From Watch to Crotch!

Despite being told a gazillion times as a kid, not to talk to strangers, we cannot help ourselves. Perhaps it is not quite the look that makes a person strange, but actually what comes out of their mouths. If this is the case, I need to wear a warning button that says "I'm a Stranger". Knowing me, it would be some type of homing beacon and instead of stopping persons from talking to me, it would do the opposite. I may just conduct some type of experiment though and see what happens!

So about a year and a bit ago I took a journey to Vegas by myself. But Vegas is not where this story is heading because we all know "What happens in Vegas...Stays in Vegas". It was actually the return trip that landed me this experience, featuring me - The Stranger.

On my flight back, I had to get a connector which included a 2 hour layover. Walking a fair distance from gate to gate, I noticed I was walking parallel with another guy who also had Vegas tags on his luggage. (Yes, I do actually notice things like that lol!) He must have noticed the same thing (or perhaps it was just my hottie hotness) because conversation ensued with a cheesy one liner "Going My Way?". We soon learned we were not actually heading to the same final end destination as I was heading on to Van and he to Calgary. To fill in the time between flights, I was invited to some Executive Club he belonged to at the airport for a drink and some appies. As neither one of us was appearing strange to each other so far, I thought what the hey.

So up we went to this "Members Only" lounge. This was definitely how it should be in between layovers: big comfy chairs, buffet spread, open bar, big screen TVs, soft music. Very Cool. But it was such a weird feeling. It felt like a date that I wasn't really on and with zero expectation. Neither one of us had to worry about making a good first impression because it really didn't matter. It was 2 hours. That's it. That's all.

Through all our small talk, I think I learned a lot more about him, than he about me. Must be my skilled interviewing techniques coupled with my not giving up any personal information paranoia. But then...the conversation turned. One question to me and I was on a roll. He just simply asked me about the watch I was wearing and if I picked it up in Vegas. It's nothing extraordinary, your basic silver bracelet type with the "Betty Boop" character on it. But the story that came along with it, literally left him squirming in his seat. I'm sure to this day he is wishing he never went there.

This is what I told him...

(Laughing) Ya, I picked it up at one of those kiosk places just for fun. It really has nothing much to do about the character of Betty Boop. It is just all about the Betty.

Now judging from his facial expression of utter confusion, I felt the need to keep on talking.

Well a few months back, I was puttering around at home, with the TV on for company. There was some show on in the background on women entrepreneurs. The guest was talking about how she founded some product for women. She had said she had been in Europe at a hair salon and had noticed that as other women were leaving, they were being given something extra on their way out the door in a little bag. Being curious, she inquired with the salon stylist what it was and was told it was extra hair dye for the women to use at home. Thinking it was for root touch ups, her further questions to the stylist taught her it was extra dye for the women to take home so the carpet could match the drapes. (You know...so their head hair could match "the hair down there".) Gasp. The stylist explained to her a lot of women as they age turn grey and they also turn grey "down there". Women being such vain creatures, like to look younger in both areas. How novel. And here I thought that's what razors are for haha - not that I am grey so let's get that straight lol.

A thrown in wink wink nudge nudge and airport buddy was enjoying the story. After all, here I am now talking about women's parts! Easy bait.

So continuing on, the woman after learning all this in Europe, comes back to the States and explores this further. She comes up with dyes using rosemary, comfrey, elder flower, cherry bark, aloe etc. but with pubic hair being coarse and wirey, ew, she had to find similar hair to test her dye on. Low and behold she finds out that the animal hair of a Yak is the closest and as luck would have it, there just happened to be a Yak farm on the outskirts of the city. Seriously!! (I don't know about you, but just saying the word Yak, makes me want to, well, Yak.) So after testing on the Yak hair, consulting with Va Jay Jay doctors and skin specialists, she did it! She came up with an environmentally safe product not tested on animals that colours the pubes and will not irritate the sensitive skin in the area. And because men seem to always have a name for their peni (lol is that plural for penis?), she named it "Betty" and developed the phrase "Is your Betty Ready?". BUT she didn't just stop there. She has a whole colour line... Black Betty (singing out loud Bam a lam), Blond Betty (so those wannabees can look more natural), Auburn Betty, and Brown Betty. She even has some funky wild colours, Fun Betty (hot pink), Sexy Betty (purple) and Lucky Betty (green). Cool eh?

So I'm telling this dude the story and how watching it made me laugh and really want to try it out for shits and giggles and was even thinking of having a Betty Party with some girlfriends. Tupperware is so last year. And then I say to him, "Can you just imagine...you are making out with a woman, and you go down on her and voila, she is hot pink down there! What would you think? Being a guy, do you think that would be fun? Do you think men would find that stimulating?"

Oh Dear! Back up the train! Am I for real? What have I done? Am I seriously having this conversation? Thinking I have some iota of how a man brain works, did I unintentionally first plant some kind of porn seed that me and a bunch of girlfriends were going to be having some kind of fashion party where we would be all dying our whowho's and strutting a rainbow of muffins AND did I just ask this guy a question by asking him to "visualize" having oral sex with a hot pink beaver and then ask him if he thinks he would enjoy it?

