October, 2008

You whippersnappers think you have all the fun.

Well, sometimes us seniors can get a bit goofy also.

I live in an upper scale, single-story townhouse development north-west of Los Angels.

 Before I go too much further, please understand that, for me, upscale means that I was able to move in here about twenty-three years ago when it wasn’t considered to be all that “upscale”.

However, just because we’re not all that young and still do goofy stuff doesn’t mean we’re suffering from Alzheimer’s or dementia... Well not all of us...  Well, maybe not all of us... Well, maybe not all of us, sometimes.

 Hearing a whole lot of barking one evening, I stepped outside to see what was happening and here’s one of my neighbors – a somewhat attractive lady of about sixty-five that still owns and runs her own beauty shop – with her little white Maltese- poodle type puppy that now has a black snout, black paws and a black tail.

Laughing, barely able to get the words out, "You got Lulu made up for Halloween?"

"No," said Vickie.

"She's got to see this!" I said. "let’s show Bonnie."

 Bonnie is not only my next door neighbor, but my girlfriend... I still have a hard time calling my sixty-four year old girlfriend "my girlfriend",  non-the-less she is my, uh, girlfriend and we both love dogs.

 Calling Bonnie outside to see Lulu, the three of us, Bonnie, Vickie and myself are all laughing at the sight of this little dog when...

"Well," I asked, "what happened to Lulu?"

"It’s like this," Vickie said, "I was dying my pubic hair..."

Too good to pass up. "You were ‘dying your pubic hair’?"

Okay, I know I’m a man and am not expected to understand all that women do...

 Hell, I’m a seventy-four year old man that can’t understand anything women do! But a sixty-five year old woman dying her "pubic hair"?   

Immediately a number of questions came to mind:

(1) Why in the world would a sixty-five year old woman dye her pubic hair?  And looking at the color of Vickie’s hair, which is – of course – dyed a kind of reddish blonde, and looking at little Lulu who now has black paws, snout and tail.

(2) If your hair is reddish blonde why dye your pubies black?

(3) How come at, age sixty-five, you’ve even got enough pubic hair to dye?

(4) The big, big question:

"What’s that got to do with little Lulu?" I asked.

"I was dying my pubic hair." Vickie repeated.

At this, "You were ‘dying your pubic hair’?" I asked. "Why?"

"I like my pubic hair to be black."

"Uh, this some kind of ‘makes you feel young’ kind'a thing?" Bonnie asked.

"No," said Vickie, "I just like my pubic hair to be black."

Being a man and knowing better than to question female logic, however, this being just a little too much, "Well," I said, looking at her head, "what ever happened to ‘a snatch to match’?"

"Hey," said Vickie, "no one’s looked at my pubic hair for years, so if I want to dye ‘em black, I’ll die ‘em black."

 "So," I said, "if it’ll make you feel better, being the good neighbor I am, I’ll be glad to look at your pubic hair."

After knocking me down, Bonnie asked, "So how come Lulu got dyed, too?"

"I was sitting on the chair brushing it on..."

"You got a special brush for dying pubic hair?"

 Shooting me a dirty look, "I was sitting on a chair brushing it on with the bowl of dye next to me on the floor," Vickie said, "and along came Lulu and stuck her snout in the bowl of dye knocking it over, and before I could get to her..."

Have to explain here: Lulu is one of those bouncing, hyper type dogs that always acts though she’d just had the ‘Energizer Bunny’ inserted into her anus and I could see her bouncing around, over and through this bowl of spilled black hair dye.

No! I do not  think Vickie has Alzheimer’s or dementia, but I do think she’s really weird!

I mean, this is a bit more than one has to know about a neighbor. You think?

And you youngsters think you have all the fun.