Generic Brands

Generic brands kind of remind me of the joke about the guy who asks his greengrocer, "Hey, what's the difference between the $2.00 apples and the $5.00 apples?" And, the greeny tells him, "Nothing, it's just that some people like to pay more for their apples." Sure, a lot of people think generic brands taste bad or are of low quality, and in the past they often were inferior.

These days, however, ‘generic’ will often be your favorite brand just with less packaging and under different labes. Yep, that's right. The thing is it optimizes a company's factory output to produce both name and generic foods because it allows them to hedge their bets and play both ends of the grocery shoppers' market. I'm not saying that all generic products are of the exact same quality of name brands, but it certainly pays to check the ingredients on the labels.

So, do I buy generic brands? Sure I do. I just peel the labels off when I get home. *gg* Seriously, I think with the down turn in the economy, generics are looking better than ever, and it's no longer a case of who's buying generic but rather who isn't?

But, Butt... :

I want to talk about asses. Arses if you're English, or maybe 'buttock' if you're really prudish and feel uncomfortable saying either 'ass' or 'arse'?

Now, is there really anything sexier than a smooth tight little ass/arse/buttock? Yet, I think sometimes they're one of the most forgotten parts of our bodies. I mean how many cosmetic companies produce posterior cheek blush, age-defying buttock wrinkle cream, or a gluteal scrub? None. Come to think of it, how hard would they be to market this age of sexual freedom and commercialisiaton? Mmm... maybe there's a niche in the market for these things?

Neanderthal men thought asses were very sexy. In his book, 'The Naked Ape', Desmond Morris speculates that women's breasts became fleshy and round as humans evolved from the other primates and began to walk upright. Human used to, like other primates still do, used their asses to indicate when they were ready to mate. Since the human female is almost always in a sexually capable condition, he believes that, the breasts evolved as an ever-present sexual display on the front of the female body-- a duplication of round fleshy butt.

Now, what about a man's ass? Oh yes! Why are they so damned sexy? It's not like, my instincts are telling me, "He's got a great ass, he must be virile and able to provide for me and the tribe of kids we're going to have," or is it? Isn't a man's tight and hard ass indicative of a fit and healthy, able to produce and provide, body? Isn't it also the power behind the penis?

Yet, we still tend to concentrate on facial beautification. In a world where advertisers tell us everything from what clothes to wear to what brand of soap wash with-- to attract the opposite sex, is it perhaps more to do with commercial conditioning and marketing rather than misguided instincts?

There may well be a quest for the best (ass), but it's usually cloaked under different terms. Tighter jeans are sexier-- really just because they show your ass off. If your fitter, your sexier -- again your ass will be trimmer. Etc... Sure people say things like, "Look at that gorgeous ass!", but it's never with the same sincerity as a complement about the face, is it?Rather than refer to the ass in a sexual way, it is often seen as -- please excuse the pun-- the butt of many crude jokes.

Perhaps it's the Anglo-Saxon sense of humour that keeps up from taking our asses too seriously? But geez, how that evolve, anyway? I know very few women who are actually happy with their behinds. They almost always perceive them as being too fat, to flat, to flabby, too freaking something! I guess most men don't think much about their rear ends. I asked my other half what he thought of his. He said, "I've never really checked my out, it's difficult to see it from the front." Good grief, every woman knows how to contort herself in front of a mirror so she can see her ass from every angle!

But, all butt jokes aside, don't you think asses are one of the most sexy, yet under rated, parts of the body?

Oh, and any guys who want to sent me pics, please feel free. I would just love to see cute butt-- now, that's just got to be an offer you don't get often enough!

Body Language:



Body language, yes,that fascinating use of space and nonverbal communication between us that says it all without speaking a single word. Do you pick up on every little, and no so little, signal that's sent you way?

According to the experts, our non-verbal language communicates about 50% of what we really mean, voice tone contributes 38%, while words themselves contribute a mere 7%. And yet, many people are simply unaware of how loudly they communicate with their bodies.

So, this woman looks directly at a man, walks slowly over to him, licks her luscious lips, smiles, and says, "I was wondering if you have the time?" Well, hot damn it! She wants to know if he has the time all right, but let me tell you, she's not the least bit interested in his watch!

