When You’re A Boy
After last week’s hen night/day/extravaganza where all participants in the day trip to a shooting range were given stick-on moustaches, mine actually looked like it belonged on my top lip. In minutes my demeanour changed, and I started to walk like a man, talk like a man, my son. It occurred to me: I’m a good boy, I am. I suppose what I’m doing here is my annual Halloween post, because when I look back I’ve often opted to be a bloke. One year I’m Blackadder, the next I’m Zombie Rod Hull (complete with dead Emu), the next I’m Prince in his Purple Rain period. This year, at the annual Halloween Party of Legend, I’m dressing as a bloke but I won’t divulge as many of my co-halloweenies read the Misssives and these things are always best revealed on the night. But would I have liked to be a bloke? Hmmm…I think not. Here are my reasons: 1. Recent readers will have read that my Mum wanted to call me Kenny. No rock stars are called Kenny. And before someone phones in, you can’t count Kenny Loggins. He only did Footloose and that was ages ago.
So I’ll maybe not save up for the op and get my eye laser treatment instead of an expensive and painful trip to GirlstoBoys R Us.
And there’s always Halloween to indulge the inner geezer.
By the way, thanks for voting for me in the The Blogger’s Choice Awards. It ended today. I made a wee bit of a dent. The Misssives finished in 18th place for the Best Blog About Stuff category, which is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick and I believe I’m the only blog from the UK to make it that high, but don’t quote me. I know for sure I’m the No1. Transvestite blogger. Special thanks to those who commented- some of them words made me weep a bit. And if you’re sitting there going, “Aw man, I didn’t vote, I feel like such an utter git!,” then you can vote for me in the 2009 awards which start today. And those of you who voted for me originally can vote again. Chin, chin!
Your Cut Out and Keep Guide to Man Speak
Ladies, learn to understand your man! By learning the hidden meanings behind these few simple phrases you can unlock the mysterious vault of your man’s psyche. Please feel free to add your own in the comments box.
1. Uh-Huh: “Uh-huh” is the man-sound equivalent of the snooze button on an alarm clock. In response to piercing annoyances along the lines of “Will you take the dog out?” or “Can you take the kids out of the bath?” the sound “Uh-Huh” will buy men another five minutes until the noise starts again.
Note to men: Uh-huh snooze button can only be pressed once. Pressed a second time it will only cause the piecing annoying request to be repeated more loudly with possible expletives and a frying pan thrown in .
2. Very reasonable, actually: The phrase “Very reasonable, actually” is one of a collection of phrases belonging to the monetary group. It is used to fob a partner off after a large amount of money has been spent on an expensive yet frivolous gadget or item. Other examples of this include the phrases: “Quite cheap”, “less than you would expect”, “A giveaway” and “an opportunity of a Lifetime”.
Items that are “very reasonable actually” can usually be bought on Ebay, late at night after 4 glasses of wine.
3. Five minutes: “Five minutes” is the time it takes for anything to happen that won’t be soon. “Five minutes” can be anything from 1 hour to never. Often used in the phrase, “I’ll be home in five minutes” or “I’ll tidy up in five minutes” or “It’ll be done in five minutes”.
4. “Where’s my…(+ noun)?”: The phrase “where’s my...(+ noun)?” is a lifelong man phrase that has been oft recorded as a male infant’s first sentence. In the first 16 years of life it is directed at a man’s mother, but then converts into being directed at a man’s wife or partner. It is used in lieu of ever actually looking for anything one’s self and can be an important time saver. Variations include the more pointed “Where did you put my…(+ noun)?” and the more casual”Have you seen my…(+noun)?”.
Note: the phrase “Where’s my.. …(+ noun)?” is often bellowed from an adjacent room to the recipient.
The +noun element of the phrase rarely involves anything that the woman herself will use.
5. “Hardly”: A staple of the man vocabulary, “hardly” is key component of any good male sentence. Its main use is to mask copiousness. Examples include, “I hardly drank anything”, “I hardly touched it” and “I hardly noticed/know her”.
Note also the phrase “hardly anything” which can be used in place of any of the phrases in Phrase 2.
6. “Sorry”: The word every female dreads hearing. In the male vocabulary “sorry” is rarely used as an apology. Sorry is a portent of doom which can involve indiscretions with money, women, employment and gloss paint which there can be no hiding from.
Note: The word “sorry” used on its own and shouted can also mean the opposite of its dictionary meaning.
7. “OK” the word “OK” in short means one thing: “I’m not going there” or “I’m not touching THAT one”. It is often used when a man doesn’t want to commit to any one polemic view for fear of his life. Here are some uses.
Woman: “What do you think of Dave’s new girlfriend?
Man: “She’s OK”
or
Woman: “How did you and my dad get on, then?”
Man: “OK”
or
Woman: “What do you think of me in this bikini? Do you think I can still get away with it?”
Man: “It’s OK”
This post was written in response to the very funny post written by The Ben Lomond Free Press’s Big Rab, 9 Words Women Use.
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Helter Skelter!
Instead, and because I’m frightened of my Mum, I will turn the critical mirror to me and tell you why I think I am starting to show signs of being a nightmare old bird.
1. I have complained to the BBC and Ofcom this week. You don’t need to know why (but it’s Kirsty Wark- time for her to go.)
Now, this is the first step to madness. At first you make a legitimate complaint, then in ten years you start doing things like phoning the BBC to complain about the “Fruit and Fibre” ad that isn’t even broadcast on the channel. My gran, Anna has done this. Although it might have been a rival cereal, I can’t remember.
2. I badgered my husband to……
3. I badgered my husband to write a letter of complaint to the local private school after attending an army recruitment day for schools. The kids from my husband’s school put all their rubbish from the burger van in the bin, the private school kids left their patch full of trash.
Nothing incenses me like litter dropping. Second only to private schools thinking they are better than everyone else (this is an old wound. Its origins lie in losing a match to cheating radge bunch of girls from a private school team in secondary school) .
Meeester took photos to show me because he knew it would enrage me. He didn’t bargain on me wanting to phone the local press like a wild white haired, tartan skirted harridan demanding that they publish them.
4. I growl at groups of stationary teenagers I don’t know. Look at them hanging about! If they’re moving, they’re fine. It’s when they loiter that it bugs me. I am a total hypocrite, I used to loiter at the village phone box making crank calls.
When Meeester worked as a social worker he had one elderly lady “client” who would mutter obscenities under her breath completely unaware that she could be heard. A conversation would go like this:
“Hello Jean. Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit?”
“Hello son, that’d be lovely…(loud whisper)…. you long-haired fucking idiot bastard”
6. I bought “Calms”. Slippery slope to Valium!
“I’m a MARTYR to my neck and shoulders”
8. I MIND bad language. Except when I am using it.
9. I kept a pair of shoes that should go in the bin, “for the garden”. Slippery slope to buying a gardening HAT.
10. I am currently wearing a thermal vest ( but I bought it for going to Finland. That surely is OK). I tell you, it’s so warm and lovely. Are big pants round the corner? (Please God! No!!!! I don’t want to turn that corner…but, Ooh! I bet they’re comfy…)
11. I wore my slippers to drive round to my sister’s house last night. I did the same thing to my Mum’s last week. It’s going to be my new thing. Those who are long time fans of “Coronation Street” will remember when Emily Bishop went a bit senile and they found her at the train station wearing her nightie and slippers. Slippery slope.
Ha! Ha! Hah! “Slippery” slope!
12. Feeble puns amuse me in lieu of actual wit.
