Was that not the longest title ever? Honestly! (the pic is prince charming)
K. So the explanation... Obviously indicative of a double standard one has... then the charming blackjack reference of having 11 and being able to split... but in reference to double standards... one is expected to create two hands (or have 2 faces as it were- Janus... anyone? Bueler? Bueler?) and adamantly defend that both are more of a paradox than a contradiction. They fit and are both correct... you just don't quite see how. get it?
On the random Madonna front... (overheard a snipit of a conversation that said "Who's THAT girl?" and I immediately had to run to my desk and try to pull it up on radio blog and then you tube) a.) in the 80's I thought she was the most spectacular dancer... now it looks like a jane fonda work out. b.) you know how Elaine Bennet from Seinfeld does the full body dry heave? Well, except that she has no rhythm... it could be a Madonna dance. In fact I would much love to see Madonna attempt it. I think I should post that to her website. Things that make you go hmmmmmm.....
Back to double standards. Dream killer is making fun of me because I had to stop to buy new pantyhose this morning because the ones I wore were the wrong color... and it was QUITE noticeable. He points out that I could not pick out the right pantyhose but he can. He quaintly remembered (Today is brought you by the letter "Q" and the number "11ty billion"!) that once upon a time I had him buy me pantyhose and they were the exact right size and color and quite possible the most fantastic pair of pantyhose any woman has ever had. (please look for the sarcasm... in fact please read the last sentence in the accent of a satirical older jewish woman) Let me set that one up...
Once upon a time Jimmy Choo had to pick me up for a wedding. I am never ready on time. He called when he left his house to tell me that he would use my blow dryer cord to hog-tie me and drag me to the car if I was not ready when he got there. I say "well let me go get a pair of pantyhose from the store so use the key if you get here before I do"... He bans me from going to the store because he correctly surmises that I will find 11ty billion things that I do not really need. And then spend another 20 min talking myself in or out of all of them. He offers to just pick some up. I say pick me up 1st so I can pick the color, there is no way he is going to get this right. He is outraged and bans me from going to the store with him because the same surmission (is that a word?) from before would occur with him standing next to me. At which point he would be obligated to try to strangle me with said pantyhose.
So he shows up with a great pair. Right size, right color, lacy to boot- no control top (as his attempt at a compliment) because he says I don't need it. awwww.
He spends the entire ride to the wedding bemoaning the fact that he is tragically single and how is it that women do not maul him in the streets because he can do fabulous things like pick out perfect pantyhose. To which I am obligated to enlighten him that the only reason he can pick great pantyhose is because he has to pick tights for himself (he was taking ballet at the studio I used to give lessons at) and 'tragically single' was the direct result of him being completely self-absorbed. No woman will ever be able to compete with how much in love he is with himself.
But I start to wonder if other guys could do this or if it was indeed a 'skill'. DK and I were dating at the time so fast forward to the next time we are going to dinner. He is on his way and I ask that he stop and pick up a pair of pantyhose for me. He offers to pick me up 1st and let me pick them out... and he promises not to try to strangle me when I look for lip gloss. I say "I would rather you got them please." He fights me the whole way to the store (obviously to no avail) and then after a long silence says.... "This is a test, isn't it? There is no way I'm going to pass this. Why don't you just tell me what I did wrong or that you want to 'talk' or that you are breaking up with me" I tell him it is no such thing and I'll see him when he gets to my house. He tries to call back, he tries to text me to get specifications but I do not respond.
He shows up with the right pantyhose and the wrong lip gloss. The entire ride to dinner is him bemoaning the idea that women want a guy who can do things like change tires, change oil and change spark plugs... but as soon as they get one... they want to change him into a guy that buys pantyhose and picks shoes and puts together outfit (DK can do all of the above surprisingly well). To which I kiss him on the cheek and say "yes, dear. and thank you for the perfect pantyhose. you are the best". no more words from DK :)
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