On that note, it's interesting to note, that research shows that most men need to have body language repeated up to three times before it actually registers. While women tend to pick up on it immediately. Why might this be so? Is it possibly because women perhaps tend to note and pay more attention to small details? E.g. Did any of you men out there realise that I've just used the word 'note' three times in this paragraph?

Men may be slow to pick up body language, but they certainly know how to perform it. The stroking of the tie is a classic. He may be rather proud of his impressive silk accessory, but that's not the reason he's fondling it so fondly as he's trying to chat up that hot babe. No, he's much more focused on something further south, and he's desperately hoping she will be, too, before the night's over. Yes, body language speaks, and that one just screams phallic!

You often see men performing body language en masse, too. A gorgeous woman walks up to a bunch of them, and immdediately they all take a deep breath, suck in their bellies and puff out their hairy chests. Why, you can almost hear the collective rush of the air during this mighty 'mansoon'.

Of course, our use and reading of body language is largely unconscious. We send out messages constantly, and yet we don't always recognise that we're communicating. A gay friend told me he can always spot other gays immediately. I asked him how. He said, "When I make eye contact with a straight man, he looks away. A gay man doesn't." I'm sure hetro men don't give it a second thought, but what their actually 'saying', at this point of contact, is "Sorry, mate, I'm straight."

It can be as subtle as that, or as blatant as the tie titillation, but either way it's telling others something about us. It's the message about what's really on our minds. So, are you in touch with the bodies and body language around you? Do recognise the difference between a come hither glance and a go slither glare? Are you in tune with the most secret and powerful language of all?

I leave you to ponder.

Don't Put it Off :

I went and had a breast examination, and one of those pap smear thingies, today. For those of you (fellas) who don't know what a pap smear thingy is—all you need to know is you don't need one, and they're uncomfortable. (I'm fine, btw.)

Well, actually, they're very uncomfortable. I mean men avoid, and whinge and complain about, having to have prostate examinations but, let me tell you, given the choice of having someone wriggle their digit up my date and letting someone practically stick their fist up my fanny, I know which one I'd take.

Men can be such sooks! In fact I read in Cleo (every woman's bible) a while back that if men and women could take turns to have babies, and the women always had the first one, there'd be three kids in every family!

Ah but I digress...

Anyway, I'd been putting it off, and putting it off. It's not really the discomfort that I've been avoiding, it's just that I don't like visiting my doctor, generally. The worse case scenario is that he'll discover that I'm suffering from some acute life-threatening tropical disease, and the best is that he'll find the usual rust and corrosion and tell me, in so many words, that my body is slowly falling apart at a chronologically acceptable rate.

Of course, he always says I should be exercising more, drinking more water, eating more fibre, and getting more sleep. Piff! Doctors can just be such picky picks, can't they? Mines got all these pictures of himself, in shorts and runners, plastered all around his office. It's like he thinks he's this super fit and healthy being, that all his patients should be trying to emulating.

It's always the same routine, too, he examines me, then just when I'm feeling comfortable and I want to talk about all the things that I'm sure I have, because I read about the symptoms on the internet, he stands up and kind of ushers me out of his office like... well, like I'm perfectly fine!

I ask you, is it any wonder that is always take me so long to get around to make an appointment to see him?

But, more seriously, while chatting with a friend the other day, the importance of breast examinations and pap smear tests for women, and prostate examinations for men, came up. One in three people in Australia will be touched by cancer at some time in their lives. Among adults, the younger you are when you're diagnosed the higher your chances of survival are, for almost all types of cancer. Basically, it's more than worth while to suffer a little discomfort and embarrassment, since early detection provides the best outcome.

So, when was your last check up?

Be Happy

I was reading an article about the late Christina Onassis the other day, while I was waiting to have my hair trimmed. I'd decided to lash out a little and have it washed and blow dried also. Apparently, the world's wealthiest woman was a very 'down to earth' kind of lady, in fact, although it was never actually confirmed, it was rumored that she even used to wash her own hair!

Sure, I'm sure she had her ups and downs, just like all of us of 'down to earth' people, but I guess, too, it's all relative. Like this morning when I took my jeans out of the washer only to find they were covered in little pieces of fluff white stuff. I just bet Ms Onassis never experienced the frustration of discovering she'd accidently left a tissue in the pocket of her jeans when she washed them.

