The Queen of All Things Scrumptious, Lena, came visiting this weekend.
It was supposed to be a visit from Lena's entire family, but at the last minute, travel plans had to be shelved. Lena's baby sister, Mallory, had a double dose of king-sized ear infections and Lena's mommy wisely decided that she did not want to subject a planeload of folks to the taxing effects of a baby who does not have the words yet to say, "THIS F*#@*NG HURTS! DON'T TELL ME TO HUSH! YOU TRY DEALING WITH THIS KIND OF PAIN WHILE SITTING IN A DIRTY DIAPER AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!! GET ME THE HELL OFF THIS PLANE RIGHT NOOOOWWWW!"
But instead, chooses to verbalize her anguish through a series of wild wailing, screams, and just plain, pitiful crocodile-sized tears on her angel face.
It was decided that it would be too much of a crushing disappointment to Lena's fans, (that would be my household and everyone else down here, who has benefited from her lollipop, sugary sweetness) and so fairy godmother Aunt Jeanie became the Royal Princess's escort.
Both Lena and Jeannie fared well. Although, I think Lena just might have had the better vacation. Followed at all times by an entourage of at least 6-8 girl cousins, her every need was met, her every action met with wild applause.
You know you've picked the right kind of fawning entourage when you come out of the bathroom, announcing you just went potty and the place goes berserk, hooting, whistling, clapping and stomping their feet like you're Barack Obama and you've just announced, "Change has come to America."
I think Jeannie was tired. It takes a lot to keep a 3-year old busy and happy and her mind off her Mommy, many states away. She did a great job. There were only a few times, Lambchop Lena announced she was ready to go home. But, between Jeannie, the adoring entourage and a trip to the Disney store, Lena decided that our house was THE hot spot for toddlers.
Matthew, my brother's little guy, also feels this way about my house. The Hubby is a Rock Star in Matthew's toddler book. Matthew lives in our town and every chance he can get, he sneaks over.
Well, not really. He has to have his mother drive him and only while securely strapped down in his car seat. But, if Matthew COULD sneak over, he'd be in our garage, surprising us with his presence every time we took out the trash.
Matthew is a lover of all power tools and since The Hubby is a collector of all sorts of power tools, Matthew spends most of his time at our house in the garage, sitting on the Dixie Chopper, lovingly caressing the industrial leaf blower, admiring the collection of shop vacs, chainsaws, air compressors, and all the other things of which I have no idea what they are.
But, Matthew does and he can tell you all their parts and demonstrate how to use them.
Lena was excited that Matthew was coming over to see her. I didn't have the heart to tell her he was really headed over to meet with the Dixie Chopper.
She told me she was going to show him her new Barbie. I didn't have the heart to tell her that he would love to throw her Barbie down in front of the Chopper and see how quickly that Baby could decapitate Diamond Princess Barbie.
True to form, Matthew arrived and headed straight to the garage. Lena was just getting out of her royal bath with all her ladies in waiting attending her. As her entourage was dressing her, she announced, she wanted to go show Matthew her new pretty dress.
This utter mismatch of our DNA makeup has been with us since the dawn of time. The evolution of the species has not changed when it comes to certain things.
I couldn't break it to her, that pretty dresses will never catch a man's eye when loud engines and speeding machines are involved.
It is a wonder that through this divergent march of civilization, we have not set up separate colonies, with the men's city stocked full with NASCAR boutiques, power tool stores on every corner, theaters that play only movies featuring bombs and sub-machine guns, and Friday evenings that are reserved for Karaoke fart-alongs.
The women's side would be exquisitely decorated, with everyone traipsing about town in their pretty dresses and to-die-for purses, Hallmark card stores would be everywhere, charming cupcake bakeries would dot the landscape of the various-shades of pink town, (a girl really never grows out of pink), tulips, roses and lilacs would fill the town with their heavenly scents, the theater would feature only romantic movies, preferably those starring Gerard Butler and George Clooney speaking in English accents and of course, every corner would be occupied by shoe shops and Barbie stores.
I knew the new, pretty dress wouldn't turn that gorgeous boy's red-haired head.
I'll give it to Lena. She tried. She swirled and whirled in front of that Chopper, but Matthew was too busy explaining to her how every button and gadget on that Rolls Royce of lawn mowers worked.
She finally learned what we all have resigned ourselves to, since time began and man first sat himself down on the couch with a six-pack of beer, take-out wings, the remote, and the-bigger- the-better-to-watch-the-game-on, High-Definition TV. "If you can't get him to play Barbies and admire your twirly, new dress, might as well join em."
What other explanation could there possibly be for women's attendances at professional golf tournaments, (You're not even allowed to TALK at those snore-fests!), monster truck rallies, and Wrestlemania?
Lena and her sister, Mallory, will be back in a few weeks, once tender eardrums are healed. More scrumptious tales await.
Today's Doo ITT Download: I'm liking that phrase! I might just keep it for awhile.
In honor of Depeche Mode's new album, the oldie but delectable, "Policy of Truth." Oh, how I love this song! It just brings back great memories of poofy hair, matte lipstick and funky fashion! As a special treat, I've embedded the original video. And how MTV videos have changed!
Speaking of new videos, as a proud fan club member, I got a peek of U2's, "Magnificent" video, a couple of days ago and it is exactly that. And what I like about them is how they all look like real men. They've got wrinkles! Wrinkles! Something you don't see much of on American celebrities. Maybe, that's why I'm predisposed to European men. They look like real men, instead of pretty boys. Ahem, Brad Pitt.
Enjoy a little Policy of Truth while you're teasing your hair and putting on your brick, red lipstick
UPDATE: Policy of Truth has been removed due to copyright violation. Capitalist f*#*rs! Don't even get me started.