Edgy Mama

Since this week is all about LOVE, let’s continue on our adventure together, shall we? No more chat about weird plastic surgery trends or primate sexual organs. Let’s move on to a loftier subject: attraction.

People love to talk about what is attractive, who is attractive, what attracts them and why. I thought I’d offer up a few thoughts, knowing, as always, that you, my loyal readers, will chime in with your own opinions.

The question we’re trying to answer here is what attracts you to a partner, particularly for a long-term relationship?

Hmmmmmmm:

LOOKS: O yes, looks are important, though more so to men than women, in my opinion. At least if we’re talking long-haul. Us chicks may have a fling with a preening, self-absorbed Adonis, but we rarely marry him (and if we do, we typically have the brains to escape, hopefully before producing offspring). Of course, looks often reflect health, and health is important to women because good health equals strong swimmers, as well as the long-term ability to work and support the results of the strong swimmers. However, the signs of good health don’t always equal good looks. You may have clear eyes, good teeth, and glowing skin, and still not resemble Johnny Depp, but who does? Other than Johnny Depp himself. Ultimately, for women, I think looks become secondary to…

PERSONALITY: Yes, this is the crux of attraction, isn’t it? We’ve all hooked up with someone because they’re witty, smart, or charismatic. Remember Christie Brinkley and Billy Joel? Of course, ultimately, she dumped him, but not until she inspired several excellent songs. Again and again, when people are asked which trait they most prize in a mate, the answer is sense of humor. There are so many different personality traits that are attractive, though, and we’re all different, both in the traits we have and those we desire. I like men (and women, for that matter) who are intelligent, funny, self-confident, and sweet. Along with personality comes the issue of…

COMPATIBILITY: O, how do I measure you, my friend, Sir Compatibility? Should our brain power be comparable? Probably. Condescension sucks. Should our CD collections be compatible? Probably not. It’s nice to have similar taste in music, but not necessary. Should our values be compatible? O yes. They’re never going to match exactly, and I’ve seen long-term unions where the partners have strongly differing religious or political beliefs, BUT, the couple typically both have similar core value systems. If you believe in charitable giving and your spouse thinks the Red Cross is in league with Osama Bin Laden, there’s probably going be trouble. If you think the height of decadence is a weekend at a spa in Bora-Bora and he thinks it’s eating Cheetos in bed, you may be able to work through it, but you may end up resentful and unfulfilled. Which leads me to…

DREAMS AND HOPES: Yes, cliches, of the most common sort, are these words: dreams and hopes. But for me, they are the ultimate attractor. Everyone has them, but not everyone is able to express them, to nurture them, to give them wings and send them fluttering off like moths into a street lamp. And to share them. Not to say, these are yours and these are mine, but these are ours. Together. Wow. I love that.

Happy Valentine’s Day, sweeties. What do you really want today? Romance? A nice dinner? A little friction? All of the above?

Well, guess what one of the most popular Valentine’s Day gifts will be this year? Let’s think outside the box for a minute, please. Not flowers. Not chocolate. Not red wine, cards, or even sex toys.

BUT…a gift for life, a gift for change, a gift for eternity. YES! I’m talking about plastic surgery!

Who doesn’t want a little tweak here or there? What a loving gesture on the part of a partner, no? Baby, you know you’ve always wanted to look like Pamela Anderson. Okay, well, maybe not THAT big, but a little bigger than you are now? And that heinie of yours is no longer quite so gravity defiant. How about a Brazilian butt lift? (They wax, they lift, they wear thong bikinis–those Brazilians are something).

According to WebMD, 31 percent of people who had plastic surgery last year received the service as a gift from a loved one. Honey, I think you need a nose job. Hmmmmm. Sugar, you ready for that tummy tuck? Eyelid lift? Labia reconfiguration?

Yes, I said labia in my PG-13 blog. One of the hottest trends in plastic surgery is having one’s labia plumped up and reshaped. I haven’t personally heard of anyone doing this, but it’s not exactly something you talk about over dinner. Having not seen many labias in my day, and none up close, I have no idea if mine are shapely or plump enough. But the appearance of my, ummmm, private parts, has certainly never limited me in any way. But, damn, should I be concerned? Is my girl going to get in the right school if my labia are uneven?

A second hot “surgical” trend that you can gift your sweetheart for Valentine’s Day combines two words that, as far as I’m concerned, should never be put next to each other. The words are: anal bleaching. Actually, I don’t think those two words should be put in the same sentence. EVER. Yes, this practice has, so I hear, crossed over from the porn industry and is the latest with the up-and-coming Hollywood set. I must say, as vivid as my imagination may be, it has NEVER, EVER occurred to me to be concerned about the pigmentation in that particular area.