Then again, on the flip side, maybe one of the reasons she was reputed to be so damned miserable most of her life was that, and I know this is very cliched, she never really enjoyed the simple things in life.

It's interesting to note studies done by the University of Illinois and University of Pennsylvania, last year, revealed that a nation's economic fortitude is not as tied to the well-being of its citizens as previous believed."It has been assumed that money increases well-being and, although money can be measured with exactitude, it is an inexact surrogate to the actual well-being of a nation. In a 1985 survey, respondents from the Forbes list of the 400 richest Americans and the Maasai of East Africa were almost equally satisfied and ranked relatively high in well-being. The Maasai are a traditional herding people who have no electricity or running water and live in huts made of dung. It follows, that economic development and personal income must not account for the happiness that they are so often linked to."

Instead, the researchers propose that a population's "engagement, purpose and meaning, optimism and trust, and positive and negative emotions in specific areas such as work life and social relationships" should be considered when measuring the strength of a nation.

The sad truth is that we're twice as rich as we were in 1957, but only half as happy. Dr. David Myers, authority on the psychology of happiness: "Never has a culture experienced such physical comfort combined with such psychological misery. Never have we felt so free, or had our prisons so overstuffed. Never have we been so sophisticated about pleasure, or so likely to suffer broken relationships."

Myers dubs us "the doubly affluent society." In nearly 50 years, we have twice as many cars per person. Our homes are bigger and our families are smaller. We have microwave ovens, dishwashers, and so many more labour saving appliances. Plasma screen TVs, home computers, and endless other gadgets and gizmos for our entertainment pleasure. We spend billions a year in restaurants, bars, and spas. Yet, despite this 'wealth', we're not as happy as our parents and grandparents!

Damn it!

Of course money provides our material needs but does it ever fully satisfy our material wants? Like a drug, it gives us a short burst of happiness, but what is enough to satisfy us completely long term? It's the phenomenon scientists call the "hedonic treadmill". We get a pay rise, we spend more, we spend more so we need a pay rise, and so on.

Ah, but I digress.

So, back to me at the hairdressers. Well, after I had my hair done, I went home and had a good look in the mirror. My hair didn't really look very different” just shorter. The herbal essences, exotic extracts, and all the other goodies, that were supposed to be in the shampoo, once again, just hadn't worked the same magic they always seem to in the ads.

Later, when my other half came home he glanced at me and said, "Your hair looks good." Let me tell you, that gave me a buzz money just couldn't buy!

Footnote: In the same magazine there was an article about Christina Onassis' daughter, Anitha. Often dubbed 'the poor little rich girl', she was recently quoted as saying, " I just want to be like everyone else." It's kind of ironic isn't it, that money just can't buy that for her?

The Bald Truth

You know, every time I hear a man making self-deprecating jokes about his baldness, I have to ask myself, "Why?". I mean, sure women look for certain qualities in choosing a mate, but how often do you hear one say, "Well, what I'm really looking for in a man is hair. Yep, loads of it, and it's all got to be on top of his head."?

I read a quote by actor Bruce Willis the other day, he said, "I don't rely on my hair for my masculinity or my acting." Ah, yes, Bruce Willis, what pure uninhibited masculinity! Why, every word he utters simply drips with testosterone. While so many men in Hollywood literally chop and change their hair to suite the roles they play, Bruce's sexy trade mark, his five o'clock shadow and close cut hair, remains unchanged. What on earth was Demi thinking when she left him for that baby faced what's his name? I just don't get it. What sane woman lets a hot hubby like Bruce slip away? Sure, I realise a lot of women go through crazy mid-life crisises, and maybe so is she, but "Bruce" verses "Ashton"? I mean, ladies, if you had to choose... I mean if you were given a choice... I mean if you could be so f**king lucky, honestly, which one would you take?

Ah, but I digress....

Well, sure bald and baldin men can be just as sexy as their hairy brothers. Remember the late, the great, the hotter than hot, Yule Brynner? He didn't need hair to make him one of the sexiest men ever? In fact wasn't it his lack of hair that rather intensified his smouldering good looks? What about Britain's sexiest man, Sean Connery? I tell you, with or without hair, that man doesn't get older he just gets hotter. Ed Harris, Woody Harrelson, andr Brendon Fraser, to name just a few, are all losing their hair, but who cares? Hair does not maketh the man.

