Michelle's House of Horrors

I read the news today oh, boy About a lucky man who made the grade And though the news was rather sad Well, I just had to laugh I saw the photograph.
The Beatles/A Day In The Life

A picture of a woman supposedly holding a gun to a baby’s head is making the Facebook rounds. They had a story about it on the local news the other night. Why?

Is it news?

No.

It’s interesting in a creepy, voyeuristic way. It’s sad that some ass-hat thinks it’s funny, if the picture was real. Not news, though.

How ’bout a panda cub being born? Or no panda cub? Nope.

Something happening on a TV show? A TV show going off the air? Someone winning a TV competition? Is any of it news? Mylie, Miley, Milie? Maile? Whatever her name is, is it news that she appeared on an award show and shook her ass?

No. No. NO. Hell, no.

I realize that what makes something news is extremely subjective. But there have got to be more important things to cover in a town of any size than some teen idol peeing in a bucket, or a celebrity getting a divorce. There are media outlets designed for gossip and entertainment for those of us who are inclined to indulge our curiousity about what the Kardashians are doing, and they do a far better job of it than the legitimate news sites and shows.

I’ve mentioned some of my other favorite news irritants: overly casual language, and the excessive use of cliche’. My theory is that when the language used in reporting news got sloppy, so did the reporting itself.

As a result, I watch and read the news less and less frequently. Soon I may be uninformed enough to find it useful again.

If not, I still have a lot of books I can read.

I’ll do OK.

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me

–The Waitresses/I Know What Boys Like

I am, or at least I used to be, very good at luring men.  When I was 20, a schoolmate noticed that I was not having any trouble attracting men and asked me how I managed. Apparently my charms are not readily apparent or something. Maybe  because I appeared to avoid  anything resembling normal social behaviors like talking to people.

Envious School-mate:  “I just don’t see how you do it. It’s not like you’re charming. You barely even talk.”

Me (in my head):  “For one thing, I have great boobs.  I’m also moderately good looking and I dress like Cyndi Lauper on a particularly slutty day. You are wearing something that looks like a gray wool potato sack.”

Me (out loud): “Let’s sit in this sidewalk cafe and have a beer. As soon as someone good looking walks by, I’ll show you what to do. It’s all in the eyes.”

We were in France, so it took a while for someone acceptably attractive to walk by.  He wasn’t French, which explains the good looks. I told  Envious that she should pay attention because I was going after the guy in the jean jacket. I lowered my head slightly, took a sip of my beer and as he approached he looked over. Of course he looked over. I was wearing a shiny gold lace dress and high top sneakers with “viva la droga” written on them. How could he not look? As he slowed down, I raised my eyes to look at him, gave a half smile and quickly lowered them. He kept walking.

Envious laughed and said something about losing my touch. I  quietly said “he’ll be back.”

He took another several steps and  turned around. Got a very slightly larger smile for his effort as I looked up at him through my bangs.  When he got to our table, he stopped and asked if he could buy me another beer. Envious just looked confused.

I turned to Envious after we finished our beer and asked if she had any questions.  All she said was “I still don’t get it. How did you know whe would come back?”  I shrugged in my best Gallic way and  replied “I just knew.”

Envious: “So you just sit there, look shy and bat your eyes?”

Me: “Pretty much. I must be unintimidating or something. Or it’s the cleavage.”

When you’re 20 years old and cute, it just isn’t that much of an effort to attract men.

I don’t know how much that technique would work for other people, but it definitely worked for me.

A little too well as it turns out.

I ended up marrying that guy.