Another trend? Couple’s plastic surgery. While she’s getting Gummi Bear boobs (so called because of the new non-silicone inserts that feel, and possibly even taste, like the candy) he can get an abdominal six-pack implant, or even, a foreskin reconstruction (wonder how long that takes to heal? I imagine you have to be really careful for a while–ouchie!). Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed!

So, sweeties, got several thousand dollars lying around? Do you REALLY want to surprise your honey–with a gift that truly does last forever? Unless there are unforseen complications, of course. Or do you just want to send her away for a month and have her return looking like a Stepford version of Angelina Jolie?

Have a happy day lavishing love on the people in your life. And if you get or give any really interesting giftees, let me know.

…a scary story on Flasheville written by the infamous Eddo. Check it out!

Spent Sunday with my fam and another fam at the North Carolina Zoological Park in Asheboro, NC. Winter really is the BEST time to visit the zoo. It was cold, but we had the place almost completely to ourselves. And the animals, for the most part, are so much more active when it’s not 95 degrees out and humid as a hothouse.

This sea lion knew more tricks than my kids do. And just look at that winter sun glistening off his smooth skin.

Speaking of my kids, the highlight of their day was playing with the adolescent and baby baboons. I want one. A baboon, that is. Despite their heart-shaped flaming heinies and rather obvious genitalia, they are adorable. And they actually played with my kids. The baboons would bang against the glass, chatter, run in circles, even stick out their tongues to keep the attention of my youngsters. Who then rewarded the boons by banging against the glass, chattering, running in circles and sticking out their tongues.

It was a show for the adults as well. Who needs porn when you can visit a baboon colony? I thought it might just be that time of month or something until I discovered this: “Scientist Zaborovsky wrote in one of his works devoted to baboons:’Baboons stand out among other apes for their sexual lustfulness. The phallus of a male baboon is almost always erected. If a male boon is locked alone in a cage, he will die from his unsatisfied desire to copulate. The smell of a female can drive a male baboon to insanity.’ A baboon with an erected penis was a divinity in ancient Egypt.”

The kids seemed oblivious to most of the sex play but were intrigued with the previously-mentioned heinies and the rather, ummmmm, blood-engorged genitalia. There was a lot of public nursing going on as well. This, in a county where you can’t buy beer at convenience stores! In the center of the Bible Belt! Oh my!

The conundrum of the day? Foreskins. Perhaps it was due to the constant erecty thingee, but the other Mom and I noticed that the boons seemed to be circumcised. Crazy, I know. But surely, like most other mammals, they have foreskins or sheaths? Perhaps not. Perhaps these were Jewish baboons. Anyone know?

John Hopkins Medical Center recently released a press release telling us, again, to beware of combining our food with plastics: “No plastic containers in micro. No water bottles in freezer. No plastic wrap in micro.” Why not? Plastics contain dioxins. Dioxins cause cancer. When heated or frozen, dioxins leach from plastic into the FOOD that we consume.

Among other cancers, dioxins have been implicated as a cause of breast cancer, which maims and kills thousands of women every year. Dioxins are HIGHLY poisonous to the cells of our bodies (remember DDT? Banned!).

To those of you who say, “Pshaw,” I say: Remember the ancient Romans? Their women used make-up made from powdered lead. Yes, lead. And women died of lead poisoning, until, finally, someone figured out what was making them sick (which didn’t stop us from adding lead to paint and gasoline until the early 1970s. Unbelievable!).

Remember the mad hatters? European hat-makers once used mercury to shape felt. Mercury–which can soak directly through your skin into your bloodstream and make you go insane before succumbing to a painful death (one reason you should properly dispose of old mercury-laden thermometers if you own such).

According to Dr. Edward Fujimoto, Wellness Program manager at Castle Hospital, we should not be heating our food in the microwave using plastic containers. This applies, particularly, to foods that contain fat. He said that the combination of fat, high heat and plastics releases dioxin into food and, ultimately, into our cells.

A couple of years ago, I went to Wal-Hell and bought a 12-piece set of Pyrex dishes of different shapes and sizes that I use in the microwave, oven, or freezer. What could be easier than to take food from the oven to the fridge to the microwave, without poisoning yourself or your family in the process?

Fujimoto also pointed out that plastic wrap is just as dangerous when placed over foods to be cooked in the microwave. As the food is nuked, the high heat causes poisonous toxins to actually melt out of the wrap and drip into the food. How gross is that? Cover food with a paper towel, a plate, or a glass Pyrex top instead, please?

Once again, we have an example of how technology is killing us. Did you know that there is little indication that cancer existed in the ancient world? We’ve created this curse, brought it upon ourselves, by not looking at the long-term effects of the chemicals and products that we tout as modern and sophiscated.

I’m becoming a regular Luddie, no? Just please don’t tell me about the daily radiation dose I’m getting from this computer screen. And don’t use plastic in your microwave.

