Foibles to Hide the Visuals

A projected high of 41 is a certifiable HEAT WAVE in the Midwest after months of subarctic temps and mounds of delightfully despicable snow.  While I didn't break out the capris and flips (even though it IS the end of March) I shimmied into one of my favorite outfits.  The authentic brown retro dress floats down my (more and more so) curvy body.  The front has an extra little kick.  And the piece de resistance are the thigh highs and boots.  You may remember it from here:

Not me!  But I got my idea for the outfit from this pic!

I've worn it before with out a hitch.  Several times.  Today, not so much.  Today, it felt more like this:

You get the idea, right?

 


than this:

In my dreams.

When I walked more than three feet, they - the dastardly thigh highs -  gave me elephant knees before pooling at my ankles.  Imagine me walking down the hallways, a hand on each side of my thigh, grasping the elastic for dear life.  (It's okay, you can snicker.  Guffaw even if you must.)  The last time I was in this position was doing the polka at my first wedding.

No, they didn't play at ANY of my two million weddings.

I think there has to be some sort of extra cardio involved in all of that.  Shuffle Shuffle Grab! - Jen's Fashion Foible Carbio - only $19.99!  Not sold in stores!

Why am I telling you this?  Because I needed to get my mind off what I REALLY wanted to talk about - errr - show you today.  And that's this:

http://oliviacunning.wordpress.com/2013/03/27/hottie-hump-day-60/

Think of what I did for you up there as a preemptive cold shower.  If you didn't need it, you're not breathing!

Can I blame publicity?

Holy crap, I figured it out!

While I was bleaching my bathroom floor, thinking about the next nugget of NECESSARY knowledge that I was going to tweet out (which has been really really really hard this weekend due to the muzzle I've strapped on to keep my inner snark silenced - if you know me outside of this drivel, you'll know why this was necessary.  A topic I WON'T talk about - maybe more like CAN'T) like the fact that I was bleaching my bathroom floor, it CAME to me.

The reason.

The reason I'm single.

I read hundreds of passive aggressive Facebook statuses every day (did you think I was BORN this way?!).  That may be the ONLY category that outweighs the mushy statuses..."I'm at the DMV...with my love (tag reluctant boyfriend here)."  "OMG, my love breathed.  I'm SO in love."  "Awww, I'm ironing my love's underwear.  I KNOW there's a ring coming soon."  "I love (insert name here) so much I don't care when he farts."

If I was a valley girl, I'd say Gag Me with a Fucking Spoon.

But that HAS to be the issue.  My public job.  My penchant for publicity.  For all the dude knows, I'll publish the transcripts of the first phone sex call.  Shame on him.  (Oohh...wait. that's a GREAT idea!!)

TEASING.

I'm MUCH better on video.

I'm not 16.  or 23.  or 30.  I don't need to make my every romantic move known.  Case in point, who here knows the last time I actually went on a date?  Kissed a guy?  Had sex?

SEE?

Preaching to my 22 followers, I know.

And if someone here says I'm single for reasons OTHER than what I stated, you're disowned.

LA. DI. DA

A ton of my friends (well, in all honesty maybe only one or two, three at the most - it just sounds more dramatic to say a TON - oh, and cue the 'Adopt a Pet' stock music in three, two, one...) have been expressing concern lately that I am too jaded, too cynical, being too self-deprecating and making fun of myself too damn much.

I think that if you're good at something, REALLY REALLY good at something, you should keep doing it.  Unless it's snorting coke.  Then you should stop.  Or eating deodorant.  Yep, you should stop.

Making fun of myself is on my short list of things I do REALLY REALLY well.  And like the other things I do REALLY REALLY well, I'd like to keep doing it.

Not to mention, there's a new word out there that ya'll should keep in mind.  SARCASM.  The 'c' sounds like a 'k' for you newbies and it ends in -asm, just like one of my all time favorite words.

Come to think of it, my other favorite -asm word is both a noun AND a verb!  How did I get so lucky?!?!

But because these TON of  people are my friends, I wrote them a little ditty:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

No need for a straight jacket

Any time soon.

