Tag Archives: marshmallow

Cro-Magnon Man

Cro-Magnon Man: (n) an early type of modern man

There is an abiding thought that steers my thinking:

“If I end up being wrong, how can I survive it well?”

Because basically, my life thus far has told me that I’m going to be wrong—partially because I’m a little pig-headed, but also because on occasion, I follow the instincts of others who are likewise oinkers.

I remember one weekend sitting in a seminar in which the pros and cons of evolution were discussed. I immediately felt that the topic was a bit high minded, with low results. But I listened anyway.

It quickly boiled down to a single issue:

Those of a more religious inclination were very upset about man evolving from the animal kingdom.

And those who were less concerned about ecclesiastical matters didn’t seem to care much.

Now, here’s a fact:

None of them knew what the hell they were talking about.

We usually don’t.

Probably long, long ago, when there were Cro-Magnon people walking the Earth, they would have been equally upset to think they evolved from apes, even though the similarity was close enough that a gorilla would occasionally hit on one of the women.

Very early on, we decided what’s ugly, what’s stupid and what’s spiritual.

Yet I never heard a frog object to evolving from a fish, nor a two-cell organism insisting it was impossible to have once been singular.

It’s a fear in our race—that if we are not superior, then it’s just not fair and needs to be changed immediately.

I can tell you the truth—I don’t care.

I personally look nothing like a Cro-Magnon Man.

They were hairy, dark brown and stooped.

I, on the other hand, appear to have evolved from a marshmallow.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

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Chest

Chest: (n) the front surface of a person’s or animal’s body

I’m always amused when people take credit for having beauty or they are depressed over some perceived ugliness. Did we have any choice?

Since there’s no genetically engineered children, all of us basically came out of the gene pool. Some of us got a towel and some didn’t.

That’s just how it works. This is what I thought of when I saw the word “chest.”

When I was a young man of seventeen, convinced of my maturity, I took a look at my chest. Where it was supposed to be muscular, it was a bit droopy and fat, threatening the appearance of small titties. My nipples didn’t harden to my satisfaction. Sometimes they just laid there, soft and full, with springtime promise.

And the main problem was that I had absolutely no hair. Today that’s considered a good thing, but when I was growing up, men had hair on their chest and women did not–and for some reason, women liked hair on a man’s chest.

I dreamed of a day when my chest would be much larger than my waist. (That’s the goal.) I’ve never achieved that.

So as I sit here and breathe today, I am extraordinarily grateful that I have found women over the years who have overlooked my soft, white, puffy, marshmallow chest area and have compensated in their minds by the fact that I’m conversational…and I know how to tip a waitress.

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Bunny

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bunny: (n) a rabbit, especially a young one.

It seemed completely implausible.

I have no idea where my parents found it–but it was a box containing forty-eight chocolate-covered marshmallow bunnies.

It was given to me as my Easter present when I was ten years old.

I had an immediate dilemma. I would have no problem eating all forty-eight in one sitting, even though I wouldn’t have been able to rise. But I wanted to pretend I was making them last.

Also, I had one little quirk when it came to chocolate-covered bunnies. I don’t like them soft and mushy, but just a little bit chewy–so you have to bite on them and pull a bit before the head separates from the torso. To achieve this, the bunnies must be willing to sit around, uneaten, for several days.

I took the box and hid it in my closet underneath some books. My thought was that needing to remove the books to get to the bunnies might prevent me from gorging.

The theory was incorrect. Turns out I was more than happy to remove some volumes to get to the treasure.

So by the time my bunnies reached their perfect texture, I only had two left.

That was on Monday afternoon. That would have been one day after Easter.

So the next year I asked my parents to buy my box of bunnies a week early before presenting them to me. For some reason they took offence to this.

I got no box of bunnies that year.

What I received was a seven-inch-tall rabbit, which was supposed to be solid chocolate, and ended up being full of air.

Thus the promises of life.

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Aphrodisiac

dictionary with letter A

Aphrodisiac : (n.) a food, drink or drug that arouses sexual desire.

Her name was Carol Ann. She was a cheerleader.

I was sixteen years old and always got a stirring in my Southern Hemisphere every time she walked by. Embarrassing as it may sound, it occasionally led to an eruption.

I was a teenager. I required no aphrodisiac. (Matter of fact, every year when the Sears catalogue arrived in our mailbox, I stole it, took it into my room and stared at the pictures of the models in their bras until pleasure had its way.)

That’s why, when I read our word today, I had to smile. An aphrodisiac is an additive which is necessary for those who have already lost the urge to participate in the game of love but still want to believe they are playing at mid-season strength.

It’s astounding to me the amount of sexual energy that overwhelms the human body between the ages of fourteen and twenty-five, when, for some societal determination, we are supposed to be more interested in taking chemistry instead of making chemistry.

By the time you are allowed to participate in the carnal cravings, the interest has already begun to wane a bit–thus the introduction of aphrodisiacs.

Unfortunately, most of us don’t know what stimulates true sexual passion. It really isn’t pornography, nor is it celibacy, just as being drowned doesn’t teach you to enjoy swimming and living in the desert doesn’t provide the correct environment for learning the back stroke.

There are three great aphrodisiacs in the human experience once you pass the age of thinking that every pencil looks like a penis and every marshmallow, a boob.

1. Great, intelligent conversation. There is something that makes us all horny–when we believe that we’re being heard and we become very proud of how well we listen.

2. Food that is prepared by other hands which you were able to pay for while summoning a waitress. Isn’t that a gas?

3. Admiration. Is there anything sexier than having a deep, abiding and lustful appreciation of the person you are about to ravage?

So by the time you need an aphrodisiac instead of just a cheerleader walking by, you must realize that magic potions rarely produce magic. That takes a delicious blending of the concoction of generosity and humor.

 

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix