The Running Girls and the Track Film

A tale from my high school days for a cold January:

It was a rainy winter day, and a group of us track and cross country girls spent an hour watching a video of female runners performing their sprint or distance running feats. 

Our coach looked in, and was apparently very pleased at our diligence in trying to pick out the finer parts of these talented runners' performances.

Actually, we were looking at the runners' hair styles, and trying to determine which looked best when one was running.  We all had longish hair and didn't want to go with a shag or a buzz cut. 

Obviously, big hair was out, except perhaps in Mississippi.  But we were trying to decide whether a Dutch braid, a chignon, a bun, pigtails, or a pony tail looked best on a runner.

We decided unanimously that pony tails were the way to go.  It was the swaying motion that did it.  After all, for running, scent is out.  And so is makeup.  Some of the styles considered were high maintenance, and not very practical.

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Funny thing, Michelle Jenneke made a sensation at the Barcelona IAAF Championships last year, and her ponytail flip didn't hurt.  Apparently, in her manic warmup routine she utilized the rythmic sway of the ponytail as an attention-drawing strategy.  She runs a great 100 m. hurdle race too.

The Sensuous Nebraskan

Meredith Farnsworth, free-lance writer, wanted to do a piece for Cosmo; but needed to refine what the topic was to be about.  Judging from the content of the magazine, the editors tend to favor articles with a mild to moderate degree of lustiness, as in "Forty ways that are guaranteed to turn him on!" that might be read by readers who have no one in question to practice those skills on.  Yes, if the truth be known, for each of those truly sensuous women that are favored by appearance, personality, occupation, and even geography, there are others: 18-year-old virgins whose foray into sensuality is largely within the confines of Cosmopolitan!

Still, reading about sensuality is better than no sensuality at all.

Meredith made a risky logical leap in her creative process:  Many of her potential readers work in humdrum occupations, live in nonexotic settings, and do not have the clothes or occasions to appear as wanton as an article of this type may warrant.  Obviously, wearing a thong at South Beach is okay; but on how many occasions can you wear one on the streets of Montgomery, Alabama?  So, she reasoned: why not choose to write about a sensuous protagonist in an occupation not normally associated with sensuality?  Hmmm....The Sensuous Bureaucrat?  Wielding Governmental power in an authoritative manner:

"Clarice became so intent in studying the document that she felt warm -- and unbuttoned not one, or two, but three buttons on her blouse, sighing longingly while indistreetly flashing a glimpse of her bra!"  This gambit failed because it strained the imagination too much to conceive of even lobbyists being so turned on by that spectacle.

Or the Sensuous Dental Hygienist?  Sometimes even dirty minds can't handle the truth!

So she tried a different tack.  What is the most unlikely state to be associated with sensuality?  After giving it some thought, Meredith decided that it was probably Nebraska; but Connecticut was close in second place.  By writing about sensuality in such an unlikely place, she thought that readers might take courage to timidly put their toes in the waters of sensuality in other unlikely places as Washington state, South Dakota, or Ohio.

So Meredith jotted down a few ideas on how Nebraskan misses might arouse the libidos of Nebraskan guys:

1.  Comment to your guys that you're impressed with the size of his silo.
2.  When offering him some corn on the cob, tell him that some you gave him the largest one because it reminded you of something about him.
3.  Caress that same ear of corn, murmuring "mmmm-umm."
4.  When on a date, wear Daisy Dukes.
5.  This even applies on cool days, as it provides yourself with an excuse to ask him to massage your legs "to help you get warm."
6.  For an instant turn-on, wear a corn cob hat:

7.  A little buttocks décolletage might help as well.

8.  Eat your steak rare and encourage him to do so as well, saying that it's an aphrodisiac.

9.  Wear scarlet and white lingerie, with sans serif capital Ns on the bra cups.

10.  Offer him a sensuous massage with bacon fat oil, and request that he give you one in return.  All over.

11.  Tell him that Republican gals have needs, too.......

12.  Sing this song to him:

For Nebraska and the scarlet

For Nebraska and the cream,
Tho' they go thru many a battle,
Our colors still are seen.
So in contest and in vict'ry
We will wave them for the team,
And 'twill always stir a Cornhusker,
The old scarlet and the cream.

13.  Tell him that you would even go to Lincoln for a dirty weekend with him.

14.  Especially when your idea of a dirty weekend involves cleaning out the pig sty.

15.  Sweat.  Seeing girls sweat turns Nebraska guys on.

16.  Perfect your hog calling.

17.  Have him tickle you all over with a bit of straw, and return the favor for him.

18.  Feed him prairie oysters to insure his proper performance.

19.  Find a sexy way to pronounce "Omaha."

20.  Think "sexy" and "Omaha" in the same thought.

Kind of hard, isn't it?   