So I'm looking at him, giving my brain a chance to catch up to my mouth, wishing to the heavens, that he answers with something intellectual like "Nacho?" to shut me up, but no, he is speechless. He's sitting there, kind of twitching in his seat, doing the leg cross, uncross fidget thing, pulling at the knees of his jeans, making extra room in his crotch and I realize, OMG! All this Betty talk had given him a hard on! No wonder he can't talk. He has lost all blood flow from his brain!!

Think Wendy, think! Only one thing to do...looking at my Betty watch, I say "Oh my look at the time! I should get to my gate." Hoping he wouldn't stand up (and he didn't), I thanked him for the LAYover and left for my plane.

Once I got on my plane and I had time to digest what had just happened, I started giggling wondering if Betty came in blue to match the balls I just left him with. (BTW it does, it is called Malibu Betty.)

For those of you wondering...although those that know me well already know the answer...yes, my Betty Is Ready!!!

And for those of you who dare to have a colourful 2010, you can get it at most Chatter Hair Salons or through the Betty website at www.bettybeauty.com. And they have it for men too!

I definitely need one of those warning buttons, don't I? lol

Wishing you a wonderful and prosperous New Year filled with much love and laughter.

xo xo,

W.

Journey On ...

A bit of a preamble before I continue ...

I heard once that to truly give a meaningful hug, it would take a full 6 second embrace. 6 seconds is a really long time if you actually count it out. But when a hug is given from the heart, and once you get past your own "space" issues, those hugs feel so damn fine and are good for the soul.

To think that so many of you actually took the time out of your day to read my stuff and then make more time to offer such positive and encouraging feedback, is humbling. I am in awe. From Deep in my heart ... I thank you ... A full 6 seconds worth. xox

***********************************

You say it's your birthday
Well it's my birthday too, yeah
You say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.

~The Beatles~

Today arrived with a dusting of snow and crisp cool Canadian air. What a perfect gift.

Yes. It's here. Another Birthday. Another year older. Another day to "assess my sitch" by going over the past year in my head and asking myself do I like who I am, where I am, what I am doing and know where it is I want to go from here.

I think first of all, I'm officially going to start counting my birthday years backwards. Not in the Benjamin Buttons kind of way, just in numbers. By my calculations, the Sis and I will then hit the same age in 4 years, which is so very cool because we are planning to celebrate our milestone by traveling Europe for about a month. "The Big 4-0" together. Woot! Woot! And by further calculating my age regression should put me about infant to toddler age, back in diapers with just a few teeth, relatively about the same time I would be more than likely be in diapers and toothless anyway. So really...what's the big deal?

Well, my day began with the Brother calling me up to wish me a Happy Birthday. Well I think that was his intention anyway but not sure if those words actually came out of his mouth. Our conversation went pretty much like this:

Me: "Hello"

Bro: "Hey what's shakin'?"
Me: "My left and my right".
Laughter
Bro: "Up and down or side to side?"
Me: "Well once they get started they kinda go in a figure eight".
More laughter

Sounds pretty normal for my family. Don't all siblings discuss boobs as part of routine shootin' of the shit?

So speaking of boobs. Do any of you remember the pencil thing? You place the No.2 pencil under your boob and if it fell then you had perfect perky TaTa's but if it remained stuck under the over, then Valley Girl "Oh ma Gawd" you were getting so sa-a-gy! I'm sure this really isn't the picture you want of me, but hey, between you and I, I'm about a 64 pack of Laurentian pencil crayons with room for a few Crayola crayons to boot- the big thick kid size ones. And don't you dare get me started on my ass LOL ... Is this what they are calling "Aging Gracefully"? I wonder if Isaac Newton had never sat under that apple tree and got bonked on the head, making him ponder why that apple was attracted to the ground in the first place, would gravity have ever been discovered? Why couldn't he have just said "Hey, Thanks tree!" and ate the damn apple and be done with it? This thought just makes me want to clench my fist and hold it near my chin while making that little rabbit teeth face and say ... Newton!! just like Jerry Seinfeld did when the character Newman did something sneaky.

But seriously. I love the age I am, the experiences that I have had, and the lessons I have been taught and actually managed to learn (although sometimes needing remedial classes). It's like I finally get it. And that my friends Rocks! The most freeing thing I have come to realize, is the Universe unfolds as it should and no matter how hard I can try, I cannot control it. By surrendering, embracing and changing my brain, I am my own "happy place".

And on the days that I just can't buy into my own crap? ... Well hey ... that's what red wine is for! Preferably Shiraz ... Lindemans' Bin 50. LOL

And to get back to the beginning of this blog and answer my own questions...yes, yes, yes and wherever I am, whatever I am doing, is the path I am meant to take.

I welcome my next year, come what may.

Journey On...

What's in the Box?

There could be a 100 people on the street but if one of them was looking for directions, it would be me they would pick. People literally make a bee-line for me to ask me stuff. I have no idea why that is - some say I just have that friendly approachable safe kind of look about me - but I say "WHY ME?" while looking up at the sky with a clenched fist. I usually tell my sister the crazy stuff that happens and she is like WTF, someone really asked you that, or talked to you about that... and the answer is seriously yes.

