Here I thought I’d have to search for nutty things they are trying to get us to do. Indeed, not!

Today’s headline is “Can Your Diet Make You Young?”  WHAT NOW?  It isn’t enough that  we females, Bitter or otherwise, from when we’re just out of our nappies are brainwashed to moisturize, avoid UV rays (which requires living like a vole, if I’m understanding correctly), stay slim, keep our sexual appetites healthy and vigorous, “put out” often, garden organically, design & decorate our homes with impressing others in mind, and attend university so we might excel in a profession (and the snootier, the better.)  BWs are also encouraged in ways to keep households free of chemicals, to think green  to save the planet, and, oh, did I mention “stay slim”?

Having faced down facism wherever we encountered it, dieted to fit into our wedding gowns on our 25th anniversaries (did I mention “stay slim”?), we are now to believe that a specific diet can (and will) make us young.

I have a question for them: What about all the cash I shelled out for nips and tucks, facials, makeup, push-up bras? What about all the gym memberships, not to mention the wardrobe to wear at said gyms? Now someone is threatening to make me live longer?  Do THEY have any idea how long it has been since my sagging ass was pinched by someone who didn’t accidentally crowd me on a bus?

NO!  Hell, NO!  This is just another goddam con job; we won’t live longer. As was the case with all that other crap they said I should become or do in order to justify taking up space on the planet, it won’t actually make me live longer. It’ll just seem longer.

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OK. Now remember, we’re Blogging for Bitter Women, and–male or female–no matter your age–kids–no kids–we all have thought we have a (fill in the blank) job.

 I’ve been around long enough to (dimly) recall the [wink, wink] talk of referring to the little woman as a Domestic Engineer (which was designed to make homemakers feel better about all the grunge, snot and excrement the job involves.)

Our good friends at MSN’s Careerbuilder division (hmmm?) give us some truly yuckey job descriptions for our consideration.  Want to feel better about yours? Have a look at the Slime Line Worker. Tired of wiping poopy little behinds? Consider the Proctologist.  (How these folks got onto the same list, though, eludes me, as one requires a BS, MD, Internship then Specialty. I make that roughly 15 years of training.)  The SLW earns $9.87/hour, whereas the Proctologist’s average annual salary divides out to $186.90/hour [that is based on a 40 hour week, 52 weeks annually.]

I can identify with several, as it happens; when I cannot go on, slide off into a deep, dark depression, well the coal miner’s job sounds a lot like that.  The Coroner description hits close to home, as well, except my clients are all alive, talk back and want lunch RIGHT NOW.  Give yourself a break, BWs. Pour a cuppa, put your feet up and consider a job swap with any of these.  Tell us how it turns out—you get special Braggin’ Rights if you write your response as poetry. While Jayne is recuperating, we’ll tape it on her fridge.  TTFN.

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I’ve warned you before that I’m a crap poet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. So rather than explain the night I had last night, I thought I’d share this little bit of gastronomical insight with you.

Why Does My Tummy Get Upset?
by Jayne MacIntyre

Of all the bits we’ve got
And of all complaints we get
From temples down to toes
Why does Tummy get upset?

Our eyes don’t get irate
Nor our elbows get annoyed
Our ankles seem quite placid
And any arguments avoid

Why even when we’re achy
Have a fever through and through
Not even snuffled noses
Moan and cry like Tummies do.

So what is Tummy’s problem?
We demand to know just who
Causes so much aggravation
And emotional to-do.

I had hoped that you would ask me!
Said Tummy with a cry.
You treat me rather nicely
With the ice cream, mints and pie

It started with your pancreas
(She’s really quite a bother)
Then your liver took her side
And sense would not have stopped her.

Then your heart reminded me
How far I was below
And your bowel got irritated
Said I’d mucked up the show!

Your spleen is just plain spiteful
Without logic, sense or reason
They’ve all gone and ganged up on me
I’m telling you it’s treason!

I don’t have to put up with this!
I think I might walk out!
Of course I’m quite emotional
And rail and sometimes shout

So your elbows don’t complain?
I don’t suppose they do.
They don’t have to put up
With all the things that I’ve been through!

Aha, I truly understand
I have nosy neighbours too
So remember to be patient
If your Tummy upsets you!

——

© Copyright Bitter Women Poetry 2007. All Rights Reserved. Yes, I’m actually telling you not to copy or distribute this vomit inspired poem. — Jayne

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From my last article where I mentioned control freaks, I found there was at least one person who disagreed that such a concept was bad. Then I ran across this, and just had to share it with you.

I can’t decide if it’s funnier that this is listed on a site for Valentine Gift Ideas , or that it was actually my husband that showed it to me.  Oh and if you’re serious about wanting one, it IS a British site, but I checked.. they will ship to the US.  :))

The buttons are a tad hard to read.  According to their site, they say things like:

• Listen,
• Stop Snoring
• Talk about Feelings
• Tell the Truth
• Propose

Personally, I’d like one that was a tad more universal, because if I was going to get to push buttons that would make people do things, I wouldn’t limit it to men, and I’d want to say things like:

• Shut up
• Ummm, shut up
• But mostly: shut up.

If I could control just those three things about people, I’d be in heaven.

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Although we’re technically Blogging for Bitter Women, this one is for the guys.

Quick Tip #3: There is NO Bank

Women might indicate otherwise, for motives I wouldn’t care to speculate on, but when it comes to earning “points” with the woman in your life, there is no bank.  The credit you earn now is the credit you have.   You can’t point back to a good thing you did a week ago and say “But hey I did the dishes without being asked last week.”  It don’t work that way.

Now some might consider this cruel, but it’s not… it’s just simply the way it is, and the sooner you understand the truth of the Chick Point System, the sooner you will be able to achieve the happy status of understanding you so desire.

Let me give you an example:

1. Monday:  Buy flowers for her.  + 10 points
2. Tuesday: Do dishes without being asked +5 points (Assuming this is a point of contention or something you don’t normally do.) Note: This gets fewer points than flowers because you dont’ have to leave the house or spend money to do it.
3. Wednesday: Give her fantastic, thoughful, multi-orgasmic sex. +10 points. (Although you don’t have to leave the house or spend money for this one… hey.. it’s good orgasms.  Shut up.)
4. Thursday: Remember to put gas/diesel in the car on the way home, knowing that she’s going to be using the car first thing in the morning and won’t want to have to stop.  +15 points.

Now.. the quiz… On Friday morning, how many points does he have?

The novice would look at that and say, “Easy… 40 points!”  Oh, you poor, dear soul.  ;))

The correct answer: 0 points.

Don’t cry to me about it.  You should thank me for explaining this.  You got credits for what you did on Monday-Thursday, no doubt, but just remember.. there is no bank.

Remember this, and your life will get easier.  Promise.

(My apologies, by the way, for all the contextual Google  “Get Cheap Credit” ads that are undoubtedly going to be appearing for this one!)

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