I’ve spent the last 45 minutes at a party trying to eat, all the while listening to 2 breeders have an in depth discussion on water breaking, dilation, what happens to your nipples, and various other breeder topics. I understand that these individuals have a very limited intellect, but are these topics appropriate at parties?
Yes…get some alcohol in wimmen and just listen up; pick up some juicy info along the way.
No, of course not. Women should not be discussing these things at a mixed party.
Frankly, it is gross. of course American women have turned into sluts, slatterns and white trash, so they don’t know any better. Frankly, who gives a shit about their plumbing problems? Nobody.
Why would you be attending a party like this anyway ? Sounds boring .Let me guess ….. Your wife’s idea ? Mike in PA have you ever considered wife swapping? Like on TV ? Now that would be an interesting topic.
Bb, yup nailed it. Wife’s nephews birthday. Sigh.
Traditionally in the south men retire to a separate place in the house to talk politics , money ,guns etc.
The hens are left to discuss such unsavory things in their own confines, so ya’ll are doing it wrong.
just wanted to try a temp screen name
kokoda
Bea….that is soooo 19th century
bb: Yes, but I would not accept less than 1,000 head of two year old top quality cows.
If it wasn’t for women there would be no parties outside of retirement (possibly) and sporting events. Thus at any party men are mere interlopers. I personally detest them. I don’t like making small talk or listening to stories about anyones nipples… so in that sense what choice do you have? My advice – quit going to parties.
Definition: “Party”
Something I did when I was 20 to meet women. Now something to avoid because of them.
Bea,
You nailed it and 19th century or not it works, though I suspect Kokoda is jerking your leg. Mike, you need to learn how to cooly get yourself into a more suitable party subgroup. Go find some men. The ladies will not even know you have vanished. Years ago at a family wedding with tons of guests I wandered around until I found some dudes off in a little group talking guns and hunting and trips to Alaska and all kinds of guy stuff, and this was in New England.
Breeders? Ain’t that what queers call normal people? I’m a breeder. I have kids and even one grandchild. Women talk about that kind of thing. It ain’t “gross” or disgusting, except, maybe to people who regard normal people who have children as “breeders”.
They weren’t talking to you, were they?
I suppose that if I had ever given birth, I’d find stuff like that just fascinating, but since I never have had kids, and am frankly disgusted by all discussions of health issues, I get away when the discussion starts getting graphic. I have a relative who is fascinated by all things medical, and while she never talked about her own birthing experiences, would go into the grossest detail about autopsies she witnessed, at DINNER, and we would be turning green. She is like those doctors you hear of, who can walk into the morgue and view an autopsy in progress while munching on a sandwich.
I recall a particularly disgusting conversation between two older female co-workers, both black women who had had kids and were reviewing their deliveries in revolting detail, oblivious to my presence. I don’t know what kind of expression I had on my face, but one of the women turned round and looked at me in surprise.
“What’s wrong, girl? Haven’t you had no babies? ”
I said, no, and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in having any after hearing their talk.
The other woman shook her head and said, “We shouldn’t be talking like this in front of her”
Here in the Ozark hills in Missouri reside some of the world’s oldest teenagers. On a Saturday evening, just after dusk, you will find 60 year-old redneck boys and gals doing what has been known as “ridin’ around and having a cold one” in their 4×4 Ford trucks with the gun rack in the back window. They will pop in at a few friends houses ‘just to see what is going on’ and eventually, meander over this way to see how we are doing on getting this log home ready for the Hootenanny Grand Opening they are planning to throw for us when we are officially finished with the house.
Having spent all afternoon at the river/pond/creek drinking beer and rafting on the river/fishing in the pond/burning a bonfire at the creek (depending upon season), they will suggest we all go for a pizza and ‘a cold one’ at the local winery (with some surprisingly good wine!). The leader of the pack will pick up the tab, over my husbands’ insistence we pay for our own. Because my cousin’s husband, the VERY oldest of the teenagers is also retired from industry farming aka the “family farm” he and his father farmed together since the 1960s, except for two years he attended community college studying agriculture and the law. By the time he impregnated my then 16-year-old cousin, he was already his father’s right hand and was putting together the business plan to incorporate the farm and become a full partner with his father. Forty years later, after suffering a minor heart attack and decided he could live without 2000 acres of regulatory stress, he sublet the land and draws an unmentionable annual “share” of the produce his tenants and partners produced each October, when the crops “come in.”
Ten years older than I, my cousin and I are tight, though she never completed high school except having tested and passed the Graduate Requisite Exam in order to take some accounting classes in college after giving birth to and raising her son instead of graduating high school. After learning how to keep the books for the farm and maintain a spreadsheet competently, she became de facto financial officer for what was one of the largest farming “companies” in the area for a while. Once the company was sold/sublet into other hands, she was more than ready to “retire” to the hills and let someone else worry about all that math. They eventually gifted their best friends with enough land in the hills to make it worth their while to move up here and join the party.
