You Slut, You Whore, You Prostitue??

I may not be much on grammar but I do love the English language. I love the play on words that some people use and I love finding the meaning to words.  Bob studied Latin in high school and since then, I've also been interested in the origin of a word. To find a new word and actually be able to use it daily, makes my heart sing.

The words.... slut, whore, and prostitute... has always given me cause to go back to the dictionary and rethink their use . My girlfriends and I have had many conversations on them. 

According to dictionary.com the meaning of these words are as follows:

SLUT :

1. a dirty, slovenly woman.

2. an immoral or dissolute woman; prostitute.

 

WHORE: 

1. a woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse, usually for money; prostitute; harlot; strumpet.

 

Prostitute: 

1. a woman who engages in sexual intercourse for money; whore; harlot.

2. a person who willingly uses his or her talent or ability in a base and unworthy way, usually for money.

 

I can remember when I first met The Engineer, my mom said to me, "you'll never make a good prostitue.". I looked at her in a puzzled, but not surprised, fashion and asked her why not. She said, "because you give it away." Well, we all know what "it" is and I was never sure that was true, but......

 

Probably a year into our relationship, a friend of mine was moving to Germany and couldn't take her 2nd car. It was a 65 Mercedes. It was old and beat up. She only wanted $300 for it. The Engineer bought it for me. So when my mom asked why he had done that I casually said "back pay!". She gasped.... hey! What do mom's know anyhow??? I know, I know.....300 dollars is a small amount for a year's worth of sex. What can I say....I'm cheap!! Right?

On to the meaning of the 3 words..............

In my humble opinion the real meaning should read:

Slut: 

one who will have sex with anything.  

 

Whore:

one who has sex for pleasure and may sometimes get paid.

 

Prostitute: 

what we all are in one way or other (definition 2)

There are other words I could throw in here like, you hussy, you strumpet. Why you, you harlot, you tramp....

 

But none of them sounds so good as  YOU  BITCH! YOU SLUT! YOU WHORE!! Ever been to the Howl at the Moon Saloon? You'll hear this chant when they sing different songs. When we went to the one in Miami,  I won a bumper sticker (for MY bumper)  for doing a line dance to New York, New York!!

 

 

 

oops off topic............

 

 

 

You can call me a whore if you wish. I won't be offended!

 

 Merry Christmas Ya'll

Starring: The Engineer (singer) Baby (drums) LemonLady(guitar player with tongue) Princess in Training (guitar) Triple D (guitar)

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Meditation

The internet is out at my house. Triple D is making me CRAZY

Serenity Prayer..........

For today I will:

Go to Barnes &Noble

get on the net

and

Order a Venti

 

Double Expresso Mocha Frappuccino 

Secrets

ChaMy life is pretty much an open book. I don't have too many problems "airing the dirty laundry."

I've often wondered about people holding secrets. I can remember when Clyde was diagnosed with rapid cycling bipolar disorder; the doctor asked me if there was anyone in the family that had experienced depression. I told them that my older son was always depressed.  The psychologist asked if there was alcoholism in the family. I said "yes sireee, yes indeedy." He asked if anyone had a thyroid problem. I told him not that I knew of .  As it turns out, when most people having bipolar disorder  track the family history they find a common ground with these 3 things.

I remember calling mom later that day and asking her questions about the family. I asked if there had been any depression or mental illnesses in the family. She said no one was ever diagnosed but  then she relayed all sorts of information about my dad's side of the family. For instance, my Uncle Jerry had been admitted to a Psych Unit after dangling his, now ex wife, out the 3rd floor window of their apartment. Then the story was told of my Uncle Vannie who spent time in Chattahoochee State Mental Hospital  after going into DTs. She didn't relay any information about her family.

I didn't even ask about my dad's family and drinking. We all knew that my dad's mom and dad were alcoholic and  so were all 3 of his brothers.  My dad and his sister were the only 2 in the family who were able to drink sensibly. I knew my mom had had a drinking problem in her younger years.My sister and I had our fair share of drinking episodes too. (Little did I know that my brother and my oldest son would soon have their own drinking problems) When I asked about my mom's side of the family, she just said that her dad had drank in his early years.

