The arrival of warmer weather means many things to many different people.  No more snow.  Sunlight.  Trees.  Animals.  Flowers.  The removal of winter garb, in favor of more comfortable clothing, which may or may not reveal an indeterminate amount of flesh, people hiring theOmni, Heating and Air will be more common.  This is quite notable in the Female variety of our species.

     The fact that the majority of barstools are made of commercial-grade Vinyl can be especially problematic for Females who, due to weather, are beginning to wear shorter skirts.  Their supple skin, when subjected to temparatures above seventy degrees Farenheit and combined with an average body temparature of 98.6 Degrees, may experience a temporary chemical bond with said Vinyl.

     I would ask readers to please be aware of this issue.  Females should especially take note that a slightly longer skirt may decrease the risk of Vinyl-to-epidermal bonds.

     Men should not laugh as bonded barstools fall towards their Female counterparts.  Instead, Men should assist, ever-so-slightly, by putting their feet on the back of said barstools in order to assist the pulling of supple, Female skin from said commercial-grade Vinyl.

     Men should also pay close attention to the problem of vacuum-lock, which may occur between the Female thighs and a standard, commercial-grade barstool.  This problem may present itself with Females who are overly sexually active, or those who have very recently or chronically engaged in sexual intercourse.  These Females should generally be avoided at all costs.
     However, under certain, very specific specific circumstances, this may also be caused by a spontaneous reaction due to a Female’s interest in a chosen Male, although this behavior is considered to be especially rare in establishments which serve alcoholic beverages.

     This has been a Public Service Announcement.

If women like to be beautiful and men like women to be beautiful, then  why in the world is vanity so expensive?  If everyone wants to appear elegant, good-looking and lets not forget… fashionable, why do we as a culture have to dish out so much of our hard earned cash, effort and time? 

Do we do it for a lack of entertainment?  That can’t be it since we live in a world of cable television, high-speed internet access and Macintosh computers.

Just a few days ago I was in store especially devoted to vanity with my lady friend and the total at the register came to over $100.00.  For Pete’s sake, there are starving children worldwide. Why in the heck does it cost so much to have mud and plants to cover yourself in?

We may never know, but at least I will stand against this price gouging. I vow personally not to wear any makeup, not buy a pair of pants that cost over $30.00, nor purchase a cell phone, which costs over $40.00 with the service plan. 

Now if I just do this and walk into a crowd of people, they may look at me and think “he’s freakin’ crazy.”  If two people do this and walk into a crowd of people they may think “they’re damn dirty hippies.”  But if three people, three people do it, then they’ll know it’s a movement. 

That’s what it is friends: the Zacque-a-roo Anti-Vanity Movement.  One more time, yah know, there’s over a hundred thousand of you out there.  I mean you gotta sing loud if you wanna stop war and stuff… 

Okay. By now, we all know I am a big mouth girl, with an even bigger personality and a colossus opinion about most everything. So, it seems that lately, I’ve had plenty of time to sit back, watch and listen. And some of the things I have heard recently make me want to say, “Um. What?!?!?! Get a grip, you ditz!” This is merely one of them.

***You don’t like me because I’m fat, huh?***

During a discussion about male/female carrying ons, a male friend of mine, Spike*, told me that some girl had said this one to him because he wasn’t paying her the attention she felt like she deserved or wanted.

Oh, please, honey!

Will somebody please explain to me how women figure that if a man is not paying attention to them, or not “liking” them, or not fawning over them, then it’s surely because of that big ass attached to their backside???

First off, I wonder if she ever stopped to think, if a brother isn’t giving her skins, that maybe it’s not her fat butt… maybe it’s the beautiful personality that she displays constantly… You know, the personality that rivals Peyton Manning’s dripping wet sweat sock midway through the 4th quarter of the Superbowl?

B- What man is going to want you when you are oozing ickee-ness all over the bar, grocery store, or library by hitting on and trying to make out with anything and everything with a penis? Seriously, if I was a dude, and I saw a girl (any girl) hitting on one guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot… I’m not so sure I’d be into her either. That’s just icky.

