My philosophy:  Why be bored at the store?

Fun Things for Guys to do when forced into shopping -

1. Hide in the clothes racks and talk to the customers – the little voices in their heads might start UP a conversation…ya never know.
2. Pull wheelies with your cart in the Wine Aisle while singing “Heaven, I’m In Heaven”.
3. Try on underwear over your clothes and ask people if they make your butt look big.
4. Slip boxes of condoms in other folks’ shopping carts.
5. Fill your cart with motor oil and condoms.
6. Turn all the Elvis T-shirts inside out.
7. Ask the help to “Please translate the signs into the native language of my planet.”
8. Try to find something NOT made in China.
9. Take pictures with your cell phone of people who ARE dressed appropriately.
10. Count the number of people wearing slippers.
11. Count the number of children not wearing shoes.
12. Separate the clothing by color and not size.
13. Sing the greating cards aloud.
14. Walk into the Men’s Room and yell at the top of your voice, “What died in here!”
15. Demand the manager because they don’t have a “Fromal Wear” section.
16. Count the items of the person in front of you in the “15 or Fewer” line and raise a stink when you reach 16.
17. Make obscene displays in the fruit and vegetable area.
18. Stay away from the paging system!

Ever hear of “guyspeak”?

It seems everyone’s talking about it.  What men say, and what men really mean.

Of course, we don’t get to talk about what women say v. what they mean, so I’ll stick with the plan, and since I have the “gift of interpretation”, I’ll fill you in on a few things I think sociologists and psychologists have totally gotten wrong.

Frankly, it’s annoying.  Isn’t it possible that when we say something, it really just is what it is?

Probably not!

Some say that guyspeak comes from men not wanting to let the women in thier lives down.

What’s the word I’m looking for?  Bull!

Here’s an example: 

He says – We should hang out sometime. “The Experts” say – I’m afraid you’ll turn me down if I ask you out.

What he really means – You’re hot, I’m horny, let’s get it on.  The game starts in 15 minutes.

He says – I’ll call you later.  Experts – I’ll never call you, but then again I might, so don’t write me off yet.

What he really means – Unless I see a future I want in this, I’m never callin’ you again, well, at least not until after the game.

He says – My ex is nuts.  Experts – I’ve messed her UP and she got UPset.

What he really means – No, I’m serious, she’s crazzzzzzzzy, crazy!  And it  ain’t my fault.  She hated sports anyway.

He says – That guy seems like a good friend of yours.  Experts – Was there ever a thing between you?

What he really means – He’s either gay, studying for the priesthood or trying to get in your pants, cause he’s actin’ like a brother that’s too kissy and it’s creepin’ me out!  Have you ever noticed he never watches the game?

He says – It’s a long story.  Experts – It’s a long story that makes me look bad.

What he really means – It’s a long story and why are you so darn nosy?  Can we talk about this at half-time, the game is on.

He says – Is that a new look?  Experts – You look weird.

What he really means – Do you like it?  Should I like it?  Damn I never know the rules here!  Could you move, the game is on.

He says – Are those shoes new?  Experts – Should you spend so much money on another pair of shoes?

What he really means – If you chipped in on the bills instead of buying everything at Macy’s, we could afford all the ESPN stuff on cable, and we could watch more games!

He says – Why are you being so emotional?  Experts – Why are you being so psycho?

What he really means – Hey, Sybil, knock it off, I’m missin’ the game!

He says – That’s not what I meant.  Experts – That’s exactly what I meant, but now that you’re pissed, I wish I’d never said it outloud.

What he really means – You’ll never understand what I really mean, and you’d probably hate me anyway, so let’s just move on from here!  The game is on.

He says – It’s fine.  Experts – It’s not fine, but I’m in no mood to discuss it.

What he really means – It’s not fine, I’m gonna’ lose this one anyway, so really, It’s fine!  And the game is on.

He says – He’s a friend of yours?  Experts – Do you have a thing for that dog?

