Here's a confession: I like dimpled knees. Now, normally dimpled knees are quite invisible, but due to the warmish weather we've been having for several weeks, the occasional dimpled knee shyly skips into view, yielding a blissful frisson before disappearing again.
What makes a knee dimple is a small kneecap. So it's rare. Most people have huge armor-plated knees. Dimples, in the knee department, are a mark of fine bone structure.
Warm weather raises hemlines, and dimpled knees become visible.
It is a minor seasonal miracle, like the grape harvest.
I also like ankles, calves, and thighs.
I am a well-rounded pervert.
Not one-sided.
My next day off is this Tuesday, and I shall probably leave the house early.
There are dimpled knees out there!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Showing posts with label Knees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Knees. Show all posts
Sunday, October 04, 2015
Monday, October 10, 2011
PLEASE, SHOW ME YOUR KNEES!
Thanks to fellow-blogger Dovbear I have been thinking a lot about tzenua lately.
No, I haven't taken leave of my senses.
I'm still the same randy middle-aged git with gleaming eyes and a nice beard as I have always been.
But after the stockings episode and the bit about morons flinging poo at little girls in Beit Shemesh, tzenua and its wonderful absence have been at the top of the cauldron.
I can't help dreaming of a lack of tzenua.
Which is why a recent posting on Dovbear's blog gives me great pleasure.
Quote:
1. True or false: The full knee is part of the upper leg.
2. True or false: The full upper leg is considered ervah and does not depend on minhag hamakom.
3. True or false: Since it is a body part that is considered ervah, I must cover my upper leg at all times.
4. True or false: I must also make sure that my knee is covered at all times, since my knee is part of my
upper leg.[Source: Tznius ad absurdum.]
I didn't used to think of knees as sexy bits. Attractive, yes, but not sexy.
Hardly the part of you I would feel up.
However, according to the e-mail cited on Dovbear's blog, knees are erva.
And erva, we know, is an assault on our male saintliness.
All erva should be covered up right now.
[Erva, for the uninitiated, means genitalia. And hence also the wine-cup of the navel. And velvety skin. And pretty much anything feminine that can make a saintly man hot and sweaty. Such as the soft soft hair, the melodic voice, the warm little hands, and the nice dimpled knees. Even female names, and especially their e-mails.]
If you have any questions or comments about WHY the knees are erva, please email miss TzniusRevolution@gmail.com for clarification, that being the originator of the e-mail encouraging teenage girls to cover their knees.
Reader Tesyaa had a cogent comment: "You know, I've never heard molestation blamed on lack of tznius. Earthquakes, cancer, terrorist attacks, yes - lack of tznius is definitely the cause. But molestation?
If you name the cause, you'd have to admit that it exists."
For those who are now worried that the deficit of tzenua might come to an end, if TzniusRevolution's cause gains traction, please be of good cheer. Here in San Francisco you can still walk around naked in public if you wish, and you need not even bring a towel.
Not that I would recommend it, given what the weather is usually like.
The nudity, that is, but not the bit about not bringing a towel.
Heck, a nice warm fluffy towel might be a good idea.
But yes, it's been cold and wet recently.
Nudity outdoors isn't advisable.
Unless you like blue.
On the other hand, if you have 'the soft soft hair, the melodic voice, the warm little hands, and the nice dimpled knees', possibly I can recommend an agreeable place where you can be as nude as you truly want to be.
Just drop me a line, and I'll even provide a towel.
I'm all about a lack of tzenua in private.
Did I mention the towel?
It's fluffy!
APPENDIX: GLEANINGS OF ERVA
Berachos 24a states that a man should not recite Krias Shma in the presence of erva. Regarding this odd ruling -- erva not normally being associated with a worshipful man -- the Gemara clarifies that one may not recite the shma in the presence of a woman's 'shok', 'se'ar', or while listening to her singing voice ("kol be-isha erva" - the sound of a woman is a reproductive organ).
Furthermore, a man may likewise not recite shma in the presence of a tefach (the largest possible palm-span) of a part of a woman's body which is normally covered, but is, at that time, not so.
Concerning 'shok', Berachos 24a cites Rav Chisda: "the shok of a woman is nakedness as it says, 'uncover a thigh to cross a river....", and al pi Yeshayahu "Your nakedness will be visible..."
