretty to look at I’m gonna call bullshit on you.  Just letting you know. [I must confess I have had men tell me  mine is beautiful.  And that was after the sex, so shut up.  And I did call bullshit on them.  However now I suffer from vaginal hubris.  It’s a real thing.  See http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Vaginal+Hubris.  For a more descriptive definition, see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qg0b8aMSP5M]

Personally I think some things should be left to the imagination.  Most women would agree.  Maybe it’s because we like to give guys something to think about, a hint of what could be. That little teaser, which we all enjoy. For like 12 seconds (That’s right, guys, we want you to want it BAD).  Or maybe it’s because that’s how we’d prefer it if the situation was reversed.  Because a guy’s package is really not so pretty either, at least not when it’s not “engaged.”   Because a flaccid penis is not gonna do anything for us, is it?  (It’d just be flopping around, not in time to the music or anything. What a distraction!). Anyway I don’t think all nude male strip clubs even exist.  If they do it’s probably a supersecrethandshake deal.  I’d rather imagine what’s inside that g-string, like a gift you can’t wait to unwrap.   Sometimes what you imagine is better than the reality.  If you don’t get to take it home, best to stick with the fantasy (If you go home alone, it may come in handy…Pardon the pun).

Still.  The all nude strip club.  Putting it all out there.  Straddling a pole.  Ok, EEWWW! That’s just nasty.  I mean, is that sanitary?  Does no one think of these things?  Maybe the rules are different in these clubs.  If not, it would put a different spin on a lap dance, wouldn’t it?  Ok I gotta quit there.  My mind is going down an ugly path right now.

Obviously as a heterosexual female I’m not the target demographic here.  Not that we don’t go to them.  Some women actually go to meet men (Really?  To meet men who had to go to a strip club to see a naked woman? What, porn’s not good enough?  Or men who are already wound up and ready to go? What the hell’s that about?  That’s like cheating at foreplay. I’ll do my own work. Thanks anyway).  I’ve had the male stripper experience and it was kinda fun, but it’s clearly not the same scene. Girls are all “tee hee” and blushing (well, some of them. We REAL WOMEN are ALL IN).  But guys take this shit seriously, right? All nude or not. They get drunk and stupid and sometimes aggressive and make fools of themselves, and sometimes a guy will think a girl really digs him and it means something to her and she wants to fuck him and be his girlfriend and he’ll have lap dances whenever he wants but she won’t be a dancer anymore (not if she’s with him!) and she’ll get pissed that he’s so controlling and she’ll stop the lap dances and then the blow jobs will stop too and she’ll stay home because she can’t find another job ’cause she dropped out of school, and she’ll get fat and resentful and he’ll say what’s your problem don’t I give you everything you need you ungrateful bitch go back where I found you and she will but she’ll have to work in the office until she gets in shape again and when she does she’ll rock the shit out of that strip club and she’ll make a bajillion dollars and she’ll buy the damn club and that asshole ex of hers will be blacklisted forever.

Alrighty then…

Obviously strip clubs are appealing, for whatever reasons.  “All nude, all the time” takes it to the next level.  You can go partial or you can go all the way. Like a bikini wax versus a Brazilian.

So I guess the answer to “Is all nude all that?” is “Yeah, if that’s your thing.”

Whatever turns you on, baby.

 

 

 

Last week, the Presbyterian Church announced its acceptance of gay marriage.  GO PRESBIES!  I’m not going to get into the politics of this topic here.  Let me just say IT’S ABOUT FREAKIN’ TIME! The rest of them are all like “Those pesky Presbyterians! Making us look bad!”  Dontcha love how they all preach about inclusiveness and how God loves ALL his children and then they interpret God’s word in their own special way?  Maybe they’re thinking “Hey! We wrote it how WE say God said it, and, dammit WE’LL tell you what He meant. Nanananabooboo!”

I’m truly happy that gay marriage is starting to be accepted by religious groups and by state legislatures.  Let’s not forget that little ideal we call separation of Church and State. Let’s keep it real, ok?  Religion aside, government has no basis for denying any couple the legal right to marry.  My opinion.

