Purl Gurl
2008-08-06 17:23:14 UTC
A dumb potato head Irish boy has me enjoying singing
a favorite Merle Haggard song, Okie From Muskogee.
Unable to remember all the lyrics, I looked up this
song and continued singing to my Okie heart's delight.
Singing his song right now as I type.
"We like holdin' hands and pitchin' woo"
pitchin' woo - court, romance, spark, sweet talk.
There is a proper order of events for making a girl swoon.
sweet talk
spark
woo
court
romance
Mess up that order, a girl ain't gonna marry you!
Reminds me of a friend. My husband and I are at a private
party years back. We are standing around swapping lies
with Mel Tillis, who is a real man. As most know, Mel
suffers a serious stuttering problem while talking, but
not when singing! What most do not know is his stuttering
problem is a result of his having suffered malaria.
Mel takes this in stride. I am teasing him about cowgirls
and how those girls are dying to rodeo ride him. Mel up
and comments, "When I want to fah..fah.."
Thought for sure "fuck" was about to come from his mouth.
"When I want to fah..fah.. flirt with a gal, I just stutter;
makes 'em think I am all tongue tied by their good looks."
Mel is about to sing some songs for all of us. I plead with him
to tell some jokes first. I'll be damn. He takes up a microphone
and gets to telling jokes about stuttering. A exceptionally funny
joke is about his selling Bibles, door-to-door, which he drags out
into a long story typical of a cowboy. He ends by telling us, people
would buy his Bibles just so he would stop stuttering and go away.
Mel is a real man. He accepts his fate in life and even jokes about
his shortcomings. Mel is well spoken and quite the gentleman. He is
a man easy to admire and love; he knows humility.
I chased after my boy for a decade. By ten years of age, I made it
clear to my to be husband he is going to marry me, no choice. He is
about ten years older. He always treats me as child, which I was, made
me keep my distance. However, during my early teens, upon growing
some teats and a nice butt, he took to being nervous around me.
Eventually, he could not longer resist my romantic efforts. On a
hot Saturday afternoon, we are out knocking down weeds amongst corn,
working up a sweat and ripe armpits. He is acting nervous all day,
I know something is on his mind. Couple rows of tall corn over, he
thinks I cannot hear him. He up and throws down his hoe then quietly
mumbles to himself,
"Well, God dammit, just ask her."
He walks over, parting corn stalks making noise, walks up to
me, remembers to take off his cowboy hat, "Taha, woo..woo..
would you like to go frog giggin' with me tonight? I surely
woo...woo...would enjoy your company."
Mel Tillis stuttering, works a charm on a gal.
Boy howdy, I latch onto him, throw my arms around his waist,
look up close, "I surely would. I like frog gigging! I'll cook
'em for you!" He tries to back up, tries to get free. No way!
He is tongue tied quiet the rest of our hot humid Oklahoma day.
I know right then, he is mine. He is planning on sweet talking
me while we are out on Grassy Lake in my grandparents' old leaky
flat bottom boat, around midnight. Sweet talking, the first step
to winning a girl. Nothing more romantic than sitting by Coleman
lantern light, bare feet in boat bottom water, gigging frogs who
are twinkling their eyes at us from waterline, while having your
life love sweet talking ya; "Reckon I would lose if I was in a
corn pickin' contest with you."
A few months, he is sparking me down by the lake, after dark, while
we sit on an old fallen pine log. Only took him another three years
to get around to asking me to marry him; have to follow those steps
or you will not swoon a girl's heart.
Shoot, our first night out giggin' frogs, I was ready to throw him
down in boat bottom water then screw his brains out, but my boy
is a true gentleman, a real man. Hell, took six months to get him
to kiss me on a cheek, to pitch woo at me, another year to get him
to swap spit with me and, damn, another year before I could rodeo ride.
He knows the steps. He played the game just right. So did I.
pitchin' woo, sure enough gives you belly butterflies.
a favorite Merle Haggard song, Okie From Muskogee.
