The REAL Housewives of Scottsdale

I asked for an idea about what to write about, Rachelle replied. (Thanks, Shell!) So, I figured I'd try my hand at writing about the women. The women of Scottsdale, AZ. I don't mean just any women. I mean THE women. I live in Scottsdale, but I certainly am not in the same class as the true Scottsdale women; although, I do not know many natives of Scottsdale; they seem to be from other places for the most part.

If you know anything about Scottsdale, you know it is glamorized for its desert beauty, golf courses, resorts, money, amazing homes, shopping, fine dining, and beautiful people. It is also home to many a plastic surgery centers. I have several within a few miles radius of my house. It's also a place for snow birds to retire, and people from colder climates to relocate.

The women (and most men) are beautiful here! I'm not going to lie when I say even I can't resist sitting in the mall or a restaurant, gazing. Their tan skin, their perfect smiles, their immaculately perfect hair, their wardrobes straight from the pages of Dolce and Gabbana, and the never ending supply of Foobs (that would be fake boobs. My sister in law introduced that term to me at some point, and I thought it was hilarious) are quite captivating, if not hypnotizing.

Upon further inspection, I have noticed they are not all they are cracked up to be. In their attempt to achieve perfection, some details go unspoken. See that hot blond with the double D's and platinum blond hair, jetting around in a Porsche? Yeah, she's 48. The wrinkles around her eyes, though surgically lifted or Botox enhanced, tell her story. She's trying to be something that she's not; she is looking for attention and perhaps validation. Although, I know some of these women are all in it for one thing: money. Yep, that's what they want! Cue the song: The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees,I want money. Granted, some of them are actually business savvy and have earned their own money, but most of the younger Scottsdale housewives have....sugar daddies!

A sugar daddy. What is it? It is a slang term for a rich man who offers money or gifts to a less rich younger person in return for companionship or sexual favor. I actually looked into getting one myself at one point; then I realized it was just a dirty old man that was as old as my father trying to get some. Gross. These relationships are obvious most of the time. The incident that stands out in my head is one time I was out to lunch in North Scottsdale with a friend. We were eating outside, and it was probably 75-80 degrees out. Perfect patio weather! While shoving my salad into my mouth, she arrived. Tall and thin. Platinum,long blond hair. Bright,big,red lips. Huge name brand sunglasses. Huge foobs. Sporting tight black jeans, itty bitty black shirt, and 4 inch stilettos. She also had a floor length fur coat on; I was not close enough to identify from which animal. Let me remind you, it was at least 75 out. Another accessory she was sporting, was the small, fragile, grey haired older gentleman. I would say he was at least in his 70s. She towered over him by inches. They sat down to eat. My view was almost blocked by her ridiculously large chest and puffy lips. He was being very sweet to her, pulling her chair out. She seemed completely uninterested. Poor little guy.

I've seen these ladies at the clubs/bars too. In their tight, short little mini-dresses, legs seemingly endless. I look at my outfit; yep, I'm fish bait, not shark cuisine. For the most part, these ladies are nice, you know, if you accidentally bump into them or comment on how cute their shoes are. Yet, some can be complete bitches and give you the "why are you even in the same vicinity as me? Do you shop at Ross?" look. Yes, yes I do; P.S. I paid half as much for the dress I am wearing that you paid full price for, fool! How I love a good bargain. Then there's the ones of lesser intelligence. The ones that stare at you for a few minutes after you say, "pardon me, I did not mean to encroach on your space. I'm sorry. This club is simply at its maximum capacity." . Dodged that bullet, didn't I?

Every city has their women. Be it classy and glamorous, or simple and trashy. Now, thanks to Desperate Housewives, the "real" housewives have emerged. A set of fake ta-ta's is the same as braless boobs in a wifebeater if you ask me. It all depends on your perspective.

Words of a Different Color

I love words! And I love that the English language has so many from which to choose, and so many varieties. I can say "confused" and look up 10 other synonyms for that word. I have been told I have quite the extensive vocabulary. I don't use it to be arrogant or belittling, but I really do like to speak and write with strong words. I believe speaking or writing in a manner that conveys one's intelligence and education is something to show off and take pride in. In this time of "text" lingo, it seems to be a fading art. Kids no longer write letters to their friends and family; they e-mail, text, or Skype with them. What happened to a good old-fashioned letter? Did you know they are starting to do away with teaching how to write cursive in school? Not that cursive is a mandatory and necessary skill, but I would rather read that than chicken scratch. I feel it is just a tradition that should continue.