Has anyone else noticed that in your Blogger profile, the first fricking line under the name of your blog is “Gender:”? What the hell is that about? Why is gender a significant indicator of blogging capacity? Of whoness? Of about meness?

Okay, I call myself Edgy Mama, so clearly I am female. And yes, I was born female–I’m a womyn born womyn. And I’ve given birth. And I write about both being a woman and giving birth, occasionally. And I don’t know where this argument is going, but I do know that I don’t care whether you are male, female, trans, or genderqueer–as long as you’re a decent writer, or, at least, an entertaining one.

Nor do I really care about your astrological sign, your Chinese horoscope, or your shoe size. Glad I got that out of my system.

Last week I wrote a smart*ss horoscope for myself. My blogger buddy, SC, whom many of you already know, was inspired and wrote my horoscope for me for the rest of the week. In the process, he discovered latent astrological and intuitive talent.

Go visit his blog, Nothing Rocks Harder, for your horoscope for this week. Then tell me if any of SC’s predictions come true. This is what EM is all about, coaxing and prodding hidden talent from young, warped minds.

Though they’re all brilliant, my favorite of SC’s offerings this week is for you lucky Leos: “I’m afraid this week you’re being stalked by a nifty little evolutionary badass called ‘the common cold.’ (Sorry, babe.) This is a great week for revenge, due to Pluto’s position relative to the ecliptic, so be sure to spit in the coffee of the guy who gave it to you.”

Go, SC!

In honor of America’s favorite day of excess and sloth, a slightly naughty joke:

After the big Super Bowl party, Doug figured he better spend some quality time with his wife. He climbed upstairs, walked in the bedroom and crawled into bed.

“Alright honey,” he said. “Give me a play you want me to run.”

“How about foreplay?” his wife replied.

“What’s the foreplay?” said Doug.

“You know,” his wife said. “It happens before the two-minute warning.”

It’s always entertaining when someone BUIs. Provided, of course, they can still spell somewhat phonetically, and they retain a modicum of irony about their situation.

I presently am blogging under the influence of orange-flavored cough suppressant, which I have been chugging in large quanities for several days, and which has had no identifiable mitifiable effect on my cough. Just before I sent him to bed with no supper, my son said: “Mommy, why do you have to cough EVERY day?” Actually, sending him to bed without supper would be more punishment for me than him, as I’m the one who’d be up at midnight making him a peanut butter bagel and washing grapes.

So, I want to talk about the interview I did yesterday with this very sparkly and interesting woman who is an animal communicator. Yes, she can talk to animals. I know, cue Dr. Doolittle. But really, she says she can open her mind to animals and they show her images that help her understand them and act as a conduit between them and their people. And people PAY her, lots of money, to talk to their animals.

What’s most amazing is that she’s able, over the fricking telephone, to make guesses about potential medical problems that a pet might be having. And, she’s right on the money, like 80% of the time, with physical diagnoses. Which is better than most doctors I know.

She told me lots of stories, but the one I like the most is about some alligators that she talked into leaving someone’s backyard pond. Supposedly, these folks had lived in harmony with the gators for several years, but they were moving and were concerned that the new family would shoot their friends, the gators. Damn right. I’m all for every critter has a right to life and all, but alligators in my yard would be a problem. I have another friend who is all about “save the animals,” and she sent me an e-mail recently asking for a donation to save the sharks. Excuse me? Save the sharks? So, they can bite off a big hunk of my leg next time I’m in the ocean? So they can mutilate my children as they innocently splash in the waves? I don’t think so. No moola will be leaving my checking account to help save the sharks. If they’re nice sharks, that’s fine. Nurse sharks are nice, right? Whale sharks don’t even have teeth. They can stay. But those great white meat-eating machines with the rows of shiny razors? No way. Ahab, I understand.

So, back to our backyard-dwelling predators. The question is: how do you get alligators to peacefully vacate a happy habitat? Since they are undomesticated, they don’t, of course, understand a word of English, so it’s not a matter of having a civilized conversation with the snappers. My friend had to figure out a way to communicate an image to them that would help them understand that they were in danger. So she visualized something that she thought would indicate that their current brackish hole was unsafe and showed it, telepathically, to the gators. I’m not sure what indicates danger to a gator–rednecks spitting tobacco and slinging guns around? A well-dressed lady holding an alligator-skin purse and salivating? But, regardless of what image she chose to push into the Mesozoic minds of the reptiles, guess what? The NEXT day, the alligators were GONE. Yes, moved on–away–to, we hope, a safer place. How remarkable is that? Just amazing.

So, my plan? I’m taking an animal communicator to the beach with me next time. Just in case.

Unrelated update: Until we’re inundated with flash fiction, Ash and I are promoting Flash Fridays on Flasheville. Sweet Lu has a story up today. Check it out! And keep submitting.