Sort of like "What's in the Box?". And here is where I shall begin...

(This here paragraph should really be a footnote but I'm not sure how to do those on a blog so consider this like the warning at the beginning of a TV show. I kind of have this unwritten rule that you should always know your audience prior to speaking. But in this case, I am my only audience at this time. HaHa. But if at any time you find this offensive, just remember I had no idea you were going to be reading it at the time this was written. LOL)

So here goes...

About 2 and half years ago, my husband passed away after a courageous year long battle with Cancer. It was terrible, sad, crazy, unfair, you name it. It was everything you can imagine and then some. When my husband passed away, we had been visiting my family in another Province than where we lived. My husband had wanted to go to Vegas and marry me all over again, but we decided on a shorter journey and stayed in Canada where our medical system is top notch.

Although there are a gizillion downsides to loosing a spouse, loosing someone somewhere other than where you live further complicates things because you are forced to deal with "details" sooner than later. By this I mean, transporting them, cremating them, extra luggage on the plane. Just things that you would like to do another day, but can't.

The one detail that I did not have to think about was cremation. We had a Will so the decision had been pre-made. (Hint Hint for those who do not have one.) This however leads to another detail to work out - how you transport your loved one home? For me, there was no other thought than to take him with me as my carry on luggage. But then there are airline regulations etc. that have to be adhered to, and one of those is that the container that holds the remains, has to be a plain box, unmarked, so as not to freak out the other passengers. Who knew? Better yet, who wanted to ever know that? Ya, not me either.

But anyway, here I am, boarding the plane, with my plain cardboard box, holding my husband, eyes damn near swollen shut from crying for days, only to realize he is not going to fit under the seat and cramming him under was not an option. Again, more airline regulations and I was promptly told if the box could not fit under the seat, I had to put the box somewhere else. If it weren't for my husband being IN the box, I'm sure I would have told her what she could do with it but ... thank goodness for my sister. She quickly and with the utmost discretion and consideration for me, my little girl and the other passengers, explained our circumstances. The airline hostess was so kind and compassionate, and offered to take my husband up to the front and put him in her compartment where he would be safe and secure. Pretty nice eh? I was so grateful.

Well the flight was great...I think...well actually I really can't remember a thing about it until we landed and I went to retrieve my husband. I had waited in my seat so I could be the last to get off so as not to get in the way of other passengers. When I got up and went to the front of the plane with the hostess, who comes out of the cockpit? The pilot with a big shit ass grin on his face. Right away he picks me to talk to and starts asking me "What's in the Box? Is it a present? Is it for me?" I was stunned. My sister's jaw was on the ground and the poor hostess was completely horrified. She was trying to get his attention by running her finger across her neck to get him to cut it out. Obviously not cluing in to subtle female gestures, he kept on smiling, waiting for an answer but I just politely smiled, nervously chuckled then collected my husband and left the plane. And here I am thinking, who does that? Who ever asks such a thing to a perfect stranger?

But our day was only half done. We had yet another plane to board before we got home. While we were waiting, sis and I had a good giggle and felt terrible for that poor pilot who probably got an ear full from the hostess after we left. But mainly we thought of my husband who was able to find humour in the strangest of places. I was sure he was just setting me up and was probably laughing his ass off at the pilot for being such a clown. LOL

As the journey continued and we went through the same type of thing with the next airline and again the hostess was an absolute sweetheart. And again, I waited at the end and made SURE I was the last one off the plane this time, still slightly traumatized by the pilot. But could I get that lucky? Oh No! Not I.

So picture this... Here I am walking on the tarmac toward my husbands awaiting family, carrying him in my arms, trying to prepare myself for the stream of emotion that is sure to hit me as soon as I get through the door. Suddenly, this man starts running up behind me, big smile on his face wanting to talk to me. And what does he say? Yes, no kidding, he asks me "What ya got in the box?" Seriously! I swear I thought I was loosing my mind. First off, where the f**k did he come from? Slightly dazed and confused, I said "pardon me", being sure I must of heard him wrong but no! he repeated it, not wavering, and still smiling. So I looked at him and answered him honestly. "My husband". His face turned grey, "Did you just say your husband?" and I nodded. Can you imagine? That poor man. But afterward I learned my family thought it was a friend of mine because they had seen us talking (obviously not knowing what about HaHa) and I guess he apparently felt so horrible, he made his wife get his luggage and made a point of sticking around until I was finished hugging my own family, just to apologize and offer his condolences to me. Apparently I gave him a huge hug. :) I hope I made him feel better. LOL

But you know, since that time, I have heard strangers in line, people at work and yes even the kids at home say, "What's in the Box?" like everyone has this right to know. Nosey creatures! And although I have to laugh every time, you'll never catch me saying it because really...I don't want to know. What about you?

And remember before, when I was telling you about the great sense of humour my husband had? Well with no word of a lie, shortly after his death, I was getting something out of a closet and found this little cardboard box that was from his work. Written on the side of it in marker were the words "Hey Ed, what ya got in the box?" ;)