Can You Hear This?

If you’ve ever studied any of the romance languages, such as French or Spanish, you learned that these languages give almost everything, even simple objects gender status. English, however, does not. The following passage is an interesting interpretation of what the gender status of certain objects that we encounter in our day-to-day activities might be.

I received it via email with a note that it originated with a travel agent friend of mine’s client in New Zealand. Having visited this beautiful country, I can tell you a few things: Kiwis are warm gracious people and they have great humor. If you are fortunate enough to travel there, you will be welcomed like a long lost member of the family almost anywhere you go. Kiwis have a wonderful perspective on life and definitely believe laughter is the best medicine—especially if it’s over a pint with your mates! Cheers!

WHAT GENDER IS IT?

If you’re like most people, common everyday items look inert to you. But what you may not know is that many of them have a gender. For example:

Ziploc Bags – They are Male, because they hold everything in but you can see right through them.

A Copier – is Female, because once turned off, it takes a while to warm up. It’s an effective reproductive device if the right buttons are pushed, but can wreak havoc if the wrong buttons are pushed.

A Tire – has to be Male, because it goes bald and often it’s over inflated.

A Hot Air Balloon – is definitely a Male, because to get it to go anywhere you have to light a fire under it—and, of course, there’s the hot air part.

Sponges – are Female, because they’re soft and squeezable and retain water.

A Web Page – Female, because it’s always getting hit on.

A Subway – is Male, because it uses the same old lines to pick people up.

Hourglass – has to be a Female, because over time, the weight shifts to the bottom.

Hammer – Male, because it hasn’t evolved much over the last 5,000 years, but it’s handy to have around.

The Remote Control – is a Female . . Ha! You thought it’d be male. But consider that it gives a man pleasure, he’d be lost without it, and while he doesn’t always know the right buttons to push, he keeps trying.

Wishing you a Happy and Safe Thanksgiving Holiday!

Popularity: 4% [?]

Another entry from the annals of the “Stupid Husband Stories”!

Mother’s day should be a special day for mother’s everywhere. I can’t say that my memories of Mother’s Day while married to Beau’s father give me any warm fuzzies (fortunately, there were only a couple), but, one particular Mother’s Day does stand out in my memory!!

After Beau was born, the ex and I talked about selling our house in order to move into one more suitable for small children. If you’ve read any of the other “stupid” stories, you’ve already learned the ex has a great deal of confidence in himself. Enough, often, to believe he can successfully manage most any task. Needless to say, when we began to talk about selling the house, he was convinced he could do a FSBO (For Sale by Owner).

For several weeks, he would require that we clean everything thoroughly in order to host the vast numbers of folks that were going to respond to his advertisement for an Open House on Sunday afternoon. After 3 weeks, I was a little tired of this weekend wash-up. I thought my statement, that I wanted to have a nice, enjoyable Mother’s Day with my son————–not the odd n’ end stranger strolling through my extremely clean house, would have an impact on his plans. Silly me!!

It was with little surprise, but EXTREME displeasure, I discovered, on the way home from church, that the ex ran an ad for an Open House on Mother’s Day. In addition, he expected me to help with the preparation. Along with my mood, the day was dark and overcast. By noon, it was raining cats and dogs.

It might be appropriate, at this point, to mention we had problems with the roof directly over Beau’s room. It leaked! When it rained very hard, the water would actually run down through the attic crawl space and fill up the ceiling light fixture with water. I should also note, that the erstwhile hubby, had also “fixed” the leak twice before this particular rain storm, thus accounting for the on-going leaky problem, but that’s another story………

With the rain pouring and the light fixture already full of water, I pointed out that putting something in the attic to catch the water, until I could get a repairman to the house the next day, might be a good idea. After all, “we” were expecting lots of potential homebuyers in about an hour. So the ex gets a pan and goes up in the attic.

Beau is taking a nap and I am busy emptying the light fixture when I hear the ex thrashing about overhead. Then I hear a loud shout, followed by a crash and look up to see he had bottomed out. Yep, his backside was “shining” through a newly created hole in the ceiling. We never agreed on decorating ideas, but this was over the top, even for him. It startled poor Beau from his nap. Since he was still fairly little and had never been “mooned” before, he began to cry.

So, there I am, folks, on Mother’s Day with a crying child, a torrential rainstorm, a fast approaching “Open House”, sheetrock and insulation all over the floor and hubby’s butt adorning the ceiling of a bedroom.

