Can You Hear This?

Having worked in long-term care for almost a decade, I learned a little about aging. Overall, people don’t age, only their bodies do!

I’ve met all kinds of people in nursing facilities and the one thing that I consistently heard was not about what they had, where they lived, who they knew but what they had done—and what they hadn’t done that they wished they had! No matter how much money anyone has, how much success, fame, or acclaim—the memories of your life are the one thing that will last, so make as many as you possibly can! Review them regularly, cherish them always!

As always, my Mama, bless her heart, sent me via email this slightly different draft of a Living Will. I have to tell you whatever your position on life support issues, this is not only pretty funny but it sounds like a better idea than some others I’ve seen and heard! Beside, Mama always said, “Might as well use it, you can’t take it with you….and I haven’t seen a Brinks truck following anyone to the cemetary yet!”

Cheers to whoever created this!

New Living Will Form

I, __________________________, being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means. Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn’t pass ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to sit up and ask for (please initial all that apply):

______X____chocolate,

______X___a margarita,

______X___a coke,

______X___a steak,

______X___a book,

______X___ the remote control,

______X___ a bowl of ice cream,

______X___ a Crown & Coke,

______X____ sex,

It should be presumed that I won’t ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my appointed person and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes and call it a day. Under no circumstances shall the members of the Legislature enact a special law to keep me on life-support machinery. It is my wish that these boneheads mind their own damn business, and pay attention instead to the future of the millions of Americans who aren’t in a permanent coma.

Signature: ; ___________________________

Date: ___________________________

Witness: ___________________________

And remember my motto;

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body. But rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, Diet Coke in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO what a ride!”

Have a Great day!

One of my modern day heroines is the Boss Queen herself, Jill Connor Browne, of the Sweet Potato Queens. If you haven’t read any of her books, you must run out ASAP to the nearest bookstore and buy yourself some, preferably the whole set. Then, get yourself some of your favorite snack things, [fried, au gratin or chocolate are best] set yourself down and prepare to laugh yourself silly. Laughter is, as you well know, the very BEST medicine of all. If the idea of laughing hysterically, with tears rolling down your face, while reading a book embarrasses you, then pick someplace private, like your bedroom and commence to “healing” yourself.

If you’re not familiar with Ms. Browne’s literary talents, then the title of this post may be confusing, so let me explain…..

You Never wear panties to a party! is an SPQ motto. You have to read the “Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love” to understand how this came to pass but I will tell you of my recent experience which has some basic similarities to the one that started it all with the SPQs.

I was getting dressed recently to go to a fancy “do” that a dear friend invited me and Darlin’ Boy to attend. I have an appropriate “little black dress” for such an occasion, but of course, wanting to ensure that I presented a smooth silhouette, I chose to wear my panty hose sans panties. My Mama, bless her heart, just loved the little satin pumps I bought to go with the dress but after viewing them earlier in the afternoon, decided that they must be treated with Scotchguard to protect them from dirt and stains. She, conveniently, had a can and said she would fix them right up and bring them to me once I’d gotten dressed. (She doesn’t have plastic slip covers on the furniture, thank god, but she is a firm believer in Scotchguard.)

As I finished dressing, she came up to my bedroom with my newly treated shoes. As I started to put the shoes on, I discovered I had a run in my brand new pair of pantyhose. Fortunately, having bought the hose in bulk, I had another new pair handy. Mama, still sharp as a tack, don’t ya know, immediately noted I was putting the hose on sans panties and stated loudly that I “wasn’t wearing any underwear”, like I didn’t know?!!

In true SPQ fashion, without looking up from putting on my new hose, I said, “You never wear panties to a party!” I could practically HEAR the explosion of thoughts going through her mind from across the room, glanced up to see her sitting on the chaise, with a mixed look of disbelief and wonder. You’d thought I’d just pointed out one of the great secrets of the universe and she’s confused how had I known about it all these years, yet she didn’t.

Still taken aback by my comment, she queried, “why not”. I promptly replied, “You just don’t, everybody knows that”. Her next comment took me by surprise. “Well, that explains it. I never understood before why whenever we get together with Bob and Myrna to go out on the town, Bob never wants Myrna to wear underwear”. Knowing the crowd my parents hang out with, I found this statement simply amazing—but way too much information, thank you very much!

Just goes to show, kids, no matter how much you try to be open-minded and adult about it, it’s just really hard to see your parents in the same light when you begin to learn that they actually used to do,[ and maybe still do] all the same things that you do [or used to do]! They weren’t sober, celibate, or sedate in their youth and might be giving definition to the term “sexy senior citizen”.

So, remember, boys and girls, no matter what your age or what you’re doing………………..your parents have already “been there, done that!” And, never wear panties to a party because you just never know……………..

Have a Happy and Safe New Year! Best Wishes for a Peaceful and Prosperous 2006!

