Someone Call John Walsh!

Guest Blogger: my daughter, The Bee

(WARNING: this post is Epic in length but totally worth the read)

For several weeks my friends and I have been kicking ass and taking names at Charm City Trivia! We're ranked first at our local - not that I'm bragging. This week my mom and Kirk came with us and as usual we were unstoppable! We won two free rounds of shots for the whole team, a $20 gift card for the restaurant and a trashy Blue Moon beer t-shirt.  A good time was had by all. But that's a story for another day.

After last night's win I decided to keep the party going (since I didn't have work the next day - who doesn't loves holiday weekends??)  One of my friends suggested a dive bar down the street that I had never been to.  I have seen this place from the outside since I was a little girl - it's the back half of a liquor store and its situated nicely between a Goodwill Superstore and a KFC.


I was hesitant but she assured me it would be fun. "They have an arcade bowling game! You'll love it."

I am a sucker for games.

So we went ... my friends Carrie & Will, my husband and myself.  I got out of the car and walked up to the front door to meet Will. Meanwhile Carrie and my husband were hanging back in the lot because my husband found a snakeskin at work that day and couldn't wait to show her ... look I never said we weren't trashy. Let's remember where we were though; it fit.

As we walked up to the front some guy was standing outside smoking and he offered a friendly greeting which I returned and then quickly lost eye contact.  I gave Carrie the stink eye for talking me into going there and she started busting up laughing just knowing what we were in for.

We walked inside and the smell was a bit off-putting. Musty old carpet and 40 years of drinking and smoking that had seeped into the wood paneling on the walls.  It wasn't the greatest but I've seen worse. So we grabbed a seat. Will went up to the bar to order drinks and asked some of the regulars if there was anything on draft or just bottles. The two regulars looked at each other like he was speaking a foreign language. They had no idea what a draft beer was. They thought he meant like Heineken vs. Budweiser; and of course they had no time for some yuppie that wanted a fancy beer. Eventually he got the bartender's attention and ordered two Yeungling bottles to be on the safe side.  The rest of the bar was populated with about half a dozen middle aged men. Alone. Drinking themselves into oblivion. This was not a social bar - it was a strait alcoholic's bar.  There was one guy sitting at a table alone that I was concerned might be unconscious, or worse, but Carrie assured me he was fine. How she knew that without putting a mirror to his mouth is beyond me but I took her word for it.

Then I realized all the shots and Mai Tai's from trivia were hitting my bladder hard.

Me: "How's the bathroom here?"


Carie: "Not bad ... if you don't mind showers curtains!"

Holy shit.  WTF does that mean?!?! Is the door to the bathroom a shower curtain? Am I expected to pee in a bathtub? I mean seriously - this was not going to be good.

I ventured around the corner to the restrooms - on the way I passed an old shopping cart in the hall. How or why that was there I will never know. I found the bathrooms. One marked MEN and one marked BITCHES. Sweet. But - at least it was an actual door. This was a good sign and I began to think that maybe Carrie was exaggerating. As I opened the door I knew I was wrong. The smell of a dead body smacked me in the face. Where I found the strength to continue on I will never know; maybe my bladder is really just that weak. As I looked around the "bathroom" I discovered what Carrie was talking about. I came face to face with two stalls - no doors - just shower curtains. And not just any shower curtains - fancy shower curtains (exactly like the picture below.) They clearly spared no expense. Although, I'm pretty certain it was one shower curtain cut in half and split between the two stalls.

Using the actual toilet was it's own adventure. The shower curtains are not on any kind of rod - they are nailed to the molding over the stall. So you can't even slide it out of the way you just have to plow through. Then once I got in position I realized that the shower curtain is hung less than an inch away from the edge of the toilet seat. So while you're sitting/squatting there, not only your knees but your FACE is rubbing up against the curtain. God knows what has touch that thing. Honestly - if someone else was to walk into the bathroom while you're on the toilet they would totally see the outline of a person with two knees sticking out the sides.

Seriously - whats the point?? The only thing this shower curtain is doing is helping the spread of herpes.

I peed and wiped and ran the hell out of there. I didn't even stop to look at the sink to wash my hands. I was surely cleaner not even touching the faucet. When I get back to the table I got some Purell from Carrie and asked if we could leave. She couldn't stop laughing and the guys were just clueless. They assumed I was over-reacting and continued to concentrate on their Keno.