My next actions were simple and well-documented and, fortunately for hubby, didn’t include a police report for accidental death or homicide. I left the ex to extricate himself from the ceiling and clean up the mess. I made a sign for the front door which read, “Open House cancelled due to a family emergency. Sorry for the inconvience!” I called a contractor friend to come the next day to fix the roof and, by the end of the week, the house was listed with a local real estate agent!

Lessons Learned: never schedule an open house on Mother’s Day, call a repair professional the first time the roof leaks, when decorating or adorning your home, if you want moons “shining” down on you from the ceiling, purchase the glow in the dark stick-on ones!

Popularity: 32% [?]

Apparently, you don’t have to be married for the S-word (Stupid) to come up in describing certain incidents that occur in failed relationships. Although I think the incident I’ve recently seen reported on several news services might be more the result of a hormone-issue than a stupid-issue.

Somewhere north of here, a man sued his ex-girlfriend for gluing is genitals to his abdomen. After dating a number of months, the couple broke up and the guy began dating someone else. The former girlfriend then invites the old boyfriend over to her residence one evening and he later falls asleep there.

Call me crazy, but, you gotta wonder just what the ex-boyfriend was doing that resulted in his need to take a nap at the ex-girlfriend’s place, short of her slipping him a mickey finn. My guess is the ex-boyfriend was “enjoying” his former girlfriend’s company, maybe for “old-times sake”, and, once his “visit” was complete, he made the mistake of falling asleep rather than going home.

A woman armed with a little “visitors” frustration and PMS can be a dangerous thing when left to her own devices. Ingenuity, bless her heart, was obviously one of her virtues as she reportedly not only super-glued the offending body part to the area below his belly-button, she gave new meaning to the word “constipation” when she “sealed up” his backside as well. She even had the presence-of-mind to autograph her handiwork by writing something “profound” on his back with nail polish.

Now, that right there will tell you, buddy-boy was obviously either already naked when he drifted off to dreamland or in a coma. Since the lawsuit he filed didn’t include charges for drug trafficking or the clubbing of his head, I vote for “already naked”.

One of buddy boy’s complaints was that once he awoke and discovered his “predicament”, he had to walk a mile to a phone to get assistance. Imagine the difficulty he would have had if the ex-girlfriend had glued his hands to his privates as well. Considering how often men have to manually check their privates, sometimes to scratch, sometimes just to make sure they’re still there, a little superglue on his palms, his hands strategically placed, would have been a fait accompli!

Wouldn’t that make for an interesting scene in the phone booth at the 7-Eleven? How’re you gonna dial 911 with your hands superglued to your privates? As Jeff Foxworthy says, “try going to sleep tonight with that image in your head!”

Rest assured, if an ex of mine was stupid enough to show up at my home, get naked and then proceed to take a nap, he would have no one to blame but himself for the condition (or location) of his body once he awoke. I wouldn’t tolerate the first word of complaint if he, say, found himself wearing a push-up bra, a thong, a garter belt, high heels, lipstick, and was laid out on the lawn of the local moose lodge or baptist church.

(I’ve never done it, but I thought it might give ya’ll some ideas worthy of consideration for future use, should you find yourself in such a situation I do try to be helpful when I can!)

As with all things, it’s important to note the lessons to be learned from this story:
1) Breaking up is hard to do, harder if you try to “re-visit” the situation later.
2) Once you break up, don’t return to “visit”. If you “visit”, don’t take a nap, especially a naked nap!
3) If you fall asleep naked at the ex’s place after a break up, don’t be surprised if you wake up a little “stuck”.
4) Nail polish remover is a good item to have on hand for cleaning up body art. (It will remove fake tatoos as well as nail polish.)
5) Be grateful if you find yourself only a mile away from a usable phone and your hands are free so you can dial 911 for assistance!

Popularity: 5% [?]

Once again, via email, my mama, bless her heart (I have no idea where she gets this stuff), sent me this little outline designed to help those of us who may be suffering (or for those around us who may be suffering) from reckless swings in hormone levels. For those things in life which you can not control but merely endure, insight into the process is often the only way to survive it.

Take heed to the advice herein, sufferers, and for those who suffer around you……………take cover, no use in getting caught in the crossfire! If you find you must walk on the emotional mine-field of a hormone hostage, please note chocolate is a basic survival tool!

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open is mouth and he takes his life in his own hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver’s license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or significant other!

[Basic questions and their appropriate responses:]

DANGEROUS: What’s for dinner?
SAFER: Can I help you with dinner?
SAFEST: Where would you like to go for dinner?
ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: Are you wearing that?
SAFER: Wow, you sure look good in brown!
SAFEST: WOW! Look at you!
ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: What are you so worked up about?
SAFER: Could we be overreacting?
SAFEST: Here’s my paycheck.
ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: Should you be eating that?
SAFER: You know, there are a lot of apples left.
SAFEST: Can I get you a glass of wine with that?
ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: What did you DO all day?
SAFER: I hope you didn’t over-do it today.
SAFEST: I’ve always loved you in that robe!
ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some more chocolate.

