Today started out as most Sundays of late. Being my one and only day off each week, I slept in, ate breakfast in bed which had been made by my eldest grandchild and then sipped coffee, also in bed, while I read through emails, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Blogs, etc. Yes, as a matter of fact I do have a fabulous life, thank you!
Then it happened. The phone rang and I got the news that, yet again, one of the Hansen men had put forth their opinion of someone they had never met for all the world to hear. Seems this particular event involved making fun of someone else’s life’s work. Let me explain about Hansen men.
Hansen dudes are gorgeous and smart and funny and amazingly talented in so many ways. Seriously, as a woman who has been happily conjoined to one for forty years, I can honestly say, they are awesome! Having said that, I must confess they all seem to have one small flaw and that is the art of making fun of strangers at the expense of, well, strangers. I cannot count the bazillions of times I have made the statement, “It’s not fun or funny unless it’s fun and funny to the person being made fun of.” Ok, I may have added, “You morons!” at the end of that statement each of the bazillion times but come on already, wise up.
Seriously, if you ever had the privilege of meeting a Hansen man you would remember it as a pleasant experience. The first line of this breed, that I knew anyway, was my father-in-law. He was one of the funniest guys around. Always ready with a punch line. The guy was ridiculously funny except for one small flaw. He made fun of people he didn’t know in a way that was quite unfunny in my opinion. I mean, come on, anyone that reads this blog knows that I have answered the calling to make fun of people including myself, my sisters, my husband and children, the people I work with and for, etc. The difference is, I do it to their faces, in public and I know them. So really, I am not actually making fun of them but rather pointing out the truth that they already know. It’s my small way of offering joy to the world in sharing the lives of those I love. Thank you and you’re welcome.
Ok, maybe what I do is not completely different but that’s not the point. The point is, when you make fun of people behind their backs it’s mean and they have no chance to defend themselves and it makes you look like a boob. Yeah, I said it. A boob! Maybe that’s why all you Hansen men seem to choose full breasted women, because you are all boobs yourself. Yeah, you heard me!
What if I didn’t know you perfect Hansen men and I decided to point out some of your “flaws”? Huh, how about that? “What flaws?” you ask. Exactly! There’s the first one. Oh yeah, I have a whole list of things I could embarrass you people with. That’s right, I called you, you people, just like my dad use to call us girls when he was at the point of complete disgust with our shenanigans.
Speaking of shenanigans, how would you like it if I made public some of yours for others to laugh at? I mean, I would only be trying to be funny, right? Seriously, how would you feel if I told people how one of you is unable to jump on a trampoline without peeing their pants? Ok, that might be me but if it was one of you, how would you like the world to know that? Huh, funny men? Maybe I should tell people the awesome story of farting so loud in church that we had to change churches, or towing your car out of the ditch with the door open which resulted in the door hitting a pole and being ripped right off the hinges or having to go to school with only socks on all day because you forgot to put shoes on. Shall I go on? How would you like people to know you were booted from first grade for starting the dirty word club? I mean, really, who are you people and how did I get involved with you?
My advice, shut those pie holes unless you have something nice to say. Or, you are making fun of your sisters.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
There is this weird thing on Facebook called Truths About You or some such thing. Even though I am rarely on FB these days, it seems every time I do stop in to see what's shaking, there is some new "truth" about me on my page. I guess my FB friends play the game, or app, or whatever the stupid thing is called and tell the "truth" about me. So today, I decided to read through all the "truths" as told by my "friends" and guess what? You people don't know me at all!!
Do you think that Marla Hansen needs to lose weight? No
Um, seriously? Has this person never met me? I mean in real life. Even if they are just one of my cyber-stalkers, have they never flipped through the multitude of online photographic evidence proving my point that this answer is ridiculous at best? Did they think the truth vs. the “truth” would damage my psyche forever? Are they under the assumption mirrors have not made it by mule train to Oklahoma as of yet? Were they trying to say they loved me regardless of my tonnage therefore they saw me, in their mind’s eye at least, at an acceptable weight, making it possible for them to answer, “Marla? Hefty? Who are you kidding? The girl is super model svelte!”
Does Marla Hansen need to lose weight?
Ok, this photo is so 20 pounds ago, but still. I rest my fat ass case. Hey, somebody needed to tell the truth before my sisters did. Amen and amen.
Do you think that Marla Hansen owns a nice car? Yes
Again, who are you people? I haven’t owned a nice car since 1976 when I sold my Mustang. Why would I sell my dark burgundy Mustang with black leather interior and the awesome engine that said, “VROOM!! VROOM!!” after I married? Because I wanted babies. Lots and lots of babies. I wanted babies and station wagons filled with strollers and diaper bags and fishy crackers. Wait, not fishy crackers because at that time I was an earth mama so I probably was thinking more along the lines of comfort when I pulled over in my mama mobile to nurse my multitude of offspring someday. Anyway, thirty-six years later, what am I driving?
Oh sure the kids are gone but they have been replaced by grandkids. Buh bye hopes of having a nice car someday. So long dreams of a two-seater filled with only me and my boyfriend I’m married to as we drive along the coast, drinking wine and eating cheese at wineries along the way. Nevermore, Vroom Vroom. Nevermore.
Do you think that Marla Hansen is selfish? No
This one is a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, I am extremely unselfish. I will give you my last dime, my time, my possessions or my last drop of blood if you need it. On the other hand, the one holding the Snickers, I have been known to lock myself in the bathroom so I don’t have to share. See? Conundrum.
Do you think that Marla Hansen would go Bungee Jumping? No
This person knows me! I would NEVER go bungee jumping, or sky diving or alligator hunting or shopping on Rodeo Drive. All much too scary for this Redneck girl. Now, I will say this, in my younger days, I have been known to jump off of my parents cabana roof into our swimming pool to impress a boy. I was also know to jump off the Cayucos pier to impress a boy. Oh and I did ride a motorcycle and later a go-cart into a fence and yes there were boys involved in those events as well. The biggest jump I ever took was thirty-six years ago. I jumped head first into marriage at eighteen years old. Again, there was a boy involved.
Oh, there’s more………