What he really means -  He’s a dog, and you should be on antibiotics for just riding in  his car!  I wouldn’t let him sit on my couch to watch the game, which is on by the way!

He says – Can we talk about this later?  Experts – I never want to talk about this again.

What he really means – You’re going to talk about it anyway, can I just have a few minutes of peace and quiet before you rip me to shreads over this one and make me rue the day we met?  And for the love of Mike, the game is on!

There are women out there who use their breasts as weapons.

Ok, c’mon girls,  admit it,  you know what you’re doin’!

Driving men crazy.

Flaunting them and then chastising us for doing what comes naturally!!

All men look at breasts.  Old men, young men, straight men, gay men, for Pete’s sake, BLIND men look at breasts!

And for all different reasons.

Most men, as we know are pigs.  They like boobs, tatas, hooters, etc.  They just like ‘em, and there ain’t no gettin’ away from it.  Afterall, an INTERNATIONAL restaurant chain is called “Hooters”, and no-one eats there for the food.  (My Mother thought it was Hoosiers because they were in Indiana until she and Daddy stopped for lunch!!  So sorry I missed that one.)

Some men want them, and some (Simon, please hit the gym) have them!

For some, it’s a “Mommy Issue”.  Not breast-fed long enough, or at all.  Some just “admire the beauty of a woman’s physique”, and some are just  – well, lecherous old fools.

As to the blind guys, Braille, I suppose!

Now, UP is not a Burka Fan, but help us out here.  Hide the girls.  Some researchers say men think of sex every seven seconds.  Some would say that’s a low number.  We really don’t need any more temptation.

And a few of you, like I said, you know what you’re doin’.  And it’s just plain cruel.  So stop it.

So please don’t wear a skin-tight Midge Pinciatti sweater and then get all Betty Freidan on me!

BTW,  this doesn’t help either.

So, on this Fashion  Friday, give us a break.  We can’t help it.  If you don’t want us lookin’, don’t put ‘em on display

Candy – rots your teeth.

Flowers – rot themselves,.

Lingiere – Kids to rasie, who needs it.

Contrary to popular belief, Valentine’s Day wasn’t created by Hallmark, Hersheys, or 1800Flowers.

It was created by Pope Gelasius in 496 AD to honor one of the “early Christian martyrs”.  He was Valentine of Terni, and became Bishop of Interamna or modern Terni around 197 AD.  Alledgedly, he was martyred during the Christian Persecution of Roman Emperor Aurelian.  Aurelian believed the that greatest god in the Roman Pantheon was Sol or Invictus, the sun god.  He was a tad bit annoyed by the whole Jesus movement and all that Christianity stuff.  So, Valentine had to go. 

Today, Valentine’s Day is traditionally a day on which lovers express their love for each other. 

How did it get that way, you ask. 

Well,  all that lovey-dovey stuff really didn’t start until Geoffrey Chaucer pumped UP the notion of Courtly Love.  You know, pure unrequited love of the Middle Ages; King Arthur, Guenivere, Lancelot and all that crap.  Never mind that Lancelot and Guenivere were slippin’ off to the Motel Sex behind Artie’s back.   Geoffrey was a randy old dude who trotted around England in the nude often, and loved the ladies.  So, Valentine’s Day became Lover’s Day.

Or as a friend of mine called it, Single Awareness Day.

A lonely guy, no doubt.

Oddly enough, it comes from a very ancient pre-Roman pastoral festival, observed on February 15 to avert evil spirits and to purify the cities.  It released health and fertility…hence the love connection.  February gets its name from Februa, the pre-pre-Roman festival that became Lupercalia.  Lupercus was the god of Shepherds.  I’ll leave that one alone.  But, on the Ides of February, a goat and a dog were sacrificed.  (PETA, leave me alone and please quit spamming me.)  They also prepared mealcakes (fried grits) which were burnt by the Vestal Virgins.

But, alas, we’ve made it a day for lovers.  And it’s pretty popular.  One of the Hallmark Holidays, no pun intended.