13 Things PMS Stands For:

1. Pass My Shotgun
2. Psychotic Mood Shift
3. Perpetual Munching Spree
4. Puffy Mid-Section
5. People Make me Sick
6. Provide Me with Sweets
7. Pardon My Sobbing
8. Pimples May Surface
9. Pass My Sweatpants
10. Pissy Mood Syndrome
11. Plainly; Men Suck
12. Pack My Stuff

and my favorite one…

13. Potential Murder Suspect

Pass this on to all of your hormonal friends and those who might need a
good laugh, or men who need a warning.

Life is good, [we have chocolate!!!]

Popularity: 25% [?]

Once again we can appreciate the great wisedom of women! My mother sent this to me via email.

These are wonderful, witty, true and wise words from women who’ve “been there, done that……..and have that t-shirt (sometimes in more than one color! ).”

Inside every older lady is a younger lady — wondering what the hell happened.
-Cora Harvey Armstrong-

Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut her up with cookies. -?

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.
-Lily Tomlin-

A male gynecologist is like an auto mechanic who never owned a car.
-Carrie Snow-

Old age ain’t no place for sissies.
-Bette Davis-

A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. A woman must do what he can’t.
-Rhonda Hansome-

The phrase “working mother”! is redundant.
-Jane Sellman-

Every time I close the door on reality, it comes in through the windows.
-Jennifer Unlimited-

Whatever women must do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult.
-Charlotte Whitton-

Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.
-Caryn Leschen-

I try to take one day at a time — but sometimes several days attack me at once.
-Jennifer Unlimited-

If you can’t be a good example — then you’ll just have to be a horrible warning.
-Catherine-

When I was young, I was put in a school for retarded kids for two years before they realized I actually had a hearing loss. And they called ME slow!
-Kathy Buckley-

I’m not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb — and I’m also not blonde.
-Dolly Parton-

If high heels were so wonderful, men would still be wearing them.
-Sue Grafton-

I’m not going to vacuum ’til Sears makes one you can ride on.
-Roseanne Barr-

When women are depressed they either eat or go shopping. Men invade another country..
-Elayne Boosler-

Behind every successful man is a surprised woman.
-Maryon Pearson-

In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman.
-Margaret Thatcher-

I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career.
-Gloria Steinem-

I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man, I keep his house.
-Zsa Zsa Gabor-

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission.
-Eleanor Roosevelt-

Cheers to Women Everywhere, You’re All Great Gals! Laugh, giggle and be silly at least once everyday, you’ll live longer and enjoy it more! Darlene

Popularity: 12% [?]

Back in the day, there were seasons for sports. Baseball was in the spring, football was in the fall, basketball was in the winter and then it started over. It was actually possible for high school athletes to play football and basketball for their school without overlapping seasons.

This is no longer the case. There is pre-season, early season, off-season and, of course, regular season. Then there is post-season and post-season playoffs. Each sport is now an almost a year-round activity. Forget finding a double-letterman in high school or college, girls, it’s just a logistical impossibility.

Every woman whose ever had a relationship with a man lasting more that two minutes has been forced to accept one amazingly simple fact: men love their sports!!! Whether it’s football, basketball, baseball, soccer, hockey, or polo, men are addictived to their loves. Sometimes their love affairs are of the multiple variety, but they always have at least one.

I’ve learned over the years, growing up in a household with only ONE television that Saturday and/or Sunday would mean non-stop viewing of whatever game was on the tube. It didn’t matter if it was the home team, the favorite team or the most hated team, the TV dial was set on whatever team was being televised that day, period.

In addition to knowing the game would be viewed, no matter what game it was, I also learned there are some wars you just can’t win. Trust me on this one, ladies, and don’t even try it! Men must have their sports fix and they are much more accommodating to your needs if they get it. Bill Engvall says that men are about three things: food, sleep and sex. I disagree, men have four basic needs: food, sleep, sex and sports. Not necessarily in that order either!

My advice, girls, is very simple. Give the man in your life what he needs. Find out what day his particular “game” is on TV. Fix him up some appropriate “sporting event” snacks and make sure the fridge is stocked with the beer of his choice. Then, tell him sweetly, when the game is about to commence to sit back, put his feet up and enjoy the game! Yes, that’s right! And, NO, I haven’t completely lost my mind!