The dictionary cannot seem to keep up with our ever evolving and expanding language. I about fell over the day the word "bootylicious" was added to the dictionary. Really? What happens when future generations start dissecting the root and origin of words? Can you trace "bootylicous" to a Latin root? Hmmm. Boot is something worn on the foot, so we'll assume bottom. And clearly "licious" is Latin for ... delicious? So delicious bottom?

Text language is being added as well due to its popularity and frequent use. Heaven forbid The Pope doesn't know what LOL, IDK, or BRB means; he MAY like to know what OMG means though. I've seen it show up in student's papers as well. You is now "U", your is now "YER" or "UR", later is now "L8R." I know these are used out of convenience and space when IMing or typing a text, but how will those words look when one uses them on a job application or on a resume? I will vote for the kid that writes, "I would like to work for your company" versus the one that says, "I wud luv to wurk for yer company", but that's just me. Rest assured, my daughter will be the kid that gets the job over the latter. And if the Post Office is still in business when she learns how to write, she will be sending real letters via snail mail. I remember when I was young, I had a few pen pals and I wrote to my relatives. I absolutely LOVED getting mail back from them! It might take a week, but I looked forward to it. It was exciting to have a piece of mail with MY name on it. It made me feel so important and special. An e-mail just isn't the same.

Here are a few of my favorite words. And yes, I actually use them on a pretty regular basis. I love to spell them too; spelling was actually fun for me to learn and I'm pretty darn good at it most of the time. I get it from my mom. I call her the walking dictionary.

Vicariously: Felt or undergone as if one were taking part in the experience or feelings of another.

Capricious: Characterized by or subject to whim; impulsive and unpredictable.

Vernacular: The standard native language of a country or locality. (I used this one in a sentence when I lived in the panhandle of Florida. To which the man replied, "Vernacular? In't that a city in Rome?" I'm not even kidding! I don't speak Southern very well apparently.)

Impeccable: Having no flaws; perfect.

Decorum: dignified propriety of behavior, speech, dress, etc. Possessing politeness and good manners.

Proverbial: Of the nature of a proverb.

Gregarious: Seeking and enjoying the company of others; sociable.

Ostentatious: marked by or fond of conspicuous or vainglorious and sometimes pretentious display.

Needless to say, I did pretty well with words on my SATs. I'm a word nerd, and of that, I'm proud.

Keep writing alive! LOL. BRB. G2G. Luv u. Thx for reading.

The Write Way

Sometimes, I miss school. In the past few days, I have assisted a friend with a few school papers (college level, not elementary!). She had the body and subject matter, but asked me to tweak it and edit it..."polish the turd" so to speak. Although polishing turds doesn't really sound appealing to me, the writing part does. While I was reading her essays, with my editor's cap on and my imaginary red pen, I felt excited! I felt transformed as I changed words, added quotes/references, rearranged sentences, corrected grammar...I was in my zone. I felt productive, like I had accomplished something, and I helped a dear friend out. Sometimes you need a second set of eyeballs to look over your work. Then I realized, I was more excited to be editing, rather than writing my own essays from scratch. Perhaps it's easier to edit rather than do all the legwork and research myself.

I remember back in high school, every time a paper was due, I always seemed to have a few peers approach me and ask me to look over their paper. Even the mean girl, who shall remain nameless. But, Karma comes around, and in my senior yearbook, she wrote something to the effect of "thank you for always helping me out and being nice, even when I was mean to you." That alone was worth looking over her terrible essays.

Someday, I may consider going back to school, time and money pending. Until then, I have this blog. I may write a book, but about what remains a mystery. I am all over the place when I write. It might have to be just as random, informal, and blunt as this blog. Until then, perhaps I can be a writing consultant. Writing/Editing guru? Technical Engineer of Writing Compilation? Oh, that sounds fancy!

Writing is an outlet, and has always been my favorite kind of outlet. I write poetry (not as much as I used to), jot down ideas in the middle of the night, and sometimes journal. Journaling was my best friend during and right after my divorce. Now, I read those journals and they take me right back to where I was, but in a healthy way. At times, I would get so upset and worked up, I wouldn't remember everything that I said or what happened unless I wrote it down immediately. I suppose writing is a way to get my brain to quiet down. It can be like a game of ping pong in there sometimes. I am notorious for having an active mind that never slows down, worries all the time, and over thinks things.

I'll put a reference to Charlie Sheen here. Since his train wreck of a public mental breakdown is attracting the attention of millions, it's difficult to restrain. To modify one of his recent quotes, I'd like to say this: "Yes, I'm on a drug. It's called writing."

His real quote was this: "I am on a drug. It's called Charlie Sheen. It's not available. If you try it once, you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body."

Maybe he should be a writer! I can be his editor. Or maybe not...