Thursday, February 28, 2013

Cool Things About Being a Man

This is a real list that a friend of mine posted.  He did not write it.  He just posted it as a little ha ha! without (hopefully) thinking too much about it.  He's probably going to wish he had thought about it.  :)

Cool Things About Being a Man

(or, I spend way too much time making asinine lists and way too little time interacting with, you know, women)

1- Your ass is never a factor in a job interview.
2- Your orgasms are real. Always.
3- Your last name stays put.
4- The garage is all yours.
5- Wedding plans take care of themselves.
6- You never feel compelled to stop a friend from getting laid.
7- Car mechanics tell you the truth.
8- You don't give a rat's ass if someone notices your new haircut.
9- Hot wax never comes near your pubic area.
10- Same work, more pay.
11- Wrinkles add character.
12- You don't have to leave the room to make emergency crotch adjustments.
13- Wedding dress $2,000.00; Tux rental $100.00
14- If you retain water, it's in a canteen
15- People never glance at your chest when you're talking to them.
16- New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
17- One mood, all the damn time.
18- Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds.
19- A five-day vacation requires only 1 suitcase.
20- You can open all your own jars.
21- You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
22- Your underwear is $10.00 for a three-pack.
23- If you are 34 and single, nobody notices.
24- You can quietly enjoy a car ride from the passenger's seat.
25- Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
26- You can quietly watch a game with your buddy for hours without ever thinking "he must be mad at me".
27- No maxi-pads.'
28- If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, you just might become lifelong friends.
29- You are not expected to know the names of more than five colors.
30- You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
31- You are unable to see wrinkles in clothes.
32- The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.
33- Your belly usually hides your big hips
34- One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.
35- You can "do" your nails with a pocketknife.
36- Christmas shopping can be accomplished for 25 relatives, on December 24th, in minutes.
37- The world is your urinal. xD

I'm not going to address every list item, just the ones I find the most disturbing/idiotic/ridiculous.

2- Your orgasms are real. Always.  Any grown assed straight woman worth her vagina stopped faking orgasms the second she met a guy that knew what the hell he was doing.  For some of us lucky enough to have met this person early on, faking was never a all.  Any woman faking for the sake of their lover's feelings needs to think about how he will feel when he realizes she is faking.  If you aren't into it at the moment and you like the guy enough, just give him a blowjob and let him go to sleep happy.  If you really don't like him AND he can't get you off, you have bigger issues and I am no psychiatrist.  

3- Your last name stays put.  Hello, Sweden.

6- You never feel compelled to stop a friend from getting laid.  Mostly because if your friend is anything like you, getting laid happens about as often as an asteroid passing within 17000 miles of earth and a giant meteorite hitting Russia in the same day.  

10- Same work, more pay.  Fuck you.

17- One mood, all the damn time.   I did not realize that Neanderthal was a "mood".

27- No maxi-pads.'   Seriously, Fuck you.

33- Your belly usually hides your big hips.  Wow!  Fat AND a pear shaped ass?!?!?  I'm getting hot just thinking about this guy!  ***shudder***

37- The world is your urinal. xD  Seriously?  That's all you got?  You can pee outside?  Let me tell you something, I can pee outside, too and I have on a few occasions when I've either been camping or so drunk that I really didn't think about how gross someone peeing outside is.  Unless you are five years old, find a restroom, asshole!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

5 Things About Me

1)  I am a picker.  Dead skin, fingernails, zits, you name it.  I will pick a zit until it is four times the size it was to start with.  Lucky for me I am so good looking that no one ever notices.

2)  I don't deal well with loud places and people.  I love loud music.  My cats are all half deaf from spending time in my bedroom while I am on the treadmill and I have my Paula Abdul/Pantera/Phantom of the Opera mix blaring.  But, over- the- top loud and excited people make me want to hurt them.  In this respect I am really happy that I have all boys and no screeching girls.  I love girls, I am one, but there is a certain decibel level and pitch that when put together make me go to a dark, dark place... ...kind of like The Rock with guns.

3)  I love going grocery shopping with my, that is.  When they were little and we had to do the intothecarseatfallasleepoutofthecarseatshopbeforesomeonepoops dance, I hated it.  It was so stressful.  And my kids would embarrass me.  My oldest would answer stranger's questions with either a blank stare, or a weird question of his own.  Oh, wait, he still does that.  My middle started hiding as soon as he was able to walk and would remain perfectly silent ( a feat he is unable to achieve at any other time ) until I found him, usually just before I collapsed on the floor into a hilarious nervous breakdown.  Oh, wait, he still does that. My youngest would just pretend he didn't hear someone talking to him and would look away until they gave up.  You guessed it, he still does that.  Autism is fun.

I find it ironic and sad that Charles (who has Down syndrome) is super social and wants to talk to people and yet people usually only want to talk to my "typical" looking younger and older sons, whom both would rather chew off their own lips than talk to a stranger.  Nowadays, I just don't care what other people think about their behavior.  I  just enjoy the fact that my big boys still want to spend time with me. 