Let’s face it, marriage is first a construct of government.  Starting with tribal society.  People lived in clans, right?  Like any species.  Think flocks, herds, prides, gaggles, and the like.  So why did the idea of marriage come about?  To maintain some kind of order. Love had nothing to do with it.  Basically, some guy (of course it was a guy.  who are you kidding?) got tired of taking care of some other guy’s kids, and he complained , and other guys said “Yeah! That’s bullshit!”  Then the whole group of them (who were probably all tribal losers because of course there have always been losers) went to the tribal elders and bitched until they convinced the elders to figure that shit out.  So the elders came up with this idea:  Since the women and children need the hunting gathering men to provide for them, let’s do this:  The man picks a woman he wants to mate with and agrees to be responsible for her and their children.  Everyone else recognizes this union, by either some painful ritual or some awesome party involving hallucinogenic herbs.  The men think this is an excellent idea since they don’t have to share the burden of the entire tribe (communism anyone? social welfare programs, anyone?),  they only need to be responsible for their own, but they can still fuck their neighbor’s wife if they want to, at least if they’re the tough guys cause no one will challenge them, plus it wasn’t a sin because sin hadn’t been invented yet.  it just made them dicks.  The women hate it because now they’re stuck with the one guy forever and he’s probably one hairy smelly beast, but then they realize that forever’s not so long for a hunter gatherer since there’s a very good chance he’ll be impaled by a wild boar or something before the next full moon.  “Til death do us part” takes on a whole new meaning now, doesn’t it?

Anyway, my point here is that marriage was a social construct created to impose order on society.  It had nothing to do with love.  I believe in love, yes; marriage, not so much. It’s the whole mating for life thing.  My theory is that humans, as a species, are not meant to mate for life.  Think about it:  Most species don’t.  Males and females mate with a partner who will create the strongest offspring with the best chance of survival, to ensure the continuation of the species.  The end.  Why should humans be different?  We are a species like all others, except that at this moment in time we are at the top of the food chain (at least on dry land).  Consider our relationships.  When we’re young and in our child-bearing years, we couple but avoid procreation at all costs (we call it dating) as a method of weeding out the weak ones until we find the right mate who will make strong healthy children for survival of the species.  It’s in our DNA;  we’re programmed for this stuff!   Once those offspring leave the proverbial nest, the job is done and we don’t really need the same traits in a mate, so…Yep, you guessed it! That, boys and girls, is why divorce was invented! Are you seeing the simple truth of this?  We date, we mate, together we raise our offspring, they leave the nest, and we split up because that union has played out its purpose. From an evolutionary standpoint does this not make perfect sense?  Would it not explain why more than 50% of marriages end in divorce? We are just not meant to mate for life – anymore.  Don’t forget, life just wasn’t always this long (true that.  human lifespans were shorter for lots of reasons so there were more, natural opportunities for re-coupling. now some folks create their own opportunities.  the unnatural kind.  I call it “spousicide.” and why so desperate?  because it’s way more difficult to get out of a marriage than it was to get in.  really? freakin’ blunt force trauma to the head and diggin’ a hole in the backyard is easier?  apparently so.  and that’s no accident, people.  it was set up this way.  that’s the man keepin’ some order in society). Add to this the fact that so many women are now in the workforce.  Who needs the hunter gatherer now?  Women can bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan.  (Can I get an AMEN, sistas?).    So right there, POOF! The whole purpose for which marriage was created is eliminated.  DAMN!  I LOVE a well-supported theory!!!

So why do we keep doing it? [And some of us do it over and over…and expect a different outcome…Wait a sec.  Isn’t that the definition of insanity?] Maybe the idea of marriage is just too ingrained in the fabric of human society.  Maybe we can’t give it up because somewhere along the line we put the love in it.  Maybe we are inherently romantic.  Or practical.  Or maybe we are all just pathetically hopeful that there really is just one prince or one princess and a happily ever after…[Thank you, Walt freakin’ Disney].

So, gay or straight, as I just say:  Marriage is a fine institution…We should all be committed.

So I lost the Bluetooth connection in my car and now I can’t play music from my iPhone through my car speakers.  Bummer.  I’d fix it but I don’t know how and I don’t want to spend the time to figure it out.  It’s like cooking.  When you’re hungry and the goal is to get a meal on the table, you go with a dish you know by heart.  You’re not going to go for that new recipe you’ve been wanting to try. When I’m driving and I want to listen to music, I want to push the “on” button and hear what I like.  Simple.  Foolproof. No fumbling about.  I’m all about immediate gratification.  Now you know one more thing about me.  Make a note of it.

