What does love mean?
It means you go to the ER with your significant other because you know they might be scared or uncomfortable and could use you for support.
However, it does not mean you can sit there and describe the size of the needle about to be stuck in their ass; really, I have never seen a 24-year-old man so entertained and fascinated.
Really, we're happy NOT knowing about the thing about to cause us pain. I was already expecting immense amounts of pain when they put up the handle-bar side of the bed and told me I might want to grab onto that... the hand gesture ranking the size, normally reserved for us females to remark on how large or small your special toy is, does not help whatsoever.
But once again, love means sticking out the ER. If you ever dare try to weasel out of it, you WILL be in more pain than we are, I guarantee it.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Big Shiny Ones
I sometimes wonder: why is there a burning desire to get married, or at least, engaged?
I've been with Bart for about 4 1/2 years now, and we are still considered 'boyfriend/girlfriend'. When I tell people how long I have been with my boyfriend, their first question is, "so when are you guys getting married?" My responses vary:
"As soon as I can get him drunk and to Vegas..."
"As soon as the twins are born..."
"Next time Elvis comes to town..."
Even my own dad asks me these questions. I tried giving him the baby response, and he just laughed (mainly because he has a very good sense of humor, and he knows me + children + right now = not gonna happen), and then asks to speak to Bart so he can do the whole 'when are you marrying my daughter?', at which point Bart hands back the phone and says he hates me... he refuses to take the phone now (he's learned).
Why are we, as women, so hell bent on getting engaged? We see our friends get engaged and married, and we seethe with envy and jealousy. What the hell? There used to be a time when I was convinced if a guy bought me any kind of jewelry, it meant he was breaking up with me shortly (I was usually right by the way), but now, I tell Bart that I either want a pony or a ring for Christmas. His response? Laugh and shake his head, then go back to playing World of Warcraft. We were in a mall once and approached by a salesman for some jewelry store who said "why don't you buy her something nice?" My response? "He's too cheap and stubborn for that". He turned three shades of red and elbowed me in the ribs. Apparently, that was NOT the ideal response.
Now, my friends have babies, and that's cool, that's something I can wait on (I already have a big baby at home, and he can't handle the competition) but marriage? Sign me up. I remember having a friend who was so obsessed with getting married, she even set her boyfriend's screen saver on his computer to the different rings she designed at DeBeers.com. While I am sure he didn't appreciate that, she was determined, she was GOING to get a ring from him. Another friend demanded they get married because she wasn't going to be the last in her circle who was single. Since when is this a competition? I see marriage announcements in the local newspapers from back home and I see people I knew getting married to each other, and honestly, I kind of laugh. Then when I am done, I think "Hmmm, I wonder when that'll be me? Will be send something back to post in the newspaper or will it just be a Facebook thing?" etc., etc. The same thing happens when I get on Facebook. Part of me feels satisfied when I find another friend my age who is NOT married or engaged. Yay, I am not alone! Yes, I actually celebrate those moments, because then I don't feel out of place or a loser for not being part of the special-special club of married and engaged folks.
Do relationships come with an expiration date like, "good until 02/05/11, will need to get engaged after that" or some kind of guideline we're suppose to follow and if we don't, we're bad? I won't lie, I want to get married, mainly because I love Bart (despite my story of how we met involving chloroform and rope) but yes, there is a part of me that wants to be in the 'circle'. Stupid, I know.
Even better, guys seem to be afraid of this. Why? If you live with the person, and you love then, why is it so bad to be married? It's the same as what you are now, except you get to wear some jewelry. What's so wrong with it? Is it the amount of money spent, or the idea that you can't just get up and leave if things go bad? Yes, these can be bad, but yet women seem to be okay with the idea. Odd, isn't it? Another reason I always hear is, "you get less sex after your married." You get less sex when you do something stupid, it's simple math, therefor, don't do stupid things that piss us off and we'll still get naked with you. Apparently though, it has been hammered into our heads enough time that we need to get married in order to be happy. I would be just as happy with a small wiener dog named "Hank", as in "Hank the Tank".
I say we, as women, just go with the flow and wait our turn, patiently. As for men, pull your heads out of your asses already and buy us the damn ring. Make us happy. We are much more pleasant/easier to deal with when we're happy.
I've been with Bart for about 4 1/2 years now, and we are still considered 'boyfriend/girlfriend'. When I tell people how long I have been with my boyfriend, their first question is, "so when are you guys getting married?" My responses vary:
"As soon as I can get him drunk and to Vegas..."
"As soon as the twins are born..."
"Next time Elvis comes to town..."
Even my own dad asks me these questions. I tried giving him the baby response, and he just laughed (mainly because he has a very good sense of humor, and he knows me + children + right now = not gonna happen), and then asks to speak to Bart so he can do the whole 'when are you marrying my daughter?', at which point Bart hands back the phone and says he hates me... he refuses to take the phone now (he's learned).
Why are we, as women, so hell bent on getting engaged? We see our friends get engaged and married, and we seethe with envy and jealousy. What the hell? There used to be a time when I was convinced if a guy bought me any kind of jewelry, it meant he was breaking up with me shortly (I was usually right by the way), but now, I tell Bart that I either want a pony or a ring for Christmas. His response? Laugh and shake his head, then go back to playing World of Warcraft. We were in a mall once and approached by a salesman for some jewelry store who said "why don't you buy her something nice?" My response? "He's too cheap and stubborn for that". He turned three shades of red and elbowed me in the ribs. Apparently, that was NOT the ideal response.