I dragged everyone outside for a "cigarette break" which was really just and excuse to tell them my horror story and breathe some fresh air. I demanded that we call John Walsh from America's Most Wanted because we could easily solve about 10 murders on the spot. The DNA evidence was all over my face!

There were a few more awkward moments involving 10 homeless guys in the woods and a midget but I don't want to blow your mind so I'll spare you.

I left as soon as possible and could not get in the shower quick enough when I got home.

I texted Carrie that night and told her I had self-diagnosed syphilis. Carrie replied "Not bad. At least it's curable!"


Beat The Clock - Man Game

My husband has a new toy. Oh, no, wait, I'm sorry. My husband has a new "tool". I gave it to him for Christmas thinking it would make his life a little easier now that he is working in a new area. What I didn't realize was how much fun he would have with it. Actually Buggy girl enjoys it almost as much as her Poppy does but for different reasons.

The "tool" is a GPS unit. An electronic device that will get you where you need to go in an efficient manner. Doesn't sound like that much fun, right? I didn't think so either. Now let me tell you that my husband is a human GPS but only in the state of Maryland. He needs the electronic GPS because he drives in DC and Virginia for work. Since Christmas though, he uses that GPS every time we get in the car! I don't know if he is having senility problems or he's testing himself or what. He has even started taking slightly different routes to routine destinations. A little variety maybe?

My husband calls me every day on his way home from work. Yeah, he loves me and all that but it's really that he sits in traffic a lot and he wants someone to complain to while he does it. Every day I ask him what his ETA is and he announces the time on the GPS, he also informs me that he is certain to 'shave a few minutes off of that time'. Seems simple to me; drive faster = get there quicker. No, it's a man thing; cut down your drive time = personal  achievment. Unhuh!

I want to let you all know that he beat his personal best time today on the way home by 4.5 minutes! YES! The parade will be held on Saturday if you're interested.

This GPS thing provides hours of entertainment for the whole family. What a buy that was, no kidding. A couple of weeks ago we were driving to my nieces house in Pennsylvania, drive time about 2 hours. Of course my husband was happily trying to shave minutes and Buggy girl wanted in on the fun. She got to hold the GPS unit while she sat in back in her car seat. Husband had the volume turned up so he could hear the directions. Buggy was also directing Poppy and doing a great job, "turn on the red road on your side Pop". Then Buggy noticed that the GPS was directing her to all of the McDonald's, Subways and Dunkin Donuts in the MD/PA area!  She really needed some french fries and a chocolate donut at least 37 times between here and there.

I took over watching traffic because everyone else in the car seemed to be pretty busy.


Le' Bags

Hopefully you have noticed the slideshow over on the left sidebar. Shown are some photos of the handbags I have been making and displaying for sale. Recently I decided to lower the selling price to a low-low $40.00 each! Every one of these bags is handmade and unique. No two are ever the same even if I have used the same fabric, which I seldom do.

I can tell you truthfully that I am very fussy about the bags I carry. They MUST be functional above all else. These fit me perfectly. They function and they are really attractive. The whole package. 

I'm a fabric addict and to me, something created from a beautiful piece of fabric is a work of art. Very much like a Vera Bradley bag which these have been compared to.

Just click on the "Shop Buggys" over at the top of the left sidebar and have a look at what I have in stock. I am sewing every day so stop back frequently if you don't see what you are looking for. If you have a suggestion for a color or combination of colors just let me know.

These bags are selling really well for me in person but not getting much as far as online orders. I'm guessing that the pictures are not as good or clear as they need to be. Does anyone have a suggestion for my photography? I try to take pictures on sunny days but I think I need more than that. Any help is appreciated.


The Devil Wears L'Eggs

You read that correctly...I said L'Eggs. Pantyhose, specifically, control top because if you are of a particular age (and shape)  then you need all the help the retailers can offer. Now I know that the younger set has disdained wearing pantyhose in favor of bare legs and comfort. I get it. I'm all for the comfort. If you are in my age bracket, you were raised to understand that when you dress for an office, a wedding, a funeral, etc, in something besides a sun dress then you WILL wear pantyhose to cover your legs. Read along young girls...I am your future.

In order to go bare (legged) it seems to me that you should have those legs in fair shape. They would be somewhat toned and not Arctic white. You don't want to have any shaving nicks on the shin, no softball scars on your knees and oh, that scar from the cool bunk beds with metal rails that your kids really had to have? No. Don't pass this list of criteria? Me either. Read on.

