Sex, Dress, and Power in 2008

I got this email today and thought I'd share the love. Sad to say, it seems that we females will always be doomed, with society judging us by our appearance; the color and cut of our clothing or the size of our boobs instead of our brains.

The Clothing Chronicles So, what's on tap for today's article? How to dress like a leader. Enjoy! Diana diana@fashionforrealwomen.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FEATURE ARTICLE Sex, Dress, and Power in 2008 Does what you wear have an impact on how you're perceived as a leader? That's the question that's been burning up the fashion blogosphere the last few weeks, ever since Hillary Clinton declined to appear on the cover of VOGUE magazine and Editor Anna Wintour took umbrage. The story makes an interesting case study regardless of your politics, because it reinforces the importance of knowing how to dress appropriately for your industry and position. If you work in a male-dominated field, I encourage you to take notes. Here's the story: Senator Clinton was invited and agreed to appear on the February cover of VOGUE. The day she was supposed to be photographed and interviewed, she bowed out, saying that on second thought, she had decided that being on the magazine would make her seem "too feminine" in her race for the presidency. Annoyed, Ms. Wintour responded at length in the February issue of the magazine, saying, among other things, "The notion that a contemporary woman must look mannish in order to be taken seriously as a seeker of power is frankly dismaying. How has our country come to this? This is America, not Saudi Arabia." So who's right and who's wrong: Clinton or Wintour? They both are. Right and wrong, that is. The reasons are subtle and not politically correct, but let me take a stab at it: On the one hand, you have a woman who has made it to the top of a female-dominated industry. Fashion magazines have been published regularly since "Godey's Lady's Book" appeared in 1830, and women have been writing for them almost as long - one of the few industries where women were welcomed early on. Not only does Anna Wintour wear whatever she wants to work, she influences what millions of OTHER women wear to work through her magazine's layouts, articles, and ads. Of course she can't understand why a woman can't be both feminine and powerful; she's been feminine and powerful her entire career. On the other hand, you have a woman who has made it to the top of a male-dominated industry. Hillary Clinton started practicing law in the early 1970's when women were few and unwelcomed in the courtroom. She's had things said and done to her that would have sent other women screaming in the other direction, and she has the battle scars to prove it. Now, as the first woman to run for president, she's again treading into unfriendly territory. She dresses plainly and conservatively because she learned long ago that being feminine in a male industry is a liability instead of an asset. Not fair, you say? Life rarely is. But if you look at the underlying psychology, you'll begin to see why things have evolved the way they have. Western women are not required to don the traditional abaya worn by their Islamic sisters, as Ms. Wintour suggests, but they do need to understand a few things about how to dress when working with men. Let's break this down to basics: In the animal world, all the species have lived or died based on their ability to reproduce. When fish, animals, and insects look for mates, they seek the strongest, healthiest, most powerful specimens in order to accomplish this goal. It's the same in the human world. Our language, manners, and culture may set us apart from the animals, but our basic, most primal urge is still the same: to attract the strongest, healthiest, most powerful mates in order to reproduce. Even if we're not conscious of this, even if we have no plans to reproduce, from exercising to exfoliating, women and men still regularly engage in behaviors to attract mates. So what does this have to do with Senator Clinton and VOGUE? Keep reading. It will make sense in a minute. In her book "Survival of the Prettiest" (1999), Dr. Nancy Etcoff, a psychologist at Harvard Medical School, reports that while we're told as children that "beauty is only skin deep" or "in the eye of the beholder," the reality is that attractive people have long be rewarded for their beauty throughout history in nearly every culture in the world. Pretty girls have more friends as children, are sought after by more men as adults, and are hired more quickly and paid higher wages than their less attractive counterparts. Women learned long ago that beauty is a commodity, which is why we have evidence of lipstick dating from 5,000 B.C., why Cleopatra bathed in milk and honey for luminous skin, and why we spend more money on beauty products today in the United States than on education and social services combined. Beautiful models and actresses are among the highest paid women in the world. For women throughout history and around the world, beauty equals power. But for men, physical prowess and ample resources equal power. Just as male lions, gorillas, and deer viciously fight each other for the right to claim females and territory, so do men battle each other for the right to claim women and property. Sometimes it's been just that base, as in war, but more often it's played out elaborately over time by growing strong, gaining knowledge, and accumulating wealth. To this end, as in the animal kingdom, men create an ongoing, unspoken dominance hierarchy in order to establish who's the "alpha male" in any given situation. Dr. Etcoff describes it this way: Males form ranks quickly, even as boys. In boys' camps, rank order develops in cabins within an hour. The top-ranked boy isn't necessarily the biggest, but often the best-looking, most athletic boy who shows the most mature physique. The top boy initiates and organizes, and lower-ranking boys obey and question. Their submission is rewarded by the dominant boy's protection and his leadership. (1) The medieval feudal system is a formal example of this hierarchy, as are the various ranks in military, government, churches, and corporations. But it's not always so formal. Watch any group of men together and you'll see this dynamic in action, even if they're all completely unaware of it. Ever wonder why young men always seem so hot-tempered and quick to come to blows when they disagree? They're trying to establish dominance. Ever wonder why guys like to watch football, boxing, or movies with gory battle scenes? Because they like seeing OTHER strong males establish dominance. Guys learn early how to demoralize their opponents and how to find and exploit each other's weaknesses to gain the upper hand. Even when they're just joking around with their friends, men say things to each other in this ranking ritual that would end a similar friendship between women. Now take a bunch of these strong, dominant males who are used to battling each other for resources, and drop an attractive, feminine woman into the mix who seeks the same resources. What do you get? Well, once they stop laughing, as they did at the beginning of the women's movement, their first impulse might be to either sleep with her or push her into a low-ranking position out of their way. If she resists, then they'll treat her like any other challenging male: they'll "tap swords" to get an idea of her strength before they start looking for weaknesses and testing her endurance. Often, they'll set aside the nice manners they use to court women and revert to the rougher "locker room" language and behavior they use among themselves. So what if she's offended? It means she's weak and doesn't belong. Now obviously, this doesn't describe every man on the planet. There are lots of nice guys out there all along the alpha-omega scale. Kind, funny, helpful, and respectful, they barely resemble the dominant males I just described. But those dominant alphas are out there, mark my word. They tend to congregate en masse in high power, high income, male-dominated industries like law, medicine, politics, and professional sports, and in departments where big egos and big paychecks go hand-in-in. They may treat their sweethearts like princesses, lavishing them with pretty baubles, then turn right around and steamroll any woman that gets in their way, including competitors and support staff. If you plan to do battle with them, you must go prepared. So dress femininely to attract men, but gender-neutrally to do business with them? That hardly seems fair! It isn't. But in many male-dominated, highly competitive industries, it's the reality. Yes, I know it defies logic - kind of like the ongoing fascination with Britney Spears - but research shows it's the most effective way to go about it. Women have a lot more latitude now that we did thirty years ago, and certainly much more freedom than many women around the world, but I think it's going to be a while longer before we can dress in feminine frills and still be perceived as a strong leader of men. See how subtle and "un-p.c." this is? So to return to the original question: does what you wear have an impact on how you're perceived as a leader? Absolutely! If you're in a women-dominated industry (fashion, beauty, interior design, the arts) dressing fashionably and femininely can have a positive impact on your bottom line. If you're lauded for your beauty or sense of style and grace, then you're a woman to be envied and emulated. But in male-dominated industries (finance, science, electronics, oil), where strength and power are desired, being fashionable and feminine is seen as a weakness. You need clothes that are strong and crisp and that draw attention to your business savvy rather than your feminine curves. You want men to listen to your ideas, not check out your cleavage. So yes, Anna Wintour is correct in saying that women can dress femininely and still be taken seriously - but only in certain fields. Spending too much time on how you look can hurt your credibility in many industries. And yes, Senator Clinton is correct in saying that appearing on a fashion magazine may make her seem "too feminine" in her quest for the presidency. At the same time, UNDER-estimating the importance of wardrobe can also hurt your credibility. I believe Senator Clinton suffers from this. While her clothes are usually conservative and modestly cut, which is appropriate for politics, she sometimes wears colors, patterns, and styles that don't flatter, fit, or command attention. Her selections seem haphazard. She has no signature look. She may be seeking the highest office in the land, but you wouldn't know it by how she dresses. By contrast, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice "gets" power dressing. Tailored, flattering cuts in rich fabrics and strong colors, you know at a glance that she's a powerful, wealthy woman by how she dresses. Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi has also does a very good job of sporting flattering styles in luxe fabrics. Her color choices sometimes stray off the power path - like the lilac-colored suit she wore for the last State of the Union Address, for example - but by and large, she also dresses like a powerful woman in a male-dominated industry. So yes, what you wear has a HUGE impact on how you're perceived as a leader. So make sure your clothes say that you're ready, willing, and able to do the job, and nothing's going to stand in your way. Need more advice on what's appropriate for your industry? Download a copy of BUSINESS WEAR MAGIC: http://www.businesswearmagic.com/ To learn how to "dress for success" in your field. (1) "Survival of the Prettiest" by Nancy Etcoff, Anchor Books (1999), pages 74-75. ************** Until next time, Diana Pemberton-Sikes FashionForRealWomen.com AccessoryMagic.com BusinessWearMagic.com OccasionMagic.com WardrobeMagic.com TheClothingChronicles.com ===================== Published by: Top Drawer Publications, LLC 256 S. College Ave. Newark, DE 19711 USA Copyright © 2008 by Diana Pemberton-Sikes All rights reserved.