The Pri Megadim and the Mishna Berura observe that 'shok' refers to a woman's thigh, a lovely curvaceous part of the upper leg. But the Chazon Ish spends much time wondering if 'shok' could also refer to every yummy bit from pelvis to ankle, without reaching a conclusion.
So when in doubt.......
The Gemara also records, in the name of Rav Sheshes, that "the hair of a woman is nakedness...".
However the Shulchan Aruch states, in agreement with rav Sheshes, that an unmarried women's hair need not be considered erva.
A remarkable leniency.
The Rema more or less agrees with this interpretation..
Yoisef Karo paskened about reciting the krias shema in the presence of naughty bits, that instead of turning one's head, one could also simply close the eyes; and if darkness veiled the offending part(s) sufficiently, even that was unneccesary.
Being blind, obviously, was ideal.
The Chazon Ish agrees with the Mechaber, as do many posseiks since his day. Key is not being distracted by pulchritude, NOR even seeing it.
A host of angelic pole dancers in utter nudity could be nearby, but as long as one has cleared one's mind of them, and does not have them in view, and they are beyond finger distance (further than a "tefach") it is permitted to recite the krias shma.
Which in any case ought to distract one.
Yes.
Clearly, as long as one can NOT place one's trembling tefach upon the bare knees in question, there is NO problem.
There is nothing to see here, just move along.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
No, I haven't taken leave of my senses.
I'm still the same randy middle-aged git with gleaming eyes and a nice beard as I have always been.
But after the stockings episode and the bit about morons flinging poo at little girls in Beit Shemesh, tzenua and its wonderful absence have been at the top of the cauldron.
I can't help dreaming of a lack of tzenua.
Which is why a recent posting on Dovbear's blog gives me great pleasure.
Quote:
1. True or false: The full knee is part of the upper leg.
2. True or false: The full upper leg is considered ervah and does not depend on minhag hamakom.
3. True or false: Since it is a body part that is considered ervah, I must cover my upper leg at all times.
4. True or false: I must also make sure that my knee is covered at all times, since my knee is part of my
upper leg.[Source: Tznius ad absurdum.]
I didn't used to think of knees as sexy bits. Attractive, yes, but not sexy.
Hardly the part of you I would feel up.
However, according to the e-mail cited on Dovbear's blog, knees are erva.
And erva, we know, is an assault on our male saintliness.
All erva should be covered up right now.
[Erva, for the uninitiated, means genitalia. And hence also the wine-cup of the navel. And velvety skin. And pretty much anything feminine that can make a saintly man hot and sweaty. Such as the soft soft hair, the melodic voice, the warm little hands, and the nice dimpled knees. Even female names, and especially their e-mails.]
If you have any questions or comments about WHY the knees are erva, please email miss TzniusRevolution@gmail.com for clarification, that being the originator of the e-mail encouraging teenage girls to cover their knees.
Reader Tesyaa had a cogent comment: "You know, I've never heard molestation blamed on lack of tznius. Earthquakes, cancer, terrorist attacks, yes - lack of tznius is definitely the cause. But molestation?
If you name the cause, you'd have to admit that it exists."
For those who are now worried that the deficit of tzenua might come to an end, if TzniusRevolution's cause gains traction, please be of good cheer. Here in San Francisco you can still walk around naked in public if you wish, and you need not even bring a towel.
Not that I would recommend it, given what the weather is usually like.
The nudity, that is, but not the bit about not bringing a towel.
Heck, a nice warm fluffy towel might be a good idea.
But yes, it's been cold and wet recently.
Nudity outdoors isn't advisable.
Unless you like blue.
On the other hand, if you have 'the soft soft hair, the melodic voice, the warm little hands, and the nice dimpled knees', possibly I can recommend an agreeable place where you can be as nude as you truly want to be.
Just drop me a line, and I'll even provide a towel.
I'm all about a lack of tzenua in private.
Did I mention the towel?
It's fluffy!
APPENDIX: GLEANINGS OF ERVA
Berachos 24a states that a man should not recite Krias Shma in the presence of erva. Regarding this odd ruling -- erva not normally being associated with a worshipful man -- the Gemara clarifies that one may not recite the shma in the presence of a woman's 'shok', 'se'ar', or while listening to her singing voice ("kol be-isha erva" - the sound of a woman is a reproductive organ).
