Thursday, October 25, 2007

Good fun or psychological profiling
…you decide

Fact/Habit/Embarrassment 1: I think it comes from years of dorm-apartment-dwelling sharing, but I have serious compulsive issues when it comes to the order of things and house cleaning. I MUST vacuum everyday (a wild day for me is not making the bed). Even the items in the ‘fridge must face the “right” direction (out and perpendicular). My master bath resembles one you’d find in a fresh hotel room. The towels are perfect.

Fact/Habit/Embarrassment 2: I iron all, and I mean all, of my clothes and pretty much wash everything after just one wear. I feel best when I’m “crisp”.

Fact/Habit/Embarrassment 3: I’m 5’8 yet always say I’m 5’8 and-a-half. I have absolutely no idea why.

Fact/Habit/Embarrassment 4: I cannot, on the first try and without giving it a bit of thought, properly say the word “specific”. Comes out as “se-speci-fic”.

Fact/Habit/Embarrassment 5: This may both be fact and/or embarrassment, but I really do care what other people think about me.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

The Vagina Chronicles

Thumbing through the newest Rolling Stone last night, “The 2007 Hot Issue” with Kid Rock on the cover, I came across the article, "Hidden Tribes of the Amazon", a look at the primitive culture of the South American rain forest. The photography is stunning, in sepia rich tones, showing daily life and age-old ritual...and vaginas. Well-groomed for ancient culture young vaginas. Or, shall I say, there is little bush in the rain forest.

The photos accompanying the article include many of men of the tribe, twig and berries strategically covered with, well, what looks like twig and berries. A large photo (a two-page spread, in fact) depicts Xingu girls, preparing for "The Dance of Life", upper and nether regions in full view. There's no misleading shadow or odd angle. It is vagina. The girls are young and attractive, with heavy bangs and long silky hair, adored in a string of beads and something akin to a thin hip scarf. It could have been an X-rated shoot from “America’s Next Top Model”. One page over there's a smaller photo of a chief and his youngest daughter. She looks to be five or six. Her genitalia is clearly visible.

As any boy will tell you, the first ever peek of boobie may have come from the pages of National Geographic, the seal-noised, somewhat saggy variety, but boob none the less. And I've seen shows on the Discovery Channel where the old dangling penis or bouncing ball sack makes a brief appearance. It’s a tribal, cultural norm. I find it odd and out of place in this magazine. Since my Stone came via subscription and before issues hit newsstands, I wonder if the piece will begat controversy.

On an odd note, supermarket chains in Colorado display Cosmopolitan only with a large blinder covering the cover model and her sexy attire. Too much cleavage.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

The long and short of it

I've learned to listen to messages sent from the universe since the day it shouted NONONO to sky-diving by crashing a small plane hundreds of yards down the air strip as I geared up for a tandem leap (true story). Saturday, the universe sent messages of change. Over and over. In every song, every commercial, every interaction. So I cut off my hair.

I've had very long hair most of life, from childhood on up. I like it and it suits me and is one of me better features. I have good hair. When you've had long hair more often than not, the mere act of removing it leads to odd reactions. Years ago, I took the hair past my shoulder blades up to a fab, modern bob, falling just inches below the ear at its longest point. The women in my office LOVED it; they sent instant messages from down the hall and a building over. I got phone calls. I inspired those who “wished they had the courage to do it themselves" to take it off (one came to work a day later, sans hair). The men? Most look concerned. One asked if I was "okay". Wanted to know if I was sad or had broken up with someone or “needed to talk”. I had sacrificed my lush auburn locks in order to deal with some pain. I was "cutting”.

Is it because some men lose their hair that so many prefer women with flowing locks? Is it a form of reverse penis envy?

True, some shear locks to say goodbye to the past and signify a new beginning. Many faiths believe bad energy and ju-ju is released in the cutting and shedding of hair. I was bored.

So my auburn Reese Witherspoon long locks (hers was the last style I rocked, none of it extensions) have been reduced by about 5 inches with the Alyson Hannigan, Season 3 HIMYR. Pretty "short" for me. I even took my natural red to darker cinnamon/dark red combo. I'm loving the color. Makes me blue eyes pop.

As I played with and messed my tresses in the shop mirror, my hairdresser said it was “sexy". She's lesbian. Maybe I'll get the same reaction with players on my own team. Or maybe she just thought I was vulnerable.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

What the Fob?

The key to my car has become the bane of my existence. I never imagined something as simple as a device whose sole function is to initiate access to and movement of a vehicle would take up as much energy as me Fob.

When did the car key become so over exaggerated? The key to my 2004 Honda Accord is more than a key. It’s the remote-access-entry-system-locking-mechanism-combo, so large and bulky I think if I dialed the buttons in the correct order and quick succession, I could make a phone call on it.

I admit, the all-in-one access is somewhat useful, however I continue to search high and low for a key ring to fit the damn thing. I squeeze, maneuver, twist and force the plastic casing “Fob hole” around any standard key ring, and it sits stuck upright like a key erection. There is no graceful jingle and jangle. Each attempt to attach it to a ring wears down the casing, scratching and peeling it away; soon I fear the "Fob hole" will break away from the unit entirely, leaving a remote control type unit to carry about like a tin of Altoids. And did I mention in case of lose, wear or damage, a replacement Fob costs close to $100? It’s a KEY!!

As a single key gal, I pity those who contend with one, two or more on a ring. Add the house, mail and work keys to the loop and you look like Schneider from One Day a Time. Men, how do you fit it in your pants pocket? Do the ladies pay odd attention to your nether regions? Must look like a third testicle in there. Gone are the days I could easily slip me house and car key into the bra, jeans pocket or knee-high boot for an evening out, no purse required. Now I'm packin' too.

But, I'm off to the gym. Now...where did I leave my keys?

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