Filed under Life
A very Bardamu Christmas
My Christmas Eve was spent at my grandparents’ house in the rural wastelands south of Syracuse, chumming with the other Bardamus who braved snow, sleet, and skin-cracking cold in the spirit of family reunion. That evening, after dinner had been consumed, I was with the rest of the guys in the downstairs shop drinking cheap beer and shooting the shit when my uncle, who had been chatting with one of my cousins, suddenly turned to address the room:
“Remember guys, the most important thing you need to know about girls is that they have half of the money and all of the pussy.”
All the men in the room raised their voices and beers in agreement. I had guzzled too many Foster’s to offer an eloquent counter-argument, so I reluctantly went along with the others.
My uncle has been married twice. His first marriage was to a whore who cuckolded him not long after they had tied the knot. She had secretly confided to my mother that she was bored with him and was looking for excitement. Fortunately, she divorced him only after a year of marriage, so he didn’t get burned too heavily. His current marriage is to a wastrel of a woman who doesn’t work, doesn’t help around the house, and doesn’t do much of anything besides hoover down antidepressants and watch TV. She also has a habit of embarrassing herself at public gatherings due to her bouts of dipsomania.
My other uncle has also been married twice, the first one ending due to his own malfeasance. He hasn’t even bothered to see his daughter since he divorced. In contrast, my dad (who wasn’t present) is the only one of his father’s sons to remain married to the same woman.
The dots are out there. It’s my job to connect them.
…
Christmas Day. My folks’ place. After the exchange of gifts, I had nothing better to do while waiting for the roast beef to cook, so I was vegetating in the living room watching Little Women (it was on Turner Classic Movies, so sue me) with my mom. She asked me if I thought June Allyson was attractive, because she thought that her looks were way overrated for some reason.
I said yes, I thought she was good-looking, which she was – in Little Women anyway. I then asked my mom why she thought she wasn’t all that.
My mother replied, “I think it’s because of her annoying voice.”
I said, “What does THAT have to do with her looks?”
She remarked that a woman’s looks is a “complete package,” with her voice being a part of that package.
“Of course you would say that. You’re a woman.”
This set her off into mock outrage mode. “Wow, you are REALLY sexist, you know that?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s the truth.”
Our conversation fizzled out there, and we went back to watching the movie.
…
I spent Saturday getting my hands dirty helping a friend install fiberglass insulation in his basement. Unfortunately, my plans to go snowmobiling with my buds later that day were dashed because an overnight rainfall had washed away all the snow. Mother Nature is a capricious harlot.
When working with fiberglass sheets, you should always wear long sleeves, pants, and gloves to keep the strands from getting on your skin. If you do get them on your body, the best way to wash them off is to take a cold shower, as the icy water shuts your pores and gets the stuff out. If you use hot or warm water, your pores open up and the strands get buried even deeper, which itches like a dozen hells.
A decent measure of a man is how well he can work with his hands, a talent that is lacking in those of my generation. Ladies, if you find a guy that knows how to build and fix things, odds are good that he’s worth hanging on to. Also, the best time to give him a surprise blowjob is after he’s completed a strenuous home improvement task, like dismantling a garage or chopping down trees for firewood. Go forth and spread the love.
…
I arrived home yesterday afternoon to find the chateau still intact. Back to my undeservedly lucrative job on Monday. I love my life.
Men would likewise love to believe that good character, a strong work ethic, dutiful behavior, etc. should be supremely attractive to women of all ages. A “complete male package” as it were.
The only women who behave like that are 35 year old cum dumpsters who are desperate to find a husband after 15+ years of screwing around and working on their careers or extremely religious women.
Mike, I resent that….I believe those are attractive qualities in a man and I am neither religious nor…..wait…nevermind, I am old. shit.
“itches like a dozen hells.”
–I’m totally swiping that.
We both know which type of “older woman” I am referring to. FB has taken down so many of them on this site already that I’m surprised the EPA doesn’t have a warrant out for his arrest.
A beautiful women is one that is a joy to behold. I can certainly say that an annoying voice impacts how much joy I derive from her.
She remarked that a woman’s looks is a “complete package,” with her voice being a part of that package.
Actually, I think your mom is onto something here. If a woman is plain, a sexy voice can work just as many wonders as can well-placed makeup or a miniskirt and fuck-me boots.
Consider:
* a sultry, seductive voice that puts a tango step into every clause
* a pleasantly girly voice redolent with submissiveness and faux innocence
Etc.
Also, an annoying voice can totally put the kibosh on an otherwise sexy bitch. Imagine if your favorite Rule 5 girls opened their mouths and a cacophony reminiscent of Fran Drescher oozed out.
–
On the other hand, her side of the argument would become ridiculous – and yours would become The Cold Hard Reality – if she attempted to cross the line from voice (a genuinely erotic quality) to such irrelevant qualities as education and career.
It was in the men’s room at the Dinosaur BBQ in Syracuse (a place with which FB is undoubtedly familiar) that I saw the following graffito:
“If women didn’t control 100% of the world’s supply of pussy there’d be a bounty on their heads.”
Voice *does* matter as a negative if it is a really bad voice (like Fran Drescher).
Plus, a woman who can sing very well earns a few points with me.
What is it with you guys and FOSTERS beer?
Phooey!!!
We don’t drink that swill here in Oz. In fact, one cannot buy the “stuff” in local liquor outlets here. There IS a reason for that!!!
Sheesh, FB get ino VB.
It’s a man’s drink, mate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rlIjpq_4Fg
Kathy:
And my relatives thought I was kidding when I told them that nobody drinks Foster’s in Australia.
I’m not a fan of Foster’s, but my relatives have extraordinarily bad taste in beer – the only other choice they had was Keystone Light *shudder*. Drinking that regurgitated piss is a fate I’d wish on no man.
While we’re on the beer tangent, I’m envious that, as I noticed from a previous entry, you get Yuengling in upstate New York. In the Philadelphia area, where I’m from, one orders Yuengling simply by asking for “lager.” For some reason they haven’t expanded Westward into Ohio where I am now.
Ferdinand:
No Labatt’s?? No Saranac?? No Genny??
I’ll back up what Kathy said. Fosters is shit. Best way to spot a tourist down under is to look for the person drinking that horse piss. Try drinking Tooheys, XXXX or VB instead.
I agree with Epoxytocin No. 87, your mother was right about a woman’s voice. Think of somebody like Lauren Bacall.
Hermes:
Heh, I was in a Philly bar a while back and the bartender said that he knew I was a tourist because I specifically asked for “Yuengling.”
anoukange:
S’alright.
Good shit.
Genny is the worst beer in the world. It’s even worse then Keystone Light. If someone handed me a button that would blow up the Genny brewery, I’d jump up and down on it ’til it broke.
And then, after they rebuilt it, they’d laugh and laugh, at you and your broken detonator.
@Mike T:
“Men would likewise love to believe that good character, a strong work ethic, dutiful behavior, etc. should be supremely attractive to women of all ages. A “complete male package” as it were.”
I find these extremely attractive, and I’m not 35 year old, or EXTREMELY religious. (I’m a Christian, though)
Just saying. We exist.