Posted on 05/24/2008 9:44:57 AM PDT by EveningStar
What’s worse than a woman being whistled at by the guys is when a guy gets whistled at by the guys........
You mean your entire sense of self isn’t wrapped up in whether or not some construction worker whistles at you?
How could you say such a thing?
BLASPHEMY...
That is why Vinny and I are talking about construction workers. Not about dirty old men. Those deserve a slap.
Construction folks are such a riot.
In my neighborhood (Rep of Panama) I have 30, 40, 50 stories building being constructed in my neighborhood.
Suddenly, when some good looking young woman goes strolling by, I can hear from my apartment as I sit at my computer, whistles from the bottom of the construction up to the top floors.
They whistle but don’t touch.
AMEN!
“What’s worse than a woman being whistled at by the guys is when a guy gets whistled at by the guys........”
Shove him off the top story in the construction site...without a parachute.
But that is another story for another day.
..ah, I had a few years of those. I agree, enjoy it while you can.
If ya really want to impress the gals, ya whistle Stars and Stripes Forever!
Yeah yeah,
I mean, we wimmen’s only value is our looks and our only happiness is when men find us attractive...../ sarc (at least in the bubble world).
Off to do a Barbie-lobotomy ;) to create balance in the universe :)
“When I talk to my secretary I address her with “ma’am” and when she, or any woman, is in my office I leave the door open, wide, wide open.”
As you should. You are very wise to do so.
It is dumb not to. You never know what some nut will invent.
Hi little. :)
As I am thinking back, there is truth to what you say…no whistling on non sunny days.
Honestly,
I love working around my old, crazy fellas....I will be beautiful until I’m 100 in their eyes :)
I love dirty old men!
Most are harmless and they make me laugh.
Vinny = Finny.
I sooooo apologize!!!
Forgive me.
I think my brain is rotting out, or I am not getting enough whistles anymore.
Again, I’m sorry.
There’s something about a wolf whistle that at least seems appreciative of the whole physical person (unless you’re bending over or some such.) Compared to remarks on specific parts of the anatomy, invitations to perform sexual services, the honking of a car horn, or unintelligible whispers, a wolf whistle is positively complimentary and respectful.
The problem in the last thirty years (since I developed a figure) is that those men who are given to such outward displays have been so loutishly brought up that they choose the other,offensive, means over the wolf whistle. The wolf whistle is an artifact of a previous time, having enjoyed its heyday in the forties.
While it’s heartening that it survives in other parts of the world, if I ever travel to NZ I will be so old that the issue will be moot.
“I love dirty old men!
Most are harmless and they make me laugh.”
Oh gosh. I have to fess up. I have never been around “dirty” old men…ever. The older gentlemen I have been around (my parents friends) were always gentlemen.
I commented about something which I know nothing.
Forgive me.
And you are correct.
They all had a wonderful sense of humor.
I miss them.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis wonderful.
The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary.
Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches, I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her: I had myself twenty angels given me this morning; but I defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the way of honesty: and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her.
FALSTAFF
But what says she to me? be brief, my good she-Mercury.
MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, she hath received your letter, for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven.>/p>
FALSTAFF
Ten and eleven?
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of: Master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him: he's a very jealousy man: she leads a very frampold life with him, good heart.
FALSTAFF
Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her; I will not fail her.
You’ve got to get over this crush honey!
I mean ~~sigh~~
Following me around on threads is an odd way of courting.;)
Though very sweet and flattering (you can always PM me, or come over to the all girls forum to chat :) )
My dressing defensively was primarily to deflect those other things -- remarks on specific parts of the anatomy, invitations to perform sexual services, the honking of a car horn, or unintelligible whispers ... and it was very effective. You would never catch me jogging or walking in tight-fighing spandex or little short-shorts and jogging bras with midriffs bare. Women who dress like that, hit the public streets, and then complain when weirdos and louts respond the way they will -- well, those women don't get much sympathy from me. In its way, dressing alluringly for street-public viewing is as rude and loutish as the creeps who respond to it.
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