Happy Birthday Willie Shakes

Just this morning I quoted “all the world’s a stage” to a friend. A discussion ensued which wound up with us using Google to prove I was right in that the line was from “As You Like It” and not from “Love’s Labour Lost”. That in turn became a discussion of just how Shakespeare’s words have infiltrated our lives.

Few of us get through the education system without gleaning some basic knowledge of the man, well at least a couple of his works. Even if one cannot quote any other line from say, Hamlet; even if one does not know the name of the tragedy itself, one is still familiar with “…to be or not to be…”  I still remember the magical moment in fourth grade upon realizing wherefore actually meant why and how that one little thing completely changed the context of “…wherefore art thou Romeo?”. It taught me to always look deeper than the words on the page, because as Led Zeppelin perfectly states ’cause you know sometimes words have two meanings. Still, thanks to my southern upbringing, I knew what being “a sorry sight” meant long before I ever heard the name William Shakespeare and was destined to enjoy more of his magical verbiage.

Think about it. Most of his words which we quote without thought, were written for plays – for mere entertainment. Think about how so much of it has transcended from Elizabethan times to now, without one iota of loss in their overall meanings. Talk about staying power! Many of us remember little of what we’re taught regarding the actual history of those times. Well, little of history in general, to be honest. Yet all of us quote him more than we can ever imagine, even if we do not realize the words are his.

I’ll quote someone else for a moment and paraphrase Edward Bulwer-Lytton: the might of the pen, indeed!

In the midst of the above mentioned Google search I also discovered today, April 23rd, is William Shakespeare’s birthday.

Willie Shakes, as I quite tongue-in-cheekily like to refer to the Bard, would be 449 years old. In honor of the man who likely has had the biggest influence on many of the colloquialisms that continue to spice our language I post the following:

Shakespeare Words

* click to see full size *

Happy 449th Birthday William Shakespeare!!

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old”
— Shakespeare Sonnet 104
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Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 23, 2013

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
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Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 16, 2013

In Love With A Guy – Well, Several Million

Have I mentioned how much I love I have for the human male species at the moment?

In the past few days I have witnessed, viewed or were directly told / know about…

Witnessed:

A friend and I were window shopping. As we were not in a particular rush, we strolled behind an elderly woman using a walker in front of us. A teenager, apparently not happy at the rate of speed we were moving, huffed and rushed around my friend and I to our left. However, the elderly woman decided to move to the left at the same time.  Somehow the teenager’s foot caught the leg of the walker effectively wrenching it from the woman’s hands and causing her to tumble forward. The only reason she did not fall flat on her face was because my friend and I both grabbed her at the same time, steadying her.  Still it was jarring for her. The teen mouthed off an obscenity as he just shy of threw the walker in our general direction and kept going.

I was about to call out something related to his upbringing, or rather the lack thereof when the teen suddenly dropped to the ground. I looked up and saw a very strong-arm extended straight out. The arm belonged to a gentleman, perhaps in his mid-30’s, who had clotheslined the teen. The man then grabbed the teen by the back of his coat and marched him back towards us. I never saw the man’s mouth move, or heard anything, but he clearly had said something to the teen between dropping him and lifting him. The elderly woman, my friend and I were near flabbergasted as the teen picked-up the walker, stood it properly in from of the elderly woman and apologized to all three of us, but especially the elderly woman. And where one would have expected him to be belligerent or at least sullen, he was actually contrite in his apology.  Once the gentleman let go of the teen’s collar, the teen made another quick apology and walked away. The gentleman gave us a short salute and a nod, which looked almost like tip of a hat, except he wore none and merely walked away without a word to us, not even acknowledging our effusive thanks.

I have no idea if the man and teen knew each other. It was a situation that could have become; really bad, really fast if the teen had chosen to fight. Instead we had a wonderful example that a) chivalry is not dead and b) that there is hope for the future, as at least some can be corrected of the error of their ways, at least in regard to manners.

Viewed on Facebook:

Several companies in an area share the local diner. After some time everyone gets to know the regulars even those that work for other companies. K, a person I am already proud to call a friend was shocked  when a fellow diner not only openly admits to watching child pornography that he “found”. There was no shame in his actions.  K’s co-workers were aghast, but not wanting to confront to issue were trying to exit out of the sickening conversation.   However there was soon regret when the scumbag begins to speak of the little girl in the found cache in terms that should never be used with a child and finds himself slammed into a wall with K’s fist drawn back, ready to deliver what I’m sure would have been one hell of a blow.  In a complete Murphy’s Law move, that would be the moment K’s boss spies the situation.