I questioned her about thyroid problems and no one had any problems as far as she knew (later both my sister and mom were diagnosed with hypothyroidism, completing the "3")

The Engineer's mom and I would have all sorts of discussions about depression and alcohol use. The Engineer's paternal great grandfather had committed suicide. There was no "alcohol abuse"  noted in his family. There were no mental illnesses beside what the great grandfather may have had.

Several years later my mom's brother committed suicide. I asked my mom if she had any idea that he was  depressed. She told me about his attempts at suicide and his alcoholism in prior years. He had been in a sever state of depression since his wife had died (at this time I don't remember how long she had been dead before his tragic death).

I asked her why she never told me when I first asked and she said, "I didn't want to air the family's dirty laundry." She didn't mind airing dad's but she wasn't going to tell her family's secrets.

So now we are in the present day and I have no  problems telling anyone anything about my family.My philosophy is: the more who know the more likely you'll be informed if they see something. Example: If I pretend there is no problem keep the secret of Triple D's drug abuse, then my friend who saw Triple D coming out of  crack town might not want to be the first person to tell me they saw her.They know I know and tell me immediately if they see her.

My older grand girls have been raised to keep secrets not air the family dirt by their mom and their mom's side of the family. What I'm finding out at this time would make your straight hair kink up like your pubes.

I think it comes down to a matter of trust for the girls. Can they trust me with the information they are giving me?  What am I going to do with the information when I find out?

If you cover your eyes do things not exist? If you cover your ears is there really no scream? 

Are family secrets kept because of embarrassment or are they kept because of fear?

Just Because I'm Paranoid Doesn't Mean They Aren't After Me

"They" think they will make me crazy and I'll forget what really happened.

NO SIR-EEE...... I will not forget.

We've never locked our doors. The only time there has ever been a break in or things stolen was whenever "Clyde" lived here or in the area. When he came home in 2003 things happened again.
The neighbors had their car broken into and things were stolen. Our truck  gotten broken into and an old tennis racket and some home made CDs were stolen. Clyde wasn't even at home the night it happened but my first thought was "he's keeping his hand in it." (we never found the robber)

So ........

Strange things are happening again. Triple D has been good (I think?). I've got the older grand girls  and they are good (I think?). Of course, there is the Engineer (he's gone a lot?) and Baby (she's too young?). Oh yeah, and me (I didn't do it? Did I?)

Case of the Missing Credit Card

This morning I get to the check out at the grocery and go to use the card and it's missing. I gave it to Triple D to put gas in her car on Sunday night. It was returned promptly and I checked my account on-line to make sure there was only one charge.  I call Triple D and ask her if she still has it. She says she thought she gave it back to me. I tell her it's not in my wallet and she says she doesn't know. I head home. In my mind, I retrace my steps trying to remember what happened. I remember I gave the card to Triple D to put gas in her car on Sunday night. She sent a text to me and told me she put it on the counter. Sometime after 12:30 a.m. Monday, I get up and check the counter. It is there.  I take the card and for what ever reason put it into an envelope that the Engineer has left on the counter. Monday morning around 7:30 a.m. I take the card out of the envelope and insert $20, then seal the envelope. I put the envelope and , I thought, my card in my purse. Something isn't right??

I get home and check the on-line account and it still says the same thing. No pending charges, No new charges. I ask Triple D again. She says she gave it to me. I tell her again I don't have it. She says it might be in her car. I say where?" Then she says or it might be right there in the top dresser drawer. I open it and say "just laying on top?" She says, "Maybe under some stuff." After shuffling papers, I find it buried under a tray. 

I give her a puzzled look and ask why she took it. She says she didn't take it. She says she guesses she never gave it back. I shake my head and leave the room. When I get into the kitchen, I realize that what she said didn't make any sense, since I had just done the "retrace in my head."  I go back into her room and ask her why she took my card. She covers her head and says, "I don't know."  The suspicion hackles come up immediately and I start watching her like a hawk.

Tonight I came home from tennis and asked again why she took my card. Her excuse was she was afraid that I wasn't going to give her anymore money for gas. I asked her if she took it out of my purse. She smiled sweetly and said, "no mom, you left it on the counter. "  I probably did leave the card on the counter but I think she is just trying to keep "her hands in it." Damn kids......

Case Closed

I was distressed over this and talked about it with a counselor friend of mine. According to the counselor, Triple D will have these fleeting moments because her brain is still not back to "normal." "Picking up" the card was not right but she stopped short of using it for other purposes. Her drug abuse caused her to lose her moral values and then the stealing and lying became a habit. I don't really get it but , I suppose, I'll take the counselor's word on it.......

