NO THANK YOU VERY MUCH

I just saw a television commercial advising men to schedule the women in their lives a pap smear for Christmas. Now I’m not expecting much in the way of a gift from MHS this year but if I find an appointment card under the tree, someone is in the doghouse.

Seriously? What were the powers that be at CBS thinking when they produced this commercial?

Now that I’ve given it some thought, this was a brilliant idea. Of course no one is actually going to schedule a pap smear for a Christmas gift Lord help us, no one is stupid enough to do that, right? but the pure absurdity of the commercial will get people talking. Pap smears do save lives. Have you had yours this year? or your Prostate exam? Mammogram?

Oh and the guy in the commercial is so darn cute, I just might have to accept any gift he offered. Oh CRAP! Did I say that out loud?

MY THANKSGIVING PRAYER

As I gather together with my family and friends to give thanks for all of our blessings today, I want you to know that YOU will be included in my prayer of thanksgiving. I wish I could share you with my nearest and dearest. You wonderful bloggy buddies have brought such joy to my life. I wish that you could join us at our table to eat, drink and be merry. What you would bring to the party cannot be matched. Oh what a time we would have. Wouldn’t that be great!

Instead I wish you and yours the loveliest of holidays. And let us all remember in our thoughts and prayers those who are less fortunate, those who have no one with whom to share a meal today, and last but most certainly not least those who are serving to protect our country.

God bless us all!

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

RIDDLE ME THIS, BATMAN

Question:
What do you get when you mix PMS with GPS?
Answer:
A crazy bitch who WILL find you!

YOU CAN TEACH AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS

Why is it that men don’t seem to have that filter in their brain that stops them from saying things that will send a woman into a tailspin? Shouldn’t we make them take a class …..or two? Maybe congress should propose a bill that will make it law that every mother must teach her male child how to say the right thing or at the very least know when to keep his mouth shut. Put that in the damn hopper!

Maybe it’s just the men in my life that are afflicted with this hoof in mouth disease but it seems to be spreading. Forget H1N1, Science should create a SHUT IT BEFORE YOU GET A SPIKED HEEL UPSIDE YOUR HEAD shot. There are three women on the board of directors at CVS. I’m pretty sure we could convince them to donate the vaccine as a public service.

Not convinced? Here are just a few examples of the lack of filter of which I speak:

• MHS greeting me at the door - “Rough day? You look really tired.”
• Produce guy at the grocery store - “You look really tired today, Ms. Broad. Everything OK at the SMB place?”
• Idiot at the Sandwich Shop which has a salad I love and an employee I want to punch in the face - “Is that one of those blackberrys? I hear you can do just about anything with one of those. Your salad will be ready in just a few minutes. You look tired. Are you tired”

I’d like to point out that the above statements were not made on the same day. Maybe that’s just MY FACE!

OK, so maybe I do look tired. I AM tired. And I REALLY don’t need or want to be told that it shows………….even if it’s true. Don’t they realize that no matter how you wrap it, the statement says, “Wow! You look like crap today.”

You sympathize with me but you still aren’t sure this matter needs the attention of our national government? Allow me to further illustrate:

• After spending a small fortune to cut, color and style my hair, MHS says - “Wow! It’s really short.”
• My father once told me after we were already in the car and on our way to our destination that he didn’t like my perfume and thought it smelled cheap. He couldn’t have said something before we left the house? I had to go around the rest of the day thinking that I smelled like a cheap French whore.
• Let us not forget that after Daughter #1 recently got me all gussied up for Daughter #2’s Sorority New Member reception, MHS’s only remark was that I reminded him of a flight attendant. *Not the look I was going for*

There is hope though. The other day I was talking to Daddy on our daily chat during my commute from work. We were talking about exercise and diet and our progress. Daddy said, “Yeah, I could tell the last few times that I saw you that you’ve lost weight. For awhile there you were looking a little……………………………..*crickets*

His filter kicked in a little late but the important thing is that it DID kick in. Even at 77 years old, he is learning. Could this be a sign that the male foot in mouth epidemic is over? I’m not taking any chances, I’m calling my congresswoman.

***Note***

I want to thank everyone who commented on my last post. Your words of encouragement and advise to D2 were well received. Even those who didn’t have advise but left complements served to boost her spirits. Don’t you just love the blogosphere! You guys are THE BEST! I’m sure everything will work out just fine.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

WHEN SHE GROWS UP

Daughter #2 is a sophomore in college this year. She is pretty sure that she wants to teach kindergarten after graduation while working toward her Masters. Eventually she wants to be a high school guidance counselor. Her own guidance counselor was very special to her and made an indelible handprint on her life.

She is looking into the Teach for America program. We’ve been texting, emailing, phone chatting and web-camming to discuss the pros and cons when it occurred to me………..*my lightbulb moment*.

Why am I wearing out my feeble brain on matters about which I know nothing. Let’s face it: If you want the best cornbread recipe…..I’m your gal.