Long story-short: K still has a job and the police were called on Mr. Scumbag. As I commented on Facebook, we need so many more like K, who will not only be instantly enraged by such, but will take the perpetrator to task and actually Do Something.

Told / know about:

  • The love and kindness of two adult sons dealing with parents who are taking their final bows.
  • Three marriage proposals, two of them very creative (B, it was about time! G and J, well done guys, well done!)
  • One husband’s very enthusiastic reaction upon discovering he’s about to become a father. (So much awe E, so much awwww ♥.)
  • A, you know what and why, much props to you.

So with March, and thus Women’s History Month fast approaching, while we’re still in the month of love and I’m still in such a gregarious mood, I just want to give some love out to all my male friends in particular but spread some love out to the rest of you guys too.

Just try not to make me lose this feeling for you all before the week is out okay? 😉

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

A Stark Raivenne Mad Fat Girl In A Victoria’s Secrets World

A few of my friends will recognize the following event as it actually happened quite some time ago. However, in the hustle and bustle of this holiday season as I found myself in a very similar situation yet again, I have to tell it here just for the amusement – enjoy!

I walked into a local Victoria’s Secret with my best friend. The music coming through the speakers, greets us with various sultry sounding women with descant reprising the equivalent if not necessarily equal musical verse and chapter of how her man has done her wrong, once more, yet again. Because yes, while I’m alone at home, crying my eyes out into yet another gallon of Rocky Road ice cream and popping chocolate truffles like crack, I will want to be wearing hundred-dollar lingerie – but that’s just me.

Actually, that is a moot point. My best friend is the one buying. I’m just tagging along, as the only thing I can truly wear in this establishment is their cologne. For this bastion of beauty designed to adorn the feminine figure with a tempest of frail looking, but delectable lingerie delights had long ago decided that said feminine figures end at a numerical amount somewhat below the number of the ample mold the dear Lord as blessed upon me.

I touch silver links joining together a triangular swatch of silk I first presumed to be an eye patch before I realized it’s actually a thong. I then make the mistake of catching the eye of one of the pretty little sales girls who then swoops upon me like a hawk upon a tit mouse in a national forest park. My best friend, having endured my “I just want to fuck with folks mood” whenever we enter an establishment such as this, had wisely walked away from me knowing nothing good was going to come of this start of a beautiful friendship.

The sales girl wants to know, of course, if she can help me. Her eyebrow locked in that know-it-all “…because you can’t possibly be here making a purchase for yourself!” arch. I barely bite down the first instinct guiding my tongue to say something sweet like “Gain a hundred pounds, live with it for -oh- twenty or so years and come to a place like this – then ask me that question again”. Instead, because I am already bored, I ask if they carry plus sizes. She perked right up informing me (quite enthusiastically I might add), that they carry sizes all the way up to 38F! I smile sweetly, pick-up the nearest 36F I saw and held it up against my ‘numbers’. It was something akin to measuring golf ball against a baseball – but it was enough to wipe the self-satisfied arch off her brow.

Still, the poor, poor child didn’t take the hint and continued to follow me through the store actually answering what ever inane question popped in to my head. I saw a small black thin band of what appeared to be spandex and stretched it a bit. I was actually surprised, as I held it up for the sales girl to the see just as I was about to place it over my hair.

“When did Vicki’s start carrying headbands?” The look of shock on the sales girls face made me stop in mid-air.
“It’s a bandeau bra not a headband.” You’d think the icy coolness dripping of her voice would have stopped me right? Wrong!
“Oh! You mean like a tube top? Cool! Does it come in plus size?” My voice was dripping with as much saccharine as hers dripped glaciers.

I could hear my best friend losing the battle to stifle a laugh from in front of the cashier as she was well aware that I already knew what it was when I picked the damned thing up. The sales girl however, looked like she wanted to club me. I picked up another eye patch that had star-shaped crystals along the band connecting the material at the waist. Can you say ouch?
“Does this blue eye patch scratch?”
My best friend mercifully, for the sales girl anyway, grabbed me by the arm and snatched me out of there. Hey, I did say I was bored, didn’t I?

You know, I just realized I never did get the answer to that scratch question…

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

 

 

 

 

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

30/30 – 30 | BOO!

