One might ask what qualifies me to be giving out such information and advice as I have claim to dispense via this blog. Well hold your horses while I tell you. First of all, I was the only girl in my family for the first ten years of my life, Secondly, I had four brothers who knew I was a girl, and thirdly, we had a laundry chute in the upstairs bathroom of our humble adobe. Let me explain this last part so you can visualize. Imagine a long and narrow bathroom, on one side is the tub, followed by a short wall, followed by a toilet. On the other side is a very long counter top with a sink on one end, and right across from the toilet (under the long sink cabinet) are two small louvered doors. Inside the doors was a spot for a laundry hamper and next to that, a square hole had been cut into the floor which emptied onto the washer and dryer downstairs. This hole was just the perfect size to fit a head and maybe a pair of slim shoulders if one stood atop the washing machine, and the louvered doors provided a private view of the bathroom without being noticed by the bathroom's occupant. I know what your thinking. Four boy's, a girl and a laundry chute spells trouble. Yes, but before you imagine the worst, I'm not finished yet.
If a girl wants privacy, a girl usually goes into the bathroom and locks the door. This was certainly the case for me because it was impossible as a 12 year old girl to find anyplace in the house where I could pursue my talents without being teased. Behind the locked door of the bathroom I could dance in my nightgown, stare at myself in the mirror and imagine the congregation at our local church had gathered to hear me sing a special mothers day tribute to my mom. It was on this last occasion that I learned that my imaginary audience weren't the only one's watching me, but I also had a live audience under the bathroom sink, poking his big-eyed brain up through the laundry chute. I had just finished the last verse of the song "Depend upon my love, my dear mother" (author unknown) and with raw un-yielding emotion had gracefully held out the last note until I was out of breath. I was imagining that I had just moved my mother, several of her closest friends and Boyd Nethercott to tears, (something I was especially humbled by, seeing as Boyd Nethercott was not a particularly emotional man.) I had even moved myself to tears in real life just by having imagined such a tender performance (I can't believe I'm not embarrassed by this anymore) and I began to wipe my eyes with a tissue when the sound of muffled laughter came from the dark cabinet below. I'm sure you guessed already that the head in the hole belonged to one of my brothers who, having been employed as the family voyeur, had been assigned to watch and report back to the others everything I was doing without being discovered. I don't remember exactly what I did after trying to punt his head like a football, except alot of yelling and crying and telling my parents who were no help at all for the sake of not being able to keep a straight face. This was the moment I discovered I was truly alone in the world...until my only sister grew up enough to take my place at which time her songs "Gelephant elephant" and "Pickle walk" climbed the family "charts" to the number one spot, especially when she added the harmony part by "tooting" (my mom says I can't say the ' f--t' word in public.) -Einahpets (that's my name spelled backwards)
Friday
Tips from the secret service...
My Brother-in -law happens to be a real live agent in the secret service. Yes, he in fact has protected Mr. President, along with many other ex-Presidents like Bill and Hillary Clinton.(Wasn't Hillary once the President?) Anywho, I have tried just this morning to reach my sister in order to ask her to have the secret service call me for a personal interview, but she wasn't answering her phone just then so it will have to wait until later I guess. In the meantime, I will let you in on the skinny about my impending interview.I simply want to know what the secret service would tell me about certain curiosities I have been entertaining such as:
1. Do you really wear those little earpiece's with the squiggly wire that travels down the back of your neck and what does it lead to?
2. Do you really have a tiny microphone hidden in the cuff of your shirt sleeve (and why does it have to be hidden? Why not just carry a regular mic, like the one Celine Dion uses..?)
3. Do you wear your sunglasses a night?
4. What if you really have to use the bathroom? Did they teach you how to hold it for endless hours at a time while you were in training?
5. What would the Secret service suggest a guy do in an effort to keep his woman in line? (This is the question that my husband Doug wants answered the most.)
