Slacks…britches…pants…trousers…dungarees…jeans.
Oh my, who doesn’t love a good pair of jeans? I remember as a teenager wearing Levi’s 501 button fly jeans. There was a big tag on the back, right hip that gave the dimensions (I think I have been in real estate too long) of the jeans. W27 L34 - ie Waist 27 Length 34. I thought it would even be cooler (because I was already so cool sport a Members Only jacket) to take a ball point pen and scratch out the waist measurement. Now why on earth would I do that considering I was as skinny as a stick of macaroni back then?
There were also Sasson jeans. “Ooo…la…la…Sasson.” Gloria Vanderbilt’s. Calvin Klein’s. “Nothing comes between me and my Calvin’s.” Guess and Gerbaud.
My favorite pair of jeans were Guess. They had pockets, both in the front and back, that were shaped like big ½ moons and were lined with some cool, soft leather. God, I loved those jeans! They were expensive at the time - a pricey $60. I know that because I bought them myself after many summer hours of serving Skittle Scrambles and Fried Chicken Steak to the locals at Country Kitchen.
I made one very crucial mistake, however, when I purchased these beautiful jeans. I bought them right before I left for college. Sure, I heard the horror stories of girls leaving for college and coming back for the Holidays carrying an extra 15 pounds on them. Oh, the “Freshman 15”…that won’t happen to me…I thought! I would resist the tempting all-you-can-eat ice cream bar located in the cafeteria…I wouldn’t drink fattening beer or eat late at night after consuming copious amounts of said fattening beer. I will participate in the nightly aerobics class instead.
Well all that went to Hell within the first few weeks of college. There is just something about being on your own for the very first time that you feel you can do whatever you want without any ramifications.
Sadly my Guess jeans started getting tighter and tighter and pretty soon trying to fit into my jeans was similar to trying to shove a marshmallow in a piggy bank. Eventually the once cool leather tore. Not having the heart to retire the jeans quite yet, my mother (the consummate master of anything to do with the fabric store) replaced the leather with some more substantial fabric (no not kryptonite…I said fabric, people!). Eventually, much to my chagrin, I was no longer able to strut around campus in my beloved Guess jeans.
Even though jeans are as close to the perfect clothing article as a Speedo is for Michael Phelps, there is one place that, I feel, it is completely unsuitable to be wearing jeans yet I have seen them worn here more than once.
I am talking about the gym. In the past couple of weeks, I have seen grown men (yes that’s plural) working out in jeans. I will cut one guy, who was wearing jean shorts, a little bit of slack but not much because he was still at the gym for goodness sakes!
I mean, I am no fashion expert but really…jeans to the gym? Stop it!
10.20.2011
10.12.2011
Fortyish
Sometimes I forget my age.
I mean I still get greasy hair (what’s with that?), I have small boobs that look like I am still pubescent, I rock out to 80’s music and I still get an occasional zit. But then I am quickly reminded that I am officially 44 years old when I sneeze and pee myself. Not a complete, wet-my-pants pee but enough to bum me out.
I also noticed that I seem to be hard of hearing lately. My friend, who happens to be my neighbor, came over the other day to just chat. After conversing (or as some people say conversating which really isn’t a word) for a while she asked if she could use my biffy. There is always that sheer panic when someone wants to use my toilet unannounced. I hope the last person in there remembered to flush everything down as I have unfortunately been met with a surprise every now and then.
Upon finishing, my neighbor ran out of my bathroom yelling, “I have to go…my undies are on fire!”
“What?” I asked concerned.
“My UNDIES are on fire!” she yelled again as she ran out my front door.
She had white pants on because it was in between Memorial and Labor Day so I looked at her arse as she ran across the street and into her yard. It didn’t look like her undies where on fire. But I thought if she did have a bad case of the hemorrhoids maybe I wouldn’t notice by just looking at her fanny. I personally don't have any experience with hemorrhoids but once a friend told me that she had such a bad case of them when she was pregnant that her buttocks actually got stuck to the bottom of her bathtub. I guess they acted like suction cups. Ouch!