4)  I have been having a somewhat one-sided love affair with Daniel Day Lewis for twenty years. Maybe it's mostly one-sided in that we have never actually met, but, I know that he is really talking to me when he tells that skinny bitch Madeline Stowe that he "will find her, no matter what occurs".  I'm still waiting.  In any case I will settle for his ridiculously hot Mohican brother.

5)  I have way, way too many cats.  There are people who will say that you can never have too many and they would be liars.  Ten is too many.  I had a (crazy cat) lady tell me that having three litter boxes that I cleaned twice a day was not enough.  She suggested that I have one litter box for each cat.  I almost politely suggested that she go fuck herself, instead, I told her that my cats already have more facilities than my family does, having one bathroom for the five of us, and if I cleaned them any more often I would have to kill myself.  There is only so much litter I can touch in one day.  And can you imagine having 10 litter boxes?  I'd need a special room for all of them.  And let me tell you, if I ever have an extra room, it will not be taken up by cat shit. 

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Number NIne

I've got a couple of things on my mind today.  The first is...even though I watched the season finale of Downton Abbey twice, like, five days ago, it's still haunting me.  I can't even explain what I love about it.  It's funny, but in that dry, English way, not HA HA HAAA, funny.  It's set in a lovely castle, which is nice to look at and dream about,  but if I were to try and describe what happens each week, I'd have a hard time explaining what is so interesting about a bunch of Lords and Ladies sitting around talking and eating.  

I freaking love Dame Maggie Smith 

and...Rob James-Collier (Thomas).  

She lives in a well-bred bubble and doesn't seem to realize how funny she is.  If she did, she would probably disapprove.  He is the scheming, smoking (hot) gay footman, whom you hate to love.  He manages to be completely evil and totally vulnerable at the same time.  So, yeah.  Just watch it.  If you hate it, you never have to listen to me again.  :)

Shifting gears...uh, big time...

I had to run up just over the border to Wisconsin today to pick up a donation for my son's Special Olympic's team fundraiser.  I was hoping for a sunny, slightly warm day, so that I could take a quick side trip to Lake Geneva while I was up there and have some lunch and maybe take a walk.  It is a dreary, cold day, with the promise from the Weather Channel people that we are going to get hammered by WINTER STORM Q!!!  Dun, dun DUUUNNN!

Seriously, when did we start name snowstorms?  So dumb.  Anyway, I headed home right away to avoid getting caught in the mess, but stopped for lunch on the way.  

While eating my less than diet killing and less than delicious salad at McDonalds, I noticed that the family sitting across from me had nine (9) children.  Nine, as in one less than double digit's worth of kids.  Nine, like they could have their own baseball team.  Nine, un-adopted (they all looked alike) children that all came out of the same, sad blue minivan with their parents.  I realized that it was their minivan because I parked next to them and saw four of the kids get out on my side.  I wasn't paying much attention at that point and I am kicking myself now, because I would love to know how they all fit in that otherwise normal looking family (clown) car.

I was trying not to stare as I counted and re-counted the kids.  I originally counted seven before eight and nine arrived from another table out of my sight line, so I was trying to make sure.  Who knows?  Ten and Eleven might have been sitting there as well and I just never saw them,  I don't want to sound judgy (I know I am being judgy), but...why?  Why nine kids?  It's not 1890.  You don't need Bobby Jim to work the fields and the chances (thankfully) of your kid dying young are slim thanks to you know, Penicillin and soap.  So, why then?  Birth control is not cheap, but it's a heck of a lot cheaper than nine kids.  Not every guy is up for a vasectomy, but I say a real man should be willing to go under the knife if it means getting to have carefree sex with his woman.  :)

If it's a religious thing, I will stop you right there, because that is nonsense.   I'm pretty sure God or whoever doesn't want nine kids, including an infant, in a car with only seven seatbelts.  Just no.

If these kids were adopted I would have been the first to cheer for them.  But, am I wrong to think that this is irresponsible?

And lastly...this is the big one.

I am following a little girl on Facebook who is very sick.  Her parents are very into praying and apparently, so are most of their followers.  I have no problem if it makes them feel better. It bugs me personally because I don't believe any of it, but more than that, I find myself wondering what their prayers mean.  People say things like " I hope the Lord favors her" and I go ballistic.  I mean, if there was a God, wouldn't he favor all children?  Wouldn't he want all children to be well and healthy and not need painful medical procedures?  If she pulls through, which I sincerely hope that she does, does it mean that she is better than those other kids that didn't?  Or maybe that those other kids didn't get enough people to pray for them?  Doesn't Jesus love the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, la la la?