TWISTER

I guess y’all heard about the tornados wrecking parts of the South. What y’all didn’t hear was that they came within a nat’s ass of hitting my house. I got lucky, only a few shingles gone and a few limbs down in the yard, but lots of my neighbors weren’t so fortunate. I went to school with one of the people who got killed, the elderly woman who just died lived a few miles down the road and dozens of people within rock throwing distance of my yard are now homeless.

The Governor toured yesterday and gave a speech our local church, plus the President was supposed to come today. Speeches are all well and fine but what we need are more weather sirens; the nearest one to my house is in Hillsboro, 20 miles away, and there’s no way I could have heard it. My power went out before the storm hit, so there was no way for me to have any warning; the family storm shelter is at the home place and all my sisters plus their families were in it but I had to ride out the tornado in my living room. By the time I heard that freight train sound it was too late to go anywhere.

The twister made a half circle around my place leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake. All I have to do is open my door to hear the chainsaws going, clearing trees off of my neighbors’ homes. Donna and I went out that morning and were both shocked by all the destruction of the houses that we grew up around. What hit me most were the pets. You would expect people to be wandering around in shock but the poor dogs were standing in yards and pastures looking at what used to be their homes or hunting for their owners who had too much on their minds to wonder were Fido and Bowser were.

I didn’t have power for a long time and the cable (which means both the TV and the internet) are still going in and out so I had to come to work to post. All my loved ones are OK, we’re really proud of Donna’s son the fireman who worked all night and most of the day helping the survivors dig out, and our prayers go out to everyone who was hit by the first tornado of the year.

Go click on the Fatal Winds tab for a slide show of some of the damage.

SAY IT AIN'T SO

On my trek from the powerhouse to the parking lot I encountered an male acquaintance that I haven’t seen since last summer.

He: How’s your boyfriend, did he get over his motorcycle wreck?
Me: I don’t have a boyfriend.
He: Damn, did he hit his head that hard?
Me: Huh?
He: The idiot must have brain damage to let a woman like you get away!

My head and ego both swell up at the compliment.

Me: Thank you! That’s a really sweet thing to say.
He: Yeah, you’re funny, smart and you got a damn good job. Any man who lets a woman with money get away is an idiot.

Can you hear the hissing of my head and ego both deflating at an alarming rate? At least I know that I can weigh 400 lbs, be as wrinkled as a Chinese Shar-Pei and look like shit and still attract a man as long as I have a job.

OLD AGE

SPECIAL POEM FOR OLDER FOLKS
A row of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know...........
Is what tells each one where to go!

There's always a lot to be thankful for if
you take time to look for it. For example
I am sitting here thinking how nice it is
that wrinkles don't hurt...

BRRRRRR SHIT, IT'S COLD!

Location: Work

Time: 1:30 AM

Temperature: 19F

Wind Chill: 9F

AND IT'S GETTING COLDER BY THE MINUTE!

We Southerners aren't used to this kind of weather. The heater is cranked up but it isn't doing that much. Our control room is suspended over a roadway really high up and between two other buildings and the wind seems to be attacking from all sides. I'm wearing a sweatshirt over a long sleeved shirt indoors and my hands are freezing. PLUS: This place needs to invest in heated toilet seats (I believe my bottom got frost bit on that last potty break!).

DAMN I dread that 15 minute walk to the parking lot at 5:30 AM! Wish the car would start on a timer and be all toasty warm when I got to it, I just hope I don't have to scrape the windshield again this morning.

BORED

I lead such a piss poor boring life – nothing blog worthy going on unless you wanta hear about work or Shitty Kitty using my tired old body for a trampoline while I was trying to sleep today. Naw....... I didn’t think you would be interested in that.

I’ve actually got 3 whole days off this weekend (YEAH!) but don’t have anything interesting planned. I’m thinking about going bowling; I haven’t been in almost 5 years and the weather’s supposed to be cold and messy (rain, sleet, high winds and low temps in the teens) so some sorta indoor activity seems to be called for. Now if I can find someone interested in going with me; Donna has bad knees and Karen has a bad wrist (plus she claims that her allergies kick up every time she steps foot outside) and most everyone else is either working or has family stuff going on. I could go alone but it’s so much more entertaining when you’re competing against someone else. People tend to look at ya funny when you trash talk yourself.

Seems like all my buddies’ bodies are falling apart, various ailments and illnesses keeping them from doing the fun things that we used to take for granted. And the bad thing is they’re all younger than me! Damn that’s a scary thought. I guess it’s only a matter of time before I start to deteriorate too; age and gravity are already doing a number on my weight and shape so I guess my ability to do anything that I want will be next. Getting old sucks big time but it sure beats the alternative.

I’ll report back if and when something happens that merits a word or three. Until then y’all keep safe and warm.

JIGGLE QUEENS

I thought the my sisters and I held the record for bouncing bosoms but these ladies have us beat! Behold the QUEENS OF JIGGLE. Turn your speakers up and watch the tops of these boobilicious corsets. (Stole this from Straight White Guy) These women are having a ball.





I thought the one on the right was gonna fly right out of her stays!

BIRTHDAY SNOW

Yesterday was my sister Donna’s 50th birthday (she's next to me, I'm the oldest of we 5 sisters) the big FIVE OH that women dread so much, but she couldn’t go out and celebrate because of family obligations; so today Karen, Donna and I became “ladies who lunch” and went to Ryans/Fire Mountain (the local all you can eat buffet) where you can pig out on wonderful food and a dessert bar to die for. Hey, it’s a party; I can eat cake and ice cream and not feel guilty, right?