Furthermore, a man may likewise not recite shma in the presence of a tefach (the largest possible palm-span) of a part of a woman's body which is normally covered, but is, at that time, not so.
Concerning 'shok', Berachos 24a cites Rav Chisda: "the shok of a woman is nakedness as it says, 'uncover a thigh to cross a river....", and al pi Yeshayahu "Your nakedness will be visible..."
The Pri Megadim and the Mishna Berura observe that 'shok' refers to a woman's thigh, a lovely curvaceous part of the upper leg. But the Chazon Ish spends much time wondering if 'shok' could also refer to every yummy bit from pelvis to ankle, without reaching a conclusion.
So when in doubt.......
The Gemara also records, in the name of Rav Sheshes, that "the hair of a woman is nakedness...".
However the Shulchan Aruch states, in agreement with rav Sheshes, that an unmarried women's hair need not be considered erva.
A remarkable leniency.
The Rema more or less agrees with this interpretation..
Yoisef Karo paskened about reciting the krias shema in the presence of naughty bits, that instead of turning one's head, one could also simply close the eyes; and if darkness veiled the offending part(s) sufficiently, even that was unneccesary.
Being blind, obviously, was ideal.
The Chazon Ish agrees with the Mechaber, as do many posseiks since his day. Key is not being distracted by pulchritude, NOR even seeing it.
A host of angelic pole dancers in utter nudity could be nearby, but as long as one has cleared one's mind of them, and does not have them in view, and they are beyond finger distance (further than a "tefach") it is permitted to recite the krias shma.
Which in any case ought to distract one.
Yes.
Clearly, as long as one can NOT place one's trembling tefach upon the bare knees in question, there is NO problem.
There is nothing to see here, just move along.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
FINE FLESHED CALVES
One of the more ridiculous pashkevils currently circulating in some areas of the Orthodox world is a screed against see-through stockings for women, and the use of the word "nude" in product descriptions for same. It has been endorsed by Rabbis Simcha B. Ehrenfeld, Shmuel Wozner, Shmuel Birnbaum, Moshe Stern, A. Shea Heshl Bick, Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, Nissim Karelitz, Arye Malkiel Kotler, D. Z. Shustal, and Avrohom Pam.
"In addition, inappropriate pictures on the packaging should be covered."
Apparently, stockings are obligatory, but stockings that allow innocent young bochurs to imagine what skin looks like are toevah.
[The pashkevil can be seen here: silly stocking shtuss. It was brought to my attention by a posting ("sub-literate barkings") on Dovbear's blog. ]
Methinks the Gedolei Yisroel mi Amsterdam hachadash are spending WAY too much time thinking about shapely calves of a pleasingly creamy hue.
And who can blame them?
Wonders of creation, Rabbosai, wonders of creation.
I'll be the first to admit that imagining lovely parts of the female body automatically makes me think of eating treif.
Pork, lobster, shellfish of many and several varieties.
Indeed, if it weren't for sexy gams in general, I would probably be a vegetarian, eating naught else but Protestant bowel cleansing cereal products every morning, noon, and night. It is because I have learned to enjoy life (see aforementioned charming bits of pulchritude) that I engage in such horrific practices as steaming chunks of bacon with shrimp-paste and ginger, poaching shrimp and mussels in a butter - sherry - chile guajillo reduction, braising eels with a green sauce a la mode de Flandres, and cooking fine cuts of wild game in a cream and caper gravy.
With some nice fromage to finish.
Yes.
See-through stockings.
Without them, I would probably study words of wisdom all day.
Ma rabu maasecha Hashem, kulam bechochma asita, mala ha-aretz kinyaneicha;
Baruch ata Adonoi Eloheinu Melech Haolam, shekachalo be olamo!
Amen.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
"In addition, inappropriate pictures on the packaging should be covered."
Apparently, stockings are obligatory, but stockings that allow innocent young bochurs to imagine what skin looks like are toevah.
[The pashkevil can be seen here: silly stocking shtuss. It was brought to my attention by a posting ("sub-literate barkings") on Dovbear's blog. ]
Methinks the Gedolei Yisroel mi Amsterdam hachadash are spending WAY too much time thinking about shapely calves of a pleasingly creamy hue.
And who can blame them?
Wonders of creation, Rabbosai, wonders of creation.
I'll be the first to admit that imagining lovely parts of the female body automatically makes me think of eating treif.
Pork, lobster, shellfish of many and several varieties.