American consumers spent $16.7 billion on Valentine’s Day in 2007, and each lover averaged $100!  And over one billion Valentine’s cards are sent or exchanged each year.

Yikes, am I in trouble.

So, tell the one you love, that you do, give them a card, and remember, there’s a goat out there who sacrificed his life so you could express your devotion to the special someone or someones (Tiger, John, Bill, etc.) in your life.

I know, you’re saying, “Which double standard?”

I agree, there are far too many.

There really are far too many, and I could address several…

…but for now, try this one…

Ever hear a woman say, “Isn’t that just like a man?”?

I’m sure you have…I’m sure you may have said it.

And I’ll admit, stereotypes are there because they’re there.

At a business meeting back in the day when I had a “real” job, one of the big boys was working the remote for the presesntation when a female corporate Vice President said, 

 ”Isn’t that just like a man, they always have to have the remote.”.

Now, I personally believe that it is written somewhere in the Bible that the man should have the remote.  And frankly, women do not know how to work them.  I’m sure it’s because we’ve controlled them for so long that the evolutionary process has deleted that from the very DNA of the female.   So, guys, I’m sure it’s our fault.  Why not, everything else is.

It got me to thinking, and this is dangerous ground.  But if a MALE corporate Vice President had said, “Isn’t that just like a woman?” ,  there would have been attorneys, court dates, settlements, early retirements, and general mayhem.

I bring this UP, simply because after nearly 40 years of “sensitivity” training, diversity training, treating others with respect seminars, co-worker team building sessions, and media attention…it is still going on.

Are major corporations wasting their money on all this?

Probably.

People are people, people are going to say insensitive and ignorant things.  Maybe we need to just take it for what it’s worth and learn something about the person who’s saying it.

Maybe it’s just our plain old human selfishness to think we know better than someone else, aren’t like the typical woman/man, which ever the case may be.  Or maybe it’s really the way it is, and we just need to get over it.

Am I advocating saying what’s on your mind?

Yes!

That way we’ll know instantly how you really feel.

And we know what you really believe, and know just how far we should stay away from you!

So, speak your mind!

Why you ask?

We’ve always been lead to believe that women are harder to live with, and men just die to get out of it.

And for years men have claimed that they work harder, worry more, and die younger because of it.

Maybe not so true.

A new study by the Japanese, recently published in Human Reproduction, a magazine I’m sure you all have on the coffee table, claims genes in sperm may be the determining factor in why women live longer than men.

Tomohiro Kono, a professor at Tokyo University and Saga University’s Manabu Kawahara discoverd that female mice produced from ‘genetic material’ from two mothers, but not from a father, lived a longer life (significantly) than the mice with the normal mix of “mom and pop” genes.

Oh Crap, Johnny really does have two mommies!

The “bi-maternal” mice came about when the two aforementioned scientists, who obviously have a God Complex and too much time on their hands, manipulated the DNA in mouse eggs.  All this manipulation made the genes go a little crazy, and they behaved like sperm. 

Go figure!  Killer sperm!

Once Tomo and Manny figured out how to do this, (and they aren’t telling anyone how they did it) the pseudo-sperm or “material” was implanted into unfertilized female mice eggs to create embryos. 

Again, they ain’t sayin’ how.

The “bi-maternal” mice lived 186 days longer than the “mom and pop” mice.

Now, I realize this is sounding more and more like a Japanese Horror Movie script, but really, this is some scary science here.

Researchers believe the real difference could be the fault of a gene called Rasgrf1. 

Discovered while the University Boys were enjoying a Bob Marley CD and smoking a bowl of Ganja, Rasgrf1 is located on the number nine Chromsome.   Rasgrf1 is associated with “post-natal” growth and normally “expresses”(whatever the heck that’s supposed to mean)  from the paternally inherited chromosome. 

So, to translate, Daddy’s genes are killin’ me!

According to one theory, males have bigger bodies in order to win out in the race for breeding opportunities (cruising singles’ bars) and thus “scatter their genes”.

Or,  ”Sewing thier wild oats.”