Oh, and...

Pbllllffffttt!

It's sweet that they're concerned and all, so to show my appreciation, there will be a detour today from the normal content of this blog while we enjoy some f#@king kittens and rainbows.

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty, Drank up all the wine...BAD KITTY!

And because you deserve it, a bonus UNICORN!  Score!

Cheek: n: resting place of tongue

Most times, I feel like I should be flattered when someone says, "My gosh!  Why aren't the men lining up to date you?!"  That means that I am camouflaging myself well.  I've hidden myself (mentally) among the cat-loving, jumper-wearing mildly crazy ladies.  (no offense cat ladies...or those of  you that still wear jumpers).

But those of you wearing jumpers?  You should really quit that.

I get asked all the time WHAT'S WRONG WITH THESE MEN?!

My two ex-husbands take offense to that.  Or they might, if they actually cared.  Which they don't.

Here's what's wrong with the men in the world.  They are pretty freaking smart.  (GOD, don't tell them I said that.  Their egos are amazingly insufferable.)  Okay, not ALL men.  Just the men in my radiating circle.  It's like there was some memo passed along that I wasn't copied on.  Something like this (oh crap - this second the cat in my life decided that she likes me and is licking my wrist.  I must be emitting the 'desperate' pheromones.)  Okay - back to the memo:

DATE:   July 10, 1971
TO:  All potential men in the future life of Jenifer Elizabeth Marr
FROM:  Your Fairy God-Parent
RE:  She's going to be a whack-job.

Dear Men:

You don't know her yet, but you will.  She'll bounce in your life, pretending to be all fun and fresh and smart and funny (well, that part's true).  You'll either want to go bowling with her or kiss her immediately.  Um.  As long as she's wearing socks with the bowling shoes, that's fine.  The kissing?  Not.  I don't have all of the reasons yet, but I will.

There are a lot of pros to her, I'm not gonna lie.  But the hot mess 2 weeks a month?  Is that REALLY worth it?  Let's dissect.  During week one, she'll be drinking red wine, eating chocolate (unless it's Lent and then you're REALLY screwed) and crying to every Tom and Jerry episode.  (Oh WHY doesn't Tom just leave Jerry alone??!!)  And the other week?  UMMM - In This Moment, Dead Sara and Halestorm on constant shuffle and she's mentally planning orgies with all of them.  The other two weeks?  Remember what they said about a woman's 'peak?'  Yeah.  Run for cover.  Unless you're a 19 year old male ready to go.

And then there's the fact that she has had horrendous taste in men.  So what does that say about you?

If you're unfortunate enough to be an Aquarian - screw it - don't even try.  She will be very narrowly-minded about not dating anyone under that sign (after she's married two and almost married one).  Funny, that will be one of her ONLY rules that she stands by.  She will have modeled, but will be intimidated by 'pretty boys.'  She'll like songs with titles of "Whore" and "Crazy Bitch" but will get offended if you call her such (unless it's under intimate circumstances.  Wink Wink.)

A conundrum, our JEM will be.

Oh, I hear you thinking, "But I will bring her around.  My birthday is February 11th but will show her that we aren't all bad.  I will give her the world."  STOP.  Even if you're not an Aquarian, I'm here to tell you to instinctively to back away.  Sure, she'll smell good - will develop a penchant for peach and chocolate fragrances.  She'll be able to place a hand on your arm and make you feel like you moved the world. But you need to let her be.

More reasons why -

She'll be evil, wicked even.  She'll have to wear makeup to make herself 'presentable'; clothes to hide her 'flaws'.  (Eve, how we miss you - before you gave into the serpent, of course).  She'll long to do karaoke, show her silly side but knows she never will.  She'll stock up on batteries because she will think she has to.

She'll think that she'll never find the right person that will want her as she is.  And she's right - because she'll never be brave enough to take a chance.  So just give up before you start.  She won't need you to save her.

***

Sigh...  I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge with his Ghost of Christmas Past...  But even HE was given another chance.  I feel a revival coming on.