When I turned 50 I came home from work to find that Donna and her kids had decorated the entire yard with black balloons and crepe paper and a huge sign (painted in glitter paint no less) proclaiming that I was over the hill and my age for all the word to see; but since I was working on her birthday I couldn't return the favor. Of course posting her age on the web is the next best thing. So there ya go Donna, I got you back on the age advertising thing.

We wound up sitting next to an older couple and a young woman who were either Amish or Mennonites, I can’t tell the difference. They were dressed the part with the women in baggy dresses and the man in his black suit, long gray hair and beard. The young woman looked pregnant, but it could have been the sack of a dress that she had on. Karen said a cuss word and then instantly felt bad, blushing blood red and slapping her hand over her mouth while Donna kept lusting after those little white bonnets the women wore. Not sun bonnets like my grandmother wore to work in her garden but close fitting gauzy cap deals that tied underneath the chin.

Then Karen noticed some big guy who she claimed kept watching her eat, she said that he wanted her food but after he made three trips back to the buffet I tried to convince her that he thought the way she was eating was erotic and wanted to stuff something of his own in her mouth. Of course Donna jumped right on that, telling her how what he offered would be all hot and creamy, but Karen refused to play along.

Yeah, we’re goofy but hey, we had a good time. Of course people keep looking at us as we giggled and laughed and had a blast but the hell with them. What’s wrong with 3 women over the age of 50 sounding in high spirits? Besides, I’ve always heard that when you get older you can do anything that you want; it’s one of the few perks of aging.

Afterward, we hit the Dollar Tree where everything is $1 and you can load up a shopping cart for $20. While we were inside everyone started running to the windows and yelling “It’s Snowing!” The white fluffy stuff is rare here in Alabama, my 8 year old grandson can only remember 1 other time that it snowed, so it’s a big deal.

When we checked out and walked to the car it was snowing heavily, big fat flakes falling straight down. By the time I got to the car the shoulders of my coat were frosted white and I was wishing glasses came with windshield wipers. The drive home was almost a white out, you couldn’t see but a few car lengths in front of you, but the ground was warm and it melted as soon as it hit. It’s stopped now and they’re predicting sleet and rain tonight so I guess that today was our one snow for the winter. I guess you could say that Donna got snow for her birthday.

While I’m on the subject of birthdays, today’s Bitchitude’s, go tell her and Donna both ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY” if you want.

TEE HEE GIGGLE {{{SNORT}}}

SATURDAY SUNSHINE

After lots of thunder and lighting plus some wind damage severe thunderstorms Thursday left us wonderful weather in its wake. Clean air, sunny skies and moderate temps in the 50s made me want to play hooky today so bad that I could taste it, but duty calls so off to the slave shop I went.

The drive to work this afternoon was picturesque; too bad I had to make a straight line to the mill instead of meandering up and down the back roads. I wish I had thought to bring my camera and had the time to snap some of the sights on the way. You know which ones; those special moments that capture your eye and intrigue your mind. All too often they pass in a blink and get forgotten in the press of everyday life.

I spent several minutes trailing a vintage horse and buggy driven by an older couple, their white hair gleaming in the sunshine as they leaned their heads together. I swear their tilted bodies and touching foreheads formed a perfect heart-shape just like something on the front of a Hallmark card. You could see the happy pair’s smiles flashing from a mile away as their scarves waved gaily in the breeze. Young love be damned, it looked like these oldsters were doing just fine in their golden years. We should all be so lucky.

A bit farther down the road a youngster on a shiny new ATV (obviously gotten for Christmas) was zigzagging up and down the ditch banks; cutting donuts and slinging dirt all over a much used and abused older trail bike sitting on the side of the road with a “FOR SALE’ sigh on the handle bars. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor trail bike. Old, worn out, unloved and unwanted, discarded and replaced as soon as a newer younger shinier model becomes available. I think there are a lot of us who know the feeling, even if we won’t admit it to anyone but ourselves.

I don’t own a full length mirror. I live and work in jeans and casual shirts in blue-collar industry, so dressing up is a rare occasion. So the other night when I went to get slicked up for a co-worker’s retirement party it came as something of a shock when all my dressier clothes were tighter than I remembered. OK ........ I’m 52 and some of this stuff has been in the closet for years, I can deal with the thicker waist, broader hips and sagging girls. My face is aging well (I guess) and makeup does wonders when I take the time to apply it. After all, age hits us all differently, I have a friend whose body is the same size 4 as when she was young but her face shows her years of chronic sun worship. We all have our flaws; so I take a deep breath, throw on a respectable outfit whose buttons don’t pop over my bulging bosom, paint my face, twirl around and model for my son and the 2 cats who give their approval, and off I go.

It wasn’t so long ago that I had to be careful of appearance and body language at dinners and meetings; my co-workers’ wives considered me a threat just because I was decent looking and had a boobilicious rack. But the other night as I was introduced to the other ladies their eyes glanced at me, slid from my artfully streaked gray hair and down my ample curves. And then dismissed me. I mean they totally looked away and never acknowledged my existence again. Not in words, looks, acts, nothing. They saw an older overly-plump over-the-hill female who wasn’t worth the time of day because she could never interest their men. It seems that if I’m not a threat I’m not worth the time of day. WTF!

These younger (I’m talking 30-something) women spent the night huddled next to their guys shooting glares at each other while I and the few other “matrons” laughed and giggled and wondered what was wrong with the pseudo fem-fatales at the other tables. And it was unanimous; all we “middle-aged ladies” agreed that they didn’t consider us worth anything because we weren’t a threat.

When did women become each other’s worse enemies? And what the hell makes them think that anyone else would want the testosterone-sodden pot-bellied male who shares their bed? What happened to female comradely? Hell, I always have more fun with my girlfriends than with a date; I don’t have to impress the girls; I can eat with my fingers, get slightly tipsy on too much wine, do the funky chichken if I want, and I don’t have to hold my breath so my gut doesn’t pooch out as much when I’m with my buddies.

I just don’t get it. We dismiss each other based on age, weight, shape and if we think someone looks better than us. I thought it was bad enough when men did it to us, but now we’re doing it to ourselves. Girls, this shit has GOT TO STOP!

SAM JAM

Why does it always seem like I have to work when the good stuff happens?

It's time for the "Sam Jam" honoring Sam Phillips, the father of Sun Records (Sun Records was located in Memphis, TN, but Sam was always proud of his hometown of Florence, AL) . For those of you who don't know, Sam Phillips founded Sun Records, which gave birth to the music of rock 'n' roll pioneers such as Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, Charlie Rich and blues artists B.B. King and Howlin' Wolf.

And of course, the one band that I really really want to see, The Paul Thorn Band, is preforming and I've gotta work, DAD DANG IT! Paul is a great musician but he's famous as a song writer. Yep, you've heard lots of his music just being preformed by other folks. Paul Thorn was a prizefighter and skydiver before becoming a rootsy singer/songwriter. As a boxer, Thorn once fought against Roberto Duran and as a musician, he has toured and collaborated with Sting, Paul Carrack, Joe Diffie, Tanya Tucker, Ronnie Milsap, and Carole King. He released his debut album, Hammer & Nail, in 1997 and followed it with Ain't Love Strange three years later.