Creative Juices? NOT!

I wish I were more creative. I've sat at my computer for more hours than I wanted and I've read what others have posted and I can't think of  a thing to write about.

I thought maybe I'd write about the ridiculous dress codes that middle school has and how sometimes certain things are allowed because of body shape and size and not the length or lack of covering. I can't because it's too aggravating.

I thought I'd write about the time I went to Germany with my long time friend, Ethel.
I can't. I miss her too much to reminisce.

I thought about writing about the TSA. It's already been done and frankly Scarlet I don't give a damn.

I thought about doing Mama Kat's Workshop this week but nothing on this list inspired me (because I have no creative juices). Here's what it is this week.

1.) Have you ever had a fight with a long time best friend and never made up? Do you think about her from time to time and think about contacting her? What would you say? What if it didn't work out? What if it did? I never fought with a friend that I didn't apologize immediately

2.) The perfect fall photo...share a picture that defines fall for you in your neck of the woods. I need to call Kelly or Dumdad . I don't do photos.... at least, not good ones. OH! Plus I live in Florida and there is NO fall.........blah.............

3.) CONTROVERSY! Are the new security measures performed by the TSA really that bad? Take a stance! See above paragraph about not giving a damn.

4.) What inspires you to write? Problems? If there are none at the moment.......well........there are none at the moment.

5.) "If you could relive any moment in your life, what moment would you choose?  Write about it." That is also above about Ethel and if I knew what I know today, I'd have done more traveling with her. Shit! Now I'm depressed.

I see posts about all sorts of things that are funny and I can't think of a single thing to write about that that would make someone laugh.

I could have written about the drudgery of household chores.....sweep....mop....dust....Boring!

I could have written an essay about what I'm having for dinner.....put chicken in the oven...VOILÀ ..Baked Chicken......Boring!

I could have written about how awesome I played tennis last night....sigh....I won......too bragg-y.

I could have written about how wonderful it is to have a husband out of town every other week......NOT!

I could write about what the IRS agent says to me this morning when I go to work....If I go to work...hum....maybe later.

My Never Ending Story

The Engineer is out of town, once again. He was gone for 2 weeks and home for the Thanksgiving Holidays.

When he comes home, he can't figure out why no one is relying on him to take care of things.

The household runs with or without him. It is a finely tuned ship.

The laundry gets done. The trash gets down to the road. The dishes get in the dishwasher. The house gets locked up at night. Pick up and drop offs are all arranged before hand. Times are coordinated with synchronized watches.

This weeks calendar in short form:

-School for the Grand girls starting at 7:30 a.m. each morning and finishing up at 5 p.m in the evening.
-The older grand girls sit down to do homework at 8:00 p.m. sharp.
-Tennis for me Monday morning at 8 a.m. and 7 p.m.
-Doctors at 9 a.m. for Princess in Training on Tuesday
-Tennis for me at 7 p.m.
-Wednesday Doctor of Triple D at 9 a.m. and Lemon Lady at 3 p.m.
-Work for me on Wednesday somewhere in between doctors' appointments.
-Probation for Triple D on Wednesday in the afternoon.
-Thursday Tennis for me at 8 a.m.
-Friday meal planning then shopping for it all. Bills are paid this day too.
-Saturday is the fun day.......house keeping has been put off for more days than not. Laundry, cleaning, yard work (if The Engineer is home...I don't do yard work)
-Sunday is Tennis for the Engineer and I at 9 a.m.
-Football is watched with great gusto!

Somewhere in between all these activities, I find the time to delegate chores for a nominal fee (allowance),cook, love, and get on the computer to whine about it all. Secretly my life is full! I HATE empty nests.

This is my purpose in life. I am happiest when my plate is OVER full. I leave no scraps.

Am I bragging that I can do this all again? Maybe just a bit...

Am I wanting someone to look at me and say WOW!! Probably......

Isn't this what being co-dependent is all about?? ME???

I may not be the best at raising kids but I'm getting my fair share of chances to get it right!

Touch

Beksinski

One touch is all it took

To take me back in time.

The time when our bodies were

Young,

Strong,

Impassioned,

Insatiable .

Memories of Thanksgiving Past

pi
I don't remember any Holiday dinners at anyone's house except ours. I'm sure there were but none were as memorable.

My mom was never a very good cook. When she cooked any meat it had to be well done. Not the well done that falls off the bone but the well done that is so dry you needed some sort of gravy, applesauce, or mashed potatoes to dip it in so you could get it down your throat. The vegetables were what fell apart. There was no texture to them. They were  mostly mush usually filled with bacon grease. I had always wished my dad would do all the cooking. He did the breakfast meals but never dinner unless it was on the grill.

UH...before I get too distracted ........this is what I remember of our "traditional" Thanksgiving dinner.

Our dining room table seemed to me to fit the whole world around it. I guess in a sense this was my whole world. My granddad was always at the head of the table. Even when my other grandparents were there, they deferred to him. Grandma sat to his left and my Aunt Addie (my mom's sister) sat to his right. The rest of the seating, as far as I remember, was random. I don't remember ever sitting at the "kids table". They got stuck in the kitchen far away from all the excitement.

Pistachio salad....looks like puke to me

The dinner consisted of : Turkey dry as dirt, dressing, pistachio salad (which we all hated), Chocolate Pie (because dad demanded it), Lemon Pie (because mom couldn't live without it), the rest were just random vegetables. Our table was boisterous and loud. My granddad slopping his food in his mouth like a hog dying of starvation. My grandmother's continuous hisses of "Richard! Stop!". My mother's incessant jabbering of who has pissed her off and who is going to send the cheapest Christmas presents this year and the constant yelling from dining room to kitchen at the kids to "stop playing and finish eating."

  unusual? I found an article the crying chair.

The most vivid memory that I have, though, is of  my Aunt Addie. She sat in what we have forever labeled "the crying chair." None of us could ever figure out what would set her off, we just knew it was always going to happen. It would start with a sniffle and a tear, soon becoming racking sobs with her embarrassed giggles in between.

It became a great fascination of mine. I would try to figure out when and why it would happen. I never could. I was also terrified of that chair. In my  family you could be pissed, loud, and/or obnoxious but crying was not allowed. Today, I realize that Aunt Addie was the emotional one in the family.

myself with my extended family

When I met The Engineer, I found a very different way of celebrating a Holiday.  Smiles, conversation and good cheer! There was no yelling, cursing, or cut downs. There was no crying, dry turkey, or pistachio salad.

Gigi (the Engineer's mom) would create ambrosia. To have lasagna or a rib roast for dinner was the norm in this Italian family. The vegetables were crisp and seasoned with herbs and a bit of butter. There were no turkeys. There was no kids table. If the whole family was in town, we would head over  to the beach cottage, food packed in cars, where a table could accommodate the 4 siblings, their wives and all the kids.

The family sat around the table each year and reminisced about Holiday's past. There was always some story about The Engineer or one of his brothers There was plenty of wine and after dinner drinks to go round but there were no crazy drunks. (Drinking wasn't allowed at our home because of the obnoxious drunks in our family).

Today, our traditional dinner is a blend of both our families,I suppose. We sometimes have the destroyers (crazy obnoxious 'substant abusers') and we sometimes have the reminiscing family stories. We have the yelling and the smiles. We have the traditionally dry turkey and the Italian Lasagna. I strive for ambrosia but sometimes don't succeed. No one complains too much...........

We left behind the kids table, the pistachio salad and most importantly "the crying chair."

Happy Birthday To Me!!

My Mom

This is going to be a bitch session tribute to my mom. Her birthday is coming soon. Actually her birthday is coming on the same day as mine.

I talk to my mom at least once a week. She lives in North Carolina  with dad. My sis lives "in town" and my brother lives a few hours away. I'm always amazed when they bitch about how mom bothers them. I'm always the first to tell them they should be thankful that she is so close. I remind them that they can have holidays and visits anytime they choose.

So anyway......Mom is a smart ass and doesn't even realize it. She doesn't think before commenting on most anything.

I'd like to blame it on her almost being 72 but she's acted like this all her life. My sister once asked if I thought she acted this way because of   the tumor they removed from her brain.....she was blank for a long time. My dad actually asked for her doctor to continue the anti-seizure meds. because it made her so mellow.

