Showing posts with label Cougars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cougars. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

When Halloween Goes Global


My sister called the other day to share her latest assessment of life, as we do with each other from time to, when she stumbled upon a subject so glorious I just could not let it go. And because it would be poor form to not give credit to the genius who conceived this gem, I have to give a shout out to my sister’s highly revered
hairdresser – Tammy.

There was this costume party coming up and a group of women were discussing what to wear when Tammy suggested they all dress as GIRL SCOUTS! Not just any girl scout mind you, but as COUGAR GIRL SCOUTS! They would all wear their
uniforms with enough cleavage and bra showing to have no mistaking the intent. They would wear a sash that contained different levels of achievement badges (the “Walk of Shame” badge, the “Triple Play” badge and, of course, “Proper Condom
Application” badge) and carry canteens filled with. . .wait for it. . .  Cosmopolitans! Their troop number? 69!

When I heard this, I howled. But, I could not just enjoy the laugh for the moment because the scope of this is priceless. Let’s drop the “girl” part, because face it, none of us look 10 anymore. Let’s call ourselves Cougar Scouts. And let’s forgo the traditional scout uniform and get a little creative. I, myself, have always coveted the
white patent leather go-go boots from the early ‘70’s so I think they should be the official footwear. I also like a cute tennis skirt with built in panties, after all, we may be cougar’s but we are not easy so it will take some fancy talking to get to the goodies. Any color is acceptable but it must be paired with a black tank top. I mean
we are hot – temperature hot that is, and we are NOT going to be burdened by unnecessary layering. Besides, black is slimming. To accessorize the ensemble, we need a belt – animal print of course, a matching wristlet to carry lipstick, compact and cab fare. Good scouts do carry canteens and they should be filled at all times
with the beverage of choice (mine is red wine) and instead of binoculars, I suggest blinged-out cheater glasses. If you really want to carry something more binocularly, how about a View Master with a picture wheel of gorgeous men? Brownies wore
beanies, Girl Scouts wore berets, Cougar Scouts will wear a scarf as a headband (with or without a Hollywood Bump It and fake hair) and, of course, a tiara for formal meetings. Meetings will be established by each troop with an annual meeting in either Florida or California on alternate years with an optional spa visit mid year.
We could sing altered camp song's:

Do your boobs hang low, do they wobble too and fro
Can you tie 'em in a knot, can you tie 'em in a bow Can you throw 'em over your shoulder like a continental soldier Do your boobs hang low-
Ok - now in rounds. . .

Forget Halloween, I see this as a national club with troops not only in every state, but every town across the U.S. This could be huge! But what about troop dues, you ask? There aren't any. Hell, we already paid ‘em!

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Cougars and Cute Boys

Life has a way of keeping me humble. Last Wednesday I turned 48 and while I am not one of those people who feel the need to deny my years, I sometimes feel the need to reassure myself that I have not slipped into the point of no return.

So, 48 year old me keeps a strong alliance with 17 year old me, allowing 17 year old me to look at "cute boys" ( and I DO TRY to stay in the beyond 20 range, really I do,) while 48 year old me tempers the thoughts with wisdom and good judgement ( stop laughing!!) The first time my two "me's" merged, bestowing upon me a huge dose of humble was last summer at the beach. 17 year old me noticed a very cute boy with surfer long hair, golden tan and a contagious laugh. 17 year old me, admired the boy while 48 ( ok then 47) year old me firmly kept my mouth from gaping open. He was so, so cute. And, as I followed his movements for the better part of 2 hours while I sat in my beach chair reading a book, I harkened back to my glory days when I KNEW he would have been my beach boyfriend. I did this until I noticed him approach this beautiful woman who was clearly older than he. I immediately called her, "The Cougar." She gently rubbed his shoulders with sunscreen before he headed back out into the surf. As he grabbed his surf board he turned back to The Cougar smiled and said, "Thanks Mom!"

48 year old me told 17 year old me to go take a shower. Instant humble.

But it keeps coming. My oldest child is 22. He invited me down for a final Mom's Weekend at college in April where we did the "Mom Bar Crawl." At one point a large group of young men burst into the bar asking, "So where are all the cougars?????" I instantly, as I often do, shouted back, "Over here!" and then laughed because I knew they had not heard me. . .thank goodness. 48 year old me was relieved and proud. I thought I had 17 year old me quelled and in check - FINALLY.

Ha! Last Saturday, we were at a graduation party for the daughter of a friend. There was a DJ there playing a wide range of music but kind enough to spin "Love Shack" for the parents there and it got us all out on the dance floor. We danced, we jammed, we sang and then I looked up and made eye contact with a cute boy standing off to the side watching the parent show. He had these sparkling eyes, a genuine smile, and hair a little long that curled out from under his baseball cap. And. . .he was watching me. It was a little disconcerting but somewhere 17 year old me was smiling back. When the song was over, the cute boy yells, "Mrs. Coltman!!! You used to drive me to pre school with Drew!!!"

Humbled again.

Cougar? Me? I'm thinking I'm more like an old house cat these days.