Ok so no music from my phone, but wait!  I have a back-up: CD’s!  Got a 5-disc player, loaded with 5 of my favorites.  Well, they WERE my favorites.  Within two weeks they sounded like nails on a chalkboard, cats in heat, and my persistent attempts to play the violin (hey, it’s not as easy as you think, ok?). So I took them out and loaded 5 new ones, right?  Nope.  Why not, you ask?  Well you don’t necessarily think of the CD’s in your car when you’re not actually IN your car, do you? (Oh, you do?  LIAR!).   I don’t.  You know when I think about them? When I’m driving and I have nothing decent to listen to because I cannot listen to any of those 5 CD’s anymore and probably won’t ever again since I now despise EVERY NOTE of EVERY SONG on EVERY ONE  of ’em.

Which brought me here, to the land of FM radio.  Not satellite radio. Nope.  Good old FM radio.  So many choices! So many commercials! So much blah blah. So much crap music.  Eventually I found a local station that is bearable.  Lots of commercial-free airtime when it counts (which is anytime I’m in my car. Not when YOU’RE in YOU’RE car.  Because this is all about me), and minimal DJ chatter. So all is good with the world, no? Well, there IS one little problem (little like a tick that gets under your skin and feeds off your life’s blood and which, if left unchecked, will make you horribly ill to the point of debilitation).  Here it is, captured in three inoccuous words by the tag line:  “We play everything!”

They say it with such pride!  I say:  And that’s a good thing because…?

Because variety is the spice of life! they say  Because it’s what makes life interesting! they say.   Hey, I LOVE variety! It’s awesome to have choices. That’s why Skittles come in a rainbow of colors (taste the rainbow!) and why we’re not all driving Toyotas (although it looks that way sometimes.  Toyotas or Hondas.  Seriously, have you ever counted them on the road?  There are tons of other cars out there that you can buy, people!  That’s V.A.R.I.E.T.Y).  Variety is also absolutely essential for that American favorite, the all-you-can-eat buffet (which, by the way, is never a good deal.  DON’T FALL FOR IT! …unless you have the metabolism of a hummingbird or your stomach is the size of  my brother’ s head – which everyone knows is freakishly large, and that’s not including his ears).

Variety in the sense of having numerous options is good – when you get to choose (this is kinda key). Variety in the sense of having every option thrown at you haphazardly and without consideration is less good.  Years ago, there were “variety shows” on TV.  They offered a variety of entertainment: skits, musical performances, etc.  Generally they were light fare, mostly comedy.  They didn’t juxtapose a standup comedy routine and, say, a reading from King Lear. That kind of variety wouldn’t work.  Half the people would get up to pee or to fix another Tom Collins during one routine or the other.  Why? Not [only] because King Lear is the suckiest of the Bard’s works (calm down, I’m just using it as an example),  but because if you’re into Shakespeare you may not dig raunchy standup comedy and even if you love both, you ‘re not gonna be feelin the iambic pentameter on the heels of a Russell Brandt standup routine.

Variety in music…well music IS variety in a sense.  It’s different notes strung together in new and different ways (try that sometime, Robin Thicke!).  And there is a variety of musical genres: rock, blues, country, rap (which in my opinion is missing the letter “c” in front of it.  Hey, I said it’s my opinion.  Talk about your opinion on your own blog).  I enjoy listening to all kinds of music, but I don’t necessarily want to listen to them all at the same time (I like sushi and lasagna and French fries but I wouldn’t want to eat them all in the same sitting! You know what I’m sayin’?).

Ok, so I’m in my car.  Just me and “We Play Everything!”  I’m a captive audience.  And it’s going pretty well.  I’m singing along- Tom Petty, Police, REM,…Prince. Wait what?  Oh, ok. I love Prince.  Next is…awww, geez…AC/DC?  Ok, I’m ok…. Then… The Red Hot Chili Peppers.   And I’m a little confused.  Then Barenaked Ladies.  And I’m starting to feel like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.  Next up, The Beastie Boys.  Excellent. (No!Sleep!TilBrooklyn!). And I’m recovered,  I’m into it!  At a fever pitch!  And then…freakin’ REO  Speedwagon.  WTF?! Are you effing kidding me???  What the hell just happened???  At that point my brain short circuited and my ears started to bleed (no, not literally. I don’t think REO Speedwagon could make your ears actually bleed, but I think they could bleed if the contents of your skull burst, which is what it felt like happened inside my head).  Then I just wanted to drive my car into a ditch or into the car in front of me (Then I would sue the shit out of “WPE”  (“We Play Everything.”  Took me long enough to figure that out, right?) for my brain/ear bleed and for the damage to my car.  If I hurt anyone or anything else, I’d plead insanity due to the Irresponsible Variety of WPE.  That’d teach ’em.  There’d be a new criminal charge in the Penal Code:  Irresponsible Variety (IV).  I LIKE IT!).

