Where's the Weedwacker?

This is “Hair Week” at blog central and we are exploring the wonders and aggravation of body hair.

Since the beginning of time, human beings roamed the earth and according to old stone tablets in Egypt, or at least The National Enquirer, we have always been covered with hair.

So for the last bajillion or so years men and women communed quite nicely in all of their hairy wonder and no one thought anything about it.  As a matter of fact, our carpets of wonder served a purpose.  It protected our skin from many creatures that love to nestle in our luscious flesh such as fleas, ticks and small tree squirrels.

Then one day somebody, (probably a disgruntled cave husband) decided that he didn’t like his little Fraulein quite so fuzzy and bear-like and exclaimed, “Hey Wilma, I think you should do something about all of your cushy body hair!”  Ironically Mr. Sasquatch never stopped to ask his wifey whether she minded that he also was covered in a large rug of prickly follicles and smelled like a dead wildebeest!

So from that moment forward women have been tromping through life trying to deforest their bodies, only to have it return in all its glory despite our best efforts.

Today we will discuss the trials of leg hair…..

Now in many other countries women are respected and honored whether or not they sport hair on their lovely gams or not.

But in these United States there is an unwritten rule that women’s legs must be smooth as glass and stubble free to make a woman worth her salt.

Heaven forbid if she venture out the door with shorts on and not be as clean shaven and silky as a babies bum.

It is unthinkable to go to the beach with any hint of hair on any part of your body especially your legs.

When I was a kid, (back when dinosaurs roamed the earth), there was a commercial for Nair that exclaimed, “Who wears short shorts?”  “We wear short shorts!”  “If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!”  WHAT??? If I DARE wear short shorts?  So they liken being hairy legged and wearing shorts to what? Climbing the alps or being an astronaut?….Really? 

I tell you what my little chorus line of dancing beauties, if I wanna wear short shorts and have my flaxen locks bend in the wind, I will do just that and I DARE you to say something to me!!

We even resort to concocting boiling pots of scalding wax which we then spread over our legs with little popsicle sticks and as a final step administer a cloth over the designated area of deforestation and yank the hair out by its nerve jarring roots!!!  WHOA THERE NELLY!

All I can say ladies is, STOP THE MADNESS!

One of the good things about getting older is the “I don’t care what other people think” philosophy.

Here is an instance where this philosophy applies perfectly.

I frankly don’t give a rats’ patootie if my legs are hairy or not!

I enjoy it when people compliment me on my shiny knee highs from Target when in fact it is 3 years of my well brushed leg growth.

So what if when I put on panty hose the hair is long enough to stick through the holes?   It’s Winter and it saves on my heating bills. 

And just so you know, when it gets long enough you can actually pluck one of your bristly friends and pick your teeth with it.  Hey reduce, reuse, recycle, right?

I consider it my part in the “Save the Earth”, “Back to Nature” campaign.

As far as shaving goes, I do not participate in that skin chafing ritual any more.  

I gave that up when I tried to purchase a package of Venus razor blades and they asked for the mortgage to my house….Are these things made of diamonds or what???

BTW,  if a modern day Sasquatch ever gives you a hard time, just walk up, give him a quick titty twister through his Beefy Tee and defile his man cave with copies of Oprah Magazine….

He will know who he's dealing with!

As for me when my leg hair gets totally out of hand and I start to pick up stickers and candy wrappers on my calves as I walk through the grass, I just pull out my weekwacker and fire that baby up!

That way when I am finished with my legs. I just start on the front yard.

………I’m just sayin

It sucks getting old...

It  sucks getting old…..

Obviously…..

As my Daddy used to say, it sure beats the alternative which is being dead but it is hard dealing with the daily issue of pieces of you wearing out and falling off and other assorted body mayhem.

One of these things is hair loss, gain, management and redistribution.

This week we will be addressing the issue of women and hair.

 Facial, body, nose, and all other fuzzy areas. 

Today class, we will focus on facial.

As I grow older I find one of the most annoying things to deal with is facial hair.  As luck and Mother Nature (who is cruel) would have it, I am sprouting hair on my chin faster than a pre-pubescent 14 year old boy. 

