Saying yes...

Flashback...

 

Parts is Parts...

Stop reading if female parts scare you...

Laura's and fish's posts, as well as political discourse, has brought back memories... memories of being a young, single woman in the city... with a very dismal and unreliable paycheck. I believe I was working freelance jobs along with two part-time jobs... but still, paying for medical care was an issue, so I went to one of the Planned Parenthood-inspired places. It was not officially PP, but was basically the same deal. You paid for what you could, and most prices were reasonable.

Even though we were well into the latter half of the 80's, this place was right out of the 70's. Lots of ferns, lots of paneling, lots of Free to Be... You and Me stuff on the walls. I was fine with FTB...YAM, but did not necessarily want it every time I went for a check-up. It got even worse once I had to go a little more often. You see, you could not get your beloved birth control pills if your blood pressure was too high. I am notorious for having low blood pressure, but when in this place, with all of the questions, all of the doubtful looks, mine would shoot sky-high.

"We'll give you a month's worth of birth control pills, but you  must come back and prove you're BP is ok!"

Before these visits I would chant... think of dolphins, think of dolphins, think of dolphins...

But when they'd come in to check me out and would ask something that merited a smart-ass answer, with me giving it, and them taking me seriously, my BP would shoot sky high. I knew the drill... take the woman, who may or may not be abused, to a dark room... and let her think of dolphins for 10 minutes. Test again.

Most of the time I could chill, and the Rx was mine.

There was one time though that 3 women came into the room and suggested it was time to get to know my body.

Huh?? I was in my 20's! I knew my body?? What do you mean?? Know my body??

They produced a plastic speculum and a mirror... I kid you not. I scanned the ferns for hidden cameras...

They told me no women truly owns herself until she can examine herself... see the beauty of her cervix. I told them I was fine with a hidden cervix. My cervix was doing what it needed to do and I also trusted the professionals who checked it out...

They took this 'no' as an issue. I was like, "No, you don't get it... I was raised by a very down to earth mother who was nurse and called a spade a spade. Sure, my father might have been a little squeamish about the workings of daughterly parts, but Mom was fully on board with open discussion. I don't have issues... in fact, I'd like to use my parts with the man I love, the man who doesn't beat me, the man who accepts me as I am... while I myself am accepting me as I am... OK?? Take the Pap test and let me be on my way!"

But they insisted... which I felt was incredibly wrong, but hey... I was at peace with my parts, and as I mentioned, wanted to freely use my parts, so I did it. Woo-hoo! Look at my cervix! Woo-hoo! Yay! It looks like... a cervix... Can I go now???

They tried to give me a speculum to take home, but I think I shocked them when I said I preferred the flesh variety. Fortunately, soon after, I got insurance and was able to go to a Dr, who never once suggested I get in touch with my cervix... a Dr who seemed to understand that I was hip to my stuff... but relied on a professional to look up under my chassis.

(Heh... when I go to add a link to type up above, TypePad says, "Insert Link"... See?? These are the kind of thoughts that got me into trouble at the Women's place!)

Procrastinating for a good cause....

Not sure whether the good cause is me, or Louis CK and his experiment, but who cares! I had $5 burning a hole in my pocket, a full cup of coffee, and the house is quiet. :) Besides, I could never say no to those crinkly, smiley eyes. Yeah, I bought the thing.

It lives...

Those of you who were around here back in late '06 might remember this post:

I can't even begin to explain

You know how sometimes you are so deeply involved in your daily existence and are probably not smiling as much as you should or thinking enough about people you adore and then out of nowhere, one of those people, from miles and miles away, does something so silly and so unexpected that you laugh like a hyena and suddenly feel 15 years younger??? That happened to me last night when I went to bed and heard something crinkly underneath my pillow. Yes, Grizzled helped with the plan, but the plan was formulated by someone else I lahve, someone who lives thousands of miles away.

I went to bed with a big honkin' smile on my face, a silly feeling in my heart and a vow to return the favor...

Laugh, did I laugh!

Those of you who were around here back in late '08 might remember I returned the favor:

Some of you may recall a post I did a couple of years ago about being the target of someone's twisted, yet much appreciated, humor. I vowed to get him back as I have done so many times over the past 22 years.