I sent several of y'all homemade CDs of Paul Thorn around Christmas so you know who I'm talking about. Don't you just love his music, his way with lyrics, the way he says what you always think but never come right out and say, the way he makes you bust a gut laughing! I bet a live concert would be the highlight of the year, if I could only goooooooooooo........................... Having to work for a living sucks. All y'all who never heard of Paul Thorn, go and listen to some of this stuff. The rest of y'all, put in one of his CDs and listen along with me. cause I'm gonna rock the powerhouse tonight. Even if I can't see him live, I'm gonna "Burn Down The Trailer Park"

Paul Thorn Live - Burn Down the Trailer Park

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RULES FOR 2008

RULE #1. NEVER WEAR A 'BOGGIN, WATCH CAP OR KNIT HAT WHILE WEARING MULTIPLE EARRINGS --- DAMN, THAT SHIT HURTS!!!!!

NEW YEAR'S EVE POST

Wahoo! I actually got 24 hours off Sunday (worked off midnights at 6 AM and came back this morning at 6AM. Working is a bitch but it pays the bills). I went home, fell into bed with a puss cuddled on each side, took a nap until noon and then went to town with my buddy Carol.

Carol was on a mission, in search of the perfect curtains. We hit Target, Wal-Mart, TJ Maxx and K Mart. The perfect curtain had to be navy blue, room darkening, and kid proof; not too much to ask but it seems that solid color curtains aren’t in fashion. She finally bought some at Wal-Mart but they weren’t exactly what she wanted.

Along the way I wound up buying a new plaid trench coat for 50% off and several pieces of amber jewelry (I’ve got a thing for amber). I also got lucky and found some digital Christmas ornaments (you download pictures onto the permanent memory and they act like a digital picture frame hanging on your tree) for 75% off at Target. That’s a great deal, marked down to $7 from $29.99; I got one and Carol got the only other two left. The ornaments were hidden behind some other stuff; otherwise they would have been gone because all the after-Christmas stuff was really picked over.

While standing in the checkout line I always pass the wait by reading the magazine headlines. I pointed out one on Cosmo to Carol that said in big bold letters “DIRTY SEXY SEX” and remarked to her that although it’s been a while, the last I remembered, if sex isn’t sexy then you’re doing it wrong! After all our ramblings I got home around 8 PM, passed out on the couch until 10:30 and then went to bed and slept until the alarm went off this morning.

The weather man is predicting our first snow flurries in the morning, Alabama isn’t known for the white stuff so they're making a big deal out of it (any time the forecast is for snow or ice everyone here makes a run on the grocery store and buys out all the bread and milk, I have no idea why). Tomorrow night it’s supposed to get down to 18 degrees so I guess I’ll have to break out the long johns and heavy socks. I just hope the road doesn’t ice over because I drive up and down mountains on narrow 2 lane roads and we don’t get weather days at the paper mill. Gotta remember to get some more cedar shaving for the dogs house on the way home this afternoon, too. Nothing worse than frost-bitten pooches.

I hope all of you have a Happy New Year; I’ll be snug in bed long before midnight so if you celebrate, drink one for me.

HOLIDAY MOOD

Last night I got to watch my 8 year old grandson play basketball for the first time, this is his first year to play and I’m usually at work when he has a game. I’m proud to say he got two baskets, two rebounds and one stolen ball; not too shabby for someone who never played before (Yeah, Nana is bragging). Wish I had thought to bring a camera so I could bore y’all with grandmotherly type photos, maybe next time my mind won’t be blank and I’ll do better. He’s a head taller than all the other kids but so skinny that he has trouble keeping his pants up. Yep, I have a tow headed beanpole with big feet for a grandson, but dang he’s a pretty thang.

I’m finally getting into a holiday mood (bout time don’t ya think); there’s a turkey in the oven (who knew that it takes weeks to thaw one of those suckers out, after 5 days in the fridge it's innards were still frozen solid and I had to shove my hand up the turkey's butt and dig 'em out) and the car trunk is loaded with presents for our family get-to-gather tomorrow. I’ve been watching sappy holiday movies on Lifetime TV and humming Christmas carols all day. Lady Scrooge has left the building and Grandma Christmas has made her belated appearance.

I’ve had the hardest time putting myself in a holiday frame of mind: our parents’ wedding anniversary was Christmas day, Mom died just before the Christmas that would have been their 50th, and Dad passed 10 months later. Although we still have our family shindig at the home place, it’s just not the same. The house is packed with relatives; inlaws and outlaws and dozens of kids running around yelling and screaming, but there’s still an empty space that you can feel in your heart. It’s been several years since Mom and Dad left us, but I still expect to see them both when I walk in the door. They say that time heals all, but it’s going to be a long long time before the home place feels like Lana’s house and not my parents’.

Gotta go and check on the bird, nothing worse than a dried up old turkey, so Happy Holidays to everyone and I’ll be by to check on y’all soon.

SPECIAL REQUEST-WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

I found this video several years ago and when I posted the link it was a big hit. Everyone has asked me to to post the link again this year, so here it is. The video fairly long but sooo worth the wait! If you've got dial-up you might not be able to hear it, sorry.

You'll be singing the "White Trash Christmas" song yourself after watching this. And everytime you watch it you'll see some little detail that you missed the first time {watch for the hound that humps everything}. Please give it time to load and I promise you'll laugh yourself silly.

So without farther ado, I give you:

WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

ON THE FLOOR

Now I know I’m getting old.


After spending several hours in the floor surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, I found that I couldn’t just get up like I used to. Damned if I didn’t have to get on my hands and knees before I could struggle upright and on my feet! I go to the gym, I do setups and all that other crap, why the hell did my tired old bones lockup after hunkering down on the carpet? I was OK once I was standing, but gravity had me glued to the floor. It was like there was a big magnet sucking my fat ass downward every time I tried to stand up.

The cats seemed to get a kick out of it; they circled me meowing either encouragement or insults, I couldn’t tell which. I shoulda chunked them both up against the wall before I got up off the floor, just to teach them not to laugh at the person responsible for filling the food dish and emptying the litter box. Thank God no one else was around to witness my decent into feebleness or else I never would have heard the end of it (I know y’all won’t tell anyone!).

Guess I need to take up yoga or something to help on my flexibility. There aren’t any classes here in the boonies but I can get a CD and entertain the pussies some more. Thank goodness there aren’t anymore presents to wrap; I’m not sure I can go through anymore humiliation this week.

GODS IN ALABAMA

How could I pass up a book with the first line: "THERE ARE GODS in Alabama: Jack Daniel's, high school quarterbacks, trucks, big tits, and also Jesus". All true, although I think that "big tits" should count as Twin Goddesses.

When running through WalMart on the way to work, the title caught my eye (hello - I live in Alabama!) and then the first page grabbed me. The story might be crap (haven't read it yet) but I have high hopes. This isn't my usual type of reading material, so we'll just have to wait and see.

Now I gotta go and pretend to know what I'm doing here at the slave factory. A boiler has crashed, everybody and his brother are on site (ON A SUNDAY) and the place is a madhouse. Hopefully all the VIPs will go home soon so we can get things squared away and have a peaceful night.

Last week it was in the high 70's here; all the windows at home were open and you saw people out wearing shorts and tank tops. Tonight it's in the low 20s with a wicked wind that cuts right to the bone, no matter how warmly you're dressed. If there are "Gods In Alabama", the Weather God is either schizophrenic or bi-polar!

CLOSE CALL

I had a close call with The Grim Reaper today.

As I was exiting the post office my traffic light was green, but just as I entered the highway some ditzy blonde bitch in a green Ford pickup blew right through the red signal moving well above the speed limit, staring at me the whole time like “What the hell are you doing pulling out in front of me!”

