Women are Like ... What Again?


I have been reading Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys (published by Ballantine Books and available on, which is where I found it).  Since there is a guide to guys on the market, I thought it would be fair to give equal attention to us women.  I appointed myself to the job, because I am eminently qualified, being a woman.
I already started this in another post, and it was fun.  I like to have fun when I write, so here is the next installment.
Interior Decorating
There is one thing that every red-blooded woman feels deep in her heart:  nothing in the house ever looks good where it is now.  This is of vital importance.  To a Real Woman, her environment is intertwined with her mental health, the well-being of her family and her reputation with in-laws, friends, neighbors, the co-op board (when applicable) and anyone else who might drop in, including that cute UPS guy who looks like Johnny Depp.
Even women who work outside the home during the day and …

Women are Like … What Again?

I have been reading Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys (published by Ballantine Books and available on, which is where I found it).  Dave Barry is one of my idols.  One of these days, if I work hard, I’ll be able to write like that.  Hope springs eternal in the human heart.  Somebody was the first to come up with that quote, but I won’t tell you who it was because I don’t feel like looking it up right now.[1]
Now that there is a guide to guys on the market, I thought it would be fair to give equal attention to us women.  I appointed myself to the job, because I am eminently qualified, being a woman.  Besides that, it’s my idea and I got here first.
A Couple of Old Timey Ideas That Are a Crock of You-Know-What
To start with, women are not scatterbrained, weak or helpless.  If you don’t believe this, try any of the following traditionally female occupations:  Childbirth.Raising children and keeping a house clean.Raising children and keeping a house clean while …

Politics 101

Good evening, and welcome to another session of Let’s Talk to Anyone with a Gizmo.  I’m your host, Kathy Minicozzi.  Our guests today are two of the most famous political figures in the world: Her Majesty Queen Cleopatra VII of Egypt and His Majesty Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte of France.  Welcome.
CLEOPATRA:  Thank you.
Let’s begin with you, Your Majesty.
CLEOPATRA:  Call me Cleo.
Alright … Cleo.  If you were to advise a beginning politician of today, what do you think is the most important thing you would say?
CLEOPATRA:  Two things.  Get rid of any siblings and give yourself to a powerful man.
You are talking about Julius Caesar, right?
CLEOPATRA:  Who else?  He had the power and I had … well, you know what I had.  If you’ve got enough of it to take a smart, powerful man and turn him into a quivering mass of jelly who will give you anything you want, it’s stupid not to bring it out and flaunt it in his face. You were in Rome when Caesar was assassinated, right?

UPDATED TALES: Jack and the Beanstalk

Somewhere in Iowa lived a kid named Jack Dahg, who lived with his mother, Daisy Dahg, and two twin siblings, Harry Dahg and Emma Dahg.  They were the poorest family in the region.  Jack’s father, Digger (the one Daisy called “Dirty Dahg”), had died and left everything to his other family in Missouri.  The Iowa Dahgs and the Missouri Dahgs had not been aware of each other, but they had made each other’s acquaintance at the reading of the will.  The lawyer and the sheriff were still in therapy.  The two families hated each other.  Being related wasn’t their idea.
Jack was a teenager and his two siblings were in the Second Grade, so he had to help support the family.  Mrs. Dahg had a minimum wage job at a local Chick Fil-A, so the family needed a second income to keep them just below the poverty line.  Jack was allergic to work.  It gave him a rash.  He decided to help support his family by becoming a burglar.
After his fifth arrest, Jack started to believe that he had no talent for bre…

The Boomer Life 2

My father came home from World War II, and I was born shortly after.  I took the first of millions of breaths on February 22, 1946.  This made me a Pisces and a Baby Boomer, a lethal combination. My mother was a European-American of multiple ethnic backgrounds.  She often referred to herself as a “duke’s mixture.”  That was better than calling yourself an “I don’t know.”  Mom grew up in a small town in Washington State.  Her family was best described as “genteel working class.”  They had the income of working class people, but they had good breeding.  They had better manners than a lot of the wealthier people in the area, a fact that I experienced first-hand more than once.
For example, there was a time in high school when my piano playing ability was called on to accompany a girl who studied with the same singing teacher I studied with.  She and I attended the same high school.  We would meet and work together after school, in the gym, where there was a piano.  We rehearsed together…

The Boomer Life

I never do anything the normal way if I can avoid it.  This includes living my life in the right order.
I was born on the leading edge of the Boomer generation.  I came of age in an exciting time.  My generation protested and demonstrated against racial discrimination, the Vietnam War, and the subjugation of women.  We studied ecology and warned people to protect the earth.  We even went overboard, declaring, “Turn on, tune in, drop out.”  Reefers were passed around at wine and cheese parties, with the wine served in paper cups.  New forms of addictive drugs were developed and sold.  The more reckless among us dropped Acid and hoped they would survive with their brains intact.  Transcendental Meditation became a fad.  Brassieres were burned, boys and men grew long hair and beards.  Women and girls grew long hair, too, including me.  My hair is thick and coarse and it grows at the speed of light.  Growing it so long I could almost sit on it was easy.
Speaking of going overboard, there…

UPDATED TALES: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Somewhere in Europe there was a country called Trumpetia.  Every year, the King of Trumpetia held a noisy argument on the floor of the Parliament with members of each of the two opposing parties:  the Richies and the Rest.  The Richies always agreed with the King and the Rest always disagreed with both the monarch and the Richies.  It made for a lively time, especially when the Rest held a filibuster, which they did every couple of years.  Local hospitals had ambulances ready to whisk the wounded to the nearest emergency rooms.  It had been years since any members of Parliament had been mortally wounded, which made everyone happy, because nobody liked to call the police.
Queen Bambi of Trumpetia was a former porn star who caught the eye of the King ten years earlier when he was playing adult videos on his flat screen TV.  He thought that her body parts would be up for grabs and that she could be kept in line.  He was right.  It never bothered the King when the Queen declined to atten…