What I’ve Learned From Ladies’ Night Out

This is the patented "look of death" the DH gets when I don't go out for Ladies' Night.

A few years ago, my husband got a job in the Midwest, and we moved to a new town where I knew no one. To make matters worse, I was no longer working full-time, so it was a difficult transition. Thank goodness one of the ladies in town decided that it would be a great idea to start a Ladies’ Night Out. We get together every Thursday night, have a drink, and vent about our husbands, kids, and life in general. Since the idea involves wine and no husbands or kids, it’s really popular. Let me tell you, if you don’t have a ladies’ night of your own, you need to get one pronto, because it’s a real life saver. Here are a few of the things I’ve learned from our ladies’ night.

1. I may be crazy, but I’ll be in great company at the Loony Bin.

One of the benefits of having a group of friends to vent with is that you quickly realize you’re not as nutty as you thought you were. Apparently I am not the only woman to lock herself in the bathroom and beat the stuffing out of an innocent tube of Colgate Sensitive Whitening Toothpaste in an effort to avoid beating the tar out of the DH. Sadly, I did not learn this lesson before I broke our cable remote, and now we can only change channels by holding the remote at a 57 degree angle and frantically pressing the buttons. Of course, whenever the DH reminds me of this while trying to flip channels during the playoffs, I point out that if he hadn’t done whatever the heck it was he did to tick me off, the remote would still be functioning properly. So it’s really his fault. Duh.

2. Ladies’ Night is an effective form of birth control.

I’m one of the few ladies in the group without children, and I’ve gotta tell ya, I may never have kids after hearing some of the horror stories. Kids say the darnedest things, and apparently they say them in public at the top of their lungs, while ensuring that complete strangers will assume that you’re beating the kids and call child protective services. I’ve also learned that your body will never ever be the same after childbirth, and the culprits (we’ve not decided if the husbands or the kids are most to blame) will NOT appreciate what you’ve gone through. Plus, you’ll never sleep in on a Saturday again. I’m rather fond of my sleep and (to some extent) my dignity, so clearly I should just avoid having kids, even though all the mothers in the group insist that, in the end, it was all worth it.

On the plus side, Ladies’ Night is also a great resource for women with kids, because they get to share ideas and learn about local events in addition to comparing stories about their kids. It’s a great way to vent and hear from the other women that you’re not the only one experiencing certain types of problems. On the down side some of these kids are going to grow up wondering why Miss Rebecca always snickers whenever she sees them.

3. What happens at Ladies’ Night stays at Ladies’ Night - Unless your husband does something really, really stupid.

Several of the husbands are colleagues of my husband, but even if they weren’t, there are some things you just shouldn’t share with other people. Likewise, I’m certainly not sharing with the DH some of the things we’ve discussed over our glass(es) of wine. However, if your husband does something really, really dumb, and you think the other husbands could benefit from hearing about it, you are contractually obligated by the Ladies’ Night Constitution[1] to share said incident with the other ladies.

Now, my DH gives outstanding and thoughtful gifts. You’d never catch him gifting me with a household appliance. In fact, when Her Royal Highness the beagle got bladder surgery and started peeing all over the carpet, I told the DH I wanted to buy a Hoover Steam Vac as my Valentine’s Day present. The DH immediately spotted the pitfalls and headed me off at the pass by saying, “If you need the vac, go ahead and get it! That’s not going to be a present!” (insert nervous, high-pitched laughter). His mama didn’t raise a fool, for which I am eternally grateful.

Sadly, not all husbands are quite as enlightened. Take my friend “Susan”, whose name has been changed to protect the innocent (her kids) from ridicule (we and the other husbands have already ridiculed her husband). Now, “Susan” has naturally curly hair, and around the time of her birthday she was lusting after one of those fancy-schmancy flat irons that cost a small fortune. So when her birthday came around, guess what she got from her DH? An exercise bike. Yup. Nothing says I love you like a present that screams “YOU’RE FAT!!!” What makes this worse is that she’s absolutely tiny. Yes, “Susan” is probably the tiniest of all of us and not in any need of an exercise bike. Needless to say, this story has been repeated at home several times to prevent the DH from EVER making that sort of mistake.

