Thursday, July 23, 2009

Cummin On

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Due to Age Enhancement Effect, FS has a few body parts that are beginning to droop. Thanks to good skin, being fairly fit, Victoria's Secret and small gravy catchers, things are holding up pretty well. FS is embracing AEE by letting her hair go silver.

On Thursdays FS has been working out with the Get Ripped class at the gym. It's for the 20-something guys, and they call each other Girl when somebody can't do all 25 of the third set of ab busters. They think it's kinda cool that there's an "older woman" working out with them. FS is training to do some parkour, so finds the class helpful and it kicks her butt so it's fun, too.

When she was younger, younger-to-hanging-on-to-stud-aged men would jump to FS's aid with "Here hon, let me help you with that." Compare that to the same age and older saying today, "Here Ma'm, I'll get that for you."

FS doesn't always appreciate the kindness.

Last Summer she stood at the local grocery store waiting for two 30-something couples to finish swapping childbirth stories. The six-some were blocking the aisle; FS, on the way home from the gym, was standing patiently when one of the new dads looked up and said, "Oh, please excuse us, Ma'm. If you wanted us to move, you should have just said so." FS, being occasionally an actual Ma'm, refrained from saying "Fuck you, punk. If I'd wanted you to move, believe me, you'd have known."

A few weeks later the president of the company she was doing contract work for casually compared something to his approach to dating when he was a college student: When there are lots of available girls, there's no need to tie yourself down to just one. It was an . . . odd . . . metaphor. FS let it pass, wondering if it was some kind of pass.

Back in the day, back when the phrase "sexual harassment" was newly coined, passes were highly stressful events for FS. It's hard to handle a pass when your boss knows that he won't get in trouble for it and the suggestion of a job or grade may hang in the balance. Gives him a huge advantage. Not nearly such a deal for FS today. Employers are a lot smarter and a lot more careful. Dare FS say it's a lot safer for most women in the US work force today?

This week, FS had the opportunity to ignore several cleverly phrased passes. Just casual suggestions, stories told about sexual opportunities, nothing personal. No requests, nothing so out in the open. FS mulled it over a couple of days, then asked one of the guys at work WTF. He said that FS has been put on notice that the door is open.

Oh for pete's sake. We work in the cow-shit business. Can you imagine anything less romantic? Oh sure, the guy would do the proper wine and dine, and if a woman was up for it, she'd get a good meal and nice hotel room outta the deal.

FS can not imagine knockin' boots just for the hell of it, much less carrying on at work as though nothing happened after swapping spit and other body fluids with a co-worker. How do you people do this?

This isn't about pheromones and hard-ons and sticky panties. It's about little blue pills (Viagra's a little blue pill – who knew?) and playing hide-the-sausage, pack the pickle, nookie, gettin' some, going all the way, a roll in the sack, a roll in the hay, 'friend' with benefits.

Next up: FS tries to make this whole thing funny. Be watchin'!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Flat is Good; Big is Better

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Flat Stanley comes by her name honestly, and she's ok with her physique-ness (or lack of). But golly-gosh-darn, fellas, can you at least pretend not to be distracted by the eye candy when they walk into the room?

Put yourself in FS's shoes: The company president asks for an update on a million dollar project you're working on. You take advantage of the moment to let somebody who cares know of your progress. At the same time, you use the moment to suggest an angle that will put you in a position to go after more funding and in walks Miss-I-Paid-For-These-And-By-Golly-I'm-Going-To-Show-Them-Off.

Don't get FS wrong. The girls appear to be well done, and Miss-I-Paid-For-These-And-By-Golly-I'm-Going-To-Show-Them-Off wears tops that do the job tastefully. FS isn't jealous, and she'd do the same thing if the rack was on her chest. Honest, this isn't a wild rant about another woman's trophies.

But it is a bit of rant. Look guys. Err, don't look. Just think for a second. On second thought, don't do that either.

It's like this: You're telling your best friend an awesome story about how you bowled three strikes last week and suddenly his eyes light up and his face breaks into a warm, warm smile. A really, really, warm, warm smile. It doesn't take a genius to recognize that it's not your bowling game that's got him wound up. Oh no, Miss-I-Paid-For-These-And-By-Golly-I'm-Going-To-Show-Them-Off has just walked into the room to announce that she can't find her stapler.

No matter that the end of your story is that he gets to split the take-home prize of $15,000,000. No matter that the entire team has been invited to travel to Italy on another company's dime for a week. Not important that if the contract isn't completed and signed within the next 15 minutes that all deals are off.

What's most important at this very moment is that the world stops while we find the stapler.



No, no, it's ok, really. FS means it when she says she doesn't have an issue with Miss-I-Paid-For-These-And-By-Golly-I'm-Going-To-Show-Them-Off and her gravy catchers. FS will even help look for the stapler. But please, couldja, just for a few more seconds, focus on t . . .

Guess not.

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Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Animal Planet

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The other day Flat Stanley heard the house bird, a cockatiel, singing and clucking most melodiously, not at all the screech she reserves for when no one's home, or the cheeping sounds she makes for a few days before popping out an egg. Curious, FS visited the bird cage to see what was going on. FS understands the temptation to anthropomorphize animal behavior. In this particular instance, however, FS argues that the bird was feeling good. Pretty darned good. In a pre-afterglow kind of way, if you catch the drift.



Note the bird's pleasant, smiling demeanor.



In other news, FS visited a worm farm a week or two ago, properly called a "vermiculture operation." The worms live in climate-controlled bins. Their job is to eat and poop. The job of their human caretakers is to eat and poop, too, but that's another part of the story.



Did you know that 1,000 earthworms weigh about two pounds and can eat about one pound of food waste in a 24-hour period? The SO WHAT is that after they digest what they've eaten, they poop, and the poop is like black gold, or fertilizer on steroids, for plants.

The only other thing worms in a vermiculture operation need besides food and moisture is someone to harvest their poo.

Curious readers may wonder what worms eat. They eat food waste and other kinds of waste. They like poo. Pig poo, cow poo, people poo. The worm in the photo is feasting on people poo. Once the vermicast (worm poo) is harvested, it goes to a pile to be dried. What do you think is growing in that pile?


What do you think those plants are, class? Let's think about it for a minute. Worms eat poo, and maybe even small seeds. What seeds to people eat lots of? Think about it for just a minute . . .



That's right! Tomatoes! People eat tomato seeds, which pass through the digestive track unharmed, travel to the city sewage treatment plant, get fed to worms, pass through their digestive track unharmed and . . . bingo. The result is a pile of vermicastings made from worms fed on people poop. The pile is clean enough to pass muster with the Dept. of Environmental Protection. The bad people-pathogens are destroyed, and any plant lucky enough to get close to it thrives.

Only one problem with this pile of poo: People are so disgusted at the notion that the worms that pooped it were fed on people poop that they won't buy it for their gardens.

Sustainability: It's good on paper, as long as it's not in your back yard. Salad, anyone?
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