Here’s how it works! You let him know you are understanding and supportive of his need for his sports fix, and in return, he’ll be just like the dog whose been given a great big juicy bone. He’ll be so appreciative, when you say you want to go out shopping for a new comforter and accessories, he’ll just be happy to go along and carry all your packages. And, you and I both know, once you get a man out shopping, you’re not going to stop with the selection of a new comforter. You’ll suddenly realize you need a new gourmet coffee grinder or some new suede pumps. And, if you’ve picked yourself a good one from the herd, he’ll probably whip out his wallet once you get to the check-out.

Remember, men, like dogs, need lots of love, food and attention. Applied appropriately, with consistent positive reinforcement, it is possible to teach an “old” dog new tricks! Oh, and girls, men…….. they’re even easier to train than old dogs!

Popularity: 29% [?]

Sometimes life just gets to be too much and the only answer is to “run away”. You know, not the tie your bandana filed with stuff on a pole, kind of “run away” but the “let’s pile into the car and take off for a few days” run away. Once out of college, these type events are hard to arrange among responsible folks. However, I am fortunate to have a few friends that understand and appreciate the value of a getaway and we schedule them if we have to.

One particular getaway involved a couple of my best pals, Honey and Sugar. We decided that there was nothing to be done but just leave town and meet someplace where our SOs, Husbands, children, etc. weren’t. It didn’t matter to us particularly where it was as long as when we got there it had a clean room, a reasonably comfortable bed and a POOL. Our choice was a Hampton Inn about halfway between where we each lived.

We arrived early on Saturday morning, complete with all the necessary “getaway” provisions. They included, but were not necessarily limited to, the following: bathing suits, beach towels, sunscreen, munchies of fattening variety (chips, cheese, crackers, chocolate), munchies of a healthy variety (grapes, cheese, crackers, and chocolate) beer, wine, and various wine cooler type beverages.

Honey arrived at said Hampton Inn first and proceeded to do the appropriate thing………..she commandeered an entire corner of the pool area that included the three best chaise lounges available and a table with 3 chairs and an umbrella. (Yeah, I know! We’re those annoying types that have all the best stuff already set up when you arrive at the end of your long day of driving for an overnight stay at the Hampton Inn on your way to see the world’s largest ball of twine. Oh, well, stop your whining and get there earlier if you don’t want to have to deal with us!)

We spent the better part of an hour discussing all the challenges we overcame in order to be able to get in our cars and leave our poor, needy families behind. Then we spent some time discussing all the reasons we needed to get away from our families and work stresses in the first place. We moved on to discussing all the stuff we would have to do to make up for being “away” when we got home the next afternoon. After all that catching up, we finally got to the good stuff………….

When you put 3 stressed out women, plenty of snack food, copious amounts of alcohol, abundant sunshine, and a reasonably close bathroom together, you can bet your last dollar and win, that the topic of conversation will eventually end up sexual in nature. It’s inevitable. We talk about new loves, old loves, lost loves, or some other aspect of our interaction with the opposite sex. And, since we’re all fans of Victoria’s Secrets, we also compare notes on our most recent lingerie purchases.

Men may lust over the pages of the Victoria’s Secrets catalog but we talk about what we’ve actually bought, how it fits, whether or not it makes you look even remotely like the model in the picture! You have to understand, sometimes buying lingerie is like buying an anti-aging creme. You know, deep down, there’s no chance that you could ever look like the 12-year-old model they use for the advertisement, but, hope springs eternal.

Now, as I said, we had all been wound pretty tight for an extended period of time and we were truly enjoying the process of unwinding big time!!!! The day was passing most pleasantly for us and we finally decided that the sun had warmed us to the point that we needed to venture into the pool to cool off. As we slipped gracefully into the cool water, our conversation continued but, we realized that we were not alone. We finally noticed HIM. At this moment, you’re probably thinking some young, buff, bronze, Greek-god looking creature had strolled into the pool area to laze about in swim trunks for our viewing pleasure. WRONG.

Truth is, it was more of a middle-aged, slight of build, balding and frumpy, GEEK looking creature. There he was on the far side of the pool, sitting at the other umbrellaed table dressed in what is termed in today’s workplace as “business casual”. He appeared to be completely engrossed in this massive 3-ringed binder.

After tying a niffty little sarong discreetly over my bikini, I walked around the pool to the parking lot to get something from the car. I passed close enough to geek boy’s table to see what had him so enraptured. The binder was a Microsoft Windows programing training guide. Suffice it to say, I couldn’t imagine why anyone, geek or otherwise, would be spending a gorgeous summer day sitting by a pool at the Hampton Inn in Po’dunk*, reading a computer training guide.