I slammed on the brakes (never let anyone tell you that a front wheel drive car won’t leave black marks) slid sideways and slung all my junk that stays heaped in the backseat into the floorboard. The Ford Floozy just kept on keeping on, never once hitting her brakes or even slowing down. Thank Goodness I was only going about 3 MPH or else there would have been a mating of vehicles and not in a good way.

All I could do was sit there, half in the road and half in the parking lot, trying to get my heart out of my throat and my breathing under control. Luckily I stopped just short of T-boning the Hurrying Harlot but it was too damned close for comfort. I realize everyone is running around like crazy trying to get ready for the holidays but come on people, Safety First and all that. What kinda Christmas is your family gonna have if you’re in the hospital or even worse in the morgue?

In other news: the living room floor is piled up with wrapped presents, the stocking are hung and I have a fine collection of Christmas cards from friends and family. The cats have been playing King of The Mountain on the stacked boxes, shredding paper and unraveling bows to their furry hearts content. Everyone’s been bought for so no more fighting crowds and I actually have several days off next week. Barring schedule changes, I work off Tuesday morning and don’t have to go back until Christmas night. I can’t remember the last time I had Christmas Eve off from work!

Sorry I haven’t visited everyone’s blogs, I can’t do it at work and I haven’t had time what with working OT and trying to get all the shopping done. I promise to get around to everyone as soon as possible, but until then know that I’m thinking of you all and wishing y’all a Merry (and safe) Christmas.

THE FULL BODY PROJECT

Leonard Nimoy is perhaps better know as Star Trek's Dr. Spock but he is also a very well known and respected photographer. His latest gallery showing is "The Full Body Project" featuring not stick thin models but women of size (you can see several of the photos on the website). Never one to follow the crowd, Nimoy has decided to showcase the beauty of the full bodied woman. In his own words:

I asked them to be proud, which was a condition they took to easily, quite naturally. Having completed the compositions that were initially planned, I then asked them to play some music that they had brought with them, and they quickly responded to the rhythms, dancing in a free-form circular movement with in the space. It was clear that they were comfortable with the situation, with each other, and were enjoying themselves.

How wonderful to find a person, and a man at that, who doesn't shy away from a woman with a little meat on her bones. These woman are more what we normal females look like; not those stick thin waifs you see on the catwalk, those boys with boobs whose pelvic bones could and should be considered lethal weapons. These are women who enjoy life, you don't hear skinny women talk about much except their diets and how much they weigh.

Many full-figured women are tormented because they haven't learned to love themselves. I believe this is because society as a whole (TV, magazines and the web are full of diet, weight loss and exercise ads), and so called friends and loved ones in particular, badger them to become something that they're not. Some of us will never be skinny no matter what we do. Age and gravity work on us all. Things settle, the "girls" head south, our asses droop and drag, we get that pooch on our tummies from carrying our children 9 months. And you men don't fare any better: the more your belly sticks out the less ass you seem to have, your hair migrates from the top of your head to your back and shoulders, your "solider" doesn't salute near as often nor does he "raise the flag" near as high. The main difference that I see between the sexes is that no matter how bald, fat, old or wrinkled a man gets, he still considers himself fine. I wish the ladies had the same self confidence. And ladies, you should know that there are guys out there who love your curves, AskMen.com - Skinny vs. Full-Figured Women or this guy and his commenters.

It's like the great poet Sir Mix-A-Lot once said: "I like big butts and I cannot lie."

So Ladies, love yourself. You have to consider yourself lovable before someone else can love you. No one wants someone who considers themselves worthless. You have to decide that you deserve love; hell, you deserve to be adored for the wonderful sexy vixen that you are. And age doesn't count, you can be a silver fox if you want. And men, cut the ladies some slack. A well rounded woman of any age will love you all night long leaving you gasping for breath and jumping for joy.

HO HO HO - OH MY ACHING FEET

Ah, what sweet relief to finally get home and take off those damn shoes (wiggles toes in bliss). I’m used to sitting in front of a bank of ‘puters that look like something aboard the Star Trek Enterprise for 12 hours (which explains why my arse is soooooo big and my feet aren’t - as you can see in the pic to the right. Yeah, I work hard. Shut up damn it, I get paid for what I know not what I do, not to say I don't do anything ........), not traipsing from store to store in search of the perfect Christmas presents for my tribe of nieces and nephews great and small.

The stores are already thronged by masses of Christmas shoppers, and its assholes and elbows to get to the good stuff. As usual, Jr. just HAS to have the latest gewgaw in fashion and Mom & Dad are bound and determined that the youngster not be shamed in front of his peers. It hasn’t gotten to the bloody mayhem stage yet but I predict that in only a few days time we’ll see newscasts of shoppers fighting in the aisles. There was an EMS vehicle in front of the mall and several cops talking to some young men but I couldn’t tell what happened; it seems that I missed all the excitement, Thank Goodness.

I managed to get 90% of my shopping done, so I’m good. I hate to wait until the last minute and then grab just anything. A gift should show some thought, it's not how much you spend but the fact that you cared enough to think of something that fits the personality of the gifted/giftee.

Now it’s time to kick back on the couch and watch the latest episode of Torchwood on BBCAmerica. Captain Jack is a doll and what with all the overtime that I've been working I've gotten behind on whats happening, plot twists etc. Plus I just have to have my dose of eye candy before bedtime, conductive to sweet dreams don't ya know! Nite Y’all.

TAGGED - BOOK MEME

Ell over at the Pomegranate Tiger has tagged me with a book meme.

Instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fourth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences along with these instructions.
Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
5. State the book title and author.

Being a person who follows directions well (OK, stop laughing y'all!)I spin my 'puter chair around and grab the first book off the top of the stack in the floor (the bookshelves are overflowing and I have books stacked all over the house. No flat surface is left empty, dusty tomes litter every spare inch of surface and I've already read most of them). I open the cover, flip to page #123 and count down four sentences. Here's what I find:

She started to take off her uniform shirt, then stopped.
"What?"
"I'm too fat."
"You're goddamn right." She always said she was fat. One time I'd told her that she should shut up about it, that large black women wore their fat like mink coats.

From "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere" by Z. Z. Packer, a wonderful collection of short stories that tease, tempt and tantalise your emotions. All the stories are written from a growing up Black prospective but one also meets an array of other characters; from African American church ladies, white intellectuals, to inner-city dwellers, but the morals and feelings of these literary gems apply to us all. Well written, these tales don't have the feel of the usual short story but instead are well fleshed and thoroughly enjoyable.

This is my first book by Z. Z. Packer and I'm making it a point to find some more of her works. She's been published in lots of magazines (starting when she was just 19). Her work has appeared in Seventeen, Harper's, The Best American Short Stories (2000), Ploughshares and has been anthologized in 25 and Under: Fiction.

EVENING STROLL

Opening one eye to check what o’clock it was, I was blinded by the light! A ray of lethal brilliance stabbed straight through my pupil and into the pain center of my puny half-awake brain. Instinct made me jerk the covers over my head, blocking out that damned invasive sunbeam, until I had time to decide whether it was worth the trouble of getting up or if I should just be lazy and catch a few more hours of shuteye. After working 3 straight weeks of midnights, sunlight’s only a distant fond memory. It’s usually twilight by the time I get up and hit the road, and still dark when I head back home; good thing I don’t suffer from SAD! Deciding that a beautiful day was too good to waste I half heartedly talked myself into getting up early and catching a little daylight before hitting the plant.

