Yesterday……..

I said “"The orange, the burnt orange, the rust, the yellows, the salmon, the coral, the tangerine, the mahogany, the peach, the apricot,, the pumpkin, the persimmon…"

A ‘former’ (hehe) friend of mine said “Bobby thinks that your color descriptors bear witness to the amount of time you spend with women. A KCK guy would never describe it that way! JK! C.J.”

So I’ve given this some thought…

When I was twelve, Janet Flanagan (one in a family of nine that lived next door) had a mean, MEAN left-handed bat… she too could scoop errant throws outta the dirt with the ease John Mayberry had.. (If you’re young, John was ‘hella’ defensive first baseman for the Royals back in the day)

Janet never was confronted with the scrutiny of “why do you play with guys?”… “what up with that?” There were never “hints” of anything… It was nineteen-friggin-sixty-six for criminy sakes… I ain’t even sure if Rosie or Ellen Degeneres was born yet… let alone that Leavenworth, KS singing chickie…

Now I remember those days… and I remember the groups of girls that would play.. And, the intermittent fellers that would join in their fray… Even though Maris had yet to hit 61, we still wondered about the dudes… Limp-wrist… “Wore green and yellow on Thursday”… Pants hiked up over their belly button. Something wrong with this picture.

FAST FORWARD TO 2007.…… Dudes hang out… talk about every chick on the planet with the exception of the one they’re betrothed to… Talk about “thirty ought six” or some GD gun they’re gonna kill Bambi with… Hawwwwwwkkk… Ptttuuuhh.. Chewwww… Scratch their nuts… Sniff in thru their nostrils… followed by right or left sleeve cleaning up the substances that didn’t make it’s way up thru the nostrils… then, as if they had one hand on their pee pee, and the other looking up their bank balance online- they tellya what they make… and how it rocks.. And without saying they are “somebody”… they indicate “I’m somebody”…. Almost as if they’re running for erection.. Oops… typo… election.

Women…. On the other hand… sometimes wear scantily clad outfits… (Need I even continue?)… Dresses… June Cleavage… They’re pretty… they smell GD nice… they havea heart… they’re apathetic… they listen, take it all in and don’t blurt… and, I’ve found.. Women are just as bigga pigs as men… uh huh.. Are… Come to our “Breakfast Club” round-table talk during break time any morning or afternoon.. It might just be something about the round concrete table we have at work… but… it’s a certainty - amongst he perves, someone will bring out the term (to my niece Valerie - PLEASE close your ears/eyes) anal. Honest to goodness. I actually get embarrassed. OMG is onea my favorite sayings on break…. I’m practiced in the art of turning red.

So Bobby… I lied and sent your wifey an email saying “well… I too was poor.. And when we moved into the house formally owned by Sarah Loughery (rich folks) she’d inadvertently left a 64 piece box of Crayolas.. And that’s where I got the “sissy” color list. (Please note box even had sharpener - and we’re talking circa 1961)…

But, that story is bogus. I made it up… Hawwwwwwkkk… Ptuuuuahh…

I truthfully was (and am) so enthralled with the colors God be’a painting. I went to Wikipedia and entered the word “orange”.. That’s where I got “"The orange, the burnt orange, the rust, the yellows, the salmon, the coral, the tangerine, the mahogany, the peach, the apricot,, the pumpkin, the persimmon…"

Wouldn’t you know Wikipedia would be written by a GD (gosh darn) woman?

So………… YES Bobby it’s true… I DO have more female friends than male friends….YES, I do spend an inordinate amount of time with women (in comparison to time spent with men.)

And to you, kind sir, who I TRULY do envy very much… I say… “Duh”

I truthfully, honestly, emphatically, energetically say “I don’t give a ratsass (said with love Bobby… but not the 1960’s kinda love - say of playing “Jacks” at recess in a huddle of girls”).. where was I? Oh yeah, ratsass… I do enjoy my male friends… truly I do.. But I congruently love my female friends…

Orange you glad I’m adding amber… gamboges… tangerine… tawny… mahogany… vermilion…to the fray…

Brb… gotta tinkle… then… I understand… we’re gonna do “tinikling.”.. . I hate when that happens… “Bobby.. please know.. when it's the turn of that one chicky that's got 38DD's to tinikle, I do hereby promise to turn my head.”

Hehe. Love, Victurd.