Indeed, if it weren't for sexy gams in general, I would probably be a vegetarian, eating naught else but Protestant bowel cleansing cereal products every morning, noon, and night. It is because I have learned to enjoy life (see aforementioned charming bits of pulchritude) that I engage in such horrific practices as steaming chunks of bacon with shrimp-paste and ginger, poaching shrimp and mussels in a butter - sherry - chile guajillo reduction, braising eels with a green sauce a la mode de Flandres, and cooking fine cuts of wild game in a cream and caper gravy.
With some nice fromage to finish.
Yes.
See-through stockings.
Without them, I would probably study words of wisdom all day.
Ma rabu maasecha Hashem, kulam bechochma asita, mala ha-aretz kinyaneicha;
Baruch ata Adonoi Eloheinu Melech Haolam, shekachalo be olamo!
Amen.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, August 13, 2011
WHY DO MEN LIKE BREASTS AND OTHER QUESTIONS
One of the questions I dread is: "what is it with you and Asian women?"
Not because it highlights a fetish - not even close - but because it highlights a level of social confusion.
I don't really have a thing for Asian women. Not enamoured of Japanese women, because so much of what they are and how they think is entirely strange to me. Thai women do not appeal in the slightest - their food is wonderful however, albeit too refined - and Vietnamese women do not have quite the necessary cultural flexibility to fit into my ideas of socializing and friendships. Korean women? Too domineering, and like Mongolian women far too crazy. Philippinas? Admirable, determined, but, erm, manipulative as all git-out and anarchic. Indonesians and Malays speak my language (one of my languages), but good heavens no. Shanghainese are delightful people, but I'm always at a negotiating disadvantage.
So no, not Asian women.
More a specific appreciation of particular Cantonese women, precisely their San Francisco variation.
Along with feisty brunettes, self-confident women, angry women, and just sheer stark raving stubborn women.
Last night I was drinking at a bar next to a Belorussian. I cannot remember what she looked like, but holy handgrenades she was hot. Clearly not because of appearance, given that I cannot describe her, but sweet cheesewhip, because of what came out of her mouth.
She held her own and then some. Wiped the floor with the bartender and a patron.
Brilliant and utterly mad - it's a winning combination.
Don't know if I would find her sexually attractive.......
But I sure hope I run into her crazy self again.
I think she's a brunette, but I'm not sure.
Don't remember her name either. Never asked.
Let's call her Natasha Borisova.
Dynamite.
RHETORICAL QUESTIONS
Why do men like younger women? Probably the absence of tattoos and eccentric piercings - the older they are, the more likely they've made bad choices not involving us.
Why do men like blondes? Frankly, I have no idea. Most bad memories of women in my youth -- well, memories of grammar school hotties -- involve blonde girls from north of the three rivers who sneered at Brabanders and our odd locutions. It kind of predisposes one against their type.
Why do men like small women? In one word: huggable. Good luck with that elephant seal from the Midwest.
Why do men like Cantonese women? Short enough to sniff their hair on the bus without being noticed, and fierce enough to make you feel totally safe and comfy in their presence. While nevertheless giving you that warm false feeling of being protective. Go on, fool yourself.
Who do men like keeping the lights on? Because, dear girl, we really do think you look gorgeous. We like seeing you. All of you. You may have a horrible self-image, but we know better. Como se dice "tasty bon bon" in a language you will understand?
Why do men like breasts?
Oh please! What kind of question is that?
They're nice! We don't have them, you do. We're wired that way.
Why did I like that teenage Palestinian girl at the angry demonstration at Montgomery and Market four years ago?
Well, who wouldn't? The girl was feisty. Had sheer buckets of feist coming out of the wazoo. Fiery little minx. Or was it 'petite version of Sherman Tank'?
Can't remember, but lordy, hot! First time I ever saw tits beings shaken with insulting intent. That leaves an impression on a man.
I'm scarred now.
Can't remember what she looked like, but I'm fairly certain she wasn't blonde.
Also fairly sure she was no more than five feet tall.
I don't know why that's important.
Point is, what you specifically remember of the women who impress you favourably will necessarily incline you towards that type.
And I hang out in Chinatown a lot.
Given that I speak Cantonese, that shouldn't be surprising.
