First off, in order to get to my Mother's house I have to start flying at ass crack early, go to no less than half a dozen airports and change flights about five times. Damn good thing I really like going to the Caribbean because if she still lived in New Jersey and I had to do that crap... Faaaaaaa - getta-boudit.
Anyway, on the fifth and final leg of my day long venture, I had hit max-flight-saturation and had begun to hallucinate. I know this because as I was sitting in my (recently upgraded) first class seat and after watching the in-flight movie, a PSA came on for prostate cancer. Nothing unusal there. Men, get your prostate checked!! If we woman can endure having our girls pushed into pancakes by Nurse Ratchett with a machine that amounts to a medievil torture device, you can turn to the side and cough.
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Now there have been a gazillion books written about relationships between men and women, and how men and women talk to each other. And how men and women talk differently than each other. And how men feel about women and how we express our feelings differently. But NEVER in all my self-help/relationship-help reading days have I EVER seen it written that women express their love for their man by grabbing him by the balls and saying "THIS" is what I love about you. I mean, we may LOVE that part of you and we may even LOVE all the things you can make it do. But we do not LOVE ONLY THAT part of you. Unlike some men I have known...
Yes, this is that part that rags on men objectifying women through their body parts. (If I was really offended by it, do you think I would have paid so much for the Turbo Twin Upgrades I LOVE so much?) Women do NOT keep a man around long enough to make a Prostate Doctor appointment for him just because he has a great "package" in his jeans. We may put up with his baggage and crap for a while because of it, but we aren't going to make a "bend over" exam for that man.
Back to the plane and a dozen people in first class watching Ms. Perky Prostate PSA make her little announcement. I am scanning the seats to see if anyone else is having this nutty moment. Most were stifling their snarfing or rolling their eyes in a sort of we-don't-talk-about-nuts-and-bolts-in-public kind of way, when a hushed female voice from behind me asks her husband what a prostate is. (I am assuming it was her husband because she had Trophy Wife stamped all over her Prada wearing forehead and had the blank expression of someone who has problems putting 2+2 together and getting anything other than 22.) Thankfully, he had the sense to whisper his answer back to her because I didn't really want to hear how he was going to answer. He must have broken it down into elementary terms because she replied, "But honey, I love nuts...."
And I love traveling :-)