Ralphie's Dad's Leg Table Lamp

One of the frequently-televised Christmastime specials is Jean Sheperd's  "The Christmas Story."  Briefly, it recounts the adventures of Ralphie, a preteen boy who wants to have a air rifle for Christmas.  Anyway, one amusing vignette in this much-loved story is the strong desire that Ralphie's dad had to own a table lamp suitable for display in an open window.  Said table lamp had a gaudy base shaped like a lady's leg; moreover, clad in a net stocking.

I thought, at the time of having seen the program, that it was merely a result of the humorist's wry imagination.  And, who knows, maybe it was at one time.  However, there are numerous variants of this lamp actually marketed, ranging in price from $20 to $240.

I must admit to never having seen this lamp in situ.  But I do not have extensive knowledge of New Orleans uptown décor, fraternity house modern, or the contemporary brothel international style.  Furthermore, is this one possible décor item that is either bestowed as a joke, or one whose purchase generates a lot of buyer's remorse?

Very clearly, there are unique stories worth telling.  Like Mama's old silver loafers that she still keeps from her university days, yet neither wears nor allows me to wear.

Ultimate Thule in Louisiana

There's an expression, 'Ultimate Thule,' used historically to refer to some place that it beyond the known world; most often thought to be in Iceland or Greenland.  As a matter of fact, the U.S. Air Force once had Thule Air Base in northern Greenland, less than 800 miles from the North Pole.  So Thule, the concept, evolved into Thule, the place.

When you go to the ends of certain roads in Louisiana you can sort of get that sense: proper dry land is supplanted by a thin road going into the salt water marshes with only fishing shacks or occasional businesses around.  And, if you persist, brave traveler, you may reach one of the two Ultimate Thules of Louisiana: Grand Isle or Cameron.

For the most part, the temperature is warm most of the year; but it may be windy.  Both of these communities are known to be vulnerable to hurricanes when they come.  Tragically, Cameron lost 300 of its residents due to Hurricane Audrey in 1957; today, there are only about 450 persistent souls remaining.  There's still a sense of doom having happened here; but Hurricanes Rita and Ike did their part as well.  All in all, it's sort of depressing, like you have gone to Ultimate Thule.

Grand Isle has been hit by too many hurricanes to remember them all.  It's primarily a place for people to go for fishing and to drink beer.  Some partygoers even report seeing mermaids.  Then it's time to lay off that Bud Lite stuff.  Grand Isle is interesting and festive, but ephemeral.  It's best to consider that, if there's threat of bad weather, you bail out and head for Houma.

Coastal inhabitants understand this as a fact of life.

Finding True Love, Brit Style

I'm an incurable romantic as well as a statistics fan, and naturally I was gravitated to this article in the Daily_Mail which reported on the average number of happenings that U.K. misses had on their way to TRUE LOVE!  I'm assuming this is the once-in-a-lifetime, we'll have our fiftieth anniversary type . . . .

Anyway, the poodyheads that wrote the article gave the raw numbers:

Women typically have 7 relationships beforehand, men 8.

Both men and women typically chalk up 4 disaster dates.  Sorrowfully, no juicy details.

A woman gets stood up once; a bloke twice.

Women have 4 one-night stands; men 6.

Women typically kissed 15 guys; guys 16 women.

Women typically have 7 sexual partners; men 10.

Both men and women have lived in with the other sex once.

Both women and men have fallen in love twice before the real deal!

Apparently, there's a lot of ground that must be covered in the meanwhile.  Anyway, the process is not easy.

I'm concerned.  I've exceeded my kiss quotient a bit: does this make me Easy in Training, or is there a statute of limitations on kisses more freely engaged in high school or before?  And here's something else: the so-called public displays of affection.  In my opinion, these are a species-specific pattern of marking territory; of claiming the one kissed as one's own. 

And what about friends with benefits?  Or. friends with minor benefits?  Do our Brits go in for this?  Likewise, what about risqué selfies?

Disaster dates, while painful while going on, often provide grist for the same-sex conversation mill.  "Can you believe that he was so rude as to drop me off at the Morning Call and pick up with someone else?"  "He went to sleep during the movie."  "He took another girl out at the same time as me.  I wondered, is he thinking of a threesome?"

Anyway, a caution with respect to statistics like this bandied around: don't assume that the good ole normal distribution is in play: 

Very often, a skewed distribution might be the true one.  That is, a smaller number of overly active individuals might drive the mean (arithmetic average) higher than would be due to a normal distribution, but the larger number (the mode) are considerably less active on that dimension.*

I suspect that Brits are just a little more circumspect about affection.  For example, Mr. Darcy might kiss Lizzy on their fifth anniversary, if he was inclined to be forward and both felt daring after a bracing evening of whist.  Heathcliff, ever impulsive, was quicker on the mark with Cathy.   Becky Sharp?  Your call on that.   And I've about exhausted my recall of English novel characters for now.

*Some people call them "sluts" or "skanks."

String Bikinis and Slurpees

Okay, if you have the figure for it, you can really look sharp and sexy in a string bikini.  But . . . . there's the necessity of having a ultratrim figure.  This leads to doing certain things that would then allow you to wear one without anxiety.

