One for the Money and a No Show for Women

One for the money, two for the show….

One for the money, two for the show is a chant used when kids start a race.

It’s the title of a movie.

It’s the first line of lyrics in a rock and roll song.

In the United States, “One for the Money” is spot on as there are only dead American presidents on our currency.

Even SYRIA has a woman on its currency.

All we got is Susan B. Anthony and Sacagawea on coins that no one remembers. Alabama put Helen Keller on the back of a 2003 quarter. Martha Washington appeared on the one-dollar silver certificate in 1886, 1891 and 1896.

Some writer commented thus far no women in American history measured up to Alexander Hamilton or Benjamin Franklin. He advocates waiting until a woman is elected president, proves she is great and dies. Neither Hamilton nor Franklin served as president proving once again women are held to different standards than men. Did I mention the writer is a nut job?

This omission reinforces gender bias, adds additional height to the glass ceiling and speaks volumes about income inequity.

Women drive most of the daily purchase decisions. According to 2012 data, fifty-seven percent of us were in the workforce and yet, not one female face graces the bacon we bring home.

President Obama said he thought it was a good idea to put women on currency. I think he should make this happen post haste and who gives a damn if John Boehner gets all bent out of shape.

There has been discussion about putting a woman’s picture on the twenty-dollar bill. Considering how long we’ve had to wait to even have a discussion about women on currency I think they should grace both twenty and one-hundred dollar bills.

My nominees would be Sacagawea, Margaret Sanger, Harriet Tubman, Susan B. Anthony and Eleanor Roosevelt.

None of these candidates were elected to any public office, but they all proved they were great and that is more than we can say about some of our presidents, dead and living.

The Church Lady

The current flap in Indiana and Arkansas reminded me how easy it is to offend everyone. This  post offended everyone in July 2010, and again in 2013 .

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A church lady in DC requested her donations be returned because the church she attends permitted a gay wedding. She defended her position citing biblical admonitions. Bibliophiles gnash their teeth when the Old Testament has rules and the New Testament has loopholes. 

Can you imagine God calling Moses into his office and saying, “Hey Mo, didn’t I tell you to leave out that controversial paragraph in Leviticus, because one day we might have to spin it?”

Demanding refunds could establish dangerous precedents. I foresee a church financial failure requiring a government bailout.

SOME PEOPLE MIGHT WANT A REFUND FOR THEIR DONATION IF:
         THE VILLAGE PEOPLE SING THE PROCESSIONAL

The homophobes may cease to support their financial pledges.

 ·         THE CHURCH CONTRIBUTES TO THE HOMELESS

They don’t work, why should they receive assistance?

 ·        A FUNERAL SERVICE IS HELD FOR A FALLEN FROM THE FLOCK

A dead non-believer is a huge financial drag in lost revenue.

 ·         THE PASTOR DOES NOT MAINTAIN PARITY WITH THE MEMBERS

He should keep a tally of the member’s contributions and adjust his time accordingly.

 ·         SOMEONE FROM A DIFFERENT DENOMINATION SHARES COMMUNION

They don’t contribute. You don’t know what they believe, so why should they get to dip into the host.

 ·         SOMEONE DOES NOT WEAR THEIR SACRED UNDERGARMENTS

Have an usher at the church entrance do a quick booty check. If someone is caught with naught, they gotta ante up to cover the cost of refunds.

 ·         SOMEONE IS DISCOVERED DANCING

My deceased Southern Pentecostal auntie predicted dancing would lead to wearing shorts, mixed bathing would soon follow and a speedy trip to hell a certainty. 

The church lady in DC is working with an attorney to see if She can file retroactive claims.

I Survived Being Embarrassed in Neiman Marcus

Ever had that nightmare where you appear in public in your underwear?   John Hain

My nightmare occurred fully dressed in Neiman Marcus’ downtown Dallas store.

At the time I worked there in cramped quarters sequestered away from the main store. Our department’s function was to make sure Chanel looked like Chanel and the store maintained its elegant ambience.

My boss was the devil who didn’t wear Prada. Arriving to work in her Jaguar, she swept into the office swathed in mink. What she lacked in status she excelled in her ability to kiss the behind of whoever was in charge of the store.

Two men and I served as her staff hostages. She had zero common sense, even worse communication skills and no reservations about throwing us under the bus. She was mean as a badger and thrived on belittling and humiliating her staff.

On her weekly jaunt to inspect the various departments of the store, it was my job to follow her and take notes. The salespeople had no clue I disliked her as much as they did and damned me by association. Shopping in the store required nerve, but arrogant salespeople were no match for a sale combined with the employee discount. I ignored the eye rolls as I ran my fingers over the Bottega Veneta tote I would have sold the cat to own. I avoided the associate in the shoe department who behaved as though he descended from the monarchy.