Unable to remember all the lyrics, I looked up this
song and continued singing to my Okie heart's delight.
Singing his song right now as I type.
"We like holdin' hands and pitchin' woo"
pitchin' woo - court, romance, spark, sweet talk.
There is a proper order of events for making a girl swoon.
sweet talk
spark
woo
court
romance
Mess up that order, a girl ain't gonna marry you!
Reminds me of a friend. My husband and I are at a private
party years back. We are standing around swapping lies
with Mel Tillis, who is a real man. As most know, Mel
suffers a serious stuttering problem while talking, but
not when singing! What most do not know is his stuttering
problem is a result of his having suffered malaria.
Mel takes this in stride. I am teasing him about cowgirls
and how those girls are dying to rodeo ride him. Mel up
and comments, "When I want to fah..fah.."
Thought for sure "fuck" was about to come from his mouth.
"When I want to fah..fah.. flirt with a gal, I just stutter;
makes 'em think I am all tongue tied by their good looks."
Mel is about to sing some songs for all of us. I plead with him
to tell some jokes first. I'll be damn. He takes up a microphone
and gets to telling jokes about stuttering. A exceptionally funny
joke is about his selling Bibles, door-to-door, which he drags out
into a long story typical of a cowboy. He ends by telling us, people
would buy his Bibles just so he would stop stuttering and go away.
Mel is a real man. He accepts his fate in life and even jokes about
his shortcomings. Mel is well spoken and quite the gentleman. He is
a man easy to admire and love; he knows humility.
I chased after my boy for a decade. By ten years of age, I made it
clear to my to be husband he is going to marry me, no choice. He is
about ten years older. He always treats me as child, which I was, made
me keep my distance. However, during my early teens, upon growing
some teats and a nice butt, he took to being nervous around me.
Eventually, he could not longer resist my romantic efforts. On a
hot Saturday afternoon, we are out knocking down weeds amongst corn,
working up a sweat and ripe armpits. He is acting nervous all day,
I know something is on his mind. Couple rows of tall corn over, he
thinks I cannot hear him. He up and throws down his hoe then quietly
mumbles to himself,
"Well, God dammit, just ask her."
He walks over, parting corn stalks making noise, walks up to
me, remembers to take off his cowboy hat, "Taha, woo..woo..
would you like to go frog giggin' with me tonight? I surely
woo...woo...would enjoy your company."
Mel Tillis stuttering, works a charm on a gal.
Boy howdy, I latch onto him, throw my arms around his waist,
look up close, "I surely would. I like frog gigging! I'll cook
'em for you!" He tries to back up, tries to get free. No way!
He is tongue tied quiet the rest of our hot humid Oklahoma day.
I know right then, he is mine. He is planning on sweet talking
me while we are out on Grassy Lake in my grandparents' old leaky
flat bottom boat, around midnight. Sweet talking, the first step
to winning a girl. Nothing more romantic than sitting by Coleman
lantern light, bare feet in boat bottom water, gigging frogs who
are twinkling their eyes at us from waterline, while having your
life love sweet talking ya; "Reckon I would lose if I was in a
corn pickin' contest with you."
A few months, he is sparking me down by the lake, after dark, while
we sit on an old fallen pine log. Only took him another three years
to get around to asking me to marry him; have to follow those steps
or you will not swoon a girl's heart.
Shoot, our first night out giggin' frogs, I was ready to throw him
down in boat bottom water then screw his brains out, but my boy
is a true gentleman, a real man. Hell, took six months to get him
to kiss me on a cheek, to pitch woo at me, another year to get him
to swap spit with me and, damn, another year before I could rodeo ride.
He knows the steps. He played the game just right. So did I.
pitchin' woo, sure enough gives you belly butterflies.
--
Purl Gurl
--
So many are stumped by what slips right off the top of my mind
like a man's bad fitting hairpiece.
Purl Gurl
--
So many are stumped by what slips right off the top of my mind
like a man's bad fitting hairpiece.