After slowly easing my head out from under the quilt and shoving the cats out of the way I staggered out of bed and into the shower. 15 minutes of pounding hot water later I was starting to feel half way human and ready to face the world. Dressing warmly, I headed for Recede, the company park, located on the Tennessee River and only 10 minutes from work. That way I could stroll the riverbank to my heart’s content and not have to worry about clocking in late.

There’s something about water that’s always called to me. The sound of a fountain, the vista of any lake or river, the majesty of the ocean; it doesn’t matter as long as it’s peaceful and not too crowded. This time of year there are no campers and there weren’t any fishermen out today, so I had to the place all to myself. TVA always drops the river’s level in the winter so there was plenty of room to walk along the shore, the exposed sand and pebbles showcasing treasures hidden by muddy water the rest of the year. The sunlight was bright enough to require shades but the breeze off the river was chilly, making me glad that I had my work jacket on. All in all, a nice day for a leisurely stroll.

Nickel sized muscle shells crunched beneath my feet, scaring away the mallard ducks who minutes before were busily catching minnows in the slew that borders the side of the park. Oddly shaped chunks of driftwood lay haphazardly upon the sand, smoothed and rounded by the tossing and turning of the river’s current: Mother Nature’s works of art deco. River rocks and quartz nuggets gleamed in spotlights of sunbeams, free gems for anyone who had an eye for beauty.

As I walked I noticed several sets of deer tracks leading down to the water. The largest ones no bigger that those made by a decent sized dog but the smallest ones....... OH! They were so tiny! It almost looked as if someone had stabbed two fingers into the sand; the fawn couldn’t have weighed more than a few pounds (what the deer hunters around here call a “shoebox deer” because when dressed out it would fit inside a shoebox). I could picture Mom and baby deer tiptoeing down the bank, nervous and afraid of anything that moved. Not only did they have to be wary of wild predators, it’s deer season here. Believe me, there are lots of rednecks who aren’t above shooting Bambi. But in movie of my imagination, they drank unmolested and continued back into the safety of the forest; the fawn’s dappled coat blending into the shadows of the undergrowth. Hey, it’s my story and I’ll tell it the way I wanta.

Then my time was up. The setting sun made the temps drop causing me to zip up my coat, peep at my watch, give the river one last lingering glance and then head on out for work to make a dollar or two more.

REVISITING FAVORITE BOOKS

"He had discussed it in great detail with the two people in the world closest to him: his wife and his mistress. Anna, a middle-aged, ugly, bitter woman of peasant stock, had ordered him to keep away from the airport and stay in the background so that he could not be blamed if anything went wrong. Melina, his sweet, beautiful young angel, had advised him to greet the dignitaries. She agreed with him that an event like this could catapult him into instant fame. If Skouri handled this well, at the very least he would get a raise in salary and - God willing - might even be made Commissioner of Police when the present Commissioner retired. For the hundredth time Skouri reflected on the irony that Melina was his wife and Anna was his mistress, and he wondered again where he had gone wrong."



Damn, I wish I could write like Sydney Sheldon!

FUNNY

THANKSGIVING MORNING

A blustery breeze swirled moist mustard yellow leaves around my ankles as I stepped out of the car. Dawn’s anemic sun peeked through the remnants of storm clouds, casting a sickly sepia tone over everything. Last night’s thunder-boomer had passed; a goose-bump inducing drop in temperature and icy mud puddles the only evidence that summer’s long drought was over.

Puppies peeked out of the insulated doghouse, little black noses and floppy ears signaling that while they noticed Mommy was home, not one sorry flea-bitten hound bothered to leave their shared body warmth long enough to say “Good Morning”. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Usually they play this fun game of twining around my legs or darting beneath my foot just as I try to take a step, trying to see if they can trip me between the car and the house. Selfish beasties, letting a little cold and wet interfere with their display of doggy affection, I should short them on their kibble rations!

After a long 12 hours sitting on my ample ass in front of a bunch of computers I was ready to hit the bed and snuggle with the poo-kitties for a long nap. I shed my coat and bags in the kitchen and was walking through the house leaving a trail of clothes behind me when I noticed the blinking amber light on the answering machine. Thinking “It’s Thanksgiving, someone is inviting me to fix a plate on the way to work or just giving me a cheery 'Happy Turkey Day” I hit the play button.

A sad/little boy lost/I just lost my best friend/nobody loves me voice said “Junebugg, its ex-sweet thang. I just wanted to talk, give me a call”. NOW HE WANTS TO TALK. Sounds like a personal problem to me, and it ain't no problem of mine.

Hitting the delete button, I slid between the sheets with the cats draped on each side of me and drifted off to dreamland. After all, I don’t get a day off until nest Friday week and I don’t have time for all the drama.

My new motto courtesy of Popeye: “I stands all I can stands and I can’t stands no more”

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanksgiving Animations provided by MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.net

Graphics provided by MySpaceAnimations.com

Funny Turkey Cartoon hosted at MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.org

Funny Turkey Animations provided by MUDTRAP.COM

Happy Thanksgiving Animations provided by MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.net

Myspace Thanksgiving Animations provided by MUDTRAP.COM

'PUTER VIRUS

Be careful! When you see this on your monitor:

You know it's been infected with another crappy virus!

FIVE THINGS OF WHICH JUNEBUGG IS SUSPICIOUS

The ever entertaining Schmutzie has come up with a new meme, “Nine Things of Which Schmutzie Is Suspicious” and has graciously invited anyone who’s interested to play. The rules are simple:

• Write a list of things of which you are suspicious. Any number of them will do. Even the number 0 works. This is the first meme that can be done without even doing it. In fact, you're doing it right now.
• Include the list of rules, if you feel like it.
• Link back to the person who tagged you. Or not.
• Tag however many people you want to tag. You can skip this step.
• If you acted on rule four, leave comments on their websites to let them know that they have been tagged. This step is also completely optional.
•
Feel fantastic.

I’ve decided to play along. I'm not going to tag anyone so play if you wanta, I'd love to see your list. Schmutzie’s is amusing and well written but I’m at work and blogging on the sly so I’m just going to hit the hi-lights and hope for the best. So here, in no particular order, are

FIVE THINGS OF WHICH JUNEBUGG IS SUSPICIOUS:

• Anytime someone is extra sweet to me for no reason, especially if they’re usually self-centered (several of you reading this know who you are). My skeptical mind figures (from past experience) that either they want something, have done something nasty, or are planning to do something bad in the near future and are attempting to store up good conduct credits in advance
• People who try to forcibly “convert” me to their way of thinking. Whether it’s religion, lifestyle, what foods to eat, clothes to wear or anything else you care to name, I’m not in the mood to be brainwashed into thinking/living/believing like you. I’m a grown person and have a reasonable, logical mind with an above average IQ that I’ve been using for over 52 years. I’ve attended and graduated Analytical Trouble Shooting classes, Problem Solving seminars, Leadership Skills training, and tons of other “how to decide shit” classes. Talk to me if you want but don’t yell, belittle me or condemn me to hell. I’m a stubborn old bitch with the temperament of a mule; the harder you push the more I’ll refuse to listen to you.
• Car salesmen and mechanics; enough said. They see a female with her checkbook in her hand and think “Sucker!”
• Men who take longer primping than I do.
• Things that go “bump” in the night. I live out in the country and it’s dark out there. You city folks worry about muggers and thieves. We’ve got werewolves, cattywampuses (Alabama for wampus cats), vampires and haints running around just waiting for someone to jump on here in the boonies. Warning: I sleep with a shotgun AND a rifle next to my bed and I tend to wake up in a very bad mood.