You need the words to the Wrigley Spearmint Gum jingle from 1967…..call me. Care to discuss just who will win this season on Dancing with the Stars……I’m there.

Career decisions……..no so much.

Let us not forget that I got my M.R.S. degree right out of high school. I didn’t so much select a career as happened upon one.

So tell me, why should I prattle on with my pseudo words of wisdom when I have all of you out there to help. I may not have gone to college but I am lazy resourceful. I know smart people when I meet them and you people are SMART! Not only that but many of you are teachers. You just might have some personal experience in this area. So tell me, (and D2 because she stalks my blog) what do you know about the Teach for America program? What would you advise a young woman with dreams of making a difference in the hearts and minds of young people? Have you heard of this program? Do you know anyone who has experienced it? Come on, now…..don’t be shy. Tell us what you really think.

I will be eternally grateful for any insight you might provide. And the best thing is that if you’re wrong, she’ll be mad at you, not me.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

RELAX! YOU'VE GOT PLENTY OF TIME

STOP THE PRESSES! The Christmas season is NOT upon us! Don't buy into the commercialism that has become our holiday season. It's just not true!

Grab yourself a glass of wine, your favorite magazine, a good book or your honey and kick back and enjoy the moments. Forget about the holidays: What to cook? What to buy? How to decorate? Which cookie recipe to use? How long the line is at Starbucks to get a peppermint mocha?........forget it all.

The man with more things to do than all of us added together isn't worried. He isn't stressing. How do I know? A picture is worth a thousand words:

Yes indeedy. That's him up there. Santa is at the post office picking up chicks in corvettes. Does he look stressed to you?

I apologize for the quality of the picture but I had to take it while in hot pursuit. Prancer caught me taking Santa's incriminating photo and was trying to run me down. But it's him. White beard, white hair, big belly. Who else wears red shorts, a red tshirt and red flipflops (slippers to Pseudo, Smitty and Pualani)? Oh yeah, it's him, alright.

Now go enjoy your evening and stop worrying about how you're going to get it all done. If Santa isn't stressing, why should we?

FEELING ALMOST LIKE A HOOMAN AGAIN

My Harley Stud and I decided that instead of doing something productive like working around the house today, we would take a ride on the bike and get some fresh air. Sometimes you’ve got to just ignore all that needs to be done and get away for a few hours or else you just might drop your basket. So off we went on his little two wheeled fun-mobile.

We stopped and bought a couple of subs and some water (Did I mention that Dr. Black Cloud said no more Diet Coke for MHS? EEK. The poor man is having withdrawals.) and rode to this park where we sat in the shade and ate our lunch while we enjoyed the view. There were a bunch of pelicans begging for scraps, fish guts or anything else they could get. Little boys fishing, big boys fishing, lovers on benches and lots of boats in the water were all there for our amusement.

If you look carefully, you can see the lighthouse in the distance. I always feel more at ease when I can see the lighthouse. Like an old man at sea, it guides me home. It is my beacon of hope, a reminder of light and love and all things good. It nourishes my soul.

The weekend is almost over. I plan to relax for all that is left of it. Reruns for dinner combined with a fresh salad, a loaf of bread and some wine. MHS is mowing the yard, which is usually my chore. I’m in the middle of a book that I can’t seem to put down.

God’s in His heaven and all’s right with the world. Even if it’s just for tonight.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

BREAKING ALL THE CHILD LABOR LAWS

My brother, Smitty, is way older 12 years older than me. Smitty served in the US Army during the Vietnam war. He was a paratrooper. And my hero. I was 10 years old and in the 4th grade when he came home.

Never one to miss an opportunity to make life easier for himself, Smitty hired me as his personal slave assistant for $2.00 a week. It was this period of my life that formed the strong work ethic that I bring to the table these days.

For $2.00 a week, I would do WHATEVER my brother asked me to do. I was at his beck and call. It was, “Kid, make me a sandwich.”

“Hey Kid, I need a refill.”

I could be upstairs in my bedroom and he would call me to the living room to change the channel on the television that was six feet away from him. I was his remote. And I did it because it was my job. Hey, $2 was a lot of money to a 10 year old back then. And there were all those Donny Osmond records to buy.

It wasn’t long after he came home from the Army that he moved to Illinois for a job. He would have liked to have taken his slave assistant with him but there was that pesky problem of finishing elementary school.

That was how I lost my first job. My mother insisted that he pay me two weeks severance pay. It was only fair, after all.

So what was your first job?

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

AUNT MARTHA, CHILDBIRTH, MENOPAUSE AND NOW THIS….

I went to the doctor with My Harley Stud today for his physical. She suggested that he try to lose 5 lbs. FIVE POUNDS! I hate him. She told me to lose thirty.