OK, so, if you're a man concerned about your receding hair line or thinning top, how about following Bruce's lead because, let me tell you, that rugged masculine look is simply tailor-made for you!

But really, how did all this ridiculous obsession with men's hair first come about? Was it perhaps when Delilah hacked off Samson's locks? You know, I think I would have done the same thing, regardless of whether that was really where his strength lay. Like I was just telling someone the other day, I refuse to drool over a man with longer, shinier, or better hair than mine. I want to be the pretty one!

Ah, but I digress again...

Do some men still feel that their masculinity to linked to the hair on their heads? A friend of mine began going bald from a very early age. It bothered him initially, but he's an intelligent man, and he soon realised that it wasn't the changes on the outside, but more specifically the changes on the inside, of his head, that were the real issue. Yes, it's all got to do with attitude. He now proudly shaves his head, and often rubs oil on it too, to make it shiny. Oh, and he has this crazy t-shirt that says: "This mighty sex machine is powered by a cranium solar panel".

So, to all you bald or balding guys out there I say, say no to rugs and plugs! Believe me, women are looking at a lot more than what is, or isn't, on top of your head. Stop counting those damned hairs, and start listing all of those fine qualities that make you the man you're proud to be.

The Suntan Fad

Throughout history primitive tribes have worshipped the sun. Indeed, many people still do, while making huge sacrifices! So, what exactly is it about a suntan that so many people perceive as a healthy and sexy look? What's exactly is so gorgeous about skin that's been exposed to the sun until it looks like well-worn leather? And, what's so damned healthy about sunburn, sunspots, and skin cancer?

I tell you, I could baste and bake my poor little bod twelve hours a day, seven days a week and it still wouldn't cook to anything like a well done brown. Sure I'm a blonde, but there's just no way I'm ever going to achieve that photo negative Paris Hilton look unless it's been sprayed on at least five layers of fake tan!

I guess the idea of a tan being glamorous dates back to, the then trendsetter, Coco Chanel. Before she came back from her holiday in... oh, I don't know, some exotic place, that only the rich and famous frequented, no one could have cared less whether or not your skin was tanned. Then, after her little sojourn, almost over night, a suntan became synonymous with a glamorous and leisurely lifestyle.

Actually, before that, I guess a sun tan rather marked you as one of the working class, and certainly not beautiful or something worth striving for. Wasn't it Mr. Darcy from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice who, upon observing Elizabeth had been spending too much time outdoors, observed, "Her skin has become rather brownish”most unattractive..."?

Just look at Nicole Kidman (I wouldn't have to tell my other half twice, he's madly in lust with that woman!). Yes, just look at her smoother than smooth, paler than pale complexion. How does she get that way anyway; that incredibly fine and translucent looking skin-- moonbaking? Well, she's gorgeous! And, I tell you something else, you won't be seeing any premature aging on her lovely face and body.

So, armed with the knowledge we now have about the dangers of too much sun, why are so many people still so determined to expose themselves to those harmful rays for the sake of darker skin? What exactly will it take for the suntan fad to fade into the flaky falderal of fashion's fickle and farcical history?

Metrosexual Men:

How is it that women are so often expected to be the height of primped - shaved legs, manicured and painted nails, styled hair, flawless make-up, trendy clothes, alluring fragrance...? Do you, men out there, have any idea how long it takes for us, women, to get ready, and how much money it all costs? Mmm... Ok, so maybe you do.

Well, has the time come for all men to bump up the aesthetic bar a notch, or two, and become metrosexuals? Oh, but what exactly is metrosexual? Ok, well, basically, he’s is an urban male who embodies vanity in a positive way; generally he keeps up on the latest fashions, he waxes and trims, and has manicures. He never has a hair out of place. He goes to the gym everyday and freely spends money on his aesthetics and lifestyle. And, perish the thought of shampoo and hair gel, the metrosexual male only uses "products" on his fine locks!

I guess a lot of people say - it's just a fad. A catch phrase being exploited by the media. At the end of the last century it was the Nirvana inspired 'grunge' - unkempt, lanky looking hair and rugged unshaven faces. I loved Kurt Cobain's music, but jeez, couldn't he have used a razor and a comb? So is this just a passing thing or is the metrosexual the new man of the millennium?