So you are going to an event, let's say your son's scholarship awards luncheon. Important stuff, worth a new fabulous dress that fits like a glove. One that your sister, the seamstress, kindly designed and made for you. Pics will be included. Well, it fits beautifully if you include a pair of control top pantyhose and the High Powered - High Waisted Power Spanx! Beauty is pain girls. 

You shower, you powder, you primp and your hair is just perfect. It's a lovely day, sunshiny and 82 degrees which means that upstairs in your bedroom it's about 87 degrees and the air is not working. Ok, that fan is on high, all is well. Husband is shaving and you commence the countdown to liftoff. Bra - on. Pantyhose.......damn it! Get the hand lotion because you have a rough spot on your hands and you got a snag already. Ok, leg gathered and insert foot...damn it! Get the ped egg and smooth that #@?&* callus on your heel. Now stand in front of the fan because you're having a hot flash and it's physically impossible to put pantyhose on a sweaty leg. I tried it once in 1984, in July, in my car! Bad day.

Homeland Security should use this instead of waterboarding, much more effective. Those terrorist would be crying like a baby!

One leg in and pulled up and onto the second! Gather in the hands and.....damn it! You can't bend your other leg up high enough to get it in! OMG, cramp in the foot! Sweating again, Jesus H., time to chill in front of the fan. Worse than childbirth. Now your husband comes to help you bend that leg and shove it, oh so gently, into your carefully gathered handfull of sheer leg covering. Rest. A glass of wine at this point would be Nirvana. More fan time.

The Spanx. This must be like stuffing sausage casing by hand. Gather, pull and tug. Rest. Fan. Pull and tug. No slouching once the High Powered Spanx are in place because the waist band (just under the bra) might roll and that would be ugly. At this point you thank God for Super AquaNet because with any lesser product, your hair would be in shambles. Husband zips you in and off you go, sucking on an oxygen bottle.

In the car, no seat belt (are you joking) no slouching, as straight as possible. Jump out of the car upon arrival. Accept all compliments on your appearance in an offhand manner. This is my sister, Lorrie (aka June cleaver) she hates attention so please don't mention that I posted her picture for all the world to see.


Life On The Farm #3

I really need to spend some time at my sister's, it's a laugh a minute...well, for me it is! So my neice, Jess, has planted her vegetable garden and we'll see how well she does with that. She planted asparagus (yuck) I can't even see wasting good dirt for that stuff but also lima beans (yum). They have acquired 1 pig named, yes, Bacon, 2 cows, Bessie and Buttercup and a new horse, "A Horse With No Name", love that song. She is thinking of calling the horse Edward (Cullen). Now I remind you, these people have never been animal lovers particularly. They get pets and very shortly things go wrong and they give said pets away. Ok, granted these animals are not supposed to be pets, except for the horse, but they have named them. It will be a traumatic day when "Bacon" is transformed into strips and links!

Yesterday, early around 8:00 am, my niece was jolted out of a sound sleep by her mother screaming her name from downstairs. Jess ran down still in her pajamas to find that the cows had escaped the electric fenced pen. Obviously my sister wasn't planning to take care of the escapees so it fell to Jess by default. Why is it this stuff always happens when the more able and familiar folks are at work?

Jess grabbed some carrots out of the fridge and took off outside, in the rain, in her pajamas, to corral the wayward ones. The escapees were headed down the lane towards the house down the way (that's farm talk). According to Jess cows run really fast, like they are wearing PF Flyers, lightening on hooves! Off she went huffing and dripping with her carrots dangling enticingly in her hand. The cows? Not impressed with the lame carrot offering.

Jess got wet, she got muddy, she got winded, but she didn't get any cows. She came back to the house and they called, you got it, Josh! The saviour of cows and septic tanks. Josh came along and put some fresh feed in the cow pen with the gate opened and shortly the cows were inside. Ok, that's probably because Jess chased them down the lane and had them all worn out and hungry by the time Josh arrived.

They might be rethinking that solar powered electric fence. Apparently it isn't so effective on those cloudy, rainy days.


The Important Stuff

We are having to deal with some tough things around here right now. Nothing we can't handle but not pleasant either. Well, my Buggy girl came to stay over on Saturday and 5 minutes with her is enough to put a smile in my heart and remind me that the important things are pretty simple.