My sons rolled their eyes at me as they always did when Halloween comes around.  Luckily, by their viewing at least, I do not go all out transforming the house into a holiday appropriate wonderland as I do for Christmas.  Still, every now and then I get into the I want to carve a pumpkin mood. This was one of those Halloweens were I was in a pumpkin carving, tons of chocolate and other goodies to give away, witches hat wearing mood. Now well into their teens, and knowing they are going to be dragged into it anyway shake their heads as they begrudgingly get into the spirit with me.

Thanks to such cinema sweethearts as Freddy Cruger (Nightmare on Elm Street) and Michael Myers (Halloween) faux bloody masks were de rigueur.  My youngest gets an idea and asks to borrow his father’s full length leather trench coat. Both of us being well aware of his imagination, my eldest and I look at each other part warily, partly with anticipation to see where this is going to go.

My youngest dons the coat and mask, pulls up the hood to the hoodie, grabs the big bowl of candy and when the coast is clear steps outside to stand perfectly still in a corner of the front porch closest to the front door.  He was already six feet tall by this point, thus he cut an imposing figure in the leather and bloody mask.  If any trick-or-treaters want candy, they are going to have to come to the statue to get it.

“Oh this is going to be good!” My eldest grins as we stand by the living room window to watch the scene unfold.  It takes a few minutes, but soon enough there are five or six children standing by the front gate trying to determine whether it is safe to come get the candy just sitting there in the bowl for the taking.  As always with such a group, some poor soul is goaded into being the brave one to investigate.

The little boy opens the gate takes a step in and stops. My youngest does not move a muscle. I cannot see him breathe; nor blink. He is a perfect Halloween statue. The little boy takes a few tentative steps more up the path, but still no movement from the statue. He looks back at his friends who goad him on. He makes his way up the short path to the first step and stops again, trying to gauge the situation. It is taking everything my eldest and I have not to laugh aloud as we watch this unfold.

“Hey, it’s just a statue holding a bowl of candy come up and get some!” The boy yells back to his friends bravely climbing the remaining steps as the friends come running up the pathway.  The boy raises his hand to get candy and the moment his fingers touch…

“RAWRAAAAARGGHHH!”  

The “statue” comes roaring to life and scares the living heck out of the poor child and his friends.  They are screaming, running down the steps and halfway down the pathway, before the combined laughter of my sons and I make them realize they have just been had. My youngest stops laughing long enough to call the boy back and convince them all it is okay to have candy. He gives the other kids a few candies each, but lets the little boy take as much candy as he wants for being the brave one.

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

Slice of Life Story Challenge

It seemed only fair since tomorrow is Halloween, that I have at least one such story for it.
And with this, the only non-fiction story of the set 30/30 set, I miraculously conclude the 30 Stories in 30 Days Challenge on time.  It has been an interesting romp stretching my imaginative path, I hope you’ve enjoyed the stretch. I now return to my irregularly scheduled blogging.

30/30 – 28 | Beach

I am leaning against the balcony railing enjoying the warm sun, sipping mimosa.   I am on vacation with the family and there is absolutely no reason for me to be up so early.  Everyone else is sound asleep, but as I watch the rising sun slowly inch across sand and seas, I am so I had a chance to enjoy this.  Combined with the perfect cool breeze, it already tells me it is going to be a beautiful day.

In the distance, I spy two lovers walking along the shore heading in my direction.  As I am watching and smiling as they laugh, clearly enjoying each other’s company, stopping every now and then to embrace, lovers really is the only word to describe them. A part of me is just the tiniest bit envious as I see him take her in his arm and kiss her passionately.

They both feel this kiss deeply as hands travel bodies. They stop suddenly, remembering where they are and laugh.

After a moment, the woman suddenly takes off running.  As they get closer, I realize they remind me of a couple I know and I rack my brains trying to remember which of my peers behave like that lovingly toward each other.

The glass of mimosa nearly slips from my hand when the answer comes to me about five seconds before they see me on the balcony and wave.

My husband appears behind me, kissing me on my neck. I turn and give him a good, deep kiss in greeting.

“Well good morning to you!  Where’d that come from?” He grins, happily taking me in his arms to return the kiss.

I point to the couple on the beach, now within clear sight and wave back.

“My parents.”

