Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, January 13, 1994 TAG: 9401120025
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Beth Macy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
-B.L., Roanoke [nonital] Dear B.L.:
What a complex can of WD-40 you've opened up!
I ask myself that question all the time. Especially when my husband pulls out the new cordless drill I got him for Christmas - and then pretends he's Matt Dillon on "Gunsmoke," shooting pretend dry-wall screws all over the basement, then gracefully spinning the drill around his finger.
For the finale, he tips his Hoosiers baseball cap and blows at the end of his drill. Then he finesses the drill back into the pretend holster hanging from his sweatpants.
Man, what style.
What really separates men from women is a question so ponderable that a new - and very funny - publication has come out just in time to address your question. Called "The Do(o)little Report," the newsletter is published every other month by a Fairport, N.Y., public-relations consultant whose mission statement is "to help women cope with - or laugh about - the men in their lives."
This month's features include a special beefcake swimsuit portfolio, complete with a beer-bellied "Fabbio" - photographed not on the sands of Bermuda, but in a Geneva, N.Y., hardware store . . . among a row of toilet seats, wearing floral boxer shorts.
A standing column called "Stupid Men Tricks" features Readers Digest-like submissions, including such true male-tales as: "If a black sock has a hole in it that shows over the top of your shoe, cover your exposed skin with black magic marker."
A helpful hint, to be sure, but something my husband would never think up during his daily sock-matching ritual.
He'd dig out one of his dark blue socks from the dirty-clothes hamper instead.
For a free sample of "The Do(o)little Report," call (800) 836- 4467.
Dear Master of American History:
I enjoyed your column in the issue of 16 December ["13 steps to child's dream world"]. It was one of your best.
However, I must object to your implying that Alexander Hamilton was once president of the U.S. He never was. As a loyal alumnus of UVa, I was also a bit miffed by your not mentioning Thomas Jefferson (third president, two-dollar bill).
You did not profess familiarity with large denomination bills, so for your information, Benjamin Franklin, another non-president, is on the one-hundred dollar bill.
- S.N.D., Lexington.
Dear S.N.D. (and J.H.W. of Roanoke, who likewise wrote to point out that Hamilton rose no higher than vice president):
Thanks for your compliment on the column about my grandmother, as well as for pointing out the error.
I hate it when that happens.
Now, for the official newspaper correction: "Because information was incorrectly processed in our reporter's scattered brain, Beth Macy's Dec. 13 column may have given readers the impression that Alexander Hamilton was a U.S. president - when he was not.
In fact, Alexander Hamilton was an outlaw in the popular '60s television series, `Gunsmoke.' "
Mea culpa, S.N.D. I screwed up.
May the ghost of Aaron Burr - or was it Raymond Burr? - come and duel upon my grave.
CALLING ALL MOMS: IMPORTANT READER PARTICIPATION NOTICE
Some of my pregnant friends and I have noticed that the third-trimester waddle tends to bring out the best - and worst - of other people's child-birthing stories.
Frankly, we are already nervous enough, so give the horror stories a rest, please. What we need now is humor.
Send in your wackiest childbirth story. Did your water break on the escalator at Valley View? Did your husband bring a Hardee's ham biscuit into the labor-and-delivery room when you hadn't eaten in 18 hours? Did you slam him against the wall, like something from "The Exorcist"?
Did he shout out during second-phase labor: "You had the baby! Made you look!"; or, "I once sprained my ankle, and it really hurt"?
Write to me c/o Extra, Roanoke Times & World-News, P.O. Box 2491, Roanoke, Va. 24010. If you're too busy raising kids to write, call my voice mail at 981-3435 and leave a message - with your name and number in case I have questions.
I promise not to ask how much weight you gained.
by CNB