...quiet, about a lot of things...

First of all, How sad is it that I have not only thought about this..but have written about this several times. I would be a ballerina, ice skater, take no prisoner's Pussy Cat Doll. Oh Lord, do I have problems!!!

Those, I suppose, are fantasy alter egos. So I'll try to construct a more realistic secret identity..(yeah right)

Once when I was younger,so much younger than today, a drunken boy backed up into me at a bar. He apologized to me, saying he had mistaken me for a tree...a ficus to be specific. See, sometimes I got tired off the drill and would show up at the bar wearing my glasses and flats. "The real me"...evidently was easily mistaken for a tree that drops it's leaves when you move it. Great. The true me is a hysterical plant.

So the more realistic alter ego..would have to be capable of a Clark Kent transformation. That's a given.

The second factor..would have include the word "cougar". Seems women of my age bracket are now known as cougars. Interesting. Very interesting.

So here she is...


My alter ego would be a mild mannered 40'ish myopic cougar.

Younger girls, half my age,might giggle at me. Most of the time..I'll just laugh along and adjust my glasses. However, if any of them really needs to be taught a lesson, well then.... I'd just hone in on the object of their kitten pawed affection...slide on up..and move in for the kill.

Funny things..pony tails are meant to come down, glasses are meant to come off, and most old cougars are masters at the hunt. Many years of stalking...many tricks up there sleeves. He won't even hear me coming.....until it too late.


I think I'll strut on over to Sunday Scribblings...and size up my competion!!!