My cousins are a charming throwback to the 1970s. While we are on their “party” root on the weekend, we live far enough away to avoid most of the perpetual party their lives have become. We do enjoy their visits and the music they bring with them is some of the best rockers of the 70s: Bob Seger, Skynard, Grand Funk, Three Dog Night; George Thoroughgood, et cetera et al. And when they come, Back in PA Mike, my cousin and her best pal, the wife of her husband’s best friend, talk some of the most inappropriate trash for 60-something women you could imagine. It is as if they’ve slipped back into their teenage lingo from the 1970s and the “boys” are still discussing the basketball stats from their glory days.
I find it both annoying and charming. Having been their babysitter from age 12 on, seeing them still riding around drinking a cold one is somehow reassuring, especially since their kids have grown up so well. (All of their children are college graduates, with a PhD for the youngest and a Masters for the oldest, whose son is the same age as my son and is also in engineering school. Their son has a lovely family and his own stepdaughter is in college as well, though a few years behind my son.)
Nick and I aren’t part of the “riding around drinking a cold one” culture, thinking that all the curves and hills on these roads are not inviting to inexperienced “drinking” drivers like ourselves, but having been part of that culture in my youth, I am not the least bit critical of what they do with their retirement. I completely get it… they should have a right to do what they want to do in their golden teenagerhood, even if it involves “drinking a cold one” while they drive the scenic gravel roads in the country at 15 to 20 mph. I have known all four of them most of my life and they have never had an accident nor gotten a ticket for dui. It is an amazing statistic in my opinion.
The point, if there is one, is that while I do not necessarily condone the discussion of such topics at a party of any sort, I am quite accustomed to similar inappropriate remarks made in the company of my husband and, even additional friends of ours, male or female, if those friends happen to be here visiting on a Saturday afternoon when the oldest teens in the world arrive to check out the progress on our house.
It is rather coarse language and discussion, but they’ve been talking this trash for almost 50 years now and I’m not willing to try to change them.
Mike your intellect is the one I’d question. Why on earth did you hang around listening to them if it revolted you so much?
Maggie,
Great story. There is something very familiar to me in the way you write and talk about the South. It reminds me of growing up in Saskatchewan. An entire nation and thousands of miles apart yet not so far really. You have a real talent for making me home sick. Think I’ll call the folks tonight…
Cheers,
Francis
Be glad there is a conversation going on. We have one boomerang kid with a cell phone grafted to the hand, and another still in college who can barely see farther away than a computer screen. We get little conversation from either beyond physical needs, desires and the occasional birthday celebration dinner. We eat dinner together nearly every day, but they are just not very talkative; they are pleasant enough, can discuss current events or interesting online stuff they have run across, but generally stay quiet and / or more interested in friends than us.
If “female talk” disgusts you, try either diverting the conversation to something more entertaining or find another audience. According to Oscar Wilde, relatives are a bunch of people who haven’t the faintest idea of how to live or when to die. I hope it’s possible to move beyond that, but time will tell.
@Maggie: Good story. I grew up not far from where you live, in Eastern Oklahoma, Green Country. Riding around, drinking coldies, was pretty normal for most of us. When I go back for high school reunions, it’s a good excuse to act 18 again and drink like teenagers. Some of the good ole’ boys I think never graduated much beyond that mindset. I can easily imagine spending a weekend with you & your fam and not being too far out of my comfort zone
There’s no reason women can’t talk birthing at a party. But there’s also no reason for a man to stand there and listen for 45 minutes if he doesn’t want to. Move on to another crowd at the party. That’s what parties are for, mingling with others.
I don’t know which are worse, the women talking about their birthings, or the men talking sports, sports, sports.
I wouldn’t have minded. Hell, I would’ve had no trouble getting into the conversation, but then I’m a physician and I’ve had to deliver “breeders” in their accouchements.
I tend to think of obstetrics the way B-24 crewmen thought about their missions over National Socialist Germany during World War II: “Hours and hours of boredom interrupted by moments of stark horror.”
Whip out a cigar, and as you light it, inform them, “mind if I smoke this?”
Ed says: Breeders? Ain’t that what queers call normal people?
I agree. I had to read a bit to understand he was referring to women. We sat at the B&N cafe while two guys, probably gay, were critiquing something they were having, ‘this tastes like afterbirth’. I imagine your reaction was like mine: WTF?
My new sister in law told me, we discuss everything. Believe me, if one of the guys has a pimple on his ass, they all know about it. Stay away for the women’s table.
