’21 A To Z Challenge – M

 

THANKS FOR THE MAMMARIES

Truth, freedom of expression, and lack of censorship seem to be good ideas, but…. there’s something to be said for the more subtle, understated ways of yesteryear.

Let me re-introduce you to Marilyn Monroe.  When guys got a look at her, they often went

MMMMMMM

Back in the 1950s, and early ‘60s, there were a coterie of female movie starlets labelled as sweater girls.  They primly, modestly, covered up what they had, but emphasized it by stuffing it into tight sweaters.

Mamie van Doren

This was a time when female celebrities’ costumes were measured in yards of fabric, not yards of bare skin poking out.  Someone asked, “What’s the big deal about sweater girls??  Take away their sweaters, and what do they have?”

Anita Eckberg

As one of many such, the English language took the word milch from German.  In German, it is the noun, milk.  In English, it became the adjective, milk.  When a dairy-cow has been bred, delivered her calf, and is ready, again, to provide milk, she has been ‘freshened.’  She is referred to as a milch-cow.

Gina Lollobrigida Known to Mad Magazine as Gina Lottabazooma

The Germans also gave us a delightful, sweet, white wine, called Liebfraumilch – dear/beloved-woman/wife/lady-milk.  It’s good that there is no actual milk involved, so that der frau would need to be a milkmaid, and the cream come from her cows.  A woman, working in a big office, had to put a note on her Tupperware container of liquid in the communal lunchroom refrigerator – To whoever is using this to cream their coffee;  This is my breast milk, that I pump for my baby.

Jayne Mansfield Mother of Mariska Hargitay of Law And Order: SVU

Well, that was an outstanding post, if I do say MMMMMM myself.

WOW #44

This is MY definition of ‘Griffonage.’

Doctors have learned to use computers, and no longer hand-write prescriptions. Pharmacists give thanks for modern technology. That brings us to the Word Of this Week

GRIFFONAGE

Careless handwriting: a crude or illegible scrawl

The art of cursive writing is going the way of the Dodo VCR. Generally, the more someone writes, the more rushed the writing is, and the worse – the more illegible – it becomes. If you are fortunate enough to get a celebrity to autograph a book or a program, they vaguely wave a marker over it.

What results, could not be proven in a court of law – or anywhere else – to be an actual signature. You might as well have had one of the roadies scribble something. You could sell it at a neat profit, and no-one would be any the wiser.

This old –but new-to-me – word, brought me to another new-to-me synonym…. Cacography, who is related to cacophony, which means
harsh discordance of sound; dissonance:
a discordant and meaningless mixture of sounds

So, where one infects the ears, the other afflicts the eyes. Give your eyes a rest on Monday, with a post with a few jokes.   😉   😆

Aaahh – They Got Me!

They almost missed me.  Here it is, awards season again, and once again I’ve been unfairly passed over.  Not a word from my adoring public.  I didn’t get one of those strange, un-named statues (?) that look like an op-art angel made of gold ribbon, at the amalgamated Canadian Screen Awards show, watched by all 12 people who give a damn.  Surely I’ve had a better story arc than that hit Canadian show….tee-hee-hee  Hold on a sec – I’ve gotta Wiki to find out what Canada considers a hit.

Nothing at the AMA show, even though I can sing better than that Carly Rae Jepsen kid, when the drugs and her ego wear off.  I’m gorgeous!  You deserve me!  Call me, maybe, if you get off on that child pornography charge.

I didn’t get a Golden Globe, although I saw a bunch of golden globes as I surfed by, on my way to a TV program that required both of my brain cells to be awake and functioning.  My buddy Seth MacFarlane woke the crowd at the Oscars up by singing about them.  We Saw Your Boobs!

I thought that the judges at the Oscars were a little nit-picky.  Apparently you actually have to be filmed doing something to get a statue.  My portrayal of a curmudgeonly old fart was much better than Clint Eastwood’s in Gran Torino, and I wander around talking to empty furniture all the time.

When I published my 100^th post, four of them had been for various well-deserved blogging awards.  Soon to reach the 200 mark, I hadn’t been inflicted with another award.  I feared that perhaps I’d lost my mind touch, but then realized that, as awesome as you guys are, you were just too busy to render proper obeisance.

Edward Hotspur was out, spreading Technicolor Unicorn piss, Fairy dust and attitude.  Some of it settled as far as www.benzeknees.wordpress.com up in the Great White North.  Benze was using it to melt the ice, and get some traction, in her driveway, when a bit of it blew my way.  That’s why I’m now the proud owner of a gently used Versatile Blogger Award.

As usual, there’s a bunch of rules, and, as usual, because I’m lazy, and much like Mary, Mary – quite contrary – I’ll follow them, or not, as I see fit.  First, I’ve linked above.  Click to visit a nice lady with some interesting things to say.  Second, I want to thank Benze for having the good taste to honor me as I deserve.  Third, I’ve picked up a copy of the Award and displayed it at the top of this post.  If the wife and I can figure out how to do the insert-widget thing, I’m going to dress the place up a bit, by displaying some of these on the sideboard.

Next, I’m supposed to pass this award on to 15(!!??) other worthy bloggers, and comment on their site to let them know that they also can have a big bowl of this worship, with ice cream on it.  Ain’t gonna happen!!  Somebody convinced the dinosaurs to do that, and see what happened to them, extinct.  I should know.  I watched it happen.

If you’re on my blog-roll, and you want a copy of this pretty little picture and an excuse for a post, feel free to grab one.  I’ll testify in court for you.  If you’re not on my blog-roll, but still feel that you are deserving….I saw Nothinggg!  NNothingg!

Now I’m supposed to reveal seven facts about myself.  They’re supposed to be interesting; but I didn’t read anything that said they have to be true, so here goes.

I can still tie my own shoelaces, but I wear boots most of the time, so that I don’t have to bother.

My GPS co-ordinates put me as near as Damn It, to halfway from the equator to the North Pole.

Why is a mouse when it spins?  The answer, of course is, the higher, the fewer.

I would hate to be blind.  The eyesight is normal for my age, and requires glasses for close work.  I love reading and word puzzles and watch a fair amount of TV, much of it non-series.  However, I have always loved the dark, played in places as a kid where I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.  I’ve been down in two Virginia caves, in one of which, the guide turned off the lights, and I experienced total darkness.  Aside from the waste of electricity, and the money to pay for it, my house always looks dark.  I put little 7-watt nightlights in each room, which cast just enough light to get safely from place to place, and only turn on lights where and when they’re needed.  I drive past houses at night which look like the Vegas strip, lights on outside, and in every room.  Are they insecure?

I walked to Ernest Hemingway’s house in Key West when I was there, and observed/studied it.  I didn’t go in.  I’m not sure tourists are permitted to go in, or if there’s a fee.  I did see several of his famous six-toed cats, and even managed to stoke one for a second or two.  They’re not feral, but they roam free, and are somewhat leery of strangers.

While I’ve been harassed a number of times in my life by police officers with nothing better to do than flex their legal muscles, I’ve never been arrested or charged with anything.  Some of my readers may find that interesting.  I did have an RCMP officer fingerprint me when I applied for a Security Guard licence.

If you’ve been counting my facts, because you know you can’t count on me, you know that this is the seventh.  I’ve run out of time and space, and want to thank you all very much for coming to this awards show.  Next time, try to dress a little better.