We picked her up on Saturday afternoon and the moment I saw her she cracked a huge smile and ran in for a hug. She announced to me with a giant grin on her face that, "Guess what Grandmom, I get to sleep at your house tonight!". She never wants to do anything much, come home, play with her friend next door, bake cookies. That's about what we did on Saturday. It was perfect.

Bright and early on Sunday morning, she was crawling in the bed next to me. We snuggled for a bit and she asked if it was time to get up. My body said "NO!" I asked her to look at the clock and tell me the time and she announced in a loud voice (just in case Poppy was not awake yet) "it's 7-1-0". I tried to squeak out a little extra time and told her we could get up when the clock said 7-3-0. She proceeded to bombard me with loud chatter for the next 7 minutes so I gave up. I gave her a squeeze and got out of bed. At that point she decided to get all stealth and insist that I not make any noise because "Poppy is sleeping!". She rushed me down the stairs.I have tried over the past six years to convince her that Grandmom needs a period of "wake up time". The coffee, the eye rubbing, etc. need to be accomplished. I turned on the cartoons and went to make the coffee. As those very first drops of liquid adrenaline started dripping into the coffee pot, she asked if I was awake yet, in a hushed voice. I looked at that face, expectant, hopeful, too cute for words. "Grandmom, do you want to play a game with me?"

Well, needless to say, at 7:32 on Sunday morning I was playing a very loud and giggly game of Wii, Super Mario and loving every second of it. We played until about 9:00 when Poppy finally came downstairs and we stopped to make breakfast. Is there anything better?

 Sometime over the weekend, Buggy saw some bits of fabric on my sewing table from a new handbag I was working on. This fabric really turned her on and she asked me if I would make her a dress with these two different fabrics. She was insistent that I use both of them. Well, you know the minute I dropped her off at home I was on my way to the fabric store to see if they still had this fabric in stock. Well, I scored and so did Buggy! I wouldn't have thought to use this fabric for clothing for a 6 year old but I think it turned out to be pretty adorable. Just a little halter dress. What do you think?


I Need Rehab

As you all know I have made the decision to try and curb my addiction to cigarettes. A big decision but one that I simply have to try because my health is suffering for the addiction. Not to mention the fact that it is nearly criminal to smoke cigarettes these days. Smokers are constantly made to feel like low class citizens. Of course, now that I have made this decision and announced it to the world, there is that additional pressure I am feeling to make it work this time. I was aware of this and it was my intention to try and use that to my benefit.

Since announcing my decision this is all I am able to think about, yes, my addiction, maybe addictions. I have found myself unable to do anything constructive or concentrate on doing the things I should be doing and instead, I am 'playing' on the computer! Games, games and games! Bejeweled, Mahjong, Dominos, Canasta, and on and on. Why? I don't know. My mind is whirling a mile a minute as I am playing. I'm not thinking particularly constructive thoughts just randomness. I'm not even able to concentrate long enough to read just in fits and spurts. I looked up addictions this morning on Wikipedia and then behavioral addictions and then addictive behavior. What I found was the following possible explanation:

"Addictive behavior is any activity, substance, object, or behavior that has become the major focus of a person's life to the exclusion of other activities, or that has begun to harm the individual or others physically, mentally, or socially.[1]
A person can become addicted, dependent, or compulsively obsessed with anything. Some researchers[weasel words] imply that there are similarities between physical addiction to various chemicals, such as alcohol and heroin, and psychological dependence to activities such as compulsive gambling, sex, work, running, shopping, or eating disorders.
Compulsive behaviors are rooted in a need to reduce tension caused by inner feelings a person wants to avoid or control.[2] Compulsive behaviors are repetitive and seemingly purposeful and are often performed in a ritualistic manner.
These behaviors may involve sex, food, making excessive charitable contributions, caffeine, nicotine, gambling, spending, TV watching, Internet surfing, reading, cleaning, washing, drugs or alcohol. The key point is that the activity is not connected to the purpose it appears to be directed to, and is likely to be excessive. Examples could be a person who is afraid of bonding with a partner choosing to zone out with the TV, or a person who has never had enough love filling up on a gallon of ice cream.[1]"

This made some sense to me as I see the explanation for my behavior but now I feel like I really need some serious help! I have the nicotine, the caffeine, the internet surfing, the games....I'm really sick! I had no idea! I should have just kept playing Scrabble, I would have been better off. 

