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The above picture of my favorite Church uniform doesn't appear at first glance to be a weapon of mass embarrassment but don't allow yourself to be deceived. While passing the women's auxiliary room (Relief Society) the buckled closure on my wrap skirt decided to break free and present itself as an unwrapped skirt. Hordes of people were present to see that errant flap of fabric reveal my undies. Thank goodness my modesty begins at the foundational level and I never opt for commando style. One of the Church brethren acted without haste and she shielded me while I quickly maneuvered the tie back into place.
I found it most disappointing that nobody tossed any dollar bills or even threw an, "Ooh La La", my way. Nothing. Gaw! What a bunch of pious holy rollers. This must signify that I don't have a bright future awaiting me onstage down at The Caligula Gentleman's Club. Some dreams just never come true even if you wish upon a star.
21 comments:
Marilyn Monroe Lives!
The Pious Holy Rollers sounds like a great place for religious ladies to have their hair done.
I am rather puzzled by the reference to the women's auxilliary (Relief Society) - is this another obscure reference to that Cindy Lauper song?
I'd have thrown you a bill too! Boy what a bunch of stiffs you go to church with.
We got a great laugh this week at our youth (I'm our YW President) night, when one of our leaders meant to ask the teacher who was teaching first aid if something would cause "Unconsciousness" and instead asked if it would cause "Incontinence". We were practically rolling on the floor, and she never batted an eye!
Gypsy Rose: are you from the Tony Orlando song, or the famous Gypsy Rose Lee? (Both before your time, I know.)
You guys are all so funny.
I hate to reveal too much of my 'True Colors', but you know how it is, after all, 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun'.
I've learned to empty my bladder before embarking on a reading of you guys's blog comments because I've had many unexpected laughs and with that comes unexpected trickle. In a roundabout way, YOU people are the culprit behind incontinence.
Gypsy Rose Lee, the Mother and patron Saint of strippers and exotic dancers everywhere. I wear my pasties proudly and light a candle in tribute to thee.
Probably the most excitement those people have had in years. Forget waiting for the dollar bills. Demand those suckers up front! Put up a sign advertising your next wrap skirt party! Dovetail it with Tupperware for an extra financial boost!
Nah, Mormons are more into Creative Memories Scrapbooking than Tupperware. Hey, they can dedicate a scrapbook page to ME, entitled 'My First Burlesque Show'. I like your entrepreneurial spirit Anne!
Some memories should never die and should instead be plastered all over a book to shove in the faces of the uninterested every chance you get. For more on my feelings of scrapbooking please visit:
http://mormonfamilyman.blogspot.com/2006/02/scrapbooking.html
AAACK! SCRAPBOOKING! NOOO!! "...a book to shove in the faces of the uninterested every chance you get." Exactly! They're this generation of parents' "home movies". I (years ago) thought it may be okay for a memory book for kids (not my kids, as I'm not into scrapbooking)- then we met Psycho Christian Scrapbook Mom at a homeschool event. She proceeded to show us (a group of about ten moms with kids along) the scrapbook she'd made for her then age 4-ish daughter. It was filled with pics of the little girl's two older bros, mom pre- and post-natal, very little of said daughter and lots of comments in that cute, flowery lettering how they were sure she was to be a boy and soooo disappointed when she was born and wasn't. My kids were young, but even then looking over at me as if to say, "Is she for real?" Wow, I wonder on what episode of Jerry Springer THAT kid will some day be....
Holy cow, way to make a child feel special and wanted by informing her and commemorating it in a book that they wished to have a child of another gender.
My Mom often tells me of the first night of her honeymoon and their car was stolen in Chicago along with her purse in the trunk and birth control pills. Apparently, I was born exactly nine months later. I'm the unintended product of a car thief and poor self control. Way to boost my ego Mom!
Birth control pills were a fairly inexact science back then, anyway, elastic. I think God wanted you to be born right when you were - so, pills or not, I believe we'd still be blessed with your presence. :)
HOORAY FOR INEXACT SCIENCE, another contributing factor of my birth.
Thanks Wendela.
Hey electric(Laughing) I'd hardly call having sex on your honeymoon 'poor self control'
Perhaps this explains your dark sense of humour.(excuse non yankee spelling!)
Oops, you got me with the spelling, didn't you? *wink* I'm not that ignorant to know that there are different variations of English words. Labour, humour, defence, etc.
Yes, I stand by my assertion of 'poor self-control' even on a honeymoon because it was made abundantly clear by my Mom that she didn't want a child so soon. Like she couldn't have waited until the next day to get a pill replacement. Oh, bloody Hell, I gave a cheer for inexact science so, HOORAY FOR HORNY PEOPLE! (I owe my life to that)
By the way, in the interest of 'diversity' because I know that's what you're all about, my Mexican husband pronounces your screen name as PISSY, and I laugh every time.
Another variation on 'you say tomAto, while I say tomahto'.
No bother electric - my wife often calls me pissy. As in "no need to get pissy with me, I was only asking when you were going to get off that computer!"
Being married to a Celt means doing as you're told.
I've never seen the submissive side of you before Pissy. It's both flattering and funny to think of a Mrs.Pissy keeping your worldly, academic self in line.
For some reason that song 'Tradition' from the musical, Fiddler On The Roof, keeps running through my mind. Only the words have been altered to 'Submission'.
Aaaarg! that awful movie made me cry when I was a kid.
Please don't call her Mrs Pissy, she does not like public reference to her poor bladder control and will ban me from further posting if this trend continues.
Did you see the female urinal that I transformed into a gorgeous hand painted vase? Now, that my friend is the answer to all bladder control problems. Never again will humanity be burdened with having to exercise urinary restraint. Hallelujah!
How can you not love Fiddler On The Roof? Perhaps you're not as cultured as you pass youself off to be.
Now you're just trying to antagonise me aren't you?
Piddler on the the Roof and culture in the same sentence?
I think not.
Let's see, I thought that you were all about, 'embracing multi-culturalism'. Fiddler On The Roof is a way to connect with my Jewish brothers and by the mere fact that it reduced you to tears means your inner self spoke to you of the beauty of it all. My husband HATES musicals. Most often heard comment by him is, "Oh, crap, are they singing again? They just got done singing." Yes, Papi, that IS why they call it a musical.
It took me awhile to respond because I had to look up the definition of antagonise. Did you intend to say antagoniZe?
Unfortunately movies can be very manipulative - sentimentalism does not equal true emotion - the fact that I cried has much to do with the fact that I was a child, unequipped to deal with the power of cinema.
Fiddler on the Roof may or may not reflect some grain of Yiddish culture - that is not the point - sentimental manipulation is dishonest and does not further anything (let alone multiculturalism)
As far as musicals go - I am not adverse to them if they have some integrity - 'Cabaret' being a good example.
PS - all that looking up - hope you've got the Oxford English Dictionary (or is that Englizh?)
:-)
Aha Pisces! You show your true nature with this :-). I'm waiting now for your next response to be littered with LOL's, OMG's, LMAO's, and the ever popular ROFL. The mental picture of you actually rolling on the floor laughing is pretty amusing.
Yeah, I'm not that into sentimental schlock either. I have banned a few songs from this house like 'Christmas Shoes', 'I Hope You Dance', and the worst country song ever about an abused girl who watches her parents kill each other and is protected by Jesus. I HATE songs that make me artificially weepy. Similarly most romantic comedies make me sick too with the possible exception of 'Just Like Heaven'. That movie was really good on so many levels.
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