Upon giving the matter a lot of thought—I’m noting more, and more, men's facial products appearing on my favourite skin care counter. While older males are still content with the cheap buzz and cut, there are more men at my unisex salon having their hair 'styled'.

Remember the now deceased danseur Rudolph Nureyev? Metrosexual men out there will know exactly who I'm talking about! I read a biography about him a while back. Countless women fell in love and lust with this man. "He spoilt me for all other men," one lamented. Some people might have accused him of being effeminate he was, after all, just so totally in touch with his 'feminine side', but perhaps he was just ahead of his time –the original metrosexual man!

But what's this new breed of man like in the sack? That's what women want to know, isn't it?
There's got to be more to a metrosexual man than just his appearance. Is he more aware of his woman's needs? Does he mind sleeping on 'the wet spot'? Does he say: "Oh, that's fine, I don’t mind, we can make love another time if you're feeling tried tonight."? And, I wonder does he ever fall asleep immediately after sex!

Our culture is changing and our sexuality is not questioned as closely as it once was. It's ok that he wants be as attractive for you as you are for him. Preening will no longer automatically slaps him with 'gay' tag. He likes to look good, and yet he's still not about to let his ego to rule his life. Oh, yes, Sir-ee! He's likeable, liberated, and loving it!

But - wait just a modern minute. Amazing as all this might seem, according to a recent survey, only one in five women actually want a metrosexual man! It would seem that most women still want their men to be just as nature intended them to be—sex driven, testosterone pumped animals who can be ready for night on the town in the same time it takes, us, women to decided what we’re going to wear! And you know what? I have to be totally honest here, I'm one of these women. I’ll take my rugged and rough around the edges man any day over a darling metrosexual—and especially at night!

"His Place" :

I did something extraordinary leading up to Christmas; I ventured, all alone, into the hermetically (himetically?) sealed world of the hardware store. The place where sons of Adam take pride in dominating over everything created in metal and wood. Where the only other place a man can feel more like man's man is in his own private Eden—his backyard shed.

I was looking for one of those rotisserie things you attach to a barbeque. I thought it might make an interesting and novel Christmas gift for my other half since the barbie is, without question, his domain. Actually, I think its one of man's most primal urges to want to cook meat over an open fire. It's like "Me big brave hunter—take care of steak and sausages. You, little woman—gatherer of salads and burger buns."

Yes, real men know how to handle a barbie!

But I digress...

So anyway, back to the hardware store where a most affable store assistant approached me. He seemed kind of impressed that I knew the exact make and model of our barbie and began a long explanation about how to install the nifty gadget. I was feeling kind of flattered that he, of the male species, would share his 'superior' knowledge of such complex things as 'drill bits' and 'brackets' with me—one of the mere female variety.

Then, I mentioned my mate and he immediately cut the tutorial short, telling me: "Oh, don't worry then, he'll know how to do it for sure." I felt desolated! I felt deflated! Damn it, I felt dethrone from my position of gender equality! Well, the male of the species giveth, and the male of the species taketh away.

So, I told him, "Sure he will—if it come with full instructions."

Beautiful People.net :

"beautifulpeople.net —Introducing beautiful people to other beautiful people".

No, this web address isn't some kind stupid joke. Oh, no! This is real live, really serious stuff for those elitist plastic fantastics on the look for—no, not Miss or Mr Right, but—Miss or Mr Perfect!

Those hoping to gain membership must first submit a photo of themselves. A rating process invites existing members of the opposite sex to vote on whether a new applicant is 'beautiful' enough to be granted a membership, while those who don't measure up are ruthlessly booted off. I'm not sure exactly what happens if a member breaks the rules by say putting on weight, losing their suntan, forgetting to use their tooth whitener, or perish the thought, having too many birthdays. I guess they’re booted too.

Organisers say only one in 15 applications passes this stringent process—but claim more than 500 apply each day. "People are fed up of wasting time and money meeting unattractive people on the net," explained a spokesman for the site, "Beautifulpeople.net isn't about political correctness. We simply and unashamedly exist so that beautiful people can meet other beautiful people."

Does anyone else find this as ludicrous as me? What about finding your soul mate based on compatibility, friendship and true love? Isn't intelligence attractive? Doesn't being a good person count for something? What about having a great sense of humour, or being brave and courageous? And, surely being a kind and caring should tip the scales of love in your favour?