WOMAN OF A CERTAIN AGE

Friday I'll be the ripe old age of 52. I consider myself to be in the midst of middle age, so imagine my surprise when I found this while digging around on the web:

The phrase was popularized in a 1979 book by the psychotherapist Lillian B. Rubin, "Women of a Certain Age: The Midlife Search for Self," in which midlife spanned 35 to 54. Reached in San Francisco, Dr. Rubin, whose book indicates she is now in her early 70's, was surprised to learn of the long English history of the phase because "it has a long history in French (femmes d'une certaine age), where it refers to women of fortyish and thereabouts who are able to initiate boys and young men into the beauties of sexual encounters. The early use in English seems to be about spinsterhood, but the French meaning has nothing to do with marriage." In French, the phrase has erotically or sexually charged overtones. "It comes from a society where sexuality is freer," Dr. Rubin notes, "and more understood as an important part of human life."

It's nice to know that at least in certain parts of the world that a woman isn't past her sexual prime. Here in America if you're not a young 20 something, lean and have a figure like a boy with boobs you're considered over the hill. Poo on that! We over 50 women have a lot of life left in us: we're vivacious, sexually active (even with all our lumps, bumps, wrinkles, sagging boobs, dragging butts and love handles), got jobs and money of our own and now we Baby Boomers are outnumbering all the other age groups. So look out world, it's our time to shine!

I've never lied about my age and I'm not starting now. 52 and proud of it Y'all! Hell, being over 50 damned sure beats the alternative! Who knows, I might even go out and find me a trophy guy. If the men can do it why can't we women? Or as the French would say, "Vive La femmes d'une certaine age"

Cowboy Crosses Country on Horseback to Reveal Unseen American Culture

Now this man has my respect! Go and read the entire story.

Weary of the daily drumbeat over war, crime, poverty and assorted social ills, he and his wife are burning through their life savings to tell the stories of hardworking, honest everyday people in rural America. Inman soaks it all in atop Blackie, a 16-year thoroughbred-quarter horse mix who's averaging 20-25
miles a day along backroads from Oregon to North Carolina.

UNREAL BEAUTY-UNTRUTH IN AVERTISING

I found this post over at The Curvy Counselor and just has to share it.

Wanna look like the models you see on billboards? Well... it may not be humanly possible. Have you seen this video clip from Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty? Called Evolution, it’s a powerful illustration of the process of manufacturing beauty.
Take a moment to see the clip for yourself. And please let me know what you think

After watching the video I can see why it's no damn wonder women are so depressed when we compare ourselves to the altered images in ads marketing techs use in order to sell their products to us.

ADVISE FROM MY FRIENDS

THE WOMEN:

“It’s about time you dumped the guy. We missed ya.”

“You didn’t cry when you kicked that loser to the curb, did ya? Cause men’s egos always make ‘em think that you’re bawling over losing them when you’re actually crying over the thought of getting nekked in front of a brand new feller and wondering if he’s noticing your wobbly bits.”

“The way to get over a man is another man. It’s like when you get thrown by a horse, you gotta get right back on or you’ll be scarred for life. And it’s gotta be just for fun, you don’t want someone to fall in love with, just a nice warm body to rock your world one time and one time only. I recommend that you don’t give him your number and you can even lie about your name if you want.”

“Speaking of new studs, here ya go: from me to you” (waving a gaily ribbon wrapped, large economy sized box of condoms with “RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE” in bold print on the front for the whole restaurant to see). “Remember, no love without a glove. If the man wants to play, he has to dress for the party!”

“Naw, what she needs is a new BOB” (battery operated boyfriend). “No muss, no fuss, always ready when you are and won’t bother you when you’re tired. Plus it don’t care about love handles, saggy boobs, or a big ass; and it doesn’t eat your groceries or cheat on ya.”

“The old man has a friend….he ain’t nothing pretty, got a pot belly and a bald spot but he’s sweet and he’s got a brand new Harley that’s FINE.”

THE MEN:

“If you ever decide to fool around with a married man be sure I’m the first to know”

“Hell, you got a good job, money, land, and your own house: you’ll have to beat the men off with a stick.”

“I’ll volunteer to be your ‘friend with benefits’. Just call when ever you get an itch and I’ll scratch it for ya, baby!”

GOT ONE RIGHT

At last, a horoscope that rings true!

Scorpio
Junebugg,
You will know that thoughts of passion are now deflated by the illusions a partner had about you. The tension between true and false is uncomfortably apparent. Look to move on rather than change who you are to fit someone else's desires.

ALONE AND LOVING IT

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt love; I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone, even when I was married. I care more about some people than others but I’m self-centered. Can’t help it, I’ve always been that way. I’m not sure I even love my parents; I feel obligated to them for all they’ve done for me, especially after the way they’ve taken care of me after my wreck and all. Hell, I don’t even know what love feels like. But I do like you, I feel comfortable around you, I like your company. I just don’t have strong emotions of any kind. But I’m not gonna be alone, I’ll always have some female to keep me company if you’re not interested.”

Isn’t the lack of any kind of emotion the description of a serial killer?

This is the excuse I got the next day; after Ex-Sweet Thang called, told me he’d be over soon and then didn’t show up, didn’t call, didn’t answer his cell. AGAIN. It’s the same way he disappeared for months twice before in the last 4 years: breaking up by disappearing until he got lonely; until he found out that the younger prettier thinner women weren’t interested in a self-centered overweight 47 year old blue collar worker. Then it's time to call Junebugg again: the doormat, the one who spoils her men, the one who always seems to be around until something better comes around.

And what am I, a holey pair of jeans that you put on when you don’t care what you look like, when all the nicer jeans aren’t available?

Fuck that!

So I’m now foot loose and fancy free. No more sitting at home waiting on someone who may or may not show up or call or even just think of me once in a while. No more putting my life on hold until someone else feels like doing something.

I want passion in my life! I want feelings: love, anger, sex, hate. I want to feel alive, and if I’m with someone I want them to do more than feel “comfortable”. I realize that I'm out of shape and over 50 (of the 57 million American women 45 and up, nearly half—25 million—are unmarried, outnumbering entire populations of countries such as North Korea, Taiwan, and Australia) and that demand for women of my age aren't in high demand. I don't care, being alone is the way that I've spent most of my life.

I do believe it’s time for a girls night out.

IN THE MOOD

Happy Halloween Y'all! I'm trying to get in the mood so I found I found these lovely dark abodes at Fritemares, the official homepage of author, film maker, and photographer, J. W. James. Go visit, he has some online stories to put a shiver down your back.



I'll have to work on Halloween, darn it. I missed the Blood and Roses Vampire Rave last night (although I've had reports they had "a bloody good time") and now I won't get to wear my witchy/bitchy black velvet dress for All Hallows Eve. Last year we went to Tennessee for the haunted house from hell and then had a few drinks in the local Applebee's where our costumes got lots of attention. But that was last year, this year ain't looking too good.

I never get to have any fun, it's just not fair! I wanta get out and do a little tricking and a lot of treating myself. Being a responsible adult ain't no fun! I'm looking forward to my second childhood when I'll be old enough to know better and young enough at do it anyway!

Anywho, Boo Y'all. Lets get in the mood and go bob for apples, drink strange mixed drinks and stagger around in the dark. Anyone wanta come play with me?

NEVER TOO LATE

Wednesday night Sweet Thang’s parents hosted a dinner and I was fascinated watching his elderly aunt and her new husband.