So then, in order to alleviate my worries I began surfing the web again. Ok, ok, I'm better, I'll get through this. Well I just happened to Google rehab centers, actually, luxurious rehab centers. What, I'm sick! The web site says they accept insurance. This particular luxury rehab center is in Malibu, a lovely setting and I think the weather would be great medicine for my various illnesses.  I might meet some stars while I'm there. Don't worrry, I'll get pictures and I'll tell you all about it.

Do you think my insurance company will balk at paying airfare from Maryland to California? If need be I'll go Greyhound just as long as they have Wi-Fi.


My Doing Things Differently Plan

‘Once Upon A Time’ A Girl Named Meleah wanted to improve the ‘Quality Of Her Life’ so she started ‘Doing Things Differently™’. And then she noticed the ‘Little Changes’ she made every day had a huge impact on her life. And even though Meleah had a few ‘Setbacks’ she kept on forging ‘Ahead’.

While I have been wallowing on my bed recovering from my latest bout of Bronchitis, I have made a decision. The inspiration came, in part, from Meleah and her quest to Do Things Differently. Click the link above to read all about it. Perhaps you will be inspired as well or at least you will be entertained by an enjoyable read!

As I lay coughing and lacking any energy or motivation to move I realized (once again) that enduring this Bronchitis on average twice yearly is not something I want to continue. It's miserable and debilitating and takes forever to fully recover.  I believe it is time to Do Things Differently or at least make another attempt.

My plan is two-fold. First and most importantly, I need to quit smoking cigarettes. I know it sounds like a no brainer but truly it is not that simple even when I am barely able to breath with the Bronchitis. Ugh! Of course I've tried, many, many times. This time I am going to try the e-cigarette. I know, one addiction for another but far healthier. This portion of my inspiration came partly from Jude over at Mature Not Senile. She is now "Vaping" instead of smoking cigarettes and feeling much better physically.

The second part of my plan is to start getting some exercise. Again, I am going to take a page from Meleah's DTD book and start walking my neighborhood every day. I think I'll just stick with the walking, stomach crunches, eh. My body will be in enough shock, it doesn't need more.

I am ordering my "Vaping" kit today and hopefully it will arrive in just a few days. Part two of my DTD will have to wait for my recovery. I'm not walking much anywhere at the moment.

Cross your fingers for me, would you please? They say that quitting smoking is one of the most difficult things to do and I can verify that after numerous attempts! If only I had never started! Did you ever smoke? Do you know anyone who has successfully quit? Do you have any great tips for me?


Happy Mother's Day!

My daughter made a "Smith Island Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake" for me in honor of Mother's Day. I tested it and it is sinfully delicious! I would love to share this with all the great Moms that I know so please, help yourself and have a great day!


The recipe for this very scrumpcious cake can be found here courtesy of Saveur.


I Am Donating My Body

In the interest of woman kind and the promotion of self esteem, I am prepared to donate my very average body to swimsuit designers everywhere. We can make a mold of my normal, average body out of silicone, like the ones they have on CSI, (appropriate because crimes against women are being committed!) and send it to all the design shops in the world. Evidently these designers are unaware of the shape and size of normal women and they are unable to locate models to use during their creative process. Well, either that or they are all malevolent, sadistic waifs and .... no, that can't be it, right?

 Is it too much to expect that if you are designing string bikinis you probably won't make them in a size 3x? By the same token, if you are buying a swimsuit as a more, let's say,  mature woman, you want a little more fabric and you probably want your parts mostly covered and held in place. No brainer?

I am 51 years old. I am 5' 8" tall. When I was 30 years old I weighed 115 lbs. and could wear anything I pleased. I was also wearing barely a B cup. Now I weigh 1** lbs. (did you really think?) and I am more well endowed.I don't want to wear pasties, nor do I want to be forced into any extreme waxing procedures. I don't enjoy pain, the eyebrow waxing is plenty!

A couple of days ago I bought a swimsuit. I haven't bought a new one for several years and this one caught my eye. I like the colors and the pattern. I was also pleased with the style, it's a 2 piece, with a full brief covered by a little skirt and the top is full length and sort of an apron style that ties in the back. The bra portion is the typical 2 triangles of fabric and it ties around the neck. No, I didn't try it on at the store, I picked out my size and went home to try it on. In the privacy of my own bathroom, I put on the bottom, good fit, good butt coverage, cute, tremendously pleasing so far.