But wait just an eyebrow plucking moment, how many people are fortunate enough to be born with a beautiful body and a perfect face anyway? It frequently takes a lot of hard work and effort to be a 'beautiful person'! It can take years of dreary dieting, countless hours of exercise, and endless pill popping to achieve that 'perfect' body. And, let's not forget it takes a lot of guts to allow a surgeon to slice into your face to achieve nothing less that the perfect nose, chin, or what ever. Not to mention how brave you have to be to allow someone to stick a steel tube into your belly or thighs, or both, in order to have that 'excess' fat sucked out! And, what about those age defying martyrs who suffer the agony of having poison injected into their faces to hide their smile lines? Yes, the list of gruelling and painful practices and procedures some people are prepared to endure for the sake of vanity goes on and on—mercifully, for those reading this, I won't.

In fairness, some people really are just simply born beautiful. So, maybe I'm being too harsh on the 'beautifulpeople.net'? After all isn't this group just the non-intellectual equivalent of Mensa? Nobody knocks Mensa. These 'beautiful people' may not have mastered quantum physics or understand Einstein's theory of relativity, but damn it, most of them will have worked tirelessly at preening themselves and perfecting their perfect poses! We never criticise like-minded intelligent people enjoying each other's company. So, alternatively, what's so silly about beautiful bodied, clone faced people mixing and mingling?

Well, unfortunately, unlike intelligence, courage, kindness, and many other qualities we look for in a mate, the concept of physical beauty is constantly changing. Like it or not, the way we look is just a temporary and superficial measure of who we are, since every minutes of every day we're all changing and aging—it's just the natural process of life.

Please, I'm not suggesting that a great looking man, or woman, can't possess many of the same mate-attracting attributes as their plainer looking brothers and sisters. And, I'm not saying that people who have gain success because of their looks are any less deserving of those who haven't.

Intelligence and beauty, however, are largely to do with our environment and genetics, both of which we have no control over.

Certainly few things in life are worthier of celebration than ‘beauty’. It's just that I really think we're sinking to all new levels of shallowness when groups like this rear their ugly heads.

My Silver Slippers :

As I sit here, in my comfy slippers I just can't help but think—"Oh, the pressures of looking gorgeous and glamorous for, us, women..."

It's easy for men, but when the invitation says "black tie" it invariable means high heels for their partners. I mean, I'm no fashioinista, but even I realise it's just not a good look to wear shoes that look like a couple of giant squashed olives with a cocktail dress? Eek! However, especially for any length of time, a pair of high heels can be one of the most uncomfortable items a woman can wear. So, why do women wear them? It's vanity, that's what it is that makes women sacrifice comfort for compliments!

It's like, what makes a Hollywood actress look so damned hot and sexy strutting her stuff on the red carpet? Is it her fabulously flawless face and overly coiffured hair? The skimpy designer gown that's barely covering her hotter than hot body? Or, even, the million dollar jewels she's managed mooch a loan of? Oh, no, no, tell you, it's those damned skyscraper heels she's so practised at wearing, that's what it is!

I ask you, what red-blooded male can resist a woman in high heels? And, as any leg man will tell you, a pair of stilettos will always make curvaceous legs look even longer and lovelier Yep, whether a woman's doing a sexy strut in the bedroom, or a twirl on the dance floor, a pair of spiky heels will most surely boost, not only her butt, but her sex appeal too!

I suppose I shouldn't complain so much. I'm a very average shoe size, so at least I have a good choice of styles. I have friend who's almost 180cm and her feet are much bigger to match. I mean, not Sideshow Bob big, but large enough that it's really difficult for her to find anything that's doesn't come in black or brown, and look like something my granny would wear. She also has legs that go for days, and a face and body that makes men's mouths drop wide open when she walks into a room, so I guess it's only fair that she should have trouble buying shoes.

Ah, but I digress…

Anyway, we've been invited to this 'black tie' evening, again. It's a regular thing every year coming up to Christmas. It just seems so inappropriate, too, to expect men to wear suits and ties in such warm weather. I guess they don't call it the silly season for nothing.

Well, I found a pair of gorgeous shoes, but they're not even marginally ambulatory! So, why am I such a victim? Maybe I should just spray paint my slippers silver instead?