Mr. Nina often asks me if there’s an owner’s manual for me. LOL! I wish. Not that he’d ever read it, I mean come on, he’s a guy. But still, there are some things I tell him, that he still doesn’t quite understand. In no particular order, here’s a list of things women wish men would understand:
couple with MusicLarge
1. Unless there are bones, blood or sex involved never interrupt a woman’s first cup of coffee (or tea)… her bath.. or the last chapter of her book.

2. A hamper is a thing… not an area of the bedroom.
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I was listening to yet another famous single woman being interviewed on television today. When asked what she was looking for in a man she replied, “a sense of humor.” Is she kidding? Does she not date men? Does she not have any brothers, nephews, uncles, cousins, or male friends?

Because, in my experience, asking for a man with a sense of humor is like asking for washing machine with a rinse cycle or a new car complete with four tires. Humor comes standard on most male models. I mean really.

And it’s not the kind of humor I get. My teenage son watches Red/Green, The Simpsons, Arrested Development, Family Guy, and a host of other programs and just howls with laughter. Me? I watch them and think meh… amusing, but not… roll on the floor, split a gut, or even gaffaw kind of funny. I’ve never even made it through a whole Three Stooges movie–and I’ve tried. At hubby’s request, I sat next to him trying to laugh at all the slapstick humor. Didn’t happen.

On another occasion hubby and brother-in-law watched the same home video of one of their friends slamming into the camera at his wedding–for hours! They laughed just as hard the 87th time it replayed as they did the first time they saw it. Huh? When I was young I used to sit with my older brother and watch the Road Runner cartoon, just to listen to him laugh. And I giggled at his obvious delight in the coyote’s mishaps. But did I get it? Nope.

Now, just so you don’t think I’m without a funnybone… I do find a lot of things very funny. I love the movie Big. Tom Hanks plays a thirteen year old in an adult body… when he pushes caviar off his tongue at a dinner party… I just crack up–everytime! It’s one of my all time favorite scenes. Or the scene in The Grinch when the sleigh is headed down the mountain and poor Max the dog ends up on the back and the Grinch turns around and the dog waves and shrugs his shoulders… makes me smile just remembering. And don’t even get me started on I Love Lucy, because there isn’t an episode that doesn’t make me laugh out loud.  

So what’s my point? Well, if you had just one wish to make your guy perfect, I just don’t think you should be wasting it on humor. It’s already there. They’re hard wired with it! Romance, kindness, bedroom eyes, need I say more? Pick something from the dessert side of the menu! Why would you ask for more veggies when it already comes with the main course? I’m just saying…

I know, it’s been a week since I got over here and posted a blog and I’d like to say I had an amazingly productive week … yeeeeeah, that didn’t happen, but hey, it’s all good. Despite my college-age son moving into this tiny apartment and the two of us tripping over each other every time we turn around, I am actually finding some kind of writing routine in all the turmoil. And really, that’s what last week was all about.

And since I’ve been away, I couldn’t jump into anything heavy (though I’ve got a doozie of a post for later in the week). So I thought I’d talk a little bit about fashion. Stop laughing. I may not be a fashionista, but I think about it every now and again.

These two women have written a play based on a book by Ilene Beckerman. It’s basically a look at how much of their memories are based on the clothing they wore. It’s supposed to relate to women as if everyone with indoor plumbing is all about what they put on in the morning.

Well, let me just to tell you I’ve had many significant days in my nearly 50 years and besides my prom and wedding dresses (which are pretty obvious), there is literally one dress when I was a kid, one pair of shoes (clogs that I had begged my mother to buy) and a sweater I bought myself in jr. high, there aren’t any clothes that stand out in my mind to go with the significant events in my life. Oooookay, so I thought of one dress I bought for Mr. Nina’s 5th college reunion that I thought was kind of cute and I danced the night away enough to get a special mention at breakfast the next morning (which is probably why I remember it.)

Other than that … I got nothing. I don’t remember the first piece of clothing I bought for myself or the perfect outfit I wore to highschool dances. (Which these ladies claim every woman remembers.)

I’ve lost all my grandparents and a parent. Pretty significant, but with the exception of Mr. Nina’s grandmother (because it was recent, we were on vacation and I had to buy a dress which I still own), I couldn’t tell you what I wore to the funerals. If it weren’t for pictures I wouldn’t remember what I wore to my sibling’s weddings or my children’s baptisms.

