I was at a doctor’s appointment last week and I noticed that my female physician was wearing a really nice suit.
"I like your suit. Is that Chanel?" I asked.
She froze in her tracks, and said, "Yes. How could you possibly know that?" She was shocked that I knew what a Chanel suit looked like.
Just because I live in rural Wisconsin and wear clothes from Wal-Mart doesn’t mean that I’m some backwoods country hick who doesn’t know anything about fashion!
"Boy howdy. I knowed it was Chanel because someone left one of those magazines that have pictures of purty skinny women in fancy dresses in my outhouse."
It may be shocking to people who have seen me in person, but I used to be a fashionista! When I was young, single and living in the Twin Cities I had trendy clothes with shoes and purses for different outfits. Then I got married, and had children. I had to use my fashion allowance to pay for things like diapers, baby food, bills, childcare, etc. Now I only have three pairs of shoes and they’re all black and they don’t have heels. I refuse to wear stilettos. For one thing they’re not comfortable and for another thing I’m six feet tall and I don’t need to see eye to eye with Shaquille O’Neal. Also instead of a lot of purses, I now only have one big purse that holds everything and it’s so heavy I think it’s given me scoliosis.
At this age, there’s really no point in being fashionable. I’m never going to be on the Red Carpet or on People Magazine’s Best Dressed List. Pretty soon I’ll be a senior citizen and then I can wear anything I want like a sombrero with a lime green polyester pantsuit and no one will care because they’ll all assume I have dementia. Besides once you reach a certain age you become invisible to the general population. I could probably rob a bank and get away with it:
Police: "Could you please describe the bank robber?"
Male Witness: "It was a middle aged woman."
Police: "Can you be more specific?"
"Male Witness: "She had white hair and I think she was wearing a sweater."
Police: "It that all you can remember?"
Male Witness: "Dude its not like she was a hot chick and I was checking her out!"
I’m not going to worry about the latest trends; I’ll just stick with my comfortable unfashionable attire.
My granddaughter, officially known as the Drama Queen, got the new Justin Bieber CD "Under The Mistletoe" for her birthday in November and she has been playing it non-stop ever since. I used to love the Mariah Carey song, "All I Want For Christmas Is You" now all I want for Christmas is to not hear her duet with Justin Bieber for the 50th time. What really bugs me about Bieber’s Christmas CD is that he turned "Drummer Boy" into a rap song. This is a portion of the rap lyrics by Busta Rhymes:
"Lemme get straight to it, yo
At the table with the family, havin' dinner
Blackberry on our hip and then
It gave a little flicker
Then I took a look to see before
It activates the ringer
Came to realize my homie Bieber hit me on the Twitter"
I don know about you but the Christmas sentiments in those lyrics always make me tear up! Now other recording artists are making their own rap versions of traditional Christmas songs. Check out the rap lyrics to "Silent Night."
"Silent night, Holy night
All is calm, all is bright
It’s too damn quiet
We got to ignite it
We’re gonna excite it
By starting our own riot
Let’s get this party started
It’s not for the faint of hearted
We’ll be shaking
The shepherds will be quaking
We’re playing our tunes loud
Cause we’ll be getting down
World Peace Out"
If you think that’s bad check out the following:
TOP TEN WORST CHRISTMAS SONG TITLES EVER WRITTEN:
- "I Saw Mommy Giving Santa Claus A Lap Dance."
- "Do You Smell What I Smell?"
- "Walking In My Winter Wonder Bra."
- "Grandpa Got Married To A Reindeer."
- "All I Want For Christmas Is A Hernia Truss"
- "O Tanning Bed And Lip Balm."
- "Rudolph The Reindeer With Pink Eye."
- "O Come All Ye Fruitcakes."
- "Here We Go A Waddling"
- "Frosty The Snowcone."
Merry Christmas Everyone!!
The other day I watched Frank Capra’s classic movie, "It’s A Wonderful Life" for like the 100th time.
As I was watching the movie, I thought about how George Bailey and I are a lot alike. He gave up his dreams and I did too. I wanted to be a go-go dancer but instead I went to college and became a newspaper editor! I never did get to dance in a cage while wearing a fringe mini dress and white boots.
Half way through the movie I fell asleep and started dreaming.........……………………...
Suddenly a white shape floated toward me; "I’m the ghost of Christmas Past. I’m going to take you back in time to when you were young and innocent and still believed in the magic of Christmas."
"This isn’t a take-off on ‘A Christmas Carol!’ You’re in the wrong blog. Beat it!" I said.
I tried to think about all the things I had to do before Christmas. But I couldn’t concentrate because my son was playing the drums.
"Brian, do you have to play the drums so loud? You’re giving me a headache!"
"I have to practice for my gig tomorrow. Why are you so crabby? What’s wrong?"
"I always get stressed out at Christmas!" I decided to go for a drive and get some fresh air.
"Mom, where are you going?"
I drove to the lake, stood on the breakwater, and stared at the ice-covered water. I was about to leave when I noticed a woman lying on the ice yelling for help.
"Help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up," she shouted.
I rushed over to help her. "What happened? Did you break your hip?"
"No, It’s my skinny jeans. I can’t move my legs. Can you please help me up?"
I pulled the woman to her feet.
"I wanted you to help me, so I could help you."
"What? Did you crack your head when you fell on the ice."
