It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 17

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture. Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: Meat.  It's not just for eating anymore.

I'm going to start Whoreticulture Friday with an apology, never a good idea.  Because you should never apologize for awesomeness.  And if I were awesome, I wouldn't apologize.  So I am sorry.

This week has been crazier than a stage mom on meth.  I was an assistant on the talent show at my kids' elementary school the past two years, and this year I am in charge.  Oh. So. Effing.  Scary.  (Almost as scary as writing the F word in my blog, which I occasionally do, but I fear you people and the power of judgmental comments.)  Tonight was the dress rehearsal, and while it went well, oh so much can go wrong.  Tumbling act could fly off of the stage.  Shredding guitar kids during finale song to "School of Rock" theme song could tear their knees up on the old splintery stage.  Child could freeze up, begin to cry, and talk in two decades about how this was the worst night of their young life.  So I am having a quick beer, writing the blog, and going to bed for the certain nightmares of ruined childhoods.

I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that my heart is not completely in a whorish state of mind.  Sorry, Current Husband, it's Cinemax or women's Olympic ice skating for you tonight.  Speaking of CH, I love meat.

Sometimes when I get on the blog, I notice the ads on the sidebar.  When I wrote about Brazilians, I saw ads for hair removal.  When I wrote about mocking teddy bears, Build-A-Bear showed up.  For some reason last week, an ad for illegal Mexican wives appeared, which honestly I don't even know why they need to advertise, because those seem to sell themselves.  I would love to have an illegal Mexican wife right now, because frankly, I am tired, and there are dishes in the sink and a lonely man in my room.  Two days ago, this ad slogan appeared on my blog:

"It's like filet mignon for the price of a butt steak."

I found myself wondering if this is how CH describes me to his friends.  Because truly, I am.  And if I were to name myself after a piece of meat, it would have to be the butt steak.  It seems so obvious.  You may say, "But Julie, you're selling yourself short.  You are so filet mignon and you don't even know it."  Let me explain:

Pronunciation:  fee-lay mee-NYOH  Plural:  filets mignons  Notes:   These are cut from the tenderloin, and they're the most tender steaks you can buy, though not the most flavorful.  But filet mignons are total high maintenance bitches, and they don't put out.  Sometimes the French call them putain or salope, and the French really know their meat, if you know what I mean.   

 A boneless sirloin steak is sometimes called a rump steak = butt steak.  Sirloin steaks are usually grilled or broiled.  Don't overcook them or they'll lose much of their flavor.  In other words, "I'm easy like a Sunday mornin', but don't piss me off or I won't be so fun anymore."

This reminds me of the famous quote by Paul Newman to Playboy magazine about the longevity of his marriage to Joanne Woodward, "Why go out for hamburger when you've got steak at home?"  And while many women look at that quote and say, "Awwww!", Joanne Woodward was pissed off.  She was all "I'm an Oscar-winner, MF'er, not your piece of meat!" and Paul Newman didn't have steak for a very long time.  It was at this time that he created "Newman's Own" salad dressings with his own two hands.

In other meat news, at my book club I found out that at high school basketball games, when you want to insult the other team, you chant "Hot Juicy Burgers", which is supposed to imply a vagina, so you are calling the other team pussies.  I would like to take this time to point out that the other moms thought they were calling the other team "Vaginas", and I connected the dots for them that they were actually being called "Pussies", but I still don't see how "Hot Juicy Burgers" is more insulting than flat out chanting "Pussies" or "Va-Jay-Jay" or making cat noises.  Most of the moms in my book club are Catholics, so they're the drunks and I'm the shocking token Methodist.  They mix the drinks, I explain the porn.

What have we learned?

1. Julie volunteering for school events ruins childhoods.
2. Illegal Mexican wife is going on my birthday list.
3. Butt steaks are more fun than filets.  Unless they are bacon-wrapped filets.  Because bacon trumps everything. 
4. Newman's Own dressing might be able to impregnate you.
5. Kids yelling "Hot Juicy Burgers" does not mean they work for the Beef Council.

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  Have a great weekend!