Upon returning to my cohorts and quietly informing them of the geek’s choice of poolside reading material, we returned to our previous conversation. Honey was telling us of this particularly interesting piece of lingerie which consisted of a sort-of merry-widow, teddy-type thing with garters. The more we discussed the benefits of this piece the closer geek boy began to get to the edge of the pool. Apparently, he was intent on hearing the details of our lingerie experiences as well.

In our completely relaxed, de-stressed (and somewhat inebriated state), we were thoroughly enjoying the description of Honey’s experience with this amazing, albeit challenging, piece of lingerie. Then I suddenly saw our intrepid geek had again manuvered himself dangerously close to the pool’s edge. As Honey’s instruction of how to get into this contraption continued, he scoots closer still until he just barely manages to catch himself before tipping head first into the water.

Needless to say, since geek boy was obviously not dressed for swimming and was, therefore, risking a dunk in the pool as a result of his clumsy attempt at eavesdropping, we didn’t offer him any assistance of any kind. Had the silly man had any sense at all, he could have just walked right over, introduced himself properly and asked for the item number from the catalog.

It would have saved him the embarrassment of almost pitching headfirst into the pool and he would have had the luxury of saying he met 3 lovely, charming ladies poolside at the Hampton Inn. Instead, he just pick himself and his big ole binder up and slunk away in his hush puppies never knowing the appropriate catalog issue or item number.

Men just never learn……..good manners will always get your farther than eavesdropping. Instead of a great piece of lingerie, his true love probably got something ridiculous like a box of salt water taffy. As Charlie Brown would say, “Good Grief!”

*Please note, readers, that I have absolutely no idea if there is a place called Po’dunk, or if there is, whether or not Hampton Inn has a facility there. The location of this particular outing has been changed to ensure that we can go back!.

Popularity: 75% [?]

Being from the deep South, I have a greater tolerance of heat than those from other climes, yet I have little tolerance for air conditioning. I find it very strange to be dressed for the 95 degree weather outside and shivering as a result of the 69 degree weather inside. This is NOT normal, I don’t care where you hail from!

In addition to my low tolerance to cold and/or excessive AC, I simply don’t like a great deal of variation in the ambient temperature of my personal living space under any conditions. My threshold is 75 degrees. Anything above is moving toward the realm of summertime comfort, anything below is, in my opinion, ARTIC. People who like things too far above or below are just completely off, PERIOD!

My S.O. is an absolute darlin’ and I adore the hardwood floors he walks on, but he has been complaining to me of late about my thermostatic problems. I asked him, very diplomaticly, of course, WHAT THE HELL WAS HE TALKING ABOUT? In his own special way, he said that he was waking up at night, shivering and cold and didn’t understand why, since he knows how intolerant of cold I am. He said when he woke up, the ceiling fan was on and he was chilled, bless his heart!

I patiently explained that I woke up in the night, feeling like I was burning in the fires of HELL and turned on the ceiling fan. The cause of this conflagration…………………..something called PERI-MENOPAUSE. Unfortunately, I am at the mercy of numerous pesky hormones, which, when activated, take me from the Sahara to Mt. Everest temperature-wise in about a second and a half.

Other wise women I hold dear understand this calamity. Men do not! Since they are perfectly comfortable when they are perfectly comfortable, they simply don’t understand going from perfectly comfortable to freezing to death to burning up in a matter of minutes. It’s just right up there with their lack of understanding of how a women needs more than two pairs of shoes……………one for dress and one for everything else. I mean, it’s been working for them forever! Even those men who consider themselves fashionable only have black, brown, cordovan, and athletic.

Women with hormone issues are somewhat like volcanos and tornados. They can stew for long periods of time dormant or whip up in the blink of an eye. They can sputter, spew and just rumble, or they can let loose and wreak havoc on anything in their path. And, God forbid, if things get really pressurized they can BLOW and all HELL will break loose, making the plagues of Egypt look like summer vacation.

So, for all the women out there who understand EXACTLY what I’m talking about, I recommend getting a programable thermostat, set it at your comfort zone (mine is 75). If it is the right kind of thermostat and hormone surges have you racing to it, anxious to adjust, make sure you can do so with a couple of clicks.

For all you men out there who have NO IDEA what I’m talking about or WHY the woman in your life is constantly blowing hot and cold, my recommendation……….get a pair of shorts and a parka and deal with it!

MOST IMPORTANT: DON’T TOUCH THAT THERMOSTAT!

Popularity: 28% [?]