What’s the price for said spreading/sewing?

Well, other than penicillin, most likely a shorter lifespan.

Females, the object of man’s desire or prey, do not have to enter this beauty pagent, and thus save up thier reproductive output to do silly things like, deliver babies (labor), nurture babies (breast feeding), and hunt for food (shopping) , as well as avoiding preadators (bullies, short tempered dads, obnoxious little league moms, slutty teenage girls, etc.), thus allowing them to live longer…although I still don’t know how.  Those little league moms can be hell on wheels!

So, guys, if the fact that your wife is probably going to outlive you, which is in and of itself a little depressing, isn’t bad enough, the fact that it’s not her fault just ices the cake.

You might want to give your dad a call today, you know, to thank him for the sperm gene, the one that’s killin’ ya!

But first, as usual, I went to the mall, walked my three miles, headed to the gym, arms and abs, headed to the Waffle House, coffee, crossword, conversation.

Nothing unusual about all that.

But…

…a couple came in and sat at the booth next to the end of the counter where I was sitting.

The waitress came over, took their order and walked a way.

Before and after that, they spoke not one word to one another.

It was odd.

I’d like to think that they are so close that verbal communication isn’t necessary.

But I’m not that naive.

They weren’t deaf, there was no sign language.

Unless you count body language.

It was awkward.

So much so, that I did something I rarely do.

I put a dollar in the juke box and played six songs:  3 Allman Brothers  and 3 Skynyrd.

The silence was deafening.

And saddening.

It made me think.

Was there nothing left to say, had it all been said?

Or, had too much been said.

I can’t imagine being quiet.

And I’m sure most who know me can’t imagine that either.

They were obviously married, it wasn’t like two strangers were sharing a booth, but in reality it was.

Or do they know each other too well?

It was unsettling.

Unnerving.

Distressing.

Sad.

And it made me want to make sure I’m never that way.

If I can sit through a meal with you and not say a word, we don’t need to eat together.

Food and conversation go together.

Even for strangers.

But they weren’t strangers.

I don’t make them, but I’m sure there are plenty who do, and plenty who need to do so.

I just know that, well, like the Fonz, why mess with it!

So GUYS, here are a few things you should remember for 2010…

1. Do NOT come home from work and ask “What have you been doing all day?  Really, it’s just not well recieved.  Trust me on this one.  Asked once, answered FOREVER!
2. A waffle maker, even if it is a Belgian Waffle Maker (which I want BTW) is not an appropriate Valentine’s Day Gift.  It’s just around the corner, Kroger already has the candy out, and we need to start thinking about it now.  Jewelry, candy, flowers, cruises, but no Waffle Iron!  Or any other appliance or practical gift for that matter. 
3. Cologne is not a good gift!  It implies that you A. don’t like the way she smells, or B. that she could smell better.  LIVE WITH IT!  If she asks for cologne, don’t fall for it…get her a gift card to Macy’s if you have no imagination, but really cologne is a no no!  And while we’re on the personal stuff, lingere is for YOU, not for her!
4. Relsolve to speak less about yourself and more about her.  You’re probably a good father, husband, golfer, cook, driver, but you’re not the best, and you’re not better than EVERYONE else, and  you may not be better than her.  So, think of nice things to say, like when she’s driving, you know…”Thanks for keeping me from getting a DUI babe!”
5. Resolve to never complain about a meal.  This includes faces as well…don’t make them.  Brussel Sprouts are good for you, Man UP and eat them.  After all she may have slaved all day over the Brussel Sprout Souffle ya know!
6. Resolve to try on clothes when you’re shopping with her.  There are several reasons really, but mainly, it will piss her off majorly if you just grab a pair of jeans in your size and dash to Bon Qui Qui at the check out counter.  She wants to see them on you and make sure they fit…see Fashion Friday for advice on this one.  
7. Resolve not to be “the smartest guy in the room”, she probably knows more than you about many things, NEVER correct her, let her FINISH a sentence.  Just because you CAN finish each others sentences doesn’t mean  you should.
8. Reslove to do more around the house and NOT BRAG about it.  She probably has a “real” job too.  She probably would love for you to pick those skivvies off the floor and not expect a reward…tidyness isn’t an Olympic Sport, and you’re not Michael Phelps!
9. Resolve NEVER to criticize a new look.  Hair, make up (even if it’s clown make up), shoes (again, clown shoes), dress, halter top, Harley T-shirt….JUST DON”T DO IT.  She worked hard on the look, paid good money for it, and expects to reap the rewards.  Fake it buddy, she’s probably been for years!  AND LASTLY…
10. When she goes out and you’re stuck with  your own offspring…DO NOT REFER TO IT AS BABY SITTING.  It isn’t.  They’re yours, well, at least  you hope so!