Usually, it's the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition that gives that "it's past time" warning to those who had gotten overly comfortable during the winter.  The bad news comes in the form of wondering where did those eight extra pounds come from?  And also from the realization that dressing warmly during the winter allowed you to be more casual about your grooming.

Megan, fair of skin and red-headed, decided after some encouragement from her friend Tanya to get herself a string bikini and she found she didn't quite "look neat" when she first donned it.  Here's a dialogue of what happened:

Megan:  "Oh my God, Tanya.  I'm all pale and, well, I am showing all this extra hair!   What do I do?  I can't wear sweatpants to the beach.  Maybe this was not a good idea, after all!!!!

Tanya:  "Okay, no big deal.  Just shave your legs and get a waxing from  the spa.  Okay?  And use lots of sun screen."

So Megan visited the neighborhood spa, but she was still dissatisfied.

Megan:  "No it ain't!  I put on that skimpy ol' little swimsuit and I still had some excess showing.   Seriously, I looked like a Michigan female philosophy major down there!  Now shaving your legs was easily accomplished; but dealing with the extra posed a bit of a problem."

Tanya:  Oh?  How so?

Megan:  "Well, I got a Brazilian like you suggested; but the parlor did more like a Uruguayian.  And poor little ol' me was all yanked out and sore in some areas.  Me, I wish I had gotten a granny bikini instead, or at least an all over shave!  The job, to put it candidly, was not a pretty sight.

Okay, here I am, all sore and all, and I decide to neaten things up by using a depilatory.  At first, all seemed to go well. So I decided to clean up a few areas that were apparently missed real quick with more depilatory cream. Soon I started to get painfully uncomfortable but thought that I would tough it out and just deal with it.  Yeah.  Not a good plan.   My skin is so sensitive, you know.  Very sensitive.

Later that morning my boy friend was driving me to the beach and I thought I was going to die in the car on the way over there.  It was, like, a major eruption; no little ol' hissy fit, you see!  I was screaming and caterwauling to wake the righteous dead, and then some!  I yelled at him to pull the car over to the side of the road!!  When we got out of the car I was in so much pain that I took my swimsuit bottom off right then and there, grabbed a Slurpee from the cup holder, and was baptizing my bottom with a Mango Lemonade Slurpee on the side of the road!"

Tanya:  "Was it a king size Slurpee, or a regular?"  What other kind of dumb question could one ask?

Does degradation come any worse than that?  Sometimes strange things do happen on the Redneck Riviera.

Prioritize Your Anger

Let's face it, there are a lot of things that happen everyday that are annoying, upsetting, and downright infuriating.  Indulging yourself by reacting to each possibly annoyer all out, without restraint can leave you angry pretty much of the time.  You have to cut your losses, and stop to smell the roses, or at least the railroad daisies.

Let's stipulate that there are serious, bona fide things to be angry about.  As the old saying goes, "Shit happens."  To my way of thinking, annoyance and anger are deserved, they have a good reason.  But then there's the small stuff.

I think most of us would agree that the frequency of sexual assault in the military is deserving of wrath; but especially if the system sometimes acts to cover it up or to excuse the perp.  And the seeming inertia of government with regard to the budget and health care issues is a major league annoyance.  So are people who crowd you while yacking loudly on a cell phone.  (Some may actually use this as psychologically muscling you out of space you're already occupying.)  Getting frustrated and bothered is legitimate,

But there's the small stuff. Consider the Kardashians.  Yes, they're a tribe of publicity-seeking narcissists; but there's no reason to Keep Up With the Kardashians unless you're idle or read the wrong publications.  And Miley Cyrus.  Yes, she humped her butt against a guy's groin on-stage and appeared naked on a wrecking ball, but it was her party and she could act as dreadful as she wanted.

Those are minor annoyances.

So are some other little things:

1.  People saying "no problem" instead of "you're welcome."

2.  Navigating a telephone network that has several levels of buttons to press before you get your desired service.

3.  The Amazing Race being delayed by a football game and Sixty Minutes.  (God, I find them tedious!)

4.  Sermons and speeches running longer than they should.  Too much logorrhea.

These are occasions to chill to.

Okay?

So here's my deal.  On January 1 of each year, allow yourself some specific number of Anger Tokens.  You choose your own limit.  But, let's say 100 for sake of example.  Each time you feel like being angry, subtract one token from your yearly quota.

And give yourself a limited number of Hissy Fit tokens.  Say ten.  [Guys, you are allowed hissy fits, too.  No sexism when it comes to hissy fits.]

When you spent all your Anger Tokens, you allow yourself no more anger.  Now, you got to be a sweetie.

But the point is, with time, you will learn to husband your Anger Tokens to make them last the year, and not squander them on small stuff.

Keep a rainy day supply of Anger Tokens.

And maybe deliberately seek out things that give you joy, or seem right, to offset these corrosive situations.  For most of us, life is pretty good; but we can enhance it or detract from it by our attitudes toward life.

I think Seneca would go along with that idea.