Well, I put the top on, expecting to be thrilled! I got it tied, I pulled and tugged, twisted around, yanked, loosened, tightened....sigh. My mid-section was delightfully covered as were my nipples. That's about it. There was all kinds of hanging out the sides going on. Janet Jackson at the Super Bowl was far more covered than my girls were. These little triangles were made in a size 2. Not a good look unless you are a super model.

I take it back...they are all malevolent sadists!  Damn them!


Life On The Farm

Well, my niece is in week number 2 of  "life on the farm" and she continues to learn about the differences between city living and the rural life. She seems to be diving in to the changes with enthusiasm, in fact, I heard the other day that she is planning to put in a vegetable garden. She can't even grow fingernails!

*blink*  *blink, blink*

Imagine, she's planting a vegetable garden on a farm, hunh, pretty innovative thinking.

Reading further is not recommended for those with a  weak stomach!

It seems that last Friday Jess noticed a pretty distinct, unpleasant odor in the house. The origin of this odor seemed to be coming from one of the bathrooms so she went in search, sniffing her way from one toilet to another. She arrived at the last bathroom, raised the lid and found nothing amiss, but the odor was very strong. She was baffled by it. On her way out of the bathroom she pulled back the shower curtain and began to gag! The tub was filling with septic backup. Yes. POOP!

I believe I mentioned before that one of this girl's most frequently used words is Eeeewww. She gags at the word barf, and yes, she always gives sympathy barfs. In some ways she is very strong but never when anything icky is involved. Well, God bless her, she grabbed a plunger and started unclogging the tub drain. She was the only person at home at the time or, I suspect, this job would have fallen in to someone else's hands. She worked that plunger like she was drilling for oil in the desert and unclogged the tub. She may have been wearing a Vicks Vaporub mask by this time, not sure, but I'm thinking. Well, she forged ahead and armed with rubber gloves, Comet, 4 gallons of Clorox and a few thousand Scrubbing Bubbles, she cleaned that nasty tub.

Just as she finished rinsing the Scrubbing Bubbles down the drain her step-brother, Josh,  came home. Josh was born and raised in this rural area so he is quite able and familiar with such problems. I imagine Josh got a pretty good chuckle out of Jess's consternation. He went to get a snake (not the slithery kind but the plumbing kind) and head out to the septic tank and unclog the main pipe to the house. Jess tagged along, at a distance. Josh plumbed and snaked and whatnot and suddenly broke through the clog in the pipe. There must have been a good bit of pressure built up behind that clog because it all came shooting out of that 4" pipe in the ground....straight up at his face! Jess rolled, Josh fumed and went to find the hose.

I need to teach that girl to carry a camera with her. Such pictures we could have had! So now when she goes out in the yard she will need to wear her camouflage hip waders, a book in one pocket, a taser in the other and a camera around her neck. That's a picture.

On a side note: Josh does have a lovely, smooth,  peaches and cream complexion!?


Lingerie League?

Wow, I feel like I've been away for a month! The weekend went well, I sold lots of handbags and drawstring back packs. It was lots of fun and exhausting.

Last week, as I sat at my sewing machine, burning up the pedal, I heard several mentions of a new franchise team coming to Baltimore; the LFL or Lingerie Football League. Yeah, really. The talk show host (male) didn't ever elaborate on the subject, in fact, he sounded rather embarrassed about the whole thing. Yesterday I decided to Google Lingerie League and see what's coming to Charm City!

According to Wikipedia, the concept originated from the Super Bowl halftime alternative television special called The Lingerie Bowl, a pay-per-view event. My assumption is that it isn't suitable for all prime time viewers. The league is the brain child (?) of league Chairman/Commissioner Mitch Mortaza along with his sister. It is a women's American 7-on-7 tackle football league and games are played in the Fall and Winter amongst (currently) 10 teams across the country. Played at indoor arenas.

The uniforms, as you might imagine, consist of various pads, helmets bras, panties and garters. Not exactly what you might find Ben Roethlisberger wearing on the field. "Accidental" nudity is not frowned upon.

The first thing that flitted across my mind was that this is very much like mud wrestling in those skeavy strip clubs in nasty parts of town. That was actually my second and third thought as well. Exploitation? Nope. These girls are all over it. They are lining up to audition, er.....try out for the team. If they just have a burning desire to exercise their athletic ability on the field, there is a womens football league. The players are fully clothed though.

Please give me your opinions. Am I just too old or what?