Makeup And Manhandlers

Well it’s Friday night. Yep. I just took The Girl to the drug store to get some makeup (foundation). She only had about $12, so she took her time picking and choosing. It was pretty cool when she asked me what shade she should get. I was flattered, but told her I didn’t know anything about buying makeup. I picked a color that I thought was closest to her natural skin tone.

Then we went to the lip gloss aisle where she picked something out. I asked her if that was all she was going to get. She said it was because she didn’t have enough money. “I’m buying today girl. Get three more.” Her eyes lit up and a smile that melted my heart lit up her face, “Really?” “Really, but hurry up ‘cause we still have to go get the pizza.”

When she was done I led her back over to the makeup aisle and picked out two more things of makeup she’d been eyeballing and wishing she had enough money to buy. “Here. Let’s get these too.” “You’re awesome dad.”

I got her a few girlie shavers (the nice ones), a big drum of Noxema, a couple of hair things and one o’ them teen magazines. She had an armload of goodies and was so happy. I grabbed hand basket and she put all her stuff in it, smiling and thanking me. I thanked her for being such a good girl and for loving me, even though I didn’t always let her have her way.

Best $60 I ever spent.

The drive to and from the pizza joint (a good one, by the way), I was quizzed on my knowledge of teenage pop idols. I did okay. She also read my horoscope which said I should pick out a nice dress for an upcoming party and be flirty with all the boys. We got a laugh out of that.

It’s gonna suck when she’s older and on her own. Makes me all mushy inside to think my little fourteen-year-old will move away some day.

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Remember those Campbells Soups from the late 60s and 70s called “Manhandlers”? There was a catchy little jingle that went, “How do you handle a hungry man? The Manandlers.”

Anyway one of my coworkers was fucking with me today. I won’t get into details, but it had to do with those old TV dinners, “Man Handlers” and him questioning my sexuality. Yeah, it was pretty fucking funny. Then we went back a few decades to those commercials. He remembered them, and the jingle.

Some time later I headed to the bathroom. I caught myself taking a leak whistling that stupid Manhandler jingle. Probably not a cool thing to do in a men’s room, especially considering that most of the people I work with are old enough to remember the commercials. I laughed to myself. There was just something so wrong with the whole situation. I’m in the men’s room with my root hangin’ out, whistling the “Manhandler” theme song, and laughing to myself.

My friend got a kick out of the bathroom story and then went on to ask me if I was going to have a Manwich for lunch. Bastard.

Note: While Googling for suitable Manhandlers and Manwich graphics, I was treated to a potpourri of pictures of dildos, vibrators, strap-ons and even some images of hot man-on-man love. Sloppy joes will never taste the same again.

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The Boy just advised me that there is cage fighting on TV right now. This evening's bout is called "Cinco de Mayhem." I'm gonna go get me a little culture now peoples.

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Memory Du Jour:
1978, NW Phoenix, AZ
My neighbor friend and I were riding horses one weekend. We were a couple of miles from the neighborhood, walking (or is it moseying?) the horses down the dirt shoulder of 75th Avenue, a couple of miles north of Bell Road. Some Vatos cruised by in a lowrider and made directed some disparaging comments to us. Being half Vato myself, I felt empowered and fully authorized to say something like, “Eat shit you fuckin’ beaners.” Hearing that, they turned the car around quickly, thinking they were gonna be kickin’ them some ass. Yeah right. We jumped the horses over the irrigation ditch and danced ‘em around in some poor farmer’s seedlings while the Vatos threatened us, called us out, and called us names. We’d lope down the road a piece and then cross back onto the road much to their glee. They’d sprint up the road toward us just in time to watch us disappear into the orange grove that was on the other side of the road. We laughed and hurled more racial epithets at them. I’m surprised los morons didn’t see the iron on us and our horses. Between us we had a 30-30, a 12-gauge semi auto, a .357 and a .45 semi auto. Los Vatos eventually gave up and drove off, flipping us the big ol' bird on their way back into town.

Quote of the Day:
"We know where they are. They're in the area around Tikrit and Baghdad and east, west, south and north somewhat." –Donald Rumsfeld, on Iraq's weapons of mass destruction, 30 March, 2003

Note: I thought this would be appropriate considering Rumsfeld just yesterday denied ever having said that when confronted by a member of the audience who accused him of lying.