And to add insult to injury: Today at lunch, I swear the escalator at Dillards groaned when I stepped on.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

REMEMBER WHEN……

I’m not really sure why but I’m feeling a wee bit nostalgic today. Today is like any other day and yet it’s got me thinkin’. And that can’t be good. I have a relative in the hospital in my home town. The same hospital where I was born. The same hospital where My Harley Stud had emergency surgery while we were there for my Mother’s and his Grandmother’s funeral services. It was and still is the only hospital in the area. I guess it was thinking about the hospital that got me thinking about how much things have changed since I was a girl two hundred just a few years ago.

Remember when……….

• Our local newspaper listed the hospital admissions and discharges everyday. This blows my mind when I think about our current privacy laws and the hoops a poor family member has to jump through these days to get information about his ailing loved one. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith but if you’ll just step into the interrogation booth over here where Special Agent Rapp of the CIA we will break you need you to answer a few thousand questions. I have no idea how people in my hometown get their gossip know who to pray for these days.
• Some families had telephone party lines. We never had one but I thought it was such great fun to visit a friend and discover a juicy conversation just by quietly listening on the line. Don’t be judgin’, people. I was eight. What? You would have excused yourself and hung up? Where’s the fun in that? By the way, did you hear that Mrs. Robbins………
• While we are on the subject of telephones……….The phone company in my hometown was privately owned by a local family. Our phone book was no larger than a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. The phone company was listed in the white pages under its company name and under “telephone company”, “phone company” and just in case……”fone company". Really. And if we were placing a call within the same town, we only had to dial 5 numbers. Those were the days.
• Did you ever fill your gas tank or ring up a week’s worth of groceries only to find that you had written your last check at the drug store? No worries. In my hometown, the proprietor was OK with it as long as you made it back with the check by the time they made their deposit the next morning. I’m pretty sure that they shoot you leave your cart in the cooler in the back until you return with the funds these days. Oh and does anyone still write a check for groceries any more?
• Every teacher and principal had a wooden paddle and knew how to use it. I’ll probably get a lot of flack for saying this but I think the world was a kinder, gentler place when the threat of a good beating was hanging over our heads. I know that it kept me in line. My father? Not so much. He had it down to a science. He developed a system where by watching the shadow of the paddle coming his way he could give with it and reduce the pain factor in half. Maybe if he would have used that scientific mind for his physics class instead of shenanigans, he might not have been in the boiler room to start with.

Well, that was fun. We should do this again sometime. What do you remember about your childhood that is oh so different now?

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

OOOooo, BABY, HE KNOWS WHAT I LIKE

Today is the 29th anniversary of the day I married the love of my life, apple of my eye and sometimes pain in my arse, My Harley Stud. It totally blows my mind that we have been married that long especially since I’m only thirty-two years old. Stop trying to do the math and just leave it at yes, I was a child bride. If you’re a long time reader, you may have read our true love story here in my archives and you know that we have been together even longer than that. People often ask me, “How can you stay married to the same man for all those years?”

The answer is simple. First of all, he is no longer the same man that I married. I have molded and shaped him into a completely different creature. He and I have both grown and matured into different people who just happen to still be nuts about each other.

To celebrate the occasion, MHS took me to breakfast and then to the beach. Not wanting to be saddled with my camera for our beach walk on this day, I left it in the car. Damn! Of course today was the day I saw so many picture takishly things. I’ll try to paint you a picture.

The sky was the most amazing blue with lots of puffy white clouds low on the horizon which looked like their tops were sliced off. I could have called my friend the meteorologist to ask what they are called or googled but it’s my anniversary and I’m lazy. Not to be outdone by the sky, the water was a beautiful aqua color. The tide was going out and the waves were high which made the roar of the surf even louder than usual. There were surfers and boogie boarders. Some of the surfers had an oar. I don’t know what this activity is called but I think I saw Matt Lauer do it on the today show once. It was fun to watch.

Because we live in an area of South Florida that is primarily residential and not a tourist spot, most of the beaches allow dogs. There were lots of dogs today. Each one with a tennis ball or they made their fun chasing birds. MHS and I made friends with a few canines, once again making me wish we had brought Mayzie. She loves the beach but isn’t allowed in the bagel store.

We live on the East coast. At 9am-ish, the sun was shining over the water and it was beautiful. There was a flock of seven pelicans that flew in a straight line overhead. The smell of MHS’s aftershave kept teasing my nostrils. Then my sniffer upper became a little more discerning and I realized that what I was smelling was his deodorant. Still, he smelled good. The sights, the smells, the sounds. They made my day.

No trip to the beach is complete without sighting a man in a speedo and this adventure was no exception. Why? And not even an attractive body. Just sayin.

The beach is lined with seagrapes that obscure the view from the road to the beach and vicey versey. That didn’t stop MHS from hearing a pack of Harley Davidsons ride by. The beach isn’t really MHS’s thing and I’m sure the thought crossed his mind that he’d rather be riding. Nevertheless, he knows what I like and brought me to the beach. My sanctuary.

Despite the Speedo Man sighting, it was an awesome morning and a great way to start our anniversary.

What would your perfect day be?

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad