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High Heels, Motorcycles, Boiled Peanuts and BeerJul 12 '03 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line is just there.
I'm feeling a bit feisty today and there are some things on my mind. Over the years I've watched more movies and read more books than the average bear. All of them have the potential of a review. But I'm just not in the mood to tell you how I feel about so-and-sos' outstanding acting, or what's-his-names' intriguing writing. Today I just want to run my mouth. Hey, I'm a woman, hear me roar. It's PMS time and that's usually when I tell it like it is. It's pretty obvious when this is happening. Bobby asks the company to send him on a few extra runs and Skeeter only shows up when it's time to stuff his little furry face. Let's begin with a little discussion about high heels. For years now I've been slipping my feet into these contraptions only to now be plagued with Charley-horses and sore toes and varicose veins. Yet I still walk around in these things, climbing stairs, running to my car, maneuvering my way through the aisles of Walmart after work and bringing groceries into the house. I think I need someone to protect me from myself. Who better to help than good Ol' Uncle Sam? When you think about it, we have laws that are out there for our protection. For instance, there are laws that say a person must wear a helmet while driving a motorcycle. Now there's a law created to protect one and only one person...the person driving the motorcycle. I suppose it could happen that a motorcycle driver could have an accident and become decapitated. The airborne head could possibly fly off and land on someone elses' windshield. Now we would have a second party involved. Lawsuit, Baby, for sure. Sue that headless guy for every penny he's got...or ownership of his bike, whichever brings in more bucks. Why is it that we have such a law? To wear or not to wear a helmet isn't a matter of public concern. Any intelligent adult should be able to understand that the human head needs something to cushion the blow if it should come into contact with something like....maybe, concrete? But, hey, if you're willing to take that chance, it should be your own choice. It's not what I would consider a criminal act. And then there is the seat-belt law. Wow...if I don't wear my seat belt, the entire 3rd world could crumble. Who is going to be affected if I don't wear my seat belt? Me, and only me. So maybe I'm on some suicide mission and I've chosen the perfect tree to crash into. I've studied the angles and the projected rate of my bodys' expulsion through the windshield and into the horns of that bull that is always standing in that same pasture at the same time. If I get my speed up high enough, that should do the trick. But no, the government won't let me fulfill my fantasy because that stinkin' seat belt won't let my body propel further than a few inches. Just picture this... An Officer pulls over a driver... Officer: Can I see your license and registration, please? Driver: Sure. Officer, what did I do? Officer: Just show me your license and registration. Driver: Officer, you've been following me for several miles now. I don't believe I was speeding. Officer: Mr. Jones, everything seems to be in order here. I pulled you over because you were not wearing your seat belt. I'm going to have to cite you for that. Driver: Oh, Officer, I only removed it for a moment. It had begun cutting into the side of my neck. See all this blood dripping down my shirt? Officer: That blood could have come from any number of sources. For all I know, you may have just killed someone. Driver: Oh, Officer, I would never do such a terrible thing! Officer: But you're willing to put all of the citizens of this community in danger because you refuse to wear your seat belt? Buddy, you are one real sicko. I'm gonna have to take you in. Step out of the car and put your hands behind your back. I'm not a stupid person. I realize that if I wear my seat belt, then the chances of my getting seriously hurt in a collision are much less. It should be my choice, though. The slogan should be changed from "Click It or Ticket" to "Click It or Stick It". Just in my oh-so-humble opinion, that is. And that brings us back to the question of high heels. Hey, if we have laws to protect us from ourselves, then why isn't there a law against wearing high heels? These things are dangerous to your legs, your feet and your toes. I think we should all write to our state representatives and have something done about this constant attack that occurs on womens' legs every day. Think of the lives that it could save. And think of the revenue it could bring in! The best part is that I would then have a reasonable excuse to wear my fuzzy slippers to work every day. Right now, if I dare sneak my feet into them while on the job, it never fails that one of my lovely co-workers has some smart remark to make like, "There goes Nedi with those stupid pink bunnies on her feet again" If wearing high heels were against the law, that could change things completely. Then the remarks would have to be something more like, "Wow! I really admire Nedi. She is such an upstanding, law-abiding citizen." Hey, works for me! Another thing is that I wish somebody could tell me why I can't eat boiled peanuts and drink beer all day. It's just not fair. I tried doing that one Saturday a few weeks ago. Those are 2 of my favorite things. We'd been outside doing lawn work and enjoying the sunshine and fresh air. Now that calls for some refreshment in my book. Before the sun had time to set, I had doubled-over in lower abdominal pain. Bobby began stuffing Rolaids into my mouth and then called 911. How embarrassing!! When they arrived some of the neighbors were peeking between the slats of their blinds and some were bold enough to come out into their yards to see what was going on. Once the EMTs were able to determine the exact nature of my problem it only got worse. An announcement to the neighborhood was made. "You folks need to go back inside your homes for your own safety. When this Baby blows, the fumes could be deadly." Well, maybe I could be exaggerating there. They didn't really say that. But I know they were thinking it. And I must admit that the after-effects of the explosion made poor little Skeeters' whiskers curl up. It's a good thing I wasn't wearing high heels that day. They would've shot off my feet like bullets and become weapons of mass destruction. Now that I think about, that could be a great way to get the governments' attention. It sure be a lot easier and a lot more fun than writing a bunch of boring letters. You know, if I get myself into the kitchen right now and put some peanuts on to boil, they'll be ready by afternoon. I'm on a mission. Watch for my face on the 6 o'clock news! Bye for now! 8-) ~~Nedi~~  |
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