Reminds me of the last time I sat close to a group of "Red Hat" ladies. I have never experienced conversation that covered so many subjects in such a shallow manner. They drifted from topic topic like a pollen in the wind.
The topics ranged from the husband who dared to die, the cost of depends, the kids were plotting to take the car away, the mysterious eyebrown stuck on the passenger side mirror, the hunky delivery guy from UPS/FEDEX, their success (Or lack of) at bowel voiding, metamucil, calcium, the constant struggle to avoid tucking their dresses into their pantyhose in the restroom, reverse mortgages to live high now and deprive the kids of their inheritance, and the constant repetition of the phrase; "Youth is wasted on the young!
When I walked by they ogled me like a coyote looking at a pork chop! I felt so cheap and used!
Apropos of recent events, from "Slaughterhouse-Five", the tale of Maggie’s cleavage, as follows:
"Did that really happen?" said Maggie White. She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies. Men looked at her and wanted to fill her up with babies right away. She hadn’t had even one baby yet. She used birth control. "Of course it happened," Trout told her. "If I wrote something that hadn't really happened, and I tried to sell it, I could go to jail. That’s fraud." Maggie believed him. "I'd never thought about that before." "Think about it now." "It’s like advertising. You have to tell the truth in advertising, or you get in trouble." "Exactly. The same body of law applies." "Do you think you might put us in a book sometime?" "I put everything that happens to me in books." "I guess I better be careful what I say." "That’s right. And I'm not the only one who's listening. God is listening, too. And on Judgment Day he's going to tell you all the things you said and did. If it turns out they're bad things instead of good things, that’s too bad for you, because you'll burn forever and ever. The burning never stops hurting." Poor Maggie turned gray. She believed that, too, and was petrified. Kilgore Trout laughed uproariously. A salmon egg flew out of his mouth and landed in Maggie's cleavage.
Vet, the first thing that hit my mind when I read this was Red Hat ladies as well. I have never listened in on one of their sessions, but I would hate one of my conversations with my friends at the bar played back.
I think bosom is the least sexy word used to describe a breast. It is so maternal and old fashion.
What I found interesting about the 'Red Hat Ladies' was the depth of their experience and wisdom. A total lack of pretense among themselves and a spirit of living personified by their in-your-face attire.
They reminded me of a spring bee going from one flower to another as they spread their wisdom from one to another and anyone with the time to ask them their opinion.
They have only one criteria; that the odd male who stumbles into their presence have his own teeth. Whether they are in his mouth, pocket, or glass of water on the nightstand makes not a whit of difference to them.
God love 'em, they know how to make a man feel like a man!
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Reminds me of the last time I sat close to a group of "Red Hat" ladies. I have never experienced conversation that covered so many subjects in such a shallow manner. They drifted from topic topic like a pollen in the wind.
The topics ranged from the husband who dared to die, the cost of depends, the kids were plotting to take the car away, the mysterious eyebrown stuck on the passenger side mirror, the hunky delivery guy from UPS/FEDEX, their success (Or lack of) at bowel voiding, metamucil, calcium, the constant struggle to avoid tucking their dresses into their pantyhose in the restroom, reverse mortgages to live high now and deprive the kids of their inheritance, and the constant repetition of the phrase; "Youth is wasted on the young!
When I walked by they ogled me like a coyote looking at a pork chop! I felt so cheap and used!
"Hubba Hubba" my ass!
Apropos of recent events, from "Slaughterhouse-Five", the tale of Maggie’s cleavage, as follows:
"Did that really happen?" said Maggie White. She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies. Men looked at her and wanted to fill her up with babies right away. She hadn’t had even one baby yet. She used birth control. "Of course it happened," Trout told her. "If I wrote something that hadn't really happened, and I tried to sell it, I could go to jail. That’s fraud."
Maggie believed him. "I'd never thought about that before."
"Think about it now."
"It’s like advertising. You have to tell the truth in advertising, or you get in trouble."
"Exactly. The same body of law applies."
"Do you think you might put us in a book sometime?"
"I put everything that happens to me in books."
"I guess I better be careful what I say."
"That’s right. And I'm not the only one who's listening. God is listening, too. And on Judgment Day he's going to tell you all the things you said and did. If it turns out they're bad things instead of good things, that’s too bad for you, because you'll burn forever and ever. The burning never stops hurting."
Poor Maggie turned gray. She believed that, too, and was petrified.
Kilgore Trout laughed uproariously. A salmon egg flew out of his mouth and landed in Maggie's cleavage.
Vet66: That's rich. Funny that it's so shallow, yet you remember it so vividly. It must have been deep in some way.
Bissage: Wow. I need to spend more time reading books. Perhaps if I made a blog project out of it (like when I read Dylan's "Chronicles") I could.
Vet, the first thing that hit my mind when I read this was Red Hat ladies as well. I have never listened in on one of their sessions, but I would hate one of my conversations with my friends at the bar played back.
I think bosom is the least sexy word used to describe a breast. It is so maternal and old fashion.
An Althouse Bookclub?
I'd recommend Tanazaki's "The Key" as the first book.
Sick, twisted, semi-epistolatory, what else could you want?
A short novel containing competing diaries describing the same events seems right on so many levels for a discussion.
Even the idea of what's lost or gained in translation from Japanese to English would get interwoven.
More bosoms at Althouse!
If Charlotte has a substantial bosom, then that is not necessarily a one-time remark. For some of us, errant food never makes it to the lap.
Cookie catchers?
What I found interesting about the 'Red Hat Ladies' was the depth of their experience and wisdom. A total lack of pretense among themselves and a spirit of living personified by their in-your-face attire.
They reminded me of a spring bee going from one flower to another as they spread their wisdom from one to another and anyone with the time to ask them their opinion.
They have only one criteria; that the odd male who stumbles into their presence have his own teeth. Whether they are in his mouth, pocket, or glass of water on the nightstand makes not a whit of difference to them.
God love 'em, they know how to make a man feel like a man!
"Jessica, you've got a blog on your bosom."
Doesn't the "Red Hat" thing come from the poem, "When I am old, I will wear purple?"
It's all about getting to the point where you don't have to be so constrained by the opinion of others anymore.
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