Tuesday, October 18, 2011

This World Done Gone Crazy

(The Manx Dude. I am not kidding you.)


I swear. I feel like someone has hit me repeatedly with a rubber-ended mallet. Hard. I ache everywhere. It is now raining and has been drizzling all day and besides that I WENT TO TOWN AND NOT ONLY WENT TO THE MALL BUT TO SEE MY MOTHER TOO! and we all know that in so doing, I have broken some sort of world-record for myself.

I had to go to the library. No big deal. Then I went to the mall because, well, several reasons and one of them was that I wanted to buy myself an Estee Lauder mascara and I have a sweet friend who runs the Estee counter and I just wanted to see him and hug him and I did and then I walked around the mall and looked at shit on sale at the Gap but I didn't buy anything. Look- these jeans leggings? Stop it. STOP IT RIGHT NOW!

And I realized that they are selling Spanx for men. They call the men's line Manx.

Okay. I've lived past my expiration date. This is fucking proof. I've had it. I'm done.
Cotton compression undershirts?
Look- the reason women are so damn bitchy is the underwear they feel compelled to wear. I really don't want to have to deal with men whose underwear is uncomfortable too.
Zoned performance undershirts?
Men- stop it! This is a slippery, slippery slope! Next thing you know, you'll be wearing Bros and Manssieres for real and this is not funny and refuse, refuse, REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN THE MADNESS!

Shit fire. Kill me now.

Well, I got through the mall and I didn't buy a thing except for the mascara and I got a hug with that and then I went to Costco and they were sampling smoked salmon so that was A-Okay with me. Then I called Mr. Moon who told me that Mother had called him to tell him that she'd had a heart attack this morning but since she was still at the Assisted Living, he didn't think she'd really had a heart attack.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I went by there and when I got up to her floor I was expecting her to be curled up in her bed but no, she was trotting down the hallway with her electric-blue walker and she was thrilled to see me and she got a four-ounce Shasta Cola and I got a cup of coffee and I don't know what she had but it wasn't a heart attack. She saw the doctor today and it was yesterday that she'd had the problem and the nurses had checked her out and found her to be basically sound so whatever it was (probably heartburn, as per usual) she has recovered nicely.
We actually had a fine chat, discussing the same things we always discuss which are the kids, the grandchild, how nice the people are there at the Assisted Living, how much she loves my son, no wait, my husband, and chickens. Also, how snotty one of her table mates is and what a name-dropper she is and then she always tells me about her best friend there at the AL and you know- her husband was president of FSU so she knows everyone.
It was quite pleasant, actually.

Then to Publix and then on home and it's raining, raining, raining and yes, it's going to get cold tonight and I am going to make some corn chowder eventually when I can get my energy up enough to go cut up some vegetables. I would pay someone five thousand dollars to come and massage my right shoulder and upper back area but that's probably not going to happen so I guess I should take some Ibuprofen. Mr. Moon, like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect but he does not do massages. In the therapeutic sense, at least.
And he does not wear Spanx for men.
Thank god. I don't wear Spanx for women. As we all know, I can barely stand to wear bras, even the ones that aren't really bras but just stretchy bands of cloth which promise to contain the bosoms and why bosoms need to be contained is beyond me.

Give me my overalls which have enough big pockets for me to carry around an empty tea mug, three or four eggs and an Esquire Magazine, thus leaving my hands free to carry my grandson around the yard. Give me comfort and many deep pockets and you can take your damn compression garments, your Spanx, your Manx, your FUCKING JEGGINGS and shove them where the sun don't shine or at least keep them away from my person.

Would YOU date a guy wearing a Zone Performing Undershirt?

That's all I have to say about that.

Or anything else for that matter.

Let it rain.

18 comments:

  1. no i would not. jeggings remind me of the pants you put on little kids that are potty training, sans the snap crotch.

    glad your mom was not having a heart attack.

    xxalainaxx

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  2. Jeggings?? Do tell.

    I will massage you for much less than 5 large... anything you offer will be acceptable including soup.

    I'm not a professional, but I do play one on TV.

    Rage on you!

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  3. But the guys who love that stuff, love that stuff...

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  4. Hahahaha! I'd never heard of Manx!!! Thank you for informing me and making me laugh. No, I would not date a man wearing "zone-performing undershirt." Well maybe if he was fabulous at massage. But then again, the man I'm dating is fabulous at massage. And his zones perform okay as is.
    My left shoulder and upper back area is killing me. A massaging undergarment. That's what we need. Ahem.