Now, imagine that I have been doing other things for several hours while waiting for the SS to call me back, because although this was truly the case, through the magic of television -or the Internet- we now have our much awaited answers, but before I divulge such, let me share with you a few interesting facts that you possibly did not know:
Did you know that there are only about 2,000 agents in the whole country? In order to be accepted into the SS, one must first have passed some pretty rigorous training and some heavy background checks, so Saddam Hussein probably couldn't get in. And guess what else! Did you know that a long long time ago, somewhere in the U.S. , a factory that produced molasses was holding the molasses in a huge metal tower (kinda like a grain mill) and carbon monoxide began to form and it built up so much pressure that the tower exploded and eeked hot molasses out by the ton which then picked up a speed of about 35 mph and hot molasses poured into the town and destroyed buildings (turning over a train in the process) and twenty people were killed by molasses that day. Ironically, it happened in January- which makes the old adage "slow as the molasses in January" entirely un-true.
This has nothing to do with my interview, but so what.
Okay, so my brother-in -law, whom we will refer to as "Orlando" and his partner to whom we will refer as "Incarnacion"( in order to employ continued secrecy ) have been so good as to answer my questions with great whit and candor:
1. Q. About the earpiece:
A.Why? Do you think that's hot? Because we have lot's of squigglie's coming from undisclosed locations.
2. Q. About the microphone...
A: That's not the only mic I have ( the other one has glitter on it.)
3.Q. About the sunglasses
A.yes, it makes me feel like a cat.
4. Q. Bathroom breaks
A. Agents don't pee. (That's actually what the squiggly wire is for, it attaches to their bladder and empties into a secret underground tank).
5.Q. Keeping one's woman in line
A. Just say "I'm the boss of you."
And a final bonus question: Why is the Secret service supposed to be a secret if everyone knows about them?
Answer: Can't tell you. It's a secret.
-Stephanie
1. Do you really wear those little earpiece's with the squiggly wire that travels down the back of your neck and what does it lead to?
2. Do you really have a tiny microphone hidden in the cuff of your shirt sleeve (and why does it have to be hidden? Why not just carry a regular mic, like the one Celine Dion uses..?)
3. Do you wear your sunglasses a night?
4. What if you really have to use the bathroom? Did they teach you how to hold it for endless hours at a time while you were in training?
5. What would the Secret service suggest a guy do in an effort to keep his woman in line? (This is the question that my husband Doug wants answered the most.)
Now, imagine that I have been doing other things for several hours while waiting for the SS to call me back, because although this was truly the case, through the magic of television -or the Internet- we now have our much awaited answers, but before I divulge such, let me share with you a few interesting facts that you possibly did not know:
Did you know that there are only about 2,000 agents in the whole country? In order to be accepted into the SS, one must first have passed some pretty rigorous training and some heavy background checks, so Saddam Hussein probably couldn't get in. And guess what else! Did you know that a long long time ago, somewhere in the U.S. , a factory that produced molasses was holding the molasses in a huge metal tower (kinda like a grain mill) and carbon monoxide began to form and it built up so much pressure that the tower exploded and eeked hot molasses out by the ton which then picked up a speed of about 35 mph and hot molasses poured into the town and destroyed buildings (turning over a train in the process) and twenty people were killed by molasses that day. Ironically, it happened in January- which makes the old adage "slow as the molasses in January" entirely un-true.
This has nothing to do with my interview, but so what.
Okay, so my brother-in -law, whom we will refer to as "Orlando" and his partner to whom we will refer as "Incarnacion"( in order to employ continued secrecy ) have been so good as to answer my questions with great whit and candor:
1. Q. About the earpiece:
A.Why? Do you think that's hot? Because we have lot's of squigglie's coming from undisclosed locations.
2. Q. About the microphone...
A: That's not the only mic I have ( the other one has glitter on it.)
3.Q. About the sunglasses
A.yes, it makes me feel like a cat.
4. Q. Bathroom breaks
A. Agents don't pee. (That's actually what the squiggly wire is for, it attaches to their bladder and empties into a secret underground tank).
5.Q. Keeping one's woman in line
A. Just say "I'm the boss of you."
And a final bonus question: Why is the Secret service supposed to be a secret if everyone knows about them?
Answer: Can't tell you. It's a secret.
-Stephanie
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