THE EX GIRLFRIEND
When I first met Savage Kitten -- with whom I have lived for over two decades -- I was not interested in Cantonese girls, as I had a mental bug up my you-know-what about Dutch speakers. I didn't want to lose the language, didn't want to ever have children who would not speak like I did.
Savage Kitten within mere minutes made me forget myself.
Of course, she's always thought that my accent in Cantonese was atrocious. Which it is.
Her ability to speak Dutch is limited to "lekker" and a request for raw herring.
So yes, at present I veer towards some Cantonese American women. The combination of fierce stubbornness and hair at the right height to nuzzle and sniff has an immense attraction.
In my own way I am a sensualist.
But it's also completely a moot point. No idea how to go about dating again, not a clue how to meet women, and not devoting any effort at all to such a quest either.
I'm fifty one. In another two months I will be fifty two.
Not exactly the right age to go on a randy hunt.
Quieted down a bit, and realistic.
Not the party-type either.
On weekend evenings I can hear excited girlish squealing from several houses away.
I suspect that the young women in question have tattoos and drink flavoured vodka.
They sound like they're snooty wasps in their late twenties.
I'm sure they would never read my blog, or any other blog.
That, almost automatically, predisposes me against them.
To read is to live.
HOT AND BUTTERY NAP TIME
Some of my dreams are disturbingly erotic. So are yours, do not deny it.
But mine involve baked goods.
Last night I dreamt I was eating scones with melted butter and fruit preserves on a bed with a poofy feather comforter and a rambunctious young lady with silken hair. She wore one of my oversize dress shirts. Her bare legs curled under her were the hue of honey.
Sexy knees!
Mmmm, warm melted butter.
Freshly baked, on an antique porcelain plate. Sunlight coming in through south-west facing windows, so it must have been afternoon right around teatime.
Charming. A necklace accenting her upper chest, above where the shirt was buttoned, the folds of tight-wove cotton emphasizing by what they hid and how they fell all her delightful feminine aspects.
Hot scones. Melted butter. Sweet jam. And strong tea.
I'm fairly sure she was no more than half my age.
I can remember the velvety appearance of her skin, the hue of her hair.
The taste and steam of the cups of tea, with silver spoons and broad saucers, and the warm inviting glow that the late afternoon sunlight gave to her thighs.
We had probably dozed together since after lunch.
Alas, I cannot remember her face.
But her lips were loveable, and her eyes were kind.
I shall have to research scones. Perhaps find a recipe twixt dense muffin and airy beaten biscuit. Something that welcomes warm butter.
Preserves, I already have.
Being single again is a bitch.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Not because it highlights a fetish - not even close - but because it highlights a level of social confusion.
I don't really have a thing for Asian women. Not enamoured of Japanese women, because so much of what they are and how they think is entirely strange to me. Thai women do not appeal in the slightest - their food is wonderful however, albeit too refined - and Vietnamese women do not have quite the necessary cultural flexibility to fit into my ideas of socializing and friendships. Korean women? Too domineering, and like Mongolian women far too crazy. Philippinas? Admirable, determined, but, erm, manipulative as all git-out and anarchic. Indonesians and Malays speak my language (one of my languages), but good heavens no. Shanghainese are delightful people, but I'm always at a negotiating disadvantage.
So no, not Asian women.
More a specific appreciation of particular Cantonese women, precisely their San Francisco variation.
Along with feisty brunettes, self-confident women, angry women, and just sheer stark raving stubborn women.
Last night I was drinking at a bar next to a Belorussian. I cannot remember what she looked like, but holy handgrenades she was hot. Clearly not because of appearance, given that I cannot describe her, but sweet cheesewhip, because of what came out of her mouth.
She held her own and then some. Wiped the floor with the bartender and a patron.
Brilliant and utterly mad - it's a winning combination.
Don't know if I would find her sexually attractive.......
But I sure hope I run into her crazy self again.
I think she's a brunette, but I'm not sure.
Don't remember her name either. Never asked.
Let's call her Natasha Borisova.
Dynamite.
RHETORICAL QUESTIONS
Why do men like younger women? Probably the absence of tattoos and eccentric piercings - the older they are, the more likely they've made bad choices not involving us.
Why do men like blondes? Frankly, I have no idea. Most bad memories of women in my youth -- well, memories of grammar school hotties -- involve blonde girls from north of the three rivers who sneered at Brabanders and our odd locutions. It kind of predisposes one against their type.
