Guest Speaker!

Char & Gertie: Alright ladies! Get excited! Our first guest speaker is joining us this evening. Periodically we will invite fellow spinsters to voice their frustrations and joys on our blog. (If any of you would ever like to join in, that’s what the comment box is for.) Tonight we are blessed to have with us, Prudence, aka Prude. Not to be confused with stuck up or wearing tight pantyhose. She is a gem. Welcome Prude. What would you like to share with us tonight?

Prude: Well Char and Gertie, while reflecting on my extreme spinster status, I decided to do what any lonely girl would do and call the mother. As I ranted and raved about my pathetic life...

Gertie: Char, pass the tissues....

Prude: No, wait. No tissues necessary. As I was saying, while I was ranting, I had an epiphany. I am happy. And I am single. And they do indeed mix. I said to my mother, “You know what? I take everything I just said back. I will not apologize for wanting to sing at a karaoke bar on my 21^st birthday rather than giving birth to my second child like most of my correspondences.

Char: YOU GO GIRL!

Prude: We need not wallow in the singleness of spinsterhood. We need to take pride in our ambitions, even if they do include belting “All the Singles Ladies” on your birthday. And yes…you should have put a ring on it.

Gertie: Wow. Thanks Prude. We’d love to have you back.

Char: Truly, a leader for our future generation of spinsters.

A white veiled occasion

We were recently at a spinster’s convention, aka one of our dear friend’s wedding.

We, along with two other spinsters indulged ourselves in their array of desserts. After gorging on free food, we heard a crackly voice over a microphone (that was too loud for comfort) bellow that dancing was to begin.
 Oh. Perfect. Torture.
As we could see there were very slim pickings in the room, we plopped onto the couch. The bride and her sweetheart took the dance floor as they graced us with the newlywed dance.
While pretending to be happy, a brutish woman without a tactful bone in her body; turns to us and asks venomously,
“Doesn’t this make you want to get married?”
WOOF!
Apparently this woman left the ‘hood (aka spinsterhood) long ago and forgot to bring her class. We, horrified, at the darts she aimed to our very souls, smiled and said, “Haha…yeah….”but our menacing eyes said otherwise. 

Now, mawagge. Mawagge is what bwings us togever today. Wuv, twu wuv. That bwessed awangement. That dweam. Wiffin a dweam.
We spinsters will be the first to give a huzzah at the news of your engagement. We will be the first to slap you on the back. Toast you even, at your wedding dinner. Peace and Blessings. Peace and Blessings. However, we still require your sensitivity and understanding.
Please, be gentle.

Peace and Blessings,

Gertie and Char

Cap’n Crunch: A yummy, yet highly untouchable boy interest

I admit it. I stole this idea. But it’s too good to be kept a secret. I was talking with some girls after class and a quieter girl referred to her old “Cap’n Crunch”. We all laughed and asked what that was. She said it was an old crush that was so darling and she was in love with him but she could never tell him. There was no owie break-ups or angry car rides with Kelly Clarkson blasting, just sweet memories of this dreamy wannabe beau. All the girls I was with immediately had someone in mind. I think my first Cap’n Crunch was my next-door neighbor. He had a head full of cocoa colored hair and glasses that were so large they flirted with the bottom of his nose, but man! What a dreamboat! We would play on his tire swing and I was positive he was in love with me but in his mind I was breathing cooties so that didn’t work out. The next Cap’n Crunch I had was my lab partner in Biology when I was a sophomore. His tactic of flirting was throwing shark guts at me and I’m ashamed to say it worked. Gertie, I know we should aim high but is it really sinful to reminisce on past Cap’n Crunches? What do you think?

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            Affectionately,

            Char

Joke Pirate: an exacerbating or enabling tactic used by Spinsters

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Joke pirate: verb, meaning to commandeer someone else’s witty comment in order to appear funny yourself.

Being a joke pirate is a very respectable profession, only if you are not in the presence of the poor person whose joke you hijacked. Highly recommended for use on first and or second dates as you can take someone else’s hilarious story and make it your own! However, if you are the victim of such witty thievery, it is no longer funny because what you thought up or experienced is now being credited to another. One suggestion we may give in order to keep your jokes copyrighted is to say them loudly and clearly in front of your group of friends. If you are timid only your neighbor might hear and then they will shout it out before you can say “thief!” This concept is crucial to understand before you read our next post.

Kisses,

C&G

Spinster Gone Shopaholic

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Being a Spinster has some serious upsides. Especially when it comes to cash.

Recently, I overdrew on my checking account and didn’t know it until I was slapped with a $75 overdraft fee.  Every fee comes with a long list of regrets. My regrets are usually materially related.  I have thoughts like: “Instead of dishing out 75 George Washingtons to the bank, I could have had 9 Café Rios, those beige peep toe pumps from Aldo or 2 tanks of gas.

While at the bank, I experienced many emotions. Mostly unbelief that I had let this happen again (yes, I once had to pay a $200 overdraft fee because I hadn’t caught the mistake earlier. About 7 unopened bank statements were frantically ripped open only to find that I was in the red*)

*red is a financial term that means you’ve lost some money. See also red stoplight and the red pen your professor uses to mark up your research paper. All of these mean stop being an idiot or in my case, STOP SPENDING ALL YOUR MONEY!!!

But it was a good day to be a Spinster. I sat back and thought, I am so happy that this is just my money and I don’t have to confess to my significant other that I blew a months worth of groceries because I forgot to balance at least 2 weeks worth of expenses. Oh well…numbers are for the birds. 

Yours Ever,
Charlotte