It’s not often that you see an older couple showing public displays of affection like these two. As they sat side by side telling the story of how they met, lost each other and rediscovered love in their twilight years his age spotted hand caressed her leg. Even though she was beyond plump, he was thin with major hearing loss, and both were white-headed, their love showed in every action. Every time they glanced at each other you could see a twinkle in their eyes. At a remark about them still “honeymooning” both oldsters started giggling like a couple of teenagers. These two couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other and you never saw one of them unless the other was only a few feet away. Not bad for a couple in their 70s.

I don’t remember the complete romance story but it goes something like this (any errors are due to my bad memory):

He was her first date when she was 14. They got more and more infatuated with each other but then he went away to fight in the war. After being discharged he had problems settling down (as he put it, back then no one had ever heard of “battle fatigue” so the VA didn’t offer any medical help).

Both married and raised families. Then in their golden years, each of them widowed and at an age when society expects you to be asexual, unattractive to the opposite sex, dateless, old and alone {much less fall in love and marry} they rediscovered each other and tied the knot.

Just goes to show, it’s never too late for love. Sounds like a good story line for the Lifetime Movie Channel, doesn’t it?

Kiss My Grits

Turn the speakers up and listen close to the lyrics!

REUNION

Family reunions; that quintessential mixture of love, laughter and loss. Relatives hold forth with the same verbal sparring that they’ve mastered over the years, but now there’s more gray heads than sparkling eyes in the mix. Hugs encompass the shoulders of loved ones present and accounted for, making the black hole of deceased family members all the more obvious and heartbreaking. Oldsters catch-up with each other while youngsters ask “Who are you?” “Whose your Mom/Dad?” before adjourning outside to toss a football as if they’ve known each other forever. Old memories are shared and new ones made as long lost kin reminisce and new babies are introduced to strangers whose genes they share.

Saturday was the first reunion in years of The Curnutt Clan, my Mom’s family. It was hosted by my Cousin Danny at CR Mechanical (his company) in Tanner, with Danny furnishing hotdogs and hamburgers and the rest of the relatives bringing covered dishes. Of course there was an overabundance of food; 2 tables groaned beneath the weight of casseroles and desserts of every kind (ain’t it always that way at reunions!) All the cooks urged everyone to “Try some of this, I brought it!” as paper plates were filled to overflowing and frost-bitten hands dug into coolers searching for the beverage of choice. Several cameras snapped at odd times, capturing candid photos of bulging cheeks and wide open mouths with food being shoveled in for all prosperity. I can see my grandson years from now asking “Who’s the old man with half a hotdog hanging out of his mouth?”

One of my cousins walked by, patted me on the tummy and asked “Getting kinda fat, aren’t ya?” Later I told my sister Donna that our sisters and kids were the biggest bunch at the reunion (meaning there were more of us) and she replied “Yeah, in more ways than one” and it’s true. Most of Mom’s relatives are on the slender side while we Waters Women take after our Dad’s family (a much sturdier stock). Kinda funny when you consider the fact that my Grandmother Curnutt was known to all as “Big Mother”.

The reunion was held just down the road from the old Curnutt home which had been condemned and is being torn down. Of course everyone had to go look and recall stories about our growing up in and around the ancient two story house. When we were kids it seemed gigantic, but as adults it’s hard figure out how the heck they got so much furniture in the tiny rooms. Donna got several hand-made cinder bricks from the old fireplace as mementoes, but I prefer my memories to solid objects which will only catch dust. You can take memories out and play with them whenever you want and they don’t take up space in my already cluttered life.

After all, aren’t good memories kept bright and shiny from constant use the best tribute that you can give a loved one, whither they’re alive or deceased? To all my family, I love y’all and I’m proud to be a part of the clan. I hope you feel the same way about me.

A special thanks to Cousin Danny for the use of his time and business place. Love Ya.

PS: The computer censer at work has blocked this website and any other with the term "blogspot" in the address, so I don't have as much time to visit my blogbuddies. Sorry for not getting around to everyone as much as usual

MY SO CALLED LIFE

I don’t know what’s been wrong with my blogging lately. Something interesting or out of the ordinary will happen and I’ll think “Wow, that’ll make a good blog entry” and start composing a post in my head, but when I finally get time to sit down at the ‘puter my pea sized intellect goes totally blank. Maybe it’s the much ballyhooed “writer’s block” (although I don’t consider myself much of a writer) or old-timer’s disease, could be I’m just in a rut; but I apologize for the lack of recent posts. I would promise to do better but I’ve already done so and then reneged.

Today I went on a small shopping spree; got a several of those retro Jackie-O style jackets with bracelet length sleeves (one a black and white houndstooth, one dark gray and last but not least a brown tweed; I'm trying to match the stuff already in my closet) and a pair of elbow length gloves. I may be too "long in the tooth" for fashion but what the hell; I figure at the ripe old age of almost 52 (as of next month) I can wear what I want.

I’ve also been trying to do a little closet purging before I drag out the cold weather stuff. Why is it that you always find things with the tags still on that you’ve never worn or even forgot that you bought? I wear jeans and casual tops to work (one of the downfalls of a blue collar job) so most of the nice clothing that I lust after sits in the closet waiting for that proper occasion that never comes up. I guess I’ll have to start dressing up to go to Wal-Mart or the grocery store. It’s not like I have a lot of events to attend, what with my work schedule I’m lucky to get dinner and a movie and my “girls night outs” have been few and far between.

My buddy Karen is side-lined with 3 broken ribs. Her husband and son were sitting up scaffolding to paint their 2 story home while she was mixing paint and one of the scaffolds fell on her back, pinning her to the ground on top of a fire ant bed until someone heard her yelling and came to her rescue. So she’s house bound for a couple of months per the Dr. and in a lot of pain. She’s so hyper that I can’t imagine her being down that long, so we’ll see how well she obeys orders. Until she’s back on her feet we do a lot of phone tag and I try to keep her in reading material. She doesn’t care much for books so I drop off magazines and gossip rags for her to read at her leisure. Wish I could more but I’m not sure what that would be.

Sweet Thang is back at work until next month when they plan surgery to remove the biggest bolt that runs from the outside of his hip through the pelvic bone into his lower spine (he claims that he can feel it every time he sits down. Nothing worse that a bolt in the butt!). His Dr. says that Sweet Thang will be back at work in a couple of weeks so I hope that maybe it won't be long till he’ll be able to start living a more active life. Our social life has consisted of watching TV together and I’m ready to get out of the house and enjoy some of this glorious fall weather.

OK, that’s all that’s happening in my life lately. And how have y’all been doing?

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Stolen borrowed from Bitchitude.

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THINK PINK

October is National Breast Cancer Month. I'm sure we all know someone who is suffering from or has survived this terrible disease. As you can see on the image on the left, breast cancer affects men as well as women so we're all at risk.

"Breast cancer may be one of the oldest known forms of cancer tumors in humans. The oldest description of cancer ....... discovered in Egypt and dates back to approximately 1600 BC." ....... In the United States, breast cancer is the third most common cause of cancer death (after lung cancer and colon cancer). In 2007, breast cancer is expected to cause 40,910 deaths (7% of cancer deaths; almost 2% of all deaths) in the U.S.{from "breast cancer" in Wikipedia}.

So go to a rally, enter a race or fundraiser,put a pink ribbon on your car or person and for goodness sakes check your boobs for lumps and bumps and such {if you need instructions for a self-check, here they are).

Even more fun, get someone else to massage your titties for you! At the least it could lead to a little lovin' and at the worse you might catch the "Big C" before it gets too far along to correct.