Why do men like small women? In one word: huggable. Good luck with that elephant seal from the Midwest.
Why do men like Cantonese women? Short enough to sniff their hair on the bus without being noticed, and fierce enough to make you feel totally safe and comfy in their presence. While nevertheless giving you that warm false feeling of being protective. Go on, fool yourself.
Who do men like keeping the lights on? Because, dear girl, we really do think you look gorgeous. We like seeing you. All of you. You may have a horrible self-image, but we know better. Como se dice "tasty bon bon" in a language you will understand?
Why do men like breasts?
Oh please! What kind of question is that?
They're nice! We don't have them, you do. We're wired that way.
Why did I like that teenage Palestinian girl at the angry demonstration at Montgomery and Market four years ago?
Well, who wouldn't? The girl was feisty. Had sheer buckets of feist coming out of the wazoo. Fiery little minx. Or was it 'petite version of Sherman Tank'?
Can't remember, but lordy, hot! First time I ever saw tits beings shaken with insulting intent. That leaves an impression on a man.
I'm scarred now.
Can't remember what she looked like, but I'm fairly certain she wasn't blonde.
Also fairly sure she was no more than five feet tall.
I don't know why that's important.
Point is, what you specifically remember of the women who impress you favourably will necessarily incline you towards that type.
And I hang out in Chinatown a lot.
Given that I speak Cantonese, that shouldn't be surprising.
THE EX GIRLFRIEND
When I first met Savage Kitten -- with whom I have lived for over two decades -- I was not interested in Cantonese girls, as I had a mental bug up my you-know-what about Dutch speakers. I didn't want to lose the language, didn't want to ever have children who would not speak like I did.
Savage Kitten within mere minutes made me forget myself.
Of course, she's always thought that my accent in Cantonese was atrocious. Which it is.
Her ability to speak Dutch is limited to "lekker" and a request for raw herring.
So yes, at present I veer towards some Cantonese American women. The combination of fierce stubbornness and hair at the right height to nuzzle and sniff has an immense attraction.
In my own way I am a sensualist.
But it's also completely a moot point. No idea how to go about dating again, not a clue how to meet women, and not devoting any effort at all to such a quest either.
I'm fifty one. In another two months I will be fifty two.
Not exactly the right age to go on a randy hunt.
Quieted down a bit, and realistic.
Not the party-type either.
On weekend evenings I can hear excited girlish squealing from several houses away.
I suspect that the young women in question have tattoos and drink flavoured vodka.
They sound like they're snooty wasps in their late twenties.
I'm sure they would never read my blog, or any other blog.
That, almost automatically, predisposes me against them.
To read is to live.
HOT AND BUTTERY NAP TIME
Some of my dreams are disturbingly erotic. So are yours, do not deny it.
But mine involve baked goods.
Last night I dreamt I was eating scones with melted butter and fruit preserves on a bed with a poofy feather comforter and a rambunctious young lady with silken hair. She wore one of my oversize dress shirts. Her bare legs curled under her were the hue of honey.
Sexy knees!
Mmmm, warm melted butter.
Freshly baked, on an antique porcelain plate. Sunlight coming in through south-west facing windows, so it must have been afternoon right around teatime.
Charming. A necklace accenting her upper chest, above where the shirt was buttoned, the folds of tight-wove cotton emphasizing by what they hid and how they fell all her delightful feminine aspects.
Hot scones. Melted butter. Sweet jam. And strong tea.
I'm fairly sure she was no more than half my age.
I can remember the velvety appearance of her skin, the hue of her hair.
The taste and steam of the cups of tea, with silver spoons and broad saucers, and the warm inviting glow that the late afternoon sunlight gave to her thighs.
We had probably dozed together since after lunch.
Alas, I cannot remember her face.
But her lips were loveable, and her eyes were kind.
I shall have to research scones. Perhaps find a recipe twixt dense muffin and airy beaten biscuit. Something that welcomes warm butter.
Preserves, I already have.
Being single again is a bitch.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, May 13, 2011
THE BREEZE BETWEEN YOUR KNEES
As you can imagine, just ONE news article caught my eye today. You know me well enough to understand that on top of that gallantry to the very bone, there's a thin veneer of depravity.
I am a gentlemanly and completely civilized person. Just a wee bit ....
It adds to my considerable charm, I think.