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  5. How about a nice hot bath in that big beautiful bathtub in that amazing bathroom? With candles?

    Have any eggs ever broken in those overalls?

    I made chicken corn chowder today and all the chopping about wiped me out, but I always think of you when making soup ~ it makes it taste better!

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  6. So Manx is at my local mall. Thanks for the warning. I'll double not go now.

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  7. I wouldn't even talk to a guy wearing that crap and don't know why any woman in her right mind would wear it.

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  8. Mrs.A- You got it. Baby jeans. Uh-huh.

    Ms. Fleur- Haha! Jeggings are "jeans leggings." Need we say more?

    A- I do not know them. Those guys.

    Denise- Hell, I'd date Satan if he gave great massages. Maybe.

    lulumarie- Tomorrow night when it is cold I will get in that tub. It's not cool enough tonight. I would boil. My soup was great. I'll bet yours is too. And of course I've had eggs break in my pocket but it was always because I smashed myself up against something. Dang.

    Joanne- Seriously. Don't go.

    Rubye Jack- Me either.

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  9. Well, my grandma DID tell me the apocalypse would happen in 2000. or 2012. She wasn't sure. but I'm sure jeggings and manx are signs of it.

    For real. Girls at the community college where I teach regularly wear jeggings. And false eyelashes that look likes spiders and weird fake hair bumps and they clomp around in highhigh heels, and I'm sorry: ain't NOBODY who looks good in jeggings. I will, however, now picture every man I know wearing Manx. And jeggings. Which looks like this: http://www.funnyordie.com/articles/d685f5e45d/conan-dons-jeggings-nails-incredibly-stylish-monologue

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  10. You will have to translate some of this. I don't know what jeggings are or Spanx. So I am not wearing any of that shit. In fact, most days I don't wear underwear. Now if I could just have that pencil thin moustache going again.

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  11. No, I don't know those guys either, but they're out there... seems to me there was an article about Spanx etc in the New Yorker a few months ago...

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  12. I went to high school with one of the people in charge of Spanx. No joke. AND she shocked the whole city of fancy Atlanta way back when -- she graduated from our tony private prep school, went to college and soon started working as a stripper. Awesome. I doubt she wears Spanx.

    And I despise the word jeggings. It's difficult to even type it. I think it ranks right up there with stirrup pants, except that I actually wore those.

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  13. Maybe old-fashioned jodhpurs will make a comeback. More shapely, both the word and the pants. And they're unisex.

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  14. Spanx makes me think of vanilla S/M. Spanky-panky but no rough stuff, thanks. Jeggings is just PG Wodehouse.

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  15. Bosoms must be contained because they're so damned powerful. If they're all the time unleashed, the Earth will shift on its axis and people will start putting peanut butter and jelly together in the same jar and selling it....wait....

    I do admit that I have a pair of Target jeggings. In dark wash. They are mighty comfortable and don't pinch at my stomach and don't weigh down like most blue jeans do. I don't usually like/wear jeans but I do like those jeggings. It's like wearing pajamas all day. I won't buy a pair of those pajama jeans they sell on tv, though. They look like something you'd buy at the Dollar General, still smelling of off-brand Windex and sad plastic baby dolls.

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  16. Bosoms must be contained because they're so damned powerful. If they're all the time unleashed, the Earth will shift on its axis and people will start putting peanut butter and jelly together in the same jar and selling it....wait....

    I do admit that I have a pair of Target jeggings. In dark wash. They are mighty comfortable and don't pinch at my stomach and don't weigh down like most blue jeans do. I don't usually like/wear jeans but I do like those jeggings. It's like wearing pajamas all day. I won't buy a pair of those pajama jeans they sell on tv, though. They look like something you'd buy at the Dollar General, still smelling of off-brand Windex and sad plastic baby dolls.

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  17. Sara- Should I now scrub my eyeballs with bleach?

    Syd- Keep on being ignorant. It is for the best.

    A- The Gap actually had some pants which looked like Jodphurs only without the side-bumps.

    Elizabeth- Oh my goodness. That is some story.

    Mary LA- I think you are right.

    silverfinofhope- I will not judge you on your jeggings. Anything which is that comfortable has to be okay.
    And I suppose you are right about the bosoms.

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  18. The reason women are so damn bitchy is the underwear they feel compelled to wear. I really don't want to have to deal with men whose underwear is uncomfortable too.

    THAT made me crack up.

    And NO, I would not date a Manx-wearing man. I side with Rufus Wainwright--metrosexuals are really gay men who need to get the hell out of the closet.

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