My mom claims to be a Christian. The years growing up at home made me loath the faith. If I asked a question about religion, I'd be called a heathen. I remember once asking why we were not allowed to marry a black person.....She proceeds with....if god had meant for us to cohabitate he would not have destroyed the work on the Tower of Babel. My granddad was Jewish (by faith when he was young.)  My dad's dad claimed to be a Spaniard and my dad's mom was Cherokee (how much more can a couple look dark without being??) Go figure...god changed their color too? I guess I am a Heathen?? Whatever......

 Mostly anything you don't agree with makes you suspect in mom's eyes. She will argue anyone down on any subject. An example........my sis has medium length hair. Mom says "oh you've never had your hair that short before". My sis has always kept her hair in the Dorothy Hamil style. She has just recently started to grow it out. My mom argued for 20 minutes with my sis on the subject of her hair length. I don't know why sis continued to argue.This is the BIG difference in myself and my siblings. I don't argue with her. I usually say, "WHAT. EVER. MOM."  and change the subject.


When my aunt died she told her brother "well, if she'd taken better care of herself, this would have never happened."

The on going thing she does is to play my bro and sis against each other. She will tell my brother that my sister said something about him and then she will tell my sister what he said in answer to that.There have been times when they would have nothing to do with each other...and it was all because of  dear ole mom. I don't know if she gets pleasure in this sort of thing or if she truly has no idea that she is causing hell and havoc.

My dad doesn't say much. He sleeps a lot. He works a lot. He tries to stay out of her way for the most part. My baggage was not only anger at mom but at dad too. He didn't argue, he didn't stand up for himself or his kids. He kept his mouth shut for the sake of peace.

I could go on and on since I've dealt with her for almost 54 years.....but I won't. I'll get down to the reason for my rant.

I was talking to her the other night. I asked if she had heard from my niece, my brother's child. She said she had talked to my brother and he asked her not to say anything negative to his kid (she is pregnant). She said, "oh why would I ever do that?" Then she told me what she said to my niece...... " I can only hope that you will be a better parent than someone else that I know." I kind of freaked out for a moment. No one has ever been good enough for my brother according to mom. I am NOT believing she had just cut my niece's mom down to her face.

I say, "mom that was negative."
She says, "why??"
I say, "you just cut her mom down."
She says, "no I didn't."

I say, "what???"

She says, "I was talking about Triple D."

OH!MY! FUCKING! GOD!

 I'm pissed. I tell my mom that she is not a very nice person and that I hope she has not relayed Triple D's problems to my niece. She says she told my niece who she was talking about.  I tell my mom that she has no clue what kind of mom Triple D is. Then she drops the kicker.

"Well I do know how Triple D is because you always tell me."  

She's got me there, I guess. That will teach me to vent to my mom. I should have remembered that she uses your weaknesses against you. 

My vow:

to never tell her anything but positive things about Triple D and to be more understanding when my siblings get pissed.

 

So Happy Fucking Birthday Mom!!

Turkey Tournament 2010

We played 76 games all in one day. We lost in the finals of the 4th Flight. We lost all but one match and that is how we got into the finals.

We started playing at 8:30 that morning and finished at 5:00 that evening. It was a long day and I loved every minute of it.

The tournament always has a lot of really good players in it. Even in my younger years, I've only ever won in the 3rd Flight. Once or twice we were in the 2nd Flight but got knocked out. So I think after not playing tennis for so long, we were lucky to have been in the last Flight Finals.

There is usually a good amount of food being served to keep our strength up and for those that can play and drink........there is BEER!!

 The Engineer was wondering what I had gotten him into. He was only home for the weekend. Not only did we play Saturday but I had scheduled a match for Sunday too.

I'm sure he was happy to go back to DC so he could take a rest!







 
Me taking a break. You see I'm only drinking water!
Afterward there is always a beer or two consumed to celebrate the end of a glorious tennis day!

The Finalist of the 4th Flight. That's me, the Engineer and our opponents who kicked our asses.












The Champions of the Tournament won the Turkeys.
They finished just after 6 pm.

10 Reasons For Not Posting This Week

10. Too many females on the rag at my house. (I now have custody of  Lemon Lady and PIT ,
       15&12  respectively. Funny how the cycle of menstruation works.)

