Survey: To Babe Or Not To Babe, That Is The Question

   

Ter pulled my coat the other day about the way I talk to chicks, so I thought I’d blog about it and get some feedback.

She says some women in your time find being called a babe and other endearments, offensive. I don’t know why you don’t want to be called babe, babe. Something to do with the women’s movement. Movement? Where did they go? Ter talks about sexism. WTF? Oh man. Sometimes I think every thing I do is a faux pas in the 21st century. In fact, I think my very existence may be a faux pas in your time.

To me, babe means, gorgeous, sexy chick. What can be wrong with that? Hey, I like it when women call me endearing names, like hon and hunk.  Makes me feel desirable, and who doesn’t want to feel attractive?

I love babes, um chicks, um the fairer sex, I mean the stronger sex. Aw hell, the female of the species. In my time, women like to be called babe, baby, cutie, beautiful, honey, sweetie -- you get the idea. It’s a good thing. What do they want to be called in your time? Skank, ho?

So I’m taking a little survey here. Do you chicks like to be called babe and other endearments, or do you hate it? And, either way, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me why. You males of the species, too, chime in, let me know your take on this bafflement. Maybe some pearls of wisdom.

Here’s a video from 1965. See, in my time we all like being called, babe. Get a load of those clothes, though, and the hair on Sonny. West Coast, where else? Is it me, or does he look stoned? I could use a few tokes right about now, myself. But that may not be allowed in your time. . .

So tell me in the comments section.  BABE:

Insult

Compliment

Neutral

Other

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

You gotta love it out on Cape Cod. In the summertime, it’s where all the action is, at least in ‘64. I don’t know what they may have done with it, in your time. Babes Port, Massachusetts. My kind of party!

I went in on a cottage with a couple of poker buddies in Babes Port. What can I say? I had a nifty vacation. No interruptions, no dead bodies. Just live babe bodies. We all know how chicks are when they go away on vacation. All their good-girl-rules fly out the window. . . where they belong.

Bonus Prize: I got away from Ter. She’s always beating me up and shooting at me. Her sex scenes, suck out loud, and not in a good way. Geesh, she’s got to learn to be more sexually explicit and less explicitly violent.

But, hey, that’s what holidays are for  - escape. They say one picture is worth a thousand words, so here’s a coupla thou for you. 

My vacation fun in the sun. . .

my vacation fun out of the sun.

Seize the day,” as they say. . . and the night.

I think I can skip the push-ups this week.  After all that action, this man needs a nice, cold ‘Gansett, sponsors of the Boston Red Sox, in my time.

Thanks for stopping in. Meanwhile, let’s have a cold one, on me, before I head back to work.  

Bottoms up! Cherchez la babes!