This is what makes me a non-believer.  I can buy free will and that sometimes we make poor choices. I can buy God made the heavens and the earth, because the big bang sounds just as amazing as some guy up there blowing shit up.  But, I cannot buy the "God works in mysterious ways" line.  It's just too big of a cop out to me.  We chalk up everything we don't understand to some mysterious old guy in the sky's whims?  How totally unfair.

Life is patently unfair.  But, as a parent who would stand in front of a moving train to protect my kids, I cannot imagine how a loving being, our "parent",  could dole out cancer and brain tumors and earthquakes and tsunamis and hurricanes.  This is what makes me a non believer, an agnostic, an atheist, a heathen or whatever else you want to call me.

What do you believe?

Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Lord's Chips...and Prom Dresses

It's prom planning time again.  Slutty dresses, flashy limos, ill fitting tuxes and carnations abound.  It's also the time of year for assholes to decide that some couples are more suited to their version of the prom than others.  Same sex couples do not fit into their version of the "traditional" prom.

I'm assuming that by traditional, they also mean underage drinking and date rape; both pretty common at the prom.

I was never a girly girl and I never gave too much thought to my prom until it was nearly upon me.  I remember wishing that my ex-boyfriend would ask me to go.  Actually, I am downplaying that.  He was the only one I really wanted to go with.  I had a boyfriend and he was dating someone else, but I was beginning to realize that when I thought of my high school days in the future, his face would be the one that would come to mind first and this has proven to be true.

When I think back on it, I wish I had had the courage to break up with my (very nice but exceedingly dull) boyfriend of the time and had boldly made my case to the ex. At the time, though, that idea seemed tantamount to us each leaving someone at the altar and I didn't have the stomach for the drama.  Of course, I realize now that this is silly.  Neither one of us stayed with those prom dates for long after graduation.  I should have just gone with my heart. 
The handsome ex and me.

Anyway, back to the present day and the assholes that try and exclude people because their date is not of the opposite sex.  Can I please remind them that it is 2013?  That we legally are not allowed to discriminate against anyone because of their sexual orientation?  

I'm glad to see that most schools are onboard with this, though there are always the backward holdouts.  They're usually the same ones that wish we could go back to the 50's when everything was perfect...if you were white.

Many things have changed for the better.  I've seen lots of prom kings and queens lately that don't fit the traditional Football Captain / Cheerleading Captain model.  Plenty of schools are recognizing kids with disabilities with these honors, when in the past, they wouldn't have even gone to the prom at all.  That is progress.  When the kids recognize that times have changed, why can't the adults?

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


I lived in L.A. when I was a young twenty - something.  I spent a lot of time in clubs around B-List actors (see above photo) and lots of wannabes.  I didn't really fit in, though I was young and cute; everyone around me looked younger and cuter.  When you take a solid New Jersey 7 and put her in L.A., she becomes an automatic 4 1/2.  It's just Los Angeles Hotness Math. 

My serious north Jersey accent didn't really help matters.  Though practically everyone out there is transplanted from somewhere else and I met many NJ brothers and sisters, it seemed that most of them lost their back east accents within moments of touching down on Culver City's dusty brown streets.  When I did find someone else who said orange the way GOD!  INTENDED! (Arr-enge), I clung to them like crazy glue and we became lifelong friends (or they blocked me on Facebook years later; whatever).  I love being in a foreign land, but there is nothing like hearing your mother tongue unexpectedly in a crowd of strangers. 

I really didn't have the attitude for the City of Angels, either.  Sure, I had the blondish hair, but that was it.  I had (still have) no fashion sense of any kind other than asking myself " Will I get fired for wearing this?"  and then hoping for the best. 

(the famous sailor suit)

In a particularly cringeworthy moment, I had a potential boss berate me for not wearing pantyhose to an interview.  If I had had some stunning, well cut suit to go with my buffed, tanned and shiny legs, I might have gotten away with it; but, it was winter, I was pale and pasty and wearing a green and white sailor suit.  I repeat:  SAILOR SUIT.  And white Easter shoes;  literal Easter shoes, that I had not worn since 1987.  I realized that I was not in Bergen County anymore and promptly drove to the nearest ROSS store and bought myself a real (if not completely hip) suit which I then had tailored ( a step in the right direction, no?  No.) to be inappropriately short.  At least I wore stockings with it when I finally did land a job.  :)  Remember "Working Girl"?  I was Melanie Griffith before she raided Sigourney Weaver's closet.  Now that I think about it, I probably should have paid more attention the first time I saw that movie and the sailor suit incident may never have happened.  Live and learn.

In more recent memory, a very good friend of mine began singing "Borderline" every time she saw me after catching me at work wearing a cut off the shoulder tee shirt a la Madonna.  It was 2007.  I obviously had no clue that it had been a full thirty years since that had been acceptable.  She still reminds me of this horror anytime I get a bit too full of myself.  Good friends will keep you from being too much of an asshole and hopefully, from ever wearing dayglo pink and black rubber bracelets outside of Halloween.

Oh wait.  Black rubber bracelets are in again?  Damnit!