Am I the only woman who missed some fashion link in her genetics? I don’t carry fashionable purses or ruin my feet in sexy shoes that are impractical. My closet isn’t bulging with clothes that still have the tags on them. In fact, I rarely feel the need to add to my wardrobe and retail therapy wasn’t in my vocabulary until my daughter required some after a particularly stressful week at college. Yeeeeah, a nice massage with quiet music has it all over going through piles of clothes on the clearance rack. *shivers*

Please tell me I’m not the only person who doesn’t “get” this play. Am I the only one who, if I won a significant chunk of change, would likely buy something for my house or go on vacation? Clothes wouldn’t even be a blip in my list of wishes.

So what about you ladies … do clothes play a role in your memories? Cuz you know me, I’m dying of curiosity!

This blog originally ran in December 2008. But I love it so much (and I’m really trying to get some writing done) I thought I’d share them with you again …

I got these little ditties in an email from a friend. I laughed so hard I couldn’t resist sharing them with you. (And I even added a few of my own to make a round thirteen.)

1. He said, “I don’t know why you wear a bra, you have nothing to put in it.
She said, “You wear pants, don’t you?”

2.  He said, “Shall we try switching positions tonight?”
She said, “That sounds great! You stand by the dryer while I sit on the couch and fart.”

3. He said, “I did the dishes!”
She said, “It was take out.”

4. He said, “What have you been doing with all the grocery money?”
She said, “Turn sideways and look in the mirror.”

5. He said, “Why don’t women blink during foreplay?”
She said, “We don’t have time.”

6. He said, “How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?”
She said, “I don’t know, it’s never happened.”

7. He said, “Why do women complain they can’t find men who are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?”
She said, “Because they all have boyfriends.”

8. He said, “The kids are in bed and there’s nothing good on tv … shall I entertain you?”
She said, “I always find it amusing when you use the vacuum cleaner.”

9. He said, “Why are married women heavier than single woman?”
She said, “Single women come home, see what’s in the fridge and go to bed. Married women come home, see what’s in bed and go to the fridge.”

10. He said, “You know, I was a fool when I married you.”
She said, “Yes, dear, but I was in love and didn’t notice.” 

Love: Aroma — French perfume
Lust: Aroma — Brut aftershave
Marriage: Aroma — “The baby needs changing. . .”

It’s everywhere these days. The celebs do it on the red carpet. Your friendly bank teller isn’t immune and yes, right into the board room it’s becoming the new “thing”. I’m talking about SKIN. From cleavage to bellies, shoulders to butts … it’s hanging out everywhere.
Now, don’t think me a prude. I don’t want to go back to the time when even ladies showing ankles was improper, but I’m not sure how I feel about this new freedom. Young women especially don’t think anything of having the better part of their breasts exposed when they’re wearing tank tops. They lean over and whisper your ear … I mean where is your gaze supposed to go? It’s not like I don’t have the same equipment, but curiousity just draws my eye straight to the exposed cleavage … and I’M A WOMAN!

I feel for men these days. Breasts and bellies are sexual. Trust me. I know this. I write about it every day. Poor Mr. Nina came home from the office one day talking about a woman who sat across from him at a business meeting with a lot of cleavage hanging around. He had a hard time trying to figure out where to look. Another day a young lady turned and bent over to retrieve something from the file cabinet and her pants rode down low exposing her thong. He felt like a pervert and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Which brings me to the whole UNDERwear issue. The key word being under. I’m not sure when bras became a fashion accessory, but that’s one thing that drives me insane. I hate it when my bra strap peeks out! When a young lady’s shirt is so tiny that her bra shows over the top or around the sides then it’s not really a top is it? But now it’s almost a fashion statement. I am happy that the whole “whale tail” trend of showing your thong over the top of your lowcut jeans waistband seems to be a forgotten fad. That one just squicked me out. We sat behind two young ladies at an honors gathering not so many years ago at the high school. Their pants came down so low they nearly had butt cleavage. And of course their cute little thongs (that matched their tops) curved up and around their hips. I was sitting with two DADS … and I was heartsick for them. I couldn’t help staring all night, I can’t imagine how they felt.

When I wear a top that shows a little cleavage and I see a man’s eyes wander south, I don’t react. What do I expect? I mean, let’s face it, aren’t we hoping for a little extra attention when we put on that sexy bra and low-cut shirt? Otherwise we wouldn’t wear them would we? Or am I way off base there?

I know some woman get offended when people drop their gaze to their cleavage. Why? Let’s face it, when a guy wears his jeans slung low on his hips … you look. Out of curousity. The eye naturally travels down his stomach to his … ah hem … fly. We can’t help it. But we’re lucky, we’re woman. Men consider this kind of attention an invitation or at the very least … a compliment.

I know this new trend is only going to continue. I’m just not really sure how I feel about it. So I’m throwing it out there. How do you feel when someone checks out your cleavage? Does it matter if it’s a man or a woman? And how does this whole new flesh-fest affect you?