Later when I saw my neighbor, I asked why her undies were on fire…I mean I like to know those things as long as you don’t get too graphic.
She laughed. “Oh my God, not my undies, you Ding Ding! My ONIONS! My onions where on fire! I left them frying on the stove!”
Whew…I was relieved for her!
I think my husband, who is also 44, is having problems with his hearing too. The other day, I asked him to let the dog in. A few minutes went by and I looked out the window and she was still out. So I asked him, “Why didn’t you let Millie in?”
“Because she didn’t want to come in,” he answered with his head in the refrigerator.
Now I know that isn’t true because she was now whining outside the window, so I decided that I would just have to do it myself. I guess I sent a boy to do a man's job!
There she was, her chain wrapped around a rock, waiting for me to rescue her.
“Silly head,” I said to my husband as I came into the kitchen with the dog happily running alongside me, “she couldn’t make it to the door because her chain was wrapped around a rock!”
“Did you say you wanted to suck my cock?” he said with a smirk on his face.
HAHA…he is definitely experiencing some very serious hearing problems!
I mean I still get greasy hair (what’s with that?), I have small boobs that look like I am still pubescent, I rock out to 80’s music and I still get an occasional zit. But then I am quickly reminded that I am officially 44 years old when I sneeze and pee myself. Not a complete, wet-my-pants pee but enough to bum me out.
I also noticed that I seem to be hard of hearing lately. My friend, who happens to be my neighbor, came over the other day to just chat. After conversing (or as some people say conversating which really isn’t a word) for a while she asked if she could use my biffy. There is always that sheer panic when someone wants to use my toilet unannounced. I hope the last person in there remembered to flush everything down as I have unfortunately been met with a surprise every now and then.
Upon finishing, my neighbor ran out of my bathroom yelling, “I have to go…my undies are on fire!”
“What?” I asked concerned.
“My UNDIES are on fire!” she yelled again as she ran out my front door.
She had white pants on because it was in between Memorial and Labor Day so I looked at her arse as she ran across the street and into her yard. It didn’t look like her undies where on fire. But I thought if she did have a bad case of the hemorrhoids maybe I wouldn’t notice by just looking at her fanny. I personally don't have any experience with hemorrhoids but once a friend told me that she had such a bad case of them when she was pregnant that her buttocks actually got stuck to the bottom of her bathtub. I guess they acted like suction cups. Ouch!
Later when I saw my neighbor, I asked why her undies were on fire…I mean I like to know those things as long as you don’t get too graphic.
She laughed. “Oh my God, not my undies, you Ding Ding! My ONIONS! My onions where on fire! I left them frying on the stove!”
Whew…I was relieved for her!
I think my husband, who is also 44, is having problems with his hearing too. The other day, I asked him to let the dog in. A few minutes went by and I looked out the window and she was still out. So I asked him, “Why didn’t you let Millie in?”
“Because she didn’t want to come in,” he answered with his head in the refrigerator.
Now I know that isn’t true because she was now whining outside the window, so I decided that I would just have to do it myself. I guess I sent a boy to do a man's job!
There she was, her chain wrapped around a rock, waiting for me to rescue her.
“Silly head,” I said to my husband as I came into the kitchen with the dog happily running alongside me, “she couldn’t make it to the door because her chain was wrapped around a rock!”
“Did you say you wanted to suck my cock?” he said with a smirk on his face.
HAHA…he is definitely experiencing some very serious hearing problems!
10.05.2011
21 years
Twenty-one years ago on a warm and sunny autumn day, much like today, we both (happily) said “I do”.
And quite a ride it has been, my friend! A whopping 7,665 days; some better and some definitely worse, some richer and some poorer, some in sickness and some in health but through it all, I still love & adore you and think you are the funniest man alive! Here’s to us…
And quite a ride it has been, my friend! A whopping 7,665 days; some better and some definitely worse, some richer and some poorer, some in sickness and some in health but through it all, I still love & adore you and think you are the funniest man alive! Here’s to us…
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