Considering that I am a woman, this is troublesome.

There are little landmine areas with tiny black hairs that apparently are rooted in the soles of my feet, because no matter how many times or how often I pluck them, they rear their pointy black heads again almost immediately!

There is one pesky renegade that I believe is on a miniature spindle like the ticket machine for the paint mixing department in Home Depot. 

The minute you pluck it out another pops immediately into its place…..aggravating and unsightly.

I mean how can I aspire to be crowned “Miss AARP of 2012” if I have more fuzz on my chin than Osama Bin Laden?

We spend countless hours and money on creams and treatments to fend off this hairy onslaught only to fall hopelessly on the couch, tweezers in hand, staring into our “natural light” magnifying glass (no one should have to ever look at themselves in one of these wicked inventions!), and end up drowning our sorrows in the only candy we have left in the house…..which sadly are the “Peeps” left over from last Easter.

Some people just throw in the towel and don’t even try to battle the windmill. 

I saw a woman one day who had a chin whisker that was so long it was actually blowing in the breeze!

She just looked like any normal gal.  She didn't appear to be dressed to go to a Disney audition for any witchy kind of role.  So I wondered to myself if her eyesight was so bad that she truly just didn’t see it or was just choosing to ignore this long singular goat-like hair.

I had a vision of myself sneaking up behind her and tying a tiny miniature bell onto it so that when it blew in the wind at least she would enjoy a melodic serenade…..

She probably wouldn’t have appreciated my thoughtfulness.  

My next thought was if she lived alone.  Cuz if she lived with ANYBODY how could they keep from screaming, “Hey, you got a 6 inch hair hanging from your chin!” “Are you gonna take care of that or what?”

Anyway, as I watched her prance off into the distance I thought,

She’s sooo lucky!    She is not burdened by the worry of society's distaste of women with facial hair! 

She's free and confident!  

Plus just think of all the money she’s saving on tweezers and magnifying mirrors!

…….I’m just sayin’

Dear Pedestrian....

Was asked to re-post a previous entry from Facebook.

Normally I won't be posting on Sundays but a re-post is easy so enjoy!

Dear Pedestrian..

Dear Pedestrian, Please try to comprehend that the small yellow lines painted on the street are indeed, just paint.....They are not some magical force field that will prevent you from being crushed by a car. This may help to avoid you being human road kill when you decide to casually stroll across the street, against the light, in front of frustrated drivers who do not know or particularly care for you. If you continue this practice, at least be courteous enough to include the time of day in the text you are sending, as this may be helpful to the coroner when determining an accurate time of death....Sincerely, a concerned citizen

I have a miniature bat....

As I have mentioned before, I have a new puppy.

She is adorable and yet insane all at the same time. 

She loves to leap like a whirling dervish under my bed and go tinkle if I am not quick enough to stop her. 

The other day I was peering under my bed trying to extract her wiggly body out from underneath it when I spied my miniature wooden bat.

Please let me explain.

Under my bed is a miniature wooden bat.  I'm not sure where it came from or how I came to own it but it is mine nevertheless…….This bat is approximately 1 foot long and as big around as a half dollar at it’s largest end. It looks like a baseball bat "mini me".

I put in under my bed one day in preparation for a house break-in where I figured it would help me fend off robbers.

The ridiculousness of this act never really occurred to me until right that moment. 

Who did I think was going to burgle my house?  A stealthy group of munchkins armed with nothing more than those big round multi-colored suckers from Disneyland?   I am trying to picture any scenario where this bat would help me defend myself EVER!  First of all, the robbers would have to have no weapon AT ALL or at least one that was less effective than a one foot bat….

Take my word for it, there are none.  

Did I think I would wake up from a sound sleep one night, see the robbers gathered around my bed and immediately swing into action?  My arm would miraculously be capable of stretching like Gumby to enable me to reach under my bed WHILE  I was still in it.  Then I would grab the vicious bat and the robbers would stand close enough for me to beat them all senseless?  All the while they wouldn’t have any weapons of their own to defend themselves and would be so frightened of my magical bat that they wouldn’t even try?  