9. Too many doctors appointments. The girls had to go in. LL had a possible hand fracture and
    PIT needed a physical.

8. Depression? Results of Doctor's appointments..... LL has to go to the Orthopedic.    
     PIT is on Birth Control???

7. Too much tennis scheduled. I will have played more than 6 times after today.

6. Too many trips to the grocery for Chocolate Cherry Ice Cream.

5. Cooking for 7 again is time consuming.

4. Too much time wasted in helping PIT find her "lost" homework assignments.

3. More time spent supervising the make up of said homework.

2. Too much time fretting over Triple D cause I can't find 25 dollars that I just took out of the
    bank. (Maybe it was PIT?)


Top reason for not posting................ 

1. No computer time with 2 teenagers in the house.

Hopefully I'll be back this coming week! I'm OK....just settling in with everyone. 

My Granddad

Funny how someone else can post something and that will bring a memory to mind.
Kelly did just this with his hilarious story on what happens when you eat a few burritos! His farts reminded me of my Granddad. He's been gone for over a decade but every now and then, someone says something or talks about something that brings his face so clearly back to me.

He wasn't a handsome man. He was grossly overweight (6'4" 320lbs) and had a booming, gravely voice caused from too many cigarettes. He had a great sense of humor and warm brown eyes that danced with merriment on more than a few occasions.

His favorite saying was "pull my finger". It didn't matter who was at the house, he would rip the biggest, loudest fart that anyone could imagine. When the Engineer and I first met, this was one of  my granddad's greeting. He didn't care.

He'd scare the great grands with his false teeth and tickle them until they were so wound up that my grandmother would scream "RICHARD!! STOP!!" Did he stop? Oh hell no...he'd just keep on until they got bored or their mothers would round them up and away from him.

He'd tell  ghost stories, then take us to the grave yard behind the house to check it out. He'd take all the neighborhood kids. Didn't matter who they belonged to, if they wanted to go with us, they went. He'd let out a yelp, every single time we went, that would have us kids all running like the wind back to the house......scared shitless!

 He worked hard and owned his own construction business. He was prejudice and didn't mind saying what was on his mind. Most of his workers were black and Granddad being from the deep south  called them what I never will.

  I'm sure it was the times that kept his workers from revolting. I do know that he helped his workers. He was generous. He'd give the shirt off his back saying that it would all come back to him 2 fold. When he died, they came around and told stories. One gentleman told us, with tears in his eyes, what Granddad had done for him and his family. Evidently, Granddad had purchased his house when he was about to lose it and personally financed it for him. In his will he gave the house to the gentleman - free and clear.

He loved to tell stories. One of his favorites was about when he was on the police force. It goes something like this.....

He was on duty and the sign outside a restaurant said it was serving his favorite soup. When he entered there was a partition separating the booths from the waitresses in the back. A waitress greeted him by hollering over to him...."Hello, I'll be right there."  He hollered back  "I just want soup and coffee." She came around the partition and to Granddad's surprise, so he said, she was topless. As she bent down to place the soup and coffee on the table, one titty slid into the soup the other into his coffee.  He gives this great big grin...so pleased with the story that he has just told a impressionable teenage girl.

 Sometimes you could only stare, opened mouth in disbelief and I hear Grandma screaming...."RICHARD!! STOP!!"

He liked loved titties. Yes, folks, he was a titty man! There was no doubt about his love for them. I don't know how many times my grandmother would walk by and we'd catch him tweaking her a bit. Sometimes we wouldn't see but hear the slap she always gave him each time he tweaked.
It was no wonder she was a 36 extra long!

He use to tell us stories of his mother having a papoose and he'd ride in the back and how she'd throw her titty over her shoulder so he could have a  drink. There was always some talk about one being vanilla and one being chocolate. I never questioned this impossibility...I just stared at Mammy in awe.

When I had my young boys and they became aware......he'd tell them about the next door neighbor. She was a big busted woman, an elderly woman.....He'd make his brown eyes as big as possible and say,  "Now you'd better watch out for Mrs. Palmer. She loves to hug little boys and she'll put you between her titties. Just be careful, you might get stuck in there." and then he'd grab them before they took off out the door and whisper, "one is chocolate and the other is vanilla."

We'd go over to visit and Mrs. Palmer could never figure out (until much later when I told her what Granddad had done) why the boys were a little shy with her. They were very careful not to get too close!!

The best of Granddad's titty sayings is the one I can never forget..........

"A lady is a woman who can take her left titty and throw it over her right shoulder and squirt buttermilk down the crack of her ass"

I'm ever so thankful I'll NEVER be a lady!