I’ve Got The Look…

All mothers have a certain look in which their children instinctively comprehend to mean  stop and desist NOW.  I do not care how “no mannered”, “fresh”, “no home-trained” et cetera the children may be, all instinctively understand the most powerful wrath short of the Lord Almighty’s is about to reign down upon their little souls and behinds should they continue with the offending activity.

There are the mothers whose look will only work on their own progeny. There are the mothers in which the look not only works on their children,  but other family members’  children and sometimes the neighbors’ children.  And then there are the mothers. Those special mothers who can utilize the look with such force, that even the children of complete strangers will take heed.  It does not happen often, for I realize I have to be in a certain mood and the child involved must have seriously crossed my invisible line of intolerance for it to be at maximum force, but I am definitely among the last group.

That being said, while all mother are capable of that look, not all mothers have the ability or the desire to use to its full potential and that is a shame. Mothers who cannot put the fear of Mom unto their little darlings at a very early age are soon victimized by the tiny terrors they’ve brought forth unto this world.  I ran into one of those unfortunate types this morning.

I heard the mother already pleading with the child the moment the subway doors opened.

“Sweetie won’t you please sit down.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“Didn’t I say sit down, Sweetie?”
“You’re going to get a pow-pow.”

The mother did not say “Sweetie” I’m using it  instead of the child’s actual name to protect the little hellion more so than the parent.  I also cringe when parents of young children use cutesy names for things. If you are about to discipline your child, the child should fear it. It is not a “pow-pow” it is a “spanking”.  Children do not fear the cute, especially when spoken in that sing-song sugar coated speak most adults reserve just for young children. Sweetie was not that young and I’m guessing having heard such idle threats all his young life, this child was no exception.

I partially read my book, partially listened to my music and partially watched as I sat across from them.   The little boy climbed up and down from the seat, swung on the pole and yelled back at his mother in turns. Several people were giving the mother the stink eye as Sweetie ran among them nearly causing one passenger to spill her coffee and causing another to trip. Mother would apologize, yell at her child, the child would be still for all of two seconds and then the boy was off again.  Even as the train became crowded he still misbehaved, just contained his mini-mayhem to a smaller area.

At some point a woman who had had enough touched Sweetie on the arm and nicely suggested that perhaps the child should sit. Sweetie turned around, screamed at the woman from the top of his lungs on how she is not his mother and hit the woman with the plastic bat he had in his hands.  The mother grabbed the bat from him and apologized to the woman. This was twenty minutes after I first embarked and now even I had had enough. I took off my ear buds and put my iPod and the book I’m reading in my purse and stood just as Sweetie turned around and started to run.   Right on cue Sweetie accidentally ran into me. He spun around and raised his hand as though to hit me and I’m guessing that was the moment it happened.

The Look had made its appearance.

I raised an eyebrow at him and whatever he was thinking about doing, he rethought it as his hand slowly came down to his side.

“Say ‘I’m sorry. Excuse me.’”  I looked down on him.

“I-I’m sorry, excuse me.” He echoed contritely, taking a step back.  I heard someone exclaim “Daaaamn!” as I pointed at the boy and then at the seat next to his mother. Without another word exchanged, he picked up a toy that was on the floor and sat down close to his mother looking at me penitently.  The mother looked at me balefully as though she was about to say something and I looked at her waiting for it.  She thought better of it also, putting a protective arm around Sweetie as I returned to my seat.  There was a small bout of applause as I sat down, put on my iPod and returned to my book. The man sitting next to me looked from me to the kid and back “How’d you do that? And can you please teach my wife?” I just smiled, shrugged and returned to my reading.

A chapter or so later I realized it was still quiet. When I looked across the aisle from me Sweetie was fast asleep. The mother still looked like she wanted to do me bodily harm, but I was not worried about her. A few stops later, she and Sweetie disembarked.

Someday, someone is going to be there when I give some unfortunate soul “The Look” and have his or her cell phone camera ready to capture the moment. Obviously, I have no idea what I look like when I use this unique expression, but it apparently has some mystical power in it and I would really like to see it for myself.

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Little Victories

For a month now my apartment has been hostage to renovations. Holes in my bathroom wall and ceiling, the entire wall in my kitchen a fond memory.  If I stand in either room and look up or down, I’m staring into a neighbor’s apartment. For the past two weeks I have had to use the bathroom of the neighbor across the hall because I have not had running water in mine. This is especially problematic at 3am when I need to do a middle of the night to use the facilities. Thrice last week I’ve lost an hour or more of sleep as I could not fall back into slumber after such.

