Please tell me I'm not "middle aged!"

I was sitting in the dentist's office recently with Bella, who was in for a cleaning, and I picked up a magazine I'd never seen before. "MORE" was the name of the magazine, and its target audience is women over 40.

I thought to myself, "Hey, that's me! I'm over 40." And then I thought, "FUCK, that's ME. I'M over 40!" And I sank into a depression. I'm over 40. I've been over 40 for several years. What happened to my 20s? Where did my 30s go? How did I get here...over 40? It sucks and don't like it one bit. And as it turned out, I didn't like the magazine aimed at my peeps either. It was a little frightening to me. Check out some of the articles on its website this month...

"The Best Summer Tunics Under $100." A couple of things bug me about this... (A) Who the hell needs a tunic in summertime? It's hot out! For me, the less clothes, the better. (B) Who spends $100 on a tunic anyway? (C) The word tunic makes me cringe, so I don't want one at any price. It makes me think "old lady shirt" and I can't handle that! Which brings me to (D) Who the fuck said women over 40 need to wear tunics?!

"Why Middle-Aged Lovers Have More Fun in Bed." Ugh. Am I middle aged at 40-something?! And if so, do I need to up my game in the sack? I'd better trot on over to Cosmo and check out the "14 Sex Moves You've Never Heard Of" or the "75 Crazy-Hot Sex Moves." If I'm going to have more fun in bed, I want it to be crazy hot and unheard of!

"Menopause and Your Looks." I'd rather not know what menopause is going to do to me or my looks. I'll just wait and see what happens. I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda gal. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll be fighting it with lotions, potions, cosmetics and hairspray. And maybe some liposuction, or a boob lift. We'll see how it goes.

"10 Great Jobs for Midlife Women." There we go with the middle aged shit again! It's like torture to read and consider. And the jobs are a number of high-profile, high-experience positions, like Chief Environmental Officer. Mmmm-k! Don't I need to be some type of subordinate environmental officer first? And then there's Genetics Counselor. Seriously? I can do that? Even though I don't know anything about genetics? Or counselling? OK, sign me up!

I was excited to see the link "Anti-Aging" because I thought, whew, finally some good stuff! And do you know what I found? "My Bladder Makeover." Jesus, I don't even know what to say about that. I'm sure the article has something to do with almost peeing your pants when you sneeze and doing Kegel exercises to combat leakage.

"My Divorce Tale" and "Quickie Divorce, Ranch Style" and "Single Again, Now What?" don't sound very uplifting. (Note to self: Re-read the aforementioned Cosmo articles.)

I thought "Weekend Fashion Essentials" might be a perky, upbeat article but the first essential was an ugly purse followed by a broken image of a pair of must-have sandals. Now I'm pissed that I won't know if I really do need the sandals.

The link for "Health" provided some of the scariest shit I dared to read. Breast cancer, pregnancy over 40, heart disease, mental health, osteoporosis...

MY GOD, MAKE IT STOP!!

I'm sure MORE magazine means well, and that they have a ton of subscribers, but man, I just don't know if it's for me. What do they even mean by "more"? More what?! More frightening shit about aging than you've ever imagined?!

I am going into "middle age" kicking and screaming; I am NOT aging gracefully, that's for sure. I wear a toe ring. I want to pierce my belly button. I drink and I swear. I lie about my age. I adore lip gloss, and lots of it. I drive a red Mustang. I stay on top of the latest technology. I listen to hip hop to maintain my street cred. Where is the devil when I need him? I need to make a deal! I don't know what I've got to offer (back to the Cosmo articles, LOL), but somebody, please make me young again! I can't take it anyMORE.




--Mom

No love for the primates

Have you seen this video from CNN?

Man, those little fuckers freak me out. They're like furry little car-jacking felons! I'm surprised they didn't pop a cap in the videographer's ass and hoist the car up onto blocks so they could chop his ride for parts. Remind me to stay out of that monkey ghetto!

I have a serious aversion to monkeys and apes.

IMO, they're all yellow-teethed, nose-picking, bug-eating, ass-scratching, shit-flingers. I don't think there's anything cute or charming about them. Remember Travis, the 200-pound chimp that attacked a Connecticut woman and ate her face off? I think the owner should have been shot right along with the chimp. An animal of that size should have been returned to the wild or kept in a facility, not allowed near people or behind the wheel of a car.

Have you heard about those restaurant monkeys in Japan that serve drinks?

