While I was writing this, I just got an urgent email from Paypal; It seems I need to follow the link provided and input my log in and password to verify my account. I better go take care of that right now. Otherwise, Mrs. San won’t be able to transfer the $10,500,000 to my bank account for safe keeping.
Well, it was a wild ride; wasn’t it?
For my part, I wouldn’t trade a second of it:
Not the heartbreaks, the tragedies, the colossal failures, or even
the nose dives into the depths of despair.
After all, that gave perspective; didn’t it?
It gave brilliant clarity to:
The heart that could swell beyond the constraints of the human body to love across distance and time;
The side splitting, rib bruising, belly aching laughter that left our faces hurting;
The spectacular, underdog, pull-it-off-at-the-last second, butt-wiggling successes;
Or even those precious moments when it seemed our hearts took wing and propelled us to the fluffy, cloud encased heights of pure joy.
It’s been a grand, mysterious adventure into what could be,
neatly wrapped in an infinite variety of colors, fragrances, flavors, music and textures –
All of it, made better because it was shared with you.
So, on the off-chance that the world ends tomorrow or the day after, let me take today to say two things:
1) Thank you,
2) Let’s do it again.
A recent viewing of the movie – Dangerous Beauty – coupled with conversation inspired the muse who co-exists inside me to ponder a world of exalted beauty and pleasure.
What if instead of being taught to compete with men, we were taught to complement them by being wholly feminine?
I imagine a world where school not only taught the three R’s but also taught girls to embrace that which is beautiful in themselves and they learned how to express it – to be beauty in motion. No, not beauty as defined in popular media, rather finding what is supremely unique about each girl and bringing that forth – cultivating it…nurturing it.
What if every girl were raised as if she were a gift for a god? What caliber of men would be deserving of something so precious?
Ah, what divine desirable creatures we’d have walking amongst us and oh, how wonderful to be counted in their number.
And in keeping with that theme, I give you a 140 character sentiment –
Since her youth, she was prepared to be possessed by a god – her skills honed on males whom she called dogs, unable to see them as real men.
1. Dogs that bring bones also carry bones away.
2. Cream rises to the top and shit floats. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell which is which.
3. Egos are like helium balloons; the tiniest prick can burst it and send it sputtering in circles.
4. If you don’t like the game, step off of the field and have a lollipop.
5. When in doubt: be nice, seek high ground and assume the best in people. You might be wrong, but it’s easier to live with the outcomes than to take the opposite approach.
6. Daddies make the best playmates. More often than not, they are in it for the fun and will pretend to let you win. And, if you should stumble and fall, they will pick you up, dust you off and discreetly kick that kid who tripped you in the butt.
Irrespective of our actual lineage, on or about March 17th we all become Irish. We deck ourselves out in green, scarf down corned beef, potatoes and cabbage and wash it down with gallons of beer all in a solemn gastric ritual of remembrance for the fellow who kicked some serious snake ass. Of course, no snakes were ever native to Ireland, but who needs facts when we are talking about an opportunity to drink ourselves into a stupor, wear shamrocks and say brilliant things like, “Erin go Bragh or Erin go Braless?”
Likewise, we encourage even the ovary-challenged among us to join in the Women’s history celebrations. Yes, we organize lovely affairs where we consume rubbery chicken and wilted salads drizzled with low-fat dressing as we recite “Phenomenal Woman.” All done in celebrate our vaginae.
But, March has yet another holiday – Steak and a Blow Job Day. Originally conceived back in 2002 as the Men’s equivalent to Valentine’s Day, it is celebrated one month later on March 14th.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m all about efficiency. I propose we merge these celebrations into a single event. I offer you, “Happy St. Patrick’s Steak and a Blow Job, Women’s History Day!
We can dress in green and give that special guy a blow job and a steak as he happily hums Irish lullabies or belts out a rousing rendition of “I am Woman.” Bust out the kegs and men will be standing in line to sing the praises of Susan B. Anthony and Gloria Steinem right along side of St. Patrick.
In honor of joining Steak and a Blow Job Day with Women’s History Month and St. Patrick’s Day, I leave you with this thought from Helen Gurley Brown with my own addendum: “Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere…and smart girls swallow. Erin go Bragh!”