Because dust is everywhere as they somewhat systematically replace the 100 year old pipes in each apartment on my side of the building.  Not having a sink or a stove, I have spent a ridiculous amount of money on take out during this. Buffets have become my good friend to nicely fill my belly without emptying my wallet.

Tonight I arrived home to discover they’ve reached my apartment to for more work. I already had a headache and after two weeks of this I was not in the mood to even ask yet again about the water, just to be disappointed again. But soft! What sound through yonder rooms break? Did I hear water drippeth? Yes!

The bathroom and kitchen are still filthy and looking like a Hollywood set for war zone aftermath. There’s so much work left to be done, the rooms are not getting more than a nominal cleaning until all is finished. They were nice enough to get ammonia and wipe things down. Yes, I cleaned again behind them,  I am a Virgo after all, but at long last, I have a functioning toilet and bathroom sink!

It’s a small victory, but believe you me, I’ll take it – gotta go!

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

Slice of Life Story Challenge

Thanks for nothing, Disney & Barney’s

First Disney and MAC Cosmetics pulled out the cyber liposuction on Disney’s Ursula character for their Venomous Villains line in the spring earlier this year. Now with the help of Barney’s, Disney is out to ruin more childhood memories by transforming their classic icons Mickey, Mini, Daisy and Goofy into modern-day runway models…

Women’s Wear Daily: http://wwd2.wwd.com/eye/design/cartoon-capers-barneys-new-york-the-walt-disney-co-team-up-for-holidays-6202984

They say it’s a team-up, I say it’s just another subconscious gang-up on the psyches of girls and women. Another under the table way of saying taller and skinnier is better. It’s one thing to make Mickey, Minnie and Daisy slimmer. That is annoying enough in it’s own right, but not surprising in this current social climate of the slender body image. What is the deal with making them several inches taller to boot?

If even fictional characters must redesign their bodies to fit some designer’s clothing, what chance do most of us poor humans have of such? Because heaven forbid, those same designers actually design the clothes to fit their bodies, let alone ours.

Come the hell on it’s Mickey, Minnie Goofy and Daisy for Pete’s sake! Changing Ursula was bad enough, she was a secondary character, but this? This is just insane. Do you know why they are iconic characters? Their basic look does not change – that is what makes them icons.

“The standard Minnie Mouse will not look so good in a Lanvin dress.” explains Barneys’ creative director, Dennis Freedman. I call bullshit on that. Did Lanvin and company even try to design for the character’s bodies as they are? We know it can be done in two words: Miss Piggy.

A hot commodity in haute couture, her “weight” may go up and down, but Miss Piggy is always fierce, fabulous and unapologetically fat.   Proof is in the porker that designing for iconic fictional characters, without changing that which makes them iconic,  can be done with something Lanvin and company obviously do not have – imagination.

What’s next? Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren designing pants for Pooh Bear? Barney’s, but especially Disney should be ashamed of themselves. Children’s characters should not be yet another mirror of some unattainable ideal for adults. Children’s characters should be remain just that children’s characters.

Time Drawing Near

‘Aladdin’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’ no longer hold a charm
‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ have lost their sway
The sound of glass breaking, holds not the same alarm
When I could conceive a multitude of frights just yesterday

Macaroni and glitter artwork, stuff that used to be bane
Along with a medal made of paper, in the scrapbook
A box with a bundle of model trains and cars and planes
Memories past, that bellow for a just another look

Emphasizing the second syllable of the word every
The volcano project that was quite a bit unstable
The melted chocolate cookie smile used to distract me
From the crumbly mess left on the kitchen table

The children who couldn’t fib, looking me in my eyes
The kids I couldn’t trust not to burn the toast
The brats who threw a party and told straight-faced lies
When confronted with evidence of their being such gallant hosts

The con-men who know ‘Please mother?’ from ‘Mommy PUH-LEEZE??’
The house slaves with laundry finished and dinner cooked, ready to serve
The hooligans who greet me at the door when I take too long fumbling with my keys
The young men who offer the aspirin, sensing I’ve had a day that tested my nerves

These days I find myself staring a little longer at their faces
And the tones of their voices, to my memory, I try hard to adhere
Some mother’s instinct I suppose, preparing for empty spaces
That once remote chance of their leaving, now drawing near
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 65