I did. :)

It took 2 years of patience, but the window appeared, the plan fell into place, and with catlike stealth, I lobbed the crinkly package back in his court. He was caught totally off guard and I am now officially back on guard.

It's been three years since I lobbed that crinkly package... I even ran across an old email the other day, the one I sent to his niece, asking if I got the package to her, could she slip it under his parents' tree in Detroit since he'd be going home (he lives in LA). Yes, it had been 3 years, I wondered if maybe it was done.

Last night Grizzled and I went out to dinner with longtime friends... friends we don't get to see enough of these days. It was fun, as it always is. After drinks, and dinner, and another round of drinks, Barb pulled out a wrapped gift. Crap. I had not brought anything, thinking gift-exchanging was not happening... but she assured me it was just something they had happened upon on, perhaps I could open it and we could share it for dessert. She pressed me to open it, which I did.

It was peanut brittle... not exactly what I would have thought of Barb to bring. I glanced across at Barb, who looked like the cat that ate the canary... I scanned my brain for any missed peanut brittle jokes that might have permeated our history, but could not come up with one. I continued to open the package... the factory-sealed package. I popped the plastic shrinkwrap with my fingernail and ripped it off, lifting the lid to see...

THE CRINKLY PACKAGE!!! (It doesn't even matter what the package is anymore... but it's still factory-sealed as well, and thus... crinkly.)

The restaurant was dark. It actually took me a moment to make sure I was seeing what I actually thought I was seeing. I was. I started laughing, veering directly into laugh/crying. Fortunately there was no peeing... Grizzled spied what was in the package and started laughing. Yes, the crinkly package had found its way back to me in the sneakiest of ways... in shrinkwrap no less! That weasel actually had the decoy peanut brittle box shrinkwrapped! I was awestruck, and filled with lahve...

So, it is in my court again... I will wait. I will wait years if need be... until the perfect time and method shows itself... and I'm thinking the peanut brittle box might have to be included... In the meantime, it's going on my shelf, in my office, so I can laugh every time I see it.

Breaking a monkey-hot sweat in Von's honor...

Yeah, I already broke a sweat with the post below, but was just sent this, by one of my lovely sisters.

That time of year!

And I'll post it again, next year... and the year after that... and the year after that...

Duh

I've been misunderstanding this commercial for months now... and the worst thing? When I realized what they were really saying, I told my family...

For months I heard, "And bodies, as solid as prawns!" Yes, prawns.

No, it didn't really make sense to me... everytime I heard it, I thought, hmmmm, I guess prawns are solid... kind of dense... especially if cooked the right way. They're probably really buff for their taxonomic group. I would have chosen a different description, but hey, I'm not writing the commercials, now am I???

Well, the other night, either my ears opened up, or the TV was loud enough, I heard what they were really saying, and it made perfect sense. What didn't make sense was that I confessed...

Because a good groaner should not go unnoticed...

And I realize herr doktor bimler casts these about as often and easily as my damn sow thistles spread their seeds, but still... every once in a while, one stands out.

In response to yesterday's post where I mentioned a student stating that I sounded stern, bimler dropped this little beauty into the comment box:

Strict art teachers leave no tone unsterned.

Ah yes... a groanfully beautiful use of punnery.

Laugh Did I Laugh...

One of my bestest friends in the world sent me something recently. He's good about that... always sending cards, always sending things that he thinks will make me laugh or that he knows I'll appreciate. I love them all. This time it was a photo... a blown up photo of one taken in a photo booth on a happy hour night very long ago. It made me laugh. It also made me breathe a sigh of relief that I came of age in a time when not everyone carried a camera... with instant posting capabilities... one's youthful indiscretions on display for the world to see. No, the only proof of a "good" night are foggy memories and a few cheesy photo booth pictures.

 

The Cherry on My Summer O' Crap Sundae

You get 7 inches of rain in two hours during the middle of the night... finish the scenario.

Bonus points for extra laughs. These supposedly once in a lifetime weather events that seem to happen once every 6-18 months are getting old.