At times I just have to channel for the happy pervert within - before he starts strangling the child within, or feeding the child within to the rabid dolphin within.
It's all about maintaining mental health.
And enjoying skirts. Nothing wrong with skirt.
ROW OVER SHORT SKIRTS
Quote:
"A row over how to respond to ever-shortening school skirts is brewing in South Korea."
No, the issue is not about official prurience and puritanism as you might have thought. It's about putting planks on the front of school desks to prevent red-blooded teenage boys from crawling around on all fours during class hours. More or less.
"As hemlines in Korean classrooms rise, so it seems does the cost of accommodating them."
I remember from my own school days that skinned knees are a bitch. Especially if you don't give them time to heal.
""school hemlines have reportedly risen 10-15cm (4-6in) in the last decade. And that is apparently making everyone uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable?
So who is complaining? Seriously, if those girls can keep from freezing while exhibiting themselves, more power to them!
And I for one am incredibly envious of the Koreans, who have all those teenage girls with short, short skirts wandering around.
Given what the weather is like in San Francisco, it will be a long time before you see me in a short skirt.
I want to keep my elegant gams warm!
Not goose-bumpy.
Probably not going to wear a skirt all summer.
Short or otherwise.
Sad, I know.
[NOTE: This post written yesterday during lunch. Posted after Blogger revived itself.]
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I am a gentlemanly and completely civilized person. Just a wee bit ....
It adds to my considerable charm, I think.
At times I just have to channel for the happy pervert within - before he starts strangling the child within, or feeding the child within to the rabid dolphin within.
It's all about maintaining mental health.
And enjoying skirts. Nothing wrong with skirt.
ROW OVER SHORT SKIRTS
Quote:
"A row over how to respond to ever-shortening school skirts is brewing in South Korea."
No, the issue is not about official prurience and puritanism as you might have thought. It's about putting planks on the front of school desks to prevent red-blooded teenage boys from crawling around on all fours during class hours. More or less.
"As hemlines in Korean classrooms rise, so it seems does the cost of accommodating them."
I remember from my own school days that skinned knees are a bitch. Especially if you don't give them time to heal.
""school hemlines have reportedly risen 10-15cm (4-6in) in the last decade. And that is apparently making everyone uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable?
So who is complaining? Seriously, if those girls can keep from freezing while exhibiting themselves, more power to them!
And I for one am incredibly envious of the Koreans, who have all those teenage girls with short, short skirts wandering around.
Given what the weather is like in San Francisco, it will be a long time before you see me in a short skirt.
I want to keep my elegant gams warm!
Not goose-bumpy.
Probably not going to wear a skirt all summer.
Short or otherwise.
Sad, I know.
[NOTE: This post written yesterday during lunch. Posted after Blogger revived itself.]
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
YOUR DIMPLED KNEES EXCITE ME!
A woman in Lakewood received a stealthy note from a young man. No, it was not a confession of honest love and admiration, nor a passionate admission of hot! hot! hot! yearning, nor even a heartfelt plea that she call him sometime.
It was merely a handwritten kvetch.
It said "your skirt does not cover your nees in back."
[Sources:
http://thelakewoodscoop.blogspot.com/2009/04/lakewood-woman-receives-shocking-note.html
and:http://jacobdajew.blogspot.com/2009/05/hey-lady-cover-your-nees.html ]
OH, THE HUMANITY!
Somewhere in Lakewood there is a traumatized (!) yingerman. A nice innocent yingerman, who wanted only to concentrate on holy matters, but now sees all of his fond dreams of total purity and saintliness trickle through his hands like so much water, flowing away, flowing away.
He has been corrupted by some hussy's bare knees!
I can definitely feel for him.
Women should NOT expose their knees.
"your skirt does not cover your nees."
It leads to arthritis (especially in San Francisco), and most knees are not nearly as attractive or rewarding as one might think. Many knees exhibit a largeness of bone that is utterly unappealing.
Now, a gracefull adolescent, with delicate bone structure and plump thighs, whose knees dimple nicely, is quite another matter!
I have been known to spend hours keenly observing such knees, fondly wondering what it would be like to be young again. Oh my, would I just obsess over such a lovely pair of knees, the very picture of innocence!
Good heavens.
'SIZ A GEFAHL!