That is SO wrong! I do NOT want those bug-eating shit-flingers bringing me drinks in a restaurant. What if you don't tip them well enough? Will you get a face full of monkey poo?! Will one of 'em chew your face off? ~shudder~

Personally, there are a couple of primates that I dislike more than others: chimpanzees, proboscis monkeys and orangutans.

Check out that proboscis monkey in the middle. Does he remind you of anyone?

Jimmy Durante

I have nothing against Jimmy Durante, but admit it, he's got that monkey look about him! Poor, unfortunate bastard.

--Mom

A big hairy deal

Something must be wrong in my subconscious, because I recently had TWO dreams about shaving. Shaving badly, to be precise! I must be secretly worried that I'm not doing right.

The first dream centered around a patch of hair I'd apparently missed for, like, 30 years. The spot was on my right leg, approximately 3 inches around, just above my outer ankle bone. It was long and bushy, like pubes, down near my ankle. HOW could I have missed that my whole adult life? I was horrified in my dream. I remembering thinking that EVERYONE must have seen that nasty shit, and NO ONE told me! Not even my own husband! WTF?

Within a day or two I dreamt about a wad of hair under my left arm inside my bra strap. There it was, a shrub of hair branching out from inside my bra! Had I been to the pool in a swimming suit with that scary stuff?! AND the patch down by my ankle? Jesus, what must the neighbors think of me?! How could I have possibly missed that while shaving? And when did I become such a hairy Sasquatch?

I really hope I don't have any more hairy dreams. They're quite unsettling, and I'm starting to feel a little paranoid. That amount of hairy is decidedly NOT sexy.

What do you suppose it all means?

--Mom

5 for Friday...That's gross

The theme for today's "5 for Friday" is....Things That Gross Me Out. Ready? Because I think these are pretty grody...

5. Farts. I don't really need to explain that, do I?

4. Nasty toenails, in sandals, trotted out in public where God and everyone can see them. If feet are not cared for, they really need to be inside a shoe when near me.

3. Monkeys. I know I've alluded to it already, but I'll tell you why another day. Monkeys, to me, are nasty.

2. At the grocery store, I once saw a kid stick his hand down his pants, and then sniff his fingers. Next, he shoved his hand up in his sister's face. I nearly vomited. It was probably the most messed up thing I've *EVER* seen. I contemplated making this number one on my list.

But my number one gross out...

1. That super absorbent maxi pad that comes packaged under meat in it's Styrofoam tray. To me, it just screams SALMONELLA!! BOTCHULISM!! E COLI!!!

True story....I cooked that damn thing in the crock pot once. It was stuck to the bottom of a roast and I didn't realize it. ~gag~

What grosses you out??

--Mom

Note to men: Wear clothes outside!

Well, it happened again this morning. I saw another neighbor in his underwear. The guy diagonally across the street from us was having a cigarette in his driveway, wearing sandals, navy blue boxers and a white wife-beater tank top. Not really a good look at 7:20 a.m.!

Why does this keep happening to me? This is the third neighbor, in three different homes, who I’ve seen in his undies. And I want to know WHY? Why was I hand selected by God to witness such atrocities?

In our townhouse, I looked out the master bedroom window to see Calvin, outside on his deck slurping down his morning coffee and reading his paper, in nothing but white boxer shorts. No shirt, no shoes, no fuckin’ way!

That was my first experience with scantily clad male neighbors, but little did I know, it wouldn’t be my last. :-/

A few years later, while living in our crazy contemporary house in granola-ville, I came upon Billie while walking our dog early one morning. Billie had run out to his car for something, wearing nothing but purple skivvies and slippers. Ugh! Billie was about 30 years older than I with white pasty bird legs, a belly bulge that put him at about 6 months pregnant, and a carpet of grey chest hair. Lemme tell ya, it was not a turn on! I wanted to pop my eyeballs out and scrub them with steel wool, that’s how horrifying the experience was. Thank God he didn’t see me, because Jesus, what does one say to a near-naked neighbor? “Hey hot stuff, you got it goin’ ON!” didn’t seem appropriate, because...it wasn’t accurate. (Why me, God? Why?!)

So then this morning outside house #3 there was Merroon, in his wife-beater, boxers and sandals, smokin’ a ciggie. I just shook my head and thought, “Of course he’s in his underwear. It’s my destiny.” I probably wouldn’t mind so much if my neighbors were hotter. Next time we move, I really need to be a little choosier about the folks we live near. Because I just *know* it’s going to happen again! I’ll be outside, early in the morning, and some jackass will be out there half naked. So I'd really like it if he looked like Adonis next time.

Does this happen to anyone else, or am I just lucky? (And not in a good way.)

--Mom