Make it a smart New Year!

I realize, if you’re like most of us, someone else at home does the majority of the Christmas shopping.  i.e.  The Wife. 

But then, who’s gonna’ buy for her?

Ah, you are!

Women and men shop differently. 

Women have a list, on paper.

Men, a list in their head.  After all, one item isn’t that hard to remember now is it?

Women, have a budget.

Men, a credit card.

Women have a plan.

Men, they plan to go buy one gift, bring it home, have the kids wrap it, and moan about how crowded the convenience store was.

Women go to several stores, push everthing in the proper size back and rip through each item of clothing assessing it for quality, color, style, possibilty of use, and just how long it will be before it goes out of style.

Men, shop at eye level.  If it’s not in front of them, it’s not a target.

And that’s what things are for men, targets.

We’re Hunting.

We stalk the shirt, we hunt the shirt, we shoot the shirt, we take the shirt home.

Once we’re at home, we gut the shirt, we hang it up to drain (remove the paper, pins, cardboard in the collar and get the wrinkles out, cause Lord knows we ain’t gonna iron it) and then we wear our trophy to work or to play or to church the next day.

Or, we place it triumphantly under the tree…which we did not decorate!

Women shop.

Men hunt.

It’s Christmas time, Cammo anyone?

It has been brought to my attention that some of my faithful readers were blissfully unaware of  THE scandal that set THE standard for ALL scandals to come.  So, thank you Lori for pointing this out…and here goes.

Enter Debbie-Eddie-Liz-Richard.

We really have to start with Liz…or it just wouldn’t make sense.

First of all, I’m a big fan.  She’s a great actress and was a great beauty. 

She hates being called Liz.  She prefers Elizabeth.  He name is Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor Hilton Wilding Todd Fisher Burton Burton Warner Fortesnky.  She’s been married eight times to seven different men. 

She married Burton twice…more on that later.

Elizabeth Taylor could have stopped acting after making National Velvet, and that would have been a huge contribution to the world of Cinema.  If you have not seen it, go rent it.  She was 12 years old.

But, she didn’t stop acting, her stage mother wouldn’t let her.

She went on to make some great movies and a few stinkers.  She won Academy Awards for Butterfield 8, which she hated and I loved, and for Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, which was great.

Her first husband was the heir to the Hilton Hotel Chain, Nicky Hilton, she was 18, he was in his late 20’s and turned out to be a wife beater and drinker.  They divorced within a year.  Nicky, BTW is the great uncle of Paris Hilton…need I say more?

Her second husband was a father figure, Michael Wilding, 20 years older, a midling actor from England.  They had two sons, both as good looking as their mother.  But, Liz and Michael divorced, he went back to England.

Enter Michael Todd…

Mike Todd was many things, but he wasn’t Mike Todd.  He was born Avrom Hirsch Goldbogen.  Yeah, I’d change my name too.  He was a huckster, carnival producer, Hollywood studio construction contractor, millionaire, bankrupt, Broadway producer, and cinema genius and Oscar winner for Around The World In 80 Days.  He founded the Cinerama Company which made and exploited Cinerama Movie production.   He also founded Todd-KO and Todd Art companies.

Then he met, wooed, and married Liz. 