"My name is Charlene and I’m an angel who’s been sent here to help you."
"You don’t look like an angel. I thought angels wore long white robes."
"That’s old school. No one really liked the robes they added 10 pounds to your figure."
"Are you telling me I have to worry about my weight in heaven!"
"Oh no. Heaven is a wonderful place. You can go to an all-you-can-eat buffet everyday and never gain a pound. You can –"
"Stop you had me at all-you-can-eat buffet."
"Getting back to why I’m here. I’m an angel in training and I’m trying to earn my wings. I have an idea of how I can help you. I’ll show you what life would be like if you’d never been born."
"That seems a little extreme. Can’t you just give me a coupon for a free massage?"
The next thing I knew we were standing in front of an empty lot. "Does this look familiar?"
"It’s my yard. Where’s my house? What’s going on?"
"You don’t own a house. Since you were never born, you never bought a house, and it was condemned and torn down."
Suddenly a white streak ran by me and kept going. It was my super hyper dog. I yelled his name but he just kept running.
"Your dog didn’t recognize you because you never adopted him."
"I hate to burst your bubble but he always acts like that. He’s a pain in the butt."
"Does that young man look familiar?"
My son was standing on the street corner. He was wearing a white dress shirt, tacky tie, and brown polyester pants. "Brian what are you doing here? I thought you were practicing the drums."
"How do you do I’m Brian Claxton. What is the greatest gift you can give your loved ones at Christmas? Peace of mind from knowing that should anything happen to you they will be well taken care of."
"What are you talking about?"
"I’m hosting a holiday open house where I will be discussing long term life insurance and providing cookies and punch. I hope to see you there."
I looked at the angel. "What’s wrong with him. Why is he acting like that?"
He’s an insurance agent with Fidelity Mutual Distrust. Since you were never born, no one bought him a drum set when he was four years old. No one paid his tuition to Band Camp every summer. No one supported his dreams. He never became a talented musician."
"Hold on a second. I’m no Isaac Asimov but if I was never born, how could he have been born?"
"Um, er, ah."
"Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I get it. One person can influence other people’s lives. I want to be a positive influence. I’m going to inspire people by showing that it’s never too late to follow your dreams. I’m going to become a geriatric go-go dancer. Look I’ve still got the moves. Ahhhhh. Help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!!"
I woke up. I was lying on the couch and the TV was still on. I heard my son playing the drums.
I ran over to him and gave him a great big hug, "Brian you can play the drums as much as you want."
" I can’t move you’re squeezing the life out of me!"
"Did you know that every time a cymbal rings an angel gets and new pair of skinny jeans?"
"What kind of headache medicine did you take?"
Like most Americans the Kim Kardashian - Kris Humphries marriage, disgusts me. But while most people are upset because they believe the 72-day marriage was a sham, or a publicity stunt, I’m upset about the freakish height difference. Kris is 6’9" and Kim is only 5’2 and ½." She barely comes up to his armpits! They looked ridiculous walking down the aisle together.
If this weren’t bad enough I recently saw pictures of Shaquille O’Neal, who is 7’2" with his 5’2" girlfriend, Nicole "Hoopz" Alexander. On a recent episode of Jimmy Kimmel Live, Nicole proved how strong she is by carrying the 325 pound Shaq on her back while wearing high heels. That must be love if she’s willing to risk a herniated disk on national television.
As a 6 foot tall woman it really bugs me to see tall men with tiny little women who barely come up to their belt buckle. Do these men have a King Kong complex?
"On our honeymoon I will pick you up with one hand and carry you to the top of the Empire State Building."
Do these men like to pretend that they’re Gulliver lost in the Land of Lilliputians? I’ve been dealing with this issue since I was a teenager and all the tall boys dated short girls plus all the short boys dated short girls, which left no one for the tall girls!
I’ve been dating men that were shorter than me my whole life. I have nothing against short men as long as they don’t have a Napoleon Complex, which is defined as, "1. An inferiority complex suffered by short men who are driven to over compensate for their size. 2. Men who believe they are a flaky rectangular pastry with a sweet filling."
I think Tattoo on Fantasy Island is the perfect example of a man with a Napoleon Complex. He felt the need to overcompensate for his small stature by climbing to the top of the bell tower, ringing the bell, and shouting, "De plane! De plane!" every time an aircraft approached the island.
"Dude, we’ve all got eyes we can see the plane! Cool it!"
I once dated a man who was 5’3" and I really liked him. We had a lot in common. Sadly, the relationship came to an end when he bought a motorcycle and I started riding on the back. The final straw came when we stopped at a traffic light and I realized the only thing holding up me and the big heavy motorcycle was his little tiny leg.
Being tall has been a challenge all my life. When I was a kid there weren’t tall sizes. I couldn’t find pants long enough or shoes big enough. I had to wear boy’s jeans, which never fit right. Despite the problems, I’m glad I’m tall and I wouldn’t change it even if I could. I can see over people’s heads in a crowd. I can reach cans on the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet. I think tall people command authority. Plus not having a big strong man around to do everything for me made me the strong independent woman that I am today.
I guess you can’t control whom you fall in love with or in the case of Kim K. who you pretend to fall in love with. Next time I see the world’s tallest man with a woman who’s 4’9" I’ll just have to mutter a few swear words under my breath then grin and bear it!
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