You see, this kind of variety is NOT ok.  This variety is a bit schizo and  royally frustrating. Choose an identity, WPE.  Make a commitment for Pete’s sake (Pete, if you’re reading this, I apologize if I offended you by using your name in vain).  Give your work a some thought, don’t just recklessly throw shit out to the masses for us to gobble up like starving …(?  Help me out here.  I don’t know what eats shit. My dog eats rabbit shit, but that doesn’t seem to work here).  And then change that freakin’ tag line.  It’s nothing to brag about. It’s like saying something’s “good enough.” Good enough compared to what?  Nothing at all? Prison food?  Well THAT’s a ringing endorsement.  Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.

Oh, yes, The Game of Variety can be a dangerous game, indeed.  Tread cautiously, ye purveyors of everything.  To WPE:  Consider this:  If I like the 1980’s Bon Jovi thing, don’t force feed me Michael Jackson. Have mercy!  I might like a ballad, but not if you’ve been rockin me out to some hard core metal. Take me down easy!  Don’t lead me on like that, building up my confidence,  my expectations, taking me to the heights of my awesome groove, just to let me plummet. It’s like going right up to the very edge and then…pulling out.  Mostly frustrating and not so effective.  I might have once been convinced it would work (like in the backseat when I was 17), but I know better now.  So should you.

 

 

My bestie (see prior post) made her commitment…
She went German. Had a choice of 5.5, 7.5, or 9.5 inches (ok…ouch).  She picked the 5.5-er.  (respectable.  nothing to be ashamed of).  Cold hard steel. Allegedly can go forever. With the Germans’ reputation for excellence in performance, I’m thinking it’ll grind as well as one twice its size, maybe better.  And it IS all about performance.  We’re talking the BMW of grinders.

Personally, I would have gone with the 7.5 incher, but I like a little bit of a challenge.  Maybe in ebony wood.   I’ve heard that once you grind with one like that…you never go back.

 

Text conversation between me and my bestie:
Her: “I’m shopping for salt and pepper grinders and they all look like penises.”
Me: “Haha! I’m wondering why exactly that should be. Is that shape so…practical? Or is it that men are designing and they like the visual?  Got to admit the shape is rather…handy!”
Her: “The tops are all bulbous. Maybe this is some sort of Freudian thing on my part…Sometimes a pepper grinder is just a pepper grinder!”
Me: “Ha! And sometimes a penis is just a penis. Just remember: Not all are created equal.”
Her: “Penises or grinders?”
Me: “Either!…You SO knew where I was going with that!”
Her: “Yes :-)”

This is a typical conversation between myself and my brilliant, funny, brilliantly funny friend.  I’m not sharing this to gloat about having such an awesome friend (although I sort of am because you probably don’t have one this awesome.  Don’t feel badly about that.  She is one of a kind and I found her first.  Go and find your own).  I’m offering this as some real life practical advice. Because I care about you. I do.

First off, I meant it when I said “Go and find your own.”  Everyone should have a friend who will compare household items to penises (or vaginas or whatever body part is appropriately conjured-up – except p’s and v’s are always funny.  it wouldn’t be the same if the comparison was to, say, an ear or an elbow).  Whether you’re male or female, if you can’t talk penises with your best friend, then he or she sucks as a best friend and should be demoted. You need a new one. Start working on it asap.

So what about that penis/grinder thing?  My friend makes a valid comparison.  Ok, maybe she has a tiny bit of an issue, but if you peruse the choices for salt and pepper grinders out there, you have to admit that she is onto something. How so, you ask?

Think about it. A typical salt/pepper grinder has a bulbous top which holds salt; below is a long cylinder which holds the peppercorns.  You hold the shaft (I mean cylinder), give it a shake and salt will flow out of the bulbous tip (I mean top), or, holding it with two hands, you twist in opposite directions to grind the peppercorns held in the shaft (I mean CYLINDER.  Sorry! I don’t know why I keep doing that!) which are thereby ground and come out through the bottom.  Let’s review:  a bulbous tip and a long shaft to hold, apply some energy (a little shake, a little grind) and stuff flows.  HMMMM…You getting the picture now?