As most of you that visit regularly know, I get some pretty interesting stuff via email from friends, family and, of course, my Mama! I got the following list of rules from a ‘Bama friend. For those that are fortunate enough to be traveling through God’s country, otherwise known as THE SOUTH, pay attention!

Now, I’ve copied these rules for all you non-Southerners for your enjoyment, enlightenment and safe passage through our great land. It does occur to me once I read through these rules that they could be slightly altered and applied to the many foreigners (pronounced here “furrr-rin-ners” down here) that have decided to visit or move here. Bottom line, if you’re going to come here, and I mean anywhere in the entire US of A now, then don’t complain. We didn’t invite you and we don’t require you to stay if you’re unhappy with what you find. Go home and be happy!

For the inexperienced traveler, these are fairly simple rules, easy to follow and will definitely ensure that you don’t “borrow trouble” while you’re here! Cheers to the author!

Subject: South Rules

If you are going to live or visit in the South, you need to know these rules.

1. That farm boy you see at the gas station did MORE work before breakfast than you do all week at the gym.

2. It’s called a “dirt road.” No matter how slow you drive, you’re going to get dust on your Navigator. Drive it or get out of the way.

3. The red dirt — it’s called clay. Red clay. If you like the color, don’t wash your car for a couple weeks — it’ll be permanent.

4. We all started hunting and fishing when we were seven years old. Yeah, we saw Bambi. We got over it.

5. Go ahead and bring your $600 Orvis Fly Rod. Don’t cry to us if a flathead breaks it off at the handle. We have a name for those little 13-inch trout you fish for — bait.

6. Pull your pants up. You look like an idiot.

7. If that cell phone rings while a bunch of mallards (ducks) are making their final approach, we will shoot it (the phone). You might want to ensure it’s not up to your ear at the time.

8. No, there’s no “Vegetarian Special” on the menu. Order steak. Order it rare. Or, you can order the Chef’s Salad and pick off the two pounds of ham and turkey.

9. Tea - yeah, we have tea. It comes in a glass over ice and is really, really sweet. You want it hot — sit it in the sun. You want it unsweetened — add a LOT of water.

10. You bring Coke into my house, it better be brown, wet, and served over ice.

11. So, you have a sixty thousand-dollar car. We’re real impressed. We have a quarter of a million-dollar combine (it’s farm equipment) that we only use two weeks a year.

12. Let’s get this straight. We have one stoplight in town. We stop when it’s red. We may even stop when it’s yellow.

13. We eat dinner together with our families. We pray before we eat (yeah, even breakfast). We go to church
on Wednesdays and Sundays and we go to high school football games on Friday nights. We still address
our seniors with “yes, sir” and “yes, ma’am,” and we sometimes still take Sunday drives around town to see friends and neighbors.

14. We don’t do “hurry up” well.

15. Greens - yeah, we have greens, but you don’t putt on them. You boil them with salty fatback, bacon or a ham hock.

16. Yeah, we eat catfish, bass, bream (pronounced brim) and carp. You really want sushi and caviar? It’s available at the bait shop.

17. They are pigs. That’s what they smell like (money). Get it - pig farms - income - money? Get over it. Don’t like the smell? Interstate 75 goes two ways - Interstate 20 goes the other two Pick one.

18. Grits are corn. You put butter, salt, and maybe even some pepper on them. If you want to put milk and
sugar on them, then you want Cream of Wheat - go to Kansas. That would be I-75 north then I-40 west.

19. The “Opener” refers to the first day of deer season or dove season. Both are holidays. You can get
pancakes, cane syrup, and sausage before daylight at the church on either day.

20. So every person in every pickup waves? Yeah, it’s called being friendly. Understand the concept?

21. Yeah, we have golf courses. Don’t hit in the water hazards. It spooks the fish and bothers the gators -
and if you hit it in the rough, we have these things called diamondbacks, and they’re not baseball players.

22. That State Trooper that just pulled you over for driving like an idiot — his name is “Sir,” no matter how young he is.

23. We have lots of pine trees. They have sap. It drips from them. You park your Navigator under them, and
they’ll leave a logo on your hood.

24. You burn an American flag in our state, you get beat up. No questions. The liberal contingent of our state legislature — all four of them — enacted a measure to stop this. There is now a $2.50 fine for beating up the flag burner.

25. No, we don’t care how you do things up North. If it is so great up there, why not stay there?

26. And no, down here we don’t have an accent, you do.

Ya’ll have fun and come back now, ya hear!

It never ceases to amaze me how things that would seem obvious to most of us go by others, fellow inhabitants of this planet, as if they are deaf, dumb and blind.

Bill Engvall, a favorite comedian of mine, has built a career on of the stupidity of folks stating the obvious. His “Here’s your sign” jokes are hilarious and remind me, if nothing else, not to take myself too seriously. Every day you can find an example of the “Here’s your sign” mentality in action. I observed the following example recently.

