Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where on any given day you'll see drivel that's hardly fit to read! But don't let that stop you. The deities you worship will appreciate your interest in this site.
The old saying goes, "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels."
I thought of this Friday night when my daughter The Heir donned her heavy, synthetic furry Fighting Wombat costume in 80-degree humidity and served as mascot for the Snobville Wombats football team. Oh, those cute little cheerleaders got to wear t-shirts and gym shorts. But not the Wombat. The Wombat matched (nay, bested) the cheerleaders for enthusiasm! Out there gyrating around through a whole football game on a night when the spectators were sweating! Oh, to be able to YouTube it! I promise I'll try.
Are you reading this, all you universities out there? Anyone need a mascot? Heck, my kid's the Kobe Bryant of mascots. She could skip college altogether and go straight to the Big Leagues!
How did the Powers That Be discover me to be a woman of a certain age? Because every time I open my Yahoo mailbox, I get advertisements to get rid of wrinkles. And they're gross. Female faces with one side before and one side after.
Not only do these ads make me wanna puke, they just don't apply. My family tree runs tall and wide with people who don't look their age, including me. That's issue "A." Issue "B" is that I don't have a problem with people looking their age. It sickens me that our society puts so much stress on youth. Have you ever met anyone who was simultaneously young, gorgeous, and wise?
The 25 That Got Away
Saturday there was a flea market here in Snobville. Fresh off her nighttime mascot spree in the blinding heat, my daughter The Heir helped a friend set up and run a table. The Heir lives for flea markets. After setting up, she went to look around. She found an old rubber monster and an old rubber eraser animal that I had described from my childhood. She bought them for a quarter apiece.
When I visited her about two hours later, she proudly showed me her "finds." She said the lady who sold them to her had a whole box of similar stuff.
I rushed to the lady's table. And yes, she was a very, very, very, very wise lady who had never used Botox. Well, wait a minute. Scratch some of those "very" labels. Because what she had done was scour the old attic and bring down the toys her children played with. And sold them for a quarter apiece. By the time I hit her table, a dealer had snapped up the rest of the rubber animals.
She was a very huffy, snobby lady, and quick to brag that the buyer of the rubber animals was glad to get them. With equal snobbiness I informed her that, oh yes indeed he probably was ecstatic, because he could probably sell them for ten times her price (minimum) on Ebay. That rather drained her wise-looking face of color.
The moral of this post is, would someone please tell me how to fool my computer into thinking I don't care about stuff that will make me look young?