They were madly in love according to her and anyone who knew them. 

On March 22, 1958, he was killed in a plane crash while flying in his plane, the Lucky Liz.

I guess it wasn’t so lucky.

Enter Eddie Fisher…

Eddie Fisher was a singer, actor, husband to Debbie Reynolds and father of Carrie and Todd (named after Mike).  Fisher was the best man at the Mike Todd/Liz Taylor wedding.

He was Mike Todd’s best, and sometimes only friend.

He played the part of consoling the “Widow Todd”.

His wife,

Debbie Reynolds was America’s Sweetheart at the time.  She played Tammy and other sugary sweet roles in some excellent movies.  She was a huge star and bigger than most of the female stars we have today.  My younger readers (and thank you so much for being there) will know her as Grace’s mother, Bobby on TVs Will and Grace, which should have been called Karen and Jack if you ask me.

Debbie was the mother of two, Liz was the widow, and Eddie was the good looking, best friend, “gee honey, I’d better go check on Liz” kinda guy, every one liked.

His trips to Liz’s place led to an affair, and the rest was history.  Huge story, big coverage, Liz was painted as “THE Other Woman”, Debbie was the injured party, Eddie was a schmuck, and on and on and on.

Well, Debbie divorced Eddie, Eddie moved in with Liz, and then they got married.

The pressure was so much they went to Paris so Liz could make a movie and they could get away from the heat in the US.

It didn’t work.

While in Paris, Walter Wagner of Twentieth Century Fox wanted Liz to be Cleopatra.  THE Cleopatra of Egypt and history that we all know and love so well.

Liz was much prettier.

But, she didn’t want to do the film.

By this time, Eddie had become her nanny, helper, personal assistant, gofer, and secretary. 

 He took all the calls.  He was on the horn with Walter or one of his gofers and told Liz, “he wants you to play Cleopatra.”

Liz, who did not want the role said, “Tell him I’ll do it for a Million Dollars.” 

Wagner, said yes.

Liz became the first woman to get a Million Bucks for a movie and she became, literally, became Cleopatra.

The movie starred half of Hollywood, including Rex Harrison as Caesar, cost a record breaking $44 million, which with adjusted numbers, made it the most expensive movie of all time, until Pirates Of The Caribbean: The World’s End came along and shoved it out of the way.  Liz’s salary eventually soared to $7 million.  Fox went bankrupt, Wagner got fired, it was a crap storm of major proportions. 

A young and handome Welsh actor was chosen to play Marc Antony.

Enter Richard Burton…

While filming, Liz fell for Richard.  He hated her at first.  He said, “She’s so dark, she probably shaves.”   But he charmed her any way, calling her a “very pretty girl”.

Nice guy.

But, he was hunky, charming, etc, and she fell for him, since she was “never really in love with Eddie.”

Oops!

It was the Scandal of all time.  The Italian Press and Richard himself referred to it as “Le Scandale”.

The Pope condemned the movie since Elizabeth Taylor was a “wanton homewrecker.”  The Vatican also accused her of “erotic vagrancy”.  She was so pissed, she actually checked to see if she could SUE the Vatican!!  

Such fun!

But, Liz decided to live her life “her way”.  Dumped Eddie and married Richard just as soon as his divorce was final from his wife Sybil.

See, I told you it was a mess…I’d forgotten about poor Sybil.

So, back in Italy, where they were filming the movie Cleopatra, Dick and Liz were cavorting all over town.  The paparazzi were born and the rest is history.

This picture was shocking back in 1963 when UP was only eleven! 

It was a total scandal.

But, alas, love did not last for Liz and Dick, after a few movies, fights, jewelry shopping sprees that would make anyone go crazy, they divorced.

Hope was reborn when they were re-married a while later…but that one ended as well.

The paparazzi never gave up.  The hounded Richard Burton even to his grave.  Liz was there, after the service to pay her respects to one of the men she loved.

And so were they.

So this my friends, is why we have the Paparazzi…and after all this, I think Tiger deserves a break!