As you might guess, when you plan to purchase a firearm of any kind there is a procedure you must follow and questions that must be answered. I knew there was a process but I didn’t really know what it involved as I don’t own any firearms and have never purchased one. However, I have a friend that recently decided to purchase one and, having no other plans, I went along to see how the process works.

You must plan in advance to purchase a gun because you are required to produce 3 types of identification. One must be a photo id. For the other two, I got the impression they like voter’s registration cards and car registrations, but they may take passports, photo work ids, etc. as well. Obviously, you need to know in advance what is acceptable and take those documents with you.

There are several forms you must complete at the time of purchase, too. The forms require all pertinent information such as name, date of birth, address, social security number and so on. There are also a number of questions. Some are pretty basic………….“are you a US citizen?”, for example. But some of the other questions leave me wondering just who makes up these forms, anyway?

Are you currently under the influence of drugs or alcohol? Excuse me, have you ever seen anyone strolling or driving around telling folks around him, “oh, by the way, I’m drunk as a skunk” ?? If you’re outside a frat house on the day of a big game——maybe—–but, most of the time, you hear something like, “uh, officer, I only had two beers and I’m right as rain, with absolutely no warning at all, that telephone poll just jumped right out in front of the car!!” Therefore, I seriously doubt that someone “under the influence” is going to ‘fess up while filling out a questionaire, especially if they decided while “under the influence” buying a gun is a good idea.

Do you currently have a restraining order against you? Your neighbor has cut your hedges down without permission and you have threatened to mow down his begonias. As a result, you have a restraining order requiring that you remain at least 50 feet away from his prized garden. OR, you’ve threatened to kill your cheatin’, no good spouse, and s/he has taken it seriously, thus a restraining order to stay clear. In either instance, if you are seeking a gun with which to dispatch your neighbor or cheatin’ spouse, Are You Going To Say So On a Freakin’ Questionaire ???? I think not!

And, last, not least, but, definitely the most absurd, Are you a fugitive from justice? Yep, folks, it’s spelled out right there on the form. Call me crazy but, if you’re a fugitive from justice and seeking a gun, you are probably not prone to telling the truth in the first place. In the second, you probably aren’t going to stand up and raise your hand by saying “Yes” to such a question when trying to purchase a firearm. Duh!

Believe it or not, the salesman at the gun shop provided some amazing feedback. Apparently, much as I find it “Here’s your sign” stupid, many people will answer those questions affirmatively. They then appear shocked and surprised when two burly state troopers arrive to “assist them into custody.” The salesman said that, in such cases, he offers at the close of such a transaction to show the potential gun owner and self-admitted fugitive, how to break down and clean their new gun. They never seem to pick up on this delay until the troopers arrive………….

The moral of the story……………..be careful how you answer the questions, the truth will not always set you free!

This is one of the best responses I’ve ever seen to the corporate world’s automation of all business activities. If I had the pleasure of meeting the author, she would get a hug and a standing ovation. I received this via email from my mama, of course. At 65, she has no problem responding to corporate entities with a letter when she feels they’ve overstepped their bounds or under-served her as a customer. She hasn’t been published in the New York Times yet, but hey, she’s still a youngster so you never know……………

A 98 year old woman wrote this to her bank. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times. (I’m glad the banker had it published for our enjoyment, but I also hope s/he was just a little chagrined by it. It definitely proves that age brings a richness and wisedom to life that is unattainable through any other means.)

Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three ‘nanoseconds’ must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity,and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:
1– To make an appointment to see me.
2– To query a missing payment.
3– To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4– To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5– To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6– To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7– To leave a message on my computer. (A password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.)
8– To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9– To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.
Your Humble Client

(Remember: This was written by a 98 year old woman)

For those who wish to find the meaning of inner peace, the first thought would be to begin studies in yoga, meditation, tai chi, or some other metaphysical subject. Yet, for those who find such studies somewhat esoteric, the following pursuit of inner peace may be the answer. I received this via email from my mama and, after a quick review, it’s looking pretty calming to me:

I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me, and we could all do with a little calm. By following the simple advice I read in an article, I have finally found inner peace. The article read: “The way to achieve inner peace is to finish off all the things you have started”.

So I looked round the house to see all the things I had started and hadn’t finished .

Before leaving the house this morning I finished off a bottle of red wine, a bottle of white wine, the Baileys, three Bacardi Breezers, the Absolut, the Prozac, some cheesecake and a box of chocolates. You have no idea how flippin’ good I feel.

You should pass this on to those you feel are in need of inner peace!

May peace be with you or, at the very least, may you have no feeling in your head when you wake in the morning!

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!

I got this story via email from my best friend from college—-it’s just too funny not to share it with you. Being an English major and having taught English at a community college, I have to say I would have given the student an A+ as well! Sometimes less is more!

A college english lit class was given an assignment to write an essay using as few words as possible. The essay was to include the following 3 things:

1) Religion
2) Sexuality
3) Mystery

The only student to receive an A+ on the essay wrote the following:

Good God!
I’m pregnant!
I wonder who the father is?

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!

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!