Open Letter to Perry

Dear Perry,

You are not my friend. Do not send me a friend request on Facebook. DO NOT follow me on Twitter. Do not comment on my blog. I do not like you. GET IT?

GO AWAY.

So who is this Perry, ReformingGeek?

OK. Here's the story. First, I must tell the guys that you can move on towards the end of this post where I have a reality check and a special treat for you (and a snack for Nooter). On the other hand, feel free to read all the gory details because just when you thought you understood how to manage her PMS.....


When you turn 40, your doctor tells you that Perry will be visiting you from now until the CHANGE. Um....huh? That's right. Perry will stop by and wave stab you with a wand and you will experience fluctuations in your.....er....monthly cycle. You will have mood swings, hot flashes, followed by a visit from Mr. Freeze. You will find yourself giving those around you the stink eye more often than you want to admit.


You will experience brain farts, brain fog, and brain explosion (must be great for the zombies). Your energy will be sucked away during the night and that weekend of junk food and adult beverages clings to your belly, hips, and thighs like a newborn babe on a......oh never mind.

And Perry, when did you stop understanding that MONTHLY is the minimum acceptable frequency?


Treatments include chocolate, shoes, date nights, vacations, Kiefer Sutherland and Matt Damon fixes, chocolate, shoes, date nights, vacations, etc.

Did I tell you about the brain fog? That's right. Perry again. Sometimes I repeat myself.

I'm so glad I have someone to blame.

But wait. There's more.

Guys, something similar happens to you. You will need $$ and more $$ because most of you will be purchasing some sort of vehicle. Money will also be needed for all the extra medical testing because of issues with the "cough" exam or the finger exam or the too-much-stress test. You will feel like a walking pharmacy with new medications for this, that, and the other. Hats will be needed to cover heads because the hair up there just isn't adequate anymore. And that extra stuff around the middle? Yeah. It's a lot harder to get rid of now. Sorry, guys.

OK, Guys, this one's for YOU:


Kidding. Kidding.

Is this better?



No, Nooter, not yet. Stop slobbering all over the human's lap. Here's your snack:

Wait. I think I'll have one, too. Yum.

Photo credits: Mr. Freeze: imdb.com, corvette ladies and Brats: istockphoto.com

The Crow and her Foot Fetish Goes Plastic

Over at Humor Bloggers Dot Com, some warped, twisted person with an elevator that doesn't quite make it to the top floor decided that we should write a post about feet. Huh? Surely, that is a typo. Feet? Maybe they meant feast? Yeah, food. I can do that.

But, no, I double-checked and the topic is feet.

I like feet. I even like my feet. Sorry, no photo. I really don't want to get strange emails from FootFetishFrankie after he googles and finds this post.

I don't like crow's feet, though, and I'm not talking about the ones attached to the bottom of the crow. After considering the alternative of not growing older or getting Botox injections, I decided on plastic surgery. How do you like my new look?


Going blond wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be. On the other hand, maybe I should sue the surgeon.

Whoa! Back away from me with that torch. Plastic melts and I'm getting a little scared over here.


Have you noticed that people with unattractive feet wear shoes that show the most foot? Isn't that like guys wearing speedos that disappear within the folds of their body? EEEWWWW! Then there are the folks that go to nudists colonies. These are not usually the folks you'd want to see naked.

FEET, Reforming Geek, FEET!

Sigh.

Let's look at a slightly different meaning for "feet". About how many feet up this tree in my front yard is this stylish decoration?


That's right. It's a skin missing its snake. Hint: My 8-foot aluminum ladder is not tall enough to peek in the hole, and, yes, I will get on a ladder even though I'm scared of heights. Hubby did not seem inclined to pull out the heavy duty ladders to check on this situation over the weekend. He said something about his computer hard drive was crashing, his tires needed rotating, he needed to re-organize his sock drawer and then wash his hair. You know, the normal stuff a guy has to do on the weekend.

I can understand why people struggle with the English/Engrish language but the plural of foot is feet, not "feets"!!!

So what else can I tell you about feet? Not much but did you know that Texas has our own version of Bigfoot? Our version is the Lake Worth monster.

Um...yeah. Let me get my camera....


Photo credits: painted barbie: Lorelei92950 on flickr.com, Creative Commons license (see sidebar), hanging snakeskin: ReformingGeek.