But there is another point of view which I entirely overlooked, best expressed in the sincere and heartfelt plea below:
"Please PLEASE PLEASE I beg all you woman to dress tzniusdik. I am a yungerman with terrible tayvos, which r"l I cant controll. You dont realize what ur doing to me and other ehrlich yungerman like me. Yuo are choteh u'machteh es ha'rabim. I see you in the strets and I try so hard and I daven and I try to focus on kapitelach but its imposibel to not see you even for a moment. When this hapens I cant stop thinking about you and the way you looked (even if it's "just" a knee). My learning is ruined for the day I simpley cant consentrate. When my toyvas get so bad worse happens and you cause me to sin in one of the worst ways a man can sin. PLEASE stop making us yungerman sin!!!! Hashem Yeracheim!"
---JS
[Source:
http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dovbear/3670619040766167592/
Which is the comment string underneath this post:
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2009/05/rudeness.html ]
Knees lead to spelling errors. Quod erat demonstrandum. Ban knees now.
=====================================================
NOTE:
My gratitude goes out to Rabbi Dovbear (http://dovbear.blogspot.com/), thanks to whose vigilance this nasty situation was brought to my attention - he credits Jacob (http://jacobdajew.blogspot.com/) for bringing it to his.
[As Rabbi Elazar said, in the name of Rabbi Chanina: "He who says something in the name of the one who said it brings redemption to the world, as it is written, "and Esther said to the king, in the name of Mordechai". ]
We all look out for each other, and ALL of us look out for the heiliga Yidden of Lakewood.
Hine lo yanum ve lo yishan shomayr Yisroel.
It was merely a handwritten kvetch.
It said "your skirt does not cover your nees in back."
[Sources:
http://thelakewoodscoop.blogspot.com/2009/04/lakewood-woman-receives-shocking-note.html
and:http://jacobdajew.blogspot.com/2009/05/hey-lady-cover-your-nees.html ]
OH, THE HUMANITY!
Somewhere in Lakewood there is a traumatized (!) yingerman. A nice innocent yingerman, who wanted only to concentrate on holy matters, but now sees all of his fond dreams of total purity and saintliness trickle through his hands like so much water, flowing away, flowing away.
He has been corrupted by some hussy's bare knees!
I can definitely feel for him.
Women should NOT expose their knees.
"your skirt does not cover your nees."
It leads to arthritis (especially in San Francisco), and most knees are not nearly as attractive or rewarding as one might think. Many knees exhibit a largeness of bone that is utterly unappealing.
Now, a gracefull adolescent, with delicate bone structure and plump thighs, whose knees dimple nicely, is quite another matter!
I have been known to spend hours keenly observing such knees, fondly wondering what it would be like to be young again. Oh my, would I just obsess over such a lovely pair of knees, the very picture of innocence!
Good heavens.
'SIZ A GEFAHL!
But there is another point of view which I entirely overlooked, best expressed in the sincere and heartfelt plea below:
"Please PLEASE PLEASE I beg all you woman to dress tzniusdik. I am a yungerman with terrible tayvos, which r"l I cant controll. You dont realize what ur doing to me and other ehrlich yungerman like me. Yuo are choteh u'machteh es ha'rabim. I see you in the strets and I try so hard and I daven and I try to focus on kapitelach but its imposibel to not see you even for a moment. When this hapens I cant stop thinking about you and the way you looked (even if it's "just" a knee). My learning is ruined for the day I simpley cant consentrate. When my toyvas get so bad worse happens and you cause me to sin in one of the worst ways a man can sin. PLEASE stop making us yungerman sin!!!! Hashem Yeracheim!"
---JS
[Source:
http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dovbear/3670619040766167592/
Which is the comment string underneath this post:
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2009/05/rudeness.html ]
Knees lead to spelling errors. Quod erat demonstrandum. Ban knees now.
=====================================================
NOTE:
My gratitude goes out to Rabbi Dovbear (http://dovbear.blogspot.com/), thanks to whose vigilance this nasty situation was brought to my attention - he credits Jacob (http://jacobdajew.blogspot.com/) for bringing it to his.
[As Rabbi Elazar said, in the name of Rabbi Chanina: "He who says something in the name of the one who said it brings redemption to the world, as it is written, "and Esther said to the king, in the name of Mordechai". ]
We all look out for each other, and ALL of us look out for the heiliga Yidden of Lakewood.
Hine lo yanum ve lo yishan shomayr Yisroel.
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PRAYING TO A CELL PHONE
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