Some more advice:

When choosing a “grinder,” consider all of your options before making a commitment to one. Decide whether you like salt and pepper in the first place.  Maybe you prefer other seasonings; a spice grinder may be the thing for you. That’s fine, too!  This advice can be applied, whatever you are in the market for.  First, try out a few before you commit.  Take your time with this one!  Remember, you will [likely] only have one [at a time] and you may have it for a LONG time…  Second, consider how often you plan to use it.  Three meals a day? Once a day?  What’s that – you only cook on weekends?  Well OK then… Third, consider how it fits in your spice rack. Size does matter, people! Those who tell you otherwise are lying to you – and themselves)… Fourth, consider how it feels in your hand.  Is the size right for you? Do you like its smoothness/hardness/coolness?…  Fifth, decide if it is aesthetically pleasing to you (it’s not always going to be in your spice rack or hidden away in the dark.  you will see it in the harsh light of day or of a florescent bulb)… SIXTH, determine if it functions to your liking. This is subjective.  Does the salt/pepper come out too fast?  Does it take too much/too little effort to make anything happen at all?  Answering “Yes” to either of the latter two questions may lead to frustration and/or exhaustion on your part.  If that’s the case, be aware that over time you will become less and less inclined to use your new tool, which is not good for you or it.  You’ll both end up rusty (and resentful and you will leave that sorry tool in the back of the pantry where its salt will get all clumpy and will eventually dry up altogether and you’ll finally throw it out and it’ll be no good to anyone after that and you’ll move on to a new grinder and forget all about that old one until it tries to “friend” you on Facebook two years later just to show you how awesome its life got after getting away from your toxic be-atch self).

ANYWAY, feel free to apply these tips when considering the addition of anything new to your life.  Doesn’t matter if it’s a car, a toaster, or a puppy.

In the end, whatever grinder you choose, it should do the job without too much effort. Just a shake and a grind, baby.  If that’s too much effort for you, you can always go for the battery-operated kind…

Personally, I’d go with smooth natural hardwood.  But that’s just me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So yesterday I pulled the trigger on my first post! WooHoo and Whoop-Whoop for me!

When my loving husband got home from work, he sat down to read this first jewel in my crown of literary genius and fame. I was not without a tinge of trepidation at this, hoping he would maybe chuckle and offer a “nice job” or “I like it” or even “it’s a good start” while knowing he would more likely have “questions” or suggestions.
All I can say is that the man can still surprise me…This time, not in the good way. He had an issue (or three). Now that is totally fine with me. The major one was about paragraph structure.  I went over to the table and as he is explaining his issue, I see that he has already hopped right in and made his suggested corrections RIGHT ON MY POST. Nope, not kidding. He had actually re-typed my shit. Now I’m not at all saying that his point was not well taken. I’m saying HE RETYPED MY STUFF BEFORE EVEN DISCUSSING IT WITH ME.  Can I make the font of RETYPED MY STUFF larger???

Needless to say, I did NOT accept his suggested changes. Quite honestly, at that point even if I had wanted to I would not have accepted his suggested changes. I know. How mature of me, right? Go ahead, make a note of it.

While not in the same spirit, the whole transaction reminded me of all the teachers and bosses I’ve had who felt compelled to put a red mark on a paper/letter/document of mine – somewhere on that piece of paper, on MY WORK. For some reason. Completely random.  Totally subjective. I know you’ve had one. Maybe you ARE one (GASP! If you are, CUT THAT SHIT OUT). It was as if by not correcting or changing something they weren’t doing their jobs. A friend of mine likened such behavior to dogs peeing on stuff to leave their mark. Thankfully, THAT behavior in humans is frowned upon. The result is that we have found other methods of accomplishing the same goal.

Fact:  WE DON’T LIKE OTHER PEOPLE MOVING OUR CHEESE!  This is an absolute truth at work, at home, even in our cars.  DON’T change my work product just because you would write it differently – that doesn’t make it wrong. DON’T move that vase on my nightstand just because YOU think it looks better a little more to the left. And DON’T EVER change the freakin’ presets on my car radio!!! That’s like immediate grounds for a breakup. Am I right, people??? Just sayin’.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting that we be close-minded and defensive in the face of constructive criticism. Constructive criticism is very…constructive. It is a critical part of the learning process. However, there are a few rules to imparting same:
One: Tread lightly. Try to imagine how you would want to receive the information you are about to offer;
Two: Appreciate the relationship between you and your victim, uh, I mean the recipient. For example, if it’s your spouse you are about to criticize, consider some of the “favors” you may be hoping to receive from your spouse in the near future; make sure the sting of criticism will wear off by then;
Three: Choose your words carefully. Just because what you have to say is true doesn’t mean you should “just come right out with it.” Example: “That was the worst meal I’ve even eaten! What, are you trying to kill me?!” Instead maybe say: “Thanks, babe, that was pretty good! Maybe coulda used a little less anchovy paste…?”;
Four: Make sure the person to whom (that’s right. Proper grammar, folks) you are about to offer advice is in fact seeking your opinion. Yeah, that should be Number One.