Finally, after all the mayhem was over, I would dial 911 for the police to come and pick up these fiends and hope that the responding officers wouldn’t die laughing at my “citizens arrest”......Or at least be checking the room for the hidden camera for “What Would You Do?”

Hey, it could happen!   As it is, I am not planning any time soon to get rid of my mini bat....I like it.....It suits me.

So just a word to the wise.  If you are thinking of robbing somebody, it would be wise to cross me off your list.   

You could be in for one heck of a nasty whuppin’……..

As long as you would be nice enough to come in reeeeally close for the kill……

.........I’m just sayin”

Are you a Jaguar or a Roadrunner?

Day Two of the blog! 

Had one comment….Thank you Mell!

You notice I changed the color of the font so you can actually read it.

For all of us in the "seeing eye dog generation" that was just not cuttin' it.

Hope its better now.

So yesterday I decided to cross the street as an actual pedestrian…..

Since when did this practice become akin to being a contestant on Survivor?

First you wait patiently on the corner for the little “crossing man” signal and when he appears you start your journey.

Now for any of you who have not tried this recently, the amount of time that they give you to cross would only be sufficient if you were descended from either a JAGUAR OR A ROADRUNNER!!!!

Immediately the red flashing hand appears and the countdown begins….so you sprint across, stealthily dodging the 16 year old maniac who actually has tally marks on the side of his car for “pedestrian kills”, only to land sweaty and exhausted on the other side….

Not fun….at all……

Sometimes you will see an unlucky soul perched on the median with a homeless person with a cardboard sign, waving their arms like a helicopter landing captain at the oncoming traffic hoping to finish their trek to the promised land sometime this week…..they just weren’t speedy enough!

Bad pedestrian, no biscuit!  (You can tell I have a new puppy)

And heaven forbid if you are elderly or disabled!

Please explain the chirping sound they have for the blind to alert them of the light change!

Since they are blind they might think someone “sky dropped” them into the Zoo or Wild Animal Park when this absurd thing cranks on.

Considering the speed factor problem I think it would be more appropriate for a voice to begin to scream,

“RUN. run like the wind, the hand is flashing, the hand is flashing!”

…….I’m just sayin’

Welcome all you fellow maniacs!

Welcome all you fellow maniacs! 

This is the first entry of my new blog…..Its name comes from a nickname that was given to me by one of my daughters’ high school friends.  Our house was always the local “youth hostel” when all of my children were in school and it is still not uncommon for me to wake up and find new friends camped on my living room floor.  I considered it a blessing that they wanted to be at home, so I was always excited to see new faces.  Hence, I was “MamaPandza” to many and birth mother to three.  This will be a blog of my observations about life with my twisted yet comical perspective.  There will be some fictional facts and also some stories that have been passed down by my family and friends and hopefully it will be fun and entertaining.  If you don’t like what I write, that fine.  If you don’t, that’s fine too.  Just don’t bother to send me mean or demeaning messages cuz I will just think you are mean (which is possible) or sad (which is also possible).

You are welcome to start your own blog if you yearn to give voice to your opinions. Or if that is too much trouble and I am upsetting you, just slide your mouse to the upper right hand corner of your computer screen where the little X is and click on it.  Then you can go back to searching YouTube for “cats who can flush the toilet videos” or whatever floats your mental boat. 

The rest of my blog title is courtesy of my crazy co-worker and friend Ryan, who possesses the same sarcastic, deadpan sense of humor that I do.  I blatantly stole it from him cuz he always finishes the funniest most ridiculous statement with “I’m just sayin’” ….so Kudos to you, “Catman”!

Just another FYI.  This is my first attempt at this blog world and as such am still tweaking and revising my sight. Please bear with me and be kind and I hopefully will have it figured out in a decade or so.   

So here we go.  Off into the demented, silly, nonsensical and yet glorious world that we all live in, where I will be your nutty “Jungle Cruise” guide on the sea of life. ENJOY!