Thirdly and lastly (as if I don’t wrap it up here, I may keep going on and on)- Diva isn’t exactly a petite, Barbie doll sized girl of perfection.  Now Diva knows that, although men do dig up on the arm candy, they also love women who will laugh with them, talk to them and have a great time doing whatever it is they are doing. Diva does not, nor has she ever, suffered from lack of attention from the opposite sex. Because regardless of the size of her blue jeans, Diva has no lack of esteem.

Why?

It’s a little thing called self-confidence, sister. You might try looking that one up and studying on it for a minute.

Yup, yup. You don’t dig me because I’m fat…..That’s one of the lamest things I think I’ve ever heard.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent AND the guilty.

That was the question.

I was blown completely in a direction that I had never even fathomed in fall of last year.
Like many kids my age, I have found myself all grown up, family raised, divorced and running completely wild. Kind of like turning 21 again, kinda.
I was pretty content with how life was going. My kids are grown up and I can come and go as I please.

Running around with the girls… you bet.
Acting extremely silly and pirate like… wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But, then it happened. My bestest friends introduced me to the man that would forever change my being. As fate would have it, things moved along rather rapido. And BAM – the question came…

Wanna get married? Of course, it was much sweeter than that. It was a very touching a precious moment. YEP! Let’s get married. GAME ON!
This happened last October.

The holidays went by smoothly and we were still getting to know each other pretty well.
I met his family. They seemed to like me. I passed the test.

Then it was set!! June 2nd. Invitations ordered. Cake ordered. Dress ordered. Church on hold. Preacher with a Bible. You name it, it was ordered. You get the picture.

But as days went by, I started to get scared. In typical Diva fashion, I flipped out, and decided that maybe we needed time to get our ducks in a row and everything ironed out both in our personal lives (kids and whatnot) and with our life together (roof over head, combining of households… ya know).

I put my entire wedding party in a holding pattern like a jumbo jet circling La Guardia during rush hour on Monday morning in Manhattan. I have never felt such pressure or such fear and I’ve had some pretty self-induced dramatic experiences in my life.

Everybody had some sort of input. A slight few of my closest friends were very understanding and supportive and just went happily into the holding pattern.
Others decided that it didn’t need to happen and actively gave opinions over and over.

You see, planning of the wedding ceremony was all set up and in place. But the cold feet I ended up being the proud owner of got the best of me. The wedding ceremony was the easy part. After it was all planned out and ready to go, I had time to stop and think. Which in this case, turned out to be a good thing.

I started to think about how different we are. How our views on alot of things are completely in the opposite. The way we treat and raise our kids is totally ass backward from one another.

One of the biggest fears I’ve got: becoming a wicked step-mother.
His son had always been nice to me, until the plans started to come together and it was apparent to him that this was really going to happen. Silently but surely, I knew he was sabotaging it. At least in my non-rational mind I’m sure he was.

But, I found out, when I started to keep my fella at arms length due to fear and wasn’t seeing half as much of him, just how important he is to me.

In the last week of my self-promoted hiding phase, I started to really ponder on all of the little things he does just to make me smile.
**The 100 mile-round-trips he makes in the middle of the week just to say hi and give me a kiss**
**Being serenaded in front of everyone by him and his bluegrass buddies as they sing “You are My Flower” because he wants me to know how much he loves me**
**Jumping in his big ol’ truck to ride around and do nothing but look and talk**

That man loves me. He’s not trying to tame me or make me into something I’m not. He takes my bitchy and ever-so-slightly sarcastic tone with a teaspoon of sugar and loves me anyway.

I finally got enough courage to talk to him.. To tell him I’m a freak and that I was scared of what was happening. You know, face-to-face verbal communication is way under-rated.
We both had answers to all the questions that were looming. We came to agreement on alot of subject matter.

So, I guess the answer to the above question is….

TO WED. Yes.

We have decided that a fall wedding is in order and that we are going to have a
most wonderful, beautiful ever after together.

Details to follow soon. I need to pull my wedding party in from the holding pattern and in for a landing before I go and shout from the roof-tops.