[Hey, Hon:  How’s that paragraph structure?]

Now if you are on the receiving end of some respectfully presented constructive criticism, here are the rules:

Shut Up! THERE ARE NO RULES, SILLY! Defend yourself (loudly if necessary), argue, stomp off, sulk, dramatically rip-up the paper/toss the food (plates and all) in the trash, or (here’s my favorite) criticize back – starting your retort with “YEAH? WELL YOU…!” (Use anything that comes to mind here. Some examples: are boring, smell weird, are shit at Jenga, suck in bed).

OR you can choose to be mature and give thoughtful consideration to the offered criticism and say something magnanimous like: “Thanks for the feedback. I’ll give that some thought”

…and flip ’em off on your way out the door.

Greetings.

I decided to write a blog because I’ve got things to say and, thanks to modern technology, I can say them here and believe/hope/imagine that someone is out there…listening. It is a better alternative than either: a) talking to myself [Don’t get me wrong. Talking to oneself is awesome and valuable.  For awhile.  It does get a little tedious and sometimes downright exhausting, especially when I repeat myself and there is no one to tell me that I already said such and such.  On second thought that may be just one more benefit of talking to myself so now I’m a little on the fence about a), although having an audience IS better, so a) is redeemed(!)],   or b) talking to someone else who is obviously and actively not listening. That just pisses me off.

You out there will read because:  a) you find what I have to say interesting/amusing,  b) it makes you feel better about yourself knowing there is someone out here who thinks in the screwed-up the way I do,             c) it makes you feel better knowing there is someone else out here who thinks the way YOU do,  or d) you just stumbled across this and have nothing more compelling to do at the moment. Or maybe you’re my husband and you want to finally know what I’m REALLY thinking.

A couple of disclaimers:

This blog is not intended to convince you that God exists or if so, that he/she/it knows YOU exist and loves you (assuming God knows you well enough to hold any opinion of you whatsoever).

This blog is not intended to provide you with inspirational messages to make you feel good about yourself and your life. There are [more than] enough of those out there and personally they annoy the crap out of me for the most part, like those websites that just post inspirational quotes every day. Granted, some are pretty good, words to live by, blah blah blah, but really, how many do we need? I mean, Buddha or the Dalai Lama, I say yeah, but it’s like ANYONE is qualified to write this stuff and have a poster made from it??? Come on, people! You know these nuggets of wisdom! Stop posting them on FB! Stop printing every single one in color and hanging them in your office! At least use a little discretion, for goodness’ sake! Just because they use a photo of a puppy or some seriously old people doesn’t make them quote-worthy or works of art!

ok, enough of that…

So I find myself here in middle-age (any comparison to Middle Earth?  Perhaps.  A distinct universe somewhere in the middle where a separate and unique world exists?  Inhabited by odd creatures and beings?  And there’s that whole My Precious thing (“My __”insert noun here)…Yeah, sounds like where I’m at right now. A better comparison may be to “THE Middle Ages.”  Hmmm…The fall of the Empire, all kinds of power struggles, religions, and -isms.  Yeah, I’m kind of in the middle ages of my own head.  Only thing here is that THE Middle Ages lasted about TEN CENTURIES…Not likely here, not even in dog years.  Anyway, “middle age” does imply some age in the middle, which would be accurate if I was going to live past 100 years.  Not likely.  It’s not really the middle if there is more “age” on one side of the line than there is on the other.  I guess we’re talking about a range here (kinda like THE Middle Ages where there were degrees of Middle Age-ness).  So let’s say I’m in my High Middle Age…Ok. I’m good with that.  [Except that I’m not really.  More on that at a later date]

Maybe this is a mid-life (dare I say it) crisis.  HEAR ME BEFORE I AM NO LONGER! (no longer than…? If that’s what you’re thinking, you totally read that wrong).

Whatever my motivation, I have things to say, dammit, and here is where I shall say them.  I’ll rant.  Maybe not everyday (some days I have a hard time just getting past my log in screen).  Some days I might just drop a one-liner on you to make you think about something, probably something random.  Some days it might be just a word, but it will be a compelling one, I promise.   And then we can tawk.