“Believe me, if one of the guys has a pimple on his ass, they all know about it. ”
Yeah, women tell about measurements. Y’all know what I mean.
The best thing to do in this type of situation is to find the men. Now this can be difficult because so many of the men arent men, starfckr’s got the right idea, light up a cigar, ask wheres the scotch or the pool table, etc…
If all else fails mention that you always conceal carry and this may result in you being asked to leave.
The men at this party fell miserably short of conversation worthiness, hence the reason many there who married breeders.
Ed, Breeder – a lowly educated woman who offers zilch to society who’s sole purpose is to poop out as many clones as possible in order to further degenerate society while increasing her own self worth in her own mind. I can’t believe people aren’t familiar with the term.
The men at this party fell miserably short of conversation worthiness, hence the reason there many there who married breeders, all they could get.
Ed, Breeder – a lowly educated woman who offers zilch to society who’s sole purpose is to poop out as many clones as possible in order to further degenerate society while increasing her own self worth in her own mind. I can’t believe people aren’t familiar with the term.
” I can’t believe people aren’t familiar with the term.”
I’m familiar with the term. Queers have been using it for decades as a derogatory name for normal people. The first time I heard it was in the ’80s when I cut off a drunken queer while I was tending bar in Charlotte. He used that term as an insult to one of the waiters who had asked him to move from the service end of the bar so I could fill orders for the waitstaff.
You didn’t know about that usage of “breeders” as an insult? Ask some older people of your acquaintance. Also, you shouldn’t try to describe “lowly educated people” when your own mastery of written language is so poor.
I’m not trying to insult you, really. Sharpen your skills a little.
Experience has taught me that in such a situation a well-timed, high quality SBD is often times sufficient to bring about a change in subject matter, and given their topic it seems admissible, especially if collateral damage is of no great concern.
Ed, Blow me. Congrats on being a homophobe, you are a quality human being, I truly mean that.
Well you can kiss this homophobe’s ass, you ignorant, semi-literate little queer. You throw insults like a bonafide SJW. I truly mean that, too.
@Tim… I spent quite a bit of time around Lake Eufaula early in my adult years and for a while, every summer, my AF pals and I would head for Tecumseh and beyond to spend the weekend on the Illinois River and have a cold one. I’ve been in your neck of the woods as well.
Another internet tough guy. Semi literate, funny. Take it somewhere else girlyman bigot, you’re about 50 IQ points short here. Yup, I’m an SJW, nailed it. Wow, just so much stupid in your comments. Sorry public school did that to you.
Back in PA MIke says: The men at this party fell miserably short of conversation worthiness, hence the reason many there who married breeders.
I don’t do parties. Back in the 80’s I went to old sarge’s house party. The guys gathered in a huddle out in the patio. The women stayed indoors. I stood around listening to the boys telling every misogynist snap they knew. I finally got a migraine at the one about, why do women have two holes, so you can drag them like a bowling ball. I went inside and old sarge’s wife asked me, had enough? Of course I didn’t have a better time there. I had the pleasure of looking at another sarge’s GF passed out drunk in a chair.
Mike, I think Ed is a word person. Some folks call them word police. In fact, I read that there are 3 kinds of people; people people, word people and object people. They all tend to relate to life in those terms. You try telling an object person that the moon is hollow or that the sun revolves around the earth and they will react violently. You try telling a word person, “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean” and they will react with violence.
EC- That is what I was talking about in the “April Showers” thread, you have a gift for breaking down posts and determining what the meaning (intent) was and explaining where the poster was going. You should have been one of those head shrinkers or sumpin.
“Breeders” is the gay code for heterosexuals.
UC, what does ‘jagoff’ mean?
Bea, I’m just a rodeo clown trying to defuse this pissing contest. I like Ed and don’t want to see him come to grief with Iron Mike.
Maggie, where the heck is Lake Efalufa? When I hear folks talk of the days when young women washed clothes nekkid in the rivers from Mexico to Colombia, I regret growing up in the States. Whoever invented washing machines ought to be shot.
El Coyote: “I read that there are 3 kinds of people; people people, word people and object people. They all tend to relate to life in those terms. You try telling an object person that the moon is hollow or that the sun revolves around the earth and they will react violently. You try telling a word person, ‘When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean’ and they will react with violence.”
————–
Which is well-justified.
Words are symbols, purposeful constructs which are NECESSARY both within your own personal mind for reasoned thought (try thinking rationally about fucking ANYTHING without using words, if you’re capable of that much honest reflection) and when communicating with other human beings on matters which require reasoned argument to explain.
Fuck with words and you’re fucking with rational thought and reasoned discussion, the keys both to individual human survival AND the whole societal process that makes it possible for naked killer apes to live in each others’ company without murdering each other.
See Orwell, “Politics and the English Language” (1946) for a start.