Hands down……….

Victor, you prevert, what body part are you addressing tonight?

Well, since u suggested, let’s talk hands.

Hands are (is?) an interesting topic. You’re in good hands with Allstate. Comforted. Insured. No worry.

He was handsy. Ahm, like he was way more into the relationship from the get go than thou, thus, you had to fend off his hands with ur hands.

Lenda helping hand. Could be a neighbor, a relative, a buddy who’s moving again and you’d prayed he’d somehow lost your phone number. Someone who’s fallen. A disaster.

Buddy o’ mine. His 16 year old stepson. He was in trouble (again) for something-or-other. When Stepfather stepped to plate to present speech, he was met with an open hand, and the comment “Talk to the hand, because the ear's not listening.” So, sadly, he brought that saying to work and we were stuck listening to it until he decided to try his hand at another occupation.

Good hands. Twofold. Could be athletics, to describe a catcher in baseball, or a swift wide receiver in football who catches anything in or around him. Mostly though, used by the female, to describe the male in her life’s massage this/massage that/massage everything techniques. Good hands.

Hands = addresses. Again, several fold. At work, we have this fancified electronic time clock thing that initially “remembers” what our palm looks like - so, we must present it to clock in, and to clock out. There’s no clocking in or out for your buddy, we’re screwed. We gotta guy who hated this invasion - so- he brought in a rubberized hand, and attempted to utilize that because he couldn’t believe the audacity of the company to invade his privacy and ‘record’ his palm. Didn’t work, but you gotta hand it to him for trying.

Large hands, small hands, mediocre hands. I’ve heard rumors, regarding the male species, there’s distinct correlation between thumb size and “you know” size. Perverts, you’re gonna look from now on ain’tya? And…. Quit peeking at my thumbs. I happen to love all four inches of thumbs affixed to the enda my hand.

A show of hands.. This could be an answer to the 2nd grade teacher’s question “who studied their spelling words over the weekend?” or perhaps, in answer to a summer lunch question around our round concrete table by the preverts I work with “who’s slept with someone on their first date?”…

The high five... It’s obsolete now… The high five’s predecessor was the hand smack on the butt to acknowledge a good play, or good effort. When the first high five was ever given, this went by the wayside… it’s now been replaced by the “fist” of the hand touched by the fist of your teammate…

Clap your hands.. To show appreciation.. Acknowledge a good play.. Reward a fine artist.. Or simply, to be fitty-five driving in the car and you clap along with Archie Bell and Drells from Houston, Texas who “We don’t only sing, but we dance just as good as we want” and then ya got that refrain where they clap for like thirty seconds. Screw it, I clap along. I mean hell, other’s text as they go, dial up friends, drink coffee and eat an Egg McMuffin at the same time.. I can clap with Archie.. Screw you!

Hands off… Private. Precious. MINE. Back off mister.. Rules, regulations.

I’ve gotta hand it to you.. Said by someone formally in doubt of you. They had no faith in you/your hands… and after observance, they open their mouth to appreciate you/your hands.

Handshake. Wow, do these vary as do people. There’s a little bastard I see at the watering hole I attend who pours concrete for a living - he truthfully damn near breaks my hand each and every time we say hello to each other.. Then there’s the limp wrist, squeaky soft handshake where you’re left with “is this person gay” or “please lead me to the closest sink so I can wash my hands.” I reckon we oughta not judge by handshakes - but we do. Of late, I’ve tried, when meeting someone for the first time - to add a second hand upon their hand to relate hopefully I’m genuine in welcoming them. (Victor, that was lame. Who are you to pedastol yourself?)

Handouts. We all remember these as kids. Unfortunately, we all know them too well as parents.

Hand-me-downs… HOW DARE YOU MOCK MY WARDROBE. WHY I PAID 6 WHOLE DOLLARS FOR THIS WINTER COAT AT THE THRIFT STORE. And if you’re Catholic, please don’t swat me… you KNOW hand-me-downs. Family of 9 kids grew up next to me. I swear I saw the same paira jeans in 1977 that I saw in 1961.

Busy hands. The entrepreneurs dream. The school teacher’s dream. The mom’s dream. The fitty-five yr old internet dating pervert’s dreams.

Hand it over… Mebbe someone had just seenya steal…. Mebbe mom was asking for the toy you’d been forbidden to play with... Or dad’s Playboy you’d stolen at age 12. Mebbe a 17 yr old wanting their class ring back. Mebbe heard by a sugar daddy. Maybe a cop asking for your keys.

Talking hands. My cousin, at one time, was the basketball coach for the Missouri School for the Deaf. I had the pleasure of attending many games. If you landed from Mars, weren’t aware of speech, you would think “these are some of the most normal people on the planet.” I knew of speech, yet I too felt “these are some of the most normal people on the planet.” I think since once sense was lost - the others were so, so keen. It was kids, being kids, doing everything kids do. Sometimes, when my cousin the coach would get upset with the kids during a timeout, they’d turn their heads to they couldn’t see his hands reprimanding them!

There’s “The Hand” by Oliver Stone.. Hand tools… Handy man.. Hand bags.. .Handguns.. Hand grenades.. Hand hygiene… Hand washing… Broken hands.. The hand truck.. Hand-carved… Handmade.. Hand-painted.. A way to measure horses.. Handbooks.. Hand cream.. Poker hands.. Hired hands.. Palm hand readings.. Hand mixers.. Hand warmers.. Hand saws.. Second hand… Second hand smoke.. Hand puppets..

Hella hand stuff. I gotta hand it to you for lasting thru all that crap. No clapping please. (Victor, be for real.) I’d do the current hand/knuckle thing if I could (but it hurts).. The high five is passé’... but I’d happily, for old time sake, pat ur butt with my hand. Show of hands who’d let me? Come on, handouts are ok.

We never even mentioned holding hands. Damnit. So I waive adieu… Point to say thanks.. Extend my hand out to say thanks. Hey, don’t let the boss have the upper hand. Me thinks you can handle whatever comes your way.

Victor, that was the dumbest blog you’ve ever done. You’re gonna have to spiff it up to keep people occasionally stopping by. Yeah, you got it. Tomorrow we’ll focus on sphincters. Deal?

Love, Victurd.