So Ladies’ Night is definitely a necessity, if only to educate our husbands on proper gift-giving etiquette and to avoid assault charges. You bet your booty (or, if you have kids, bum) that I’m there every week without fail. The DH enjoys it, because I always come back in a MUCH better mood (no doubt because of the wine), and for me it’s a great start to the weekend. Do any of you have ladies’ nights out with your friends? Spill the goods!

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[1] The Ladies’ Night Constitution is not written down, but if it were, it would insist upon wine being served at each meeting. It’s a lot easier not to pull out your hair if you’re uncoordinated.

On the Proper Usage of the Contraction Y'all

It's this Southern Belle with her Yankee hubby!
He would NEVER use "y'all" incorrectly. He might say "you uns," though!

Earlier this week I received a copy of a fun, lighthearted paranormal romance in the mail. I’d won the book through a contest at another blog, so I was excited, because, hey, free book, FTW! Last night I read the book and it was charming and fluffy, but if the DH hadn’t been sick and sleeping next to me, I might have shrieked a few times and ripped the book in half. You see, dear friends, this book was written by a Yankee. I knew only a few pages into this book that it was written by a Yankee, because said Yankee managed to punch two of my Southern Belle buttons in only one chapter, bless her heart. If I were strong enough to rip a phone book in two, I probably would have done it. I don’t count my small town’s phone book, because I’ve written papers for conferences thicker than that sucker. I’m talking 3 inch thick tomes, that’s how frustrating I found this book.

What was this poor author’s mistake? 1) There is one southerner in the book and that southerner is a dumb hick from the sticks and 2) she misused the contraction y’all. I’m not going to name the author or her book, because, truthfully, I enjoyed the book and felt that overall it was well written. It’s pure bad luck that she managed to hit two of my pet peeves in one book, and really, only one is offensive, while the other merely demonstrates what can happen if your author and copy editor are both from the same region. Still, I was pretty darn ticked, and what good is a blog if you can’t write a good rant?

So let’s begin with the southern stereotyping. Some authors use the stereotype of the dumb southerner drinking moonshine and using colorful expressions straight from The Andy Griffith Show to comedic effect. Shelly Laurenston, to my knowledge, has never lived in the South, and yet her hillbilly characters are a riot. Yes, she uses the stereotypes, but her books are FUNNY, y’all. The author-we-shall-not-name, however, has only one character from the south and that character is dumb as dirt. She’s supposed to be endearing in her empty-headedness and inability to do basic math, but frankly, after years of hearing about how in the North the schools are better, the arts are better, and down South we’re all just a bunch of barefoot hicks waving confederate flags, I have little patience for this type of character. And when I think about all the beautiful southern towns I’ve lived in compared to some of the industrial cities in the North, that just chaps my hide.

I could have overlooked this character if it were not for the persistent misuse of the contraction y’all. The author-we-shall-not-name uses the contraction y’all throughout the book in place of the singular “you.” Dear friends, y’all is PLURAL. It is the contraction of the two words “you all.” You can only use y’all when you are referring to 2 or more people. You cannot address one person as y’all, that’s just wrong! This actually confused me at times, because the character would be talking to one person and address him/her as y’all, and I’d have to go back and re-read, because for Pete’s sake, WHO ELSE IS SHE TALKING TO???

Now, I understand that in the North you’ll hear the expressions “youse guys” or “you ‘uns” or even “yinz”. These, too, are plural expressions. Let’s replace the y’all in a sample conversation with youse guys to demonstrate how y’all cannot be used as the second person singular.

 

Me: Hey, Tom, youse guys have spaghetti sauce on your tie.

Tom: (looking around) It’s only me here, Rebe.

Me: Duh, that’s why I said YOUSE GUYS. Yinz should also examine your fly.

Tom: Um, I’m the only one here and I’m only wearing one pair of pants.

Me: Well, don’t forget to leave the gun and take the canoli!

This misuse of the contraction y’all drove me crazy. Seriously, if you’re going to make fun of us, at least get the vernacular right! So,that’s my rant. I could expand on the misspelling of “y’all” that I’ve seen in other books (sometimes it’s written as ya’ll – shudder), but I’ll save that for another day. Lord help the author-who-shall-not-be-named, but as God is my witness, Ah shall nevah buy her books again. Bless her heart.