Our department was not required to participate in the annual inventory, but our leader never passed an opportunity to suck up to upper management and volunteered her staff to help. The guys were assigned to inventory the shoe department and I got the Baccarat crystal.

Glass shelves lined the walls displaying acres and acres of crystal. The manager of the Baccarat greeted me with the same enthusiasm he’d extend a dead mouse.

I approached a shelf, removed a piece of crystal to note its vital statistics. In slow motion, a domino effect complimented the thunderous symphony of each glass shelf floating to the floor, sending thousands of dollars of Baccarat crystal to shards. As I stood in the middle of the sparkling, expensive volcano of crystal, I could feel every eye in the store on me. Fate could have smiled on me and rendered a sympathy inducing bloody gash or two, but I did not receive so much as a scratch. A prayer to vaporize went unanswered and I was stuck at the scene of the crime.

Investigation revealed the display was improperly mounted. It was an accident waiting to happen. It could have happened to anyone, even my evil boss, but no one other than the employees within earshot would ever know this.

The next day I dreaded going to work and facing the devil and her scathing review of the inventory caper.  When I arrived at work, a basket of broken glass topped by a big bow sat on my desk, along with an invitation to lunch from my two work companions. Our boss did not utter a word.

Showing up in public in your lingerie ain’t that big a deal.

 

 

 

 

The Church Lady

The current flap in Indiana and Arkansas reminded me how easy it is to offend everyone. This  post offended everyone in July 2010, and again in 2013 .

********************************************************************************************************

A church lady in DC requested her donations be returned because the church she attends permitted a gay wedding. She defended her position citing biblical admonitions. Bibliophiles gnash their teeth when the Old Testament has rules and the New Testament has loopholes. 

Can you imagine God calling Moses into his office and saying, “Hey Mo, didn’t I tell you to leave out that controversial paragraph in Leviticus, because one day we might have to spin it?”

Demanding refunds could establish dangerous precedents. I foresee a church financial failure requiring a government bailout.

Some people might want a refund for their donation if:
         The Village People Sing the Processional

The homophobes may cease to support their financial pledges.

 ·         The Church Contributes to the Homeless

They don’t work, why should they receive assistance?

 ·        A Funeral Service is Held for a Fallen from the Flock

A dead non-believer is a huge financial drag in lost revenue.

 ·         The Pastor Does not Maintain Parity with the Members

He should keep a tally of the member’s contributions and adjust his time accordingly.

 ·         Someone from a Different Denomination shares Communion

They don’t contribute. You don’t know what they believe, so why should they get to dip into the host.

 ·         Someone Does not Wear Their Sacred Undergarments

Have an usher at the church entrance do a quick booty check. If someone is caught with naught, they gotta ante up to cover the cost of refunds.

 ·         Someone is Discovered Dancing

My deceased Southern Pentecostal auntie predicted dancing would lead to wearing shorts, mixed bathing would soon follow and a speedy trip to hell a certainty. 

The church lady in DC is working with an attorney to see if She can file retroactive claims.

Get Ready for Powdered Alcohol

Just when I believed convenience had reached its peak with Amazon prime shopping, Skype and streaming movies at home, powdered alcohol arrived.

When I first heard about Palcohol my first reaction was eewwwww a powdery martini.vodka

Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau approved the stuff for sale this summer. It will occupy shelf space alongside its liquid counterpart at the liquor store.

Naysayers are outraged and want to ban sales for a variety of reasons, citing underage drinking at the top of the list. Enterprising teens will do as they’ve always done and bribe a “legal” to get the stuff for them.

Packaging measures four by six inches and according to its creators would be too difficult to sneak into a venue. Au contraire; I have a tote that can conceal a small child. I don’t care if people stare while I drink from my purse.

A few other benefits came to mind tilting the scales to the favorability side of the issue:

Who can possibly object to bringing a small bottle of water to your nephew’s first-grade performance as a tree?

Dare I mention church and a boring sermon?

Even better, think of the convenience when visiting tee-totaling relatives in their home. No more embarrassing clanging bottles in your luggage. You may find you actually enjoy the retelling for the umpteenth time of their genius fifth grader winning the spelling bee.

Taking out the garbage will no longer require covert operations to prevent nosy neighbors from observing your alcohol consumption.

Think of the savings at restaurants. One can enjoy an adult beverage without sticker shock for watered down water.

Screw the airlines; bring your own water bottle and fill it up before you get on the plane.

Think of the weight, no more lugging heavy quart glass bottles from the liquor store. A month’s supply won’t weigh as much as the cat’s snack food.

I think I just may have found a new pal. Ain’t life great?