Now, my friends have babies, and that's cool, that's something I can wait on (I already have a big baby at home, and he can't handle the competition) but marriage? Sign me up. I remember having a friend who was so obsessed with getting married, she even set her boyfriend's screen saver on his computer to the different rings she designed at DeBeers.com. While I am sure he didn't appreciate that, she was determined, she was GOING to get a ring from him. Another friend demanded they get married because she wasn't going to be the last in her circle who was single. Since when is this a competition? I see marriage announcements in the local newspapers from back home and I see people I knew getting married to each other, and honestly, I kind of laugh. Then when I am done, I think "Hmmm, I wonder when that'll be me? Will be send something back to post in the newspaper or will it just be a Facebook thing?" etc., etc. The same thing happens when I get on Facebook. Part of me feels satisfied when I find another friend my age who is NOT married or engaged. Yay, I am not alone! Yes, I actually celebrate those moments, because then I don't feel out of place or a loser for not being part of the special-special club of married and engaged folks.
Do relationships come with an expiration date like, "good until 02/05/11, will need to get engaged after that" or some kind of guideline we're suppose to follow and if we don't, we're bad? I won't lie, I want to get married, mainly because I love Bart (despite my story of how we met involving chloroform and rope) but yes, there is a part of me that wants to be in the 'circle'. Stupid, I know.
Even better, guys seem to be afraid of this. Why? If you live with the person, and you love then, why is it so bad to be married? It's the same as what you are now, except you get to wear some jewelry. What's so wrong with it? Is it the amount of money spent, or the idea that you can't just get up and leave if things go bad? Yes, these can be bad, but yet women seem to be okay with the idea. Odd, isn't it? Another reason I always hear is, "you get less sex after your married." You get less sex when you do something stupid, it's simple math, therefor, don't do stupid things that piss us off and we'll still get naked with you. Apparently though, it has been hammered into our heads enough time that we need to get married in order to be happy. I would be just as happy with a small wiener dog named "Hank", as in "Hank the Tank".
I say we, as women, just go with the flow and wait our turn, patiently. As for men, pull your heads out of your asses already and buy us the damn ring. Make us happy. We are much more pleasant/easier to deal with when we're happy.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Note To Self:
To my friends on Facebook:
When you are fighting with your significant other, be it to the point of break up or not, do NOT post a picture of yourself with a very attractive member of the opposite sex as your new profile photo. Unless that hot female is your adorable little niece, then you should and probably will be, punched.
You're a bit of a douche if you do this, just keep that in mind.
When you are fighting with your significant other, be it to the point of break up or not, do NOT post a picture of yourself with a very attractive member of the opposite sex as your new profile photo. Unless that hot female is your adorable little niece, then you should and probably will be, punched.
You're a bit of a douche if you do this, just keep that in mind.
Hey Hun, Help Me Try This On...
So for those of you who ever wondered, the flu bug does not die - it just relocates. Evil little bastard... anyway, let's hope I can write something coherent:
I was reading an article in one of my magazines about having sex in public, and how to do it. Now, I'm all for expanding your boundries and getting naughty in new places to keep it exciting, but honestly, there's just some places that are NOT a good idea:
The Bathroom
Let me start by saying, "ewwww...". Why? Your bathroom may be clean, fresh and smell like a spring breeze (that means you obsessively clean like I do, good for you). Now, a public bathroom, you're taking your chances. On an average day, sure it's cleaned, but why would you want to get it on in a place you literally go number #1 and #2?!? It's kind of hard to keep yourself in the mood when you're thatclose to the toilet; you don't know what the last person did in there. Also, in a place like a bar or a club, there's barely even toilet paper, and yet, you want to drop the panties there, the bacteria haven on the city? If you can bring yourself to do it, then kudos I suppose... I will also be spraying you with Lysol the next time I see you.
Dressing Room
Seems like a good idea, right? I don't like dressing rooms anymore because all I can picture is the number of naked butts that have been all over that dressing room, like bench or the mirror or up against the wall. Now, in a place like Express, somewhere that isn't that busy all the time and barely has an attendant, EVER, you can probably get away with this, but usually, you're not that lucky, so really, you're better off trying somewhere else. Just remember the butts thing next time you go to try on a pair of jeans, just imagine the cheeks that have been rubbed up near the door handle, as well as many, many other things.
Your Car
If your car has an alarm, it WILL go off, trust me (ahem...oops). This will draw attention, especially if you're in the backseat and you're scrambling to get to the front or to your keys to shut it off. Plus, unless you have an Escalade or something roomy, this may become a pain to try and maneuver--- if you're tall, you may take out a window.
Your Complex Pool/Hot Tub
You're not the only one that's tried, trust me, and the self cleaning system isn't always the best. You know that fluff and bubbles in the middle of the hot tub? Go ahead and take a guess what's in there.
Now, remember, you can pull these off but you have to do it right (except the hot tub, monumentally stupid idea for the infections and problem that will follow). Like I said, if the place is private (I love you Express --- two sets of dressing rooms, with the main one barely even checked on... oh yeah, you have nice clothes too I guess) but somewhat sanitary --- is sex in a public place worth a UTI or something else slightly disgusting growing down there? If you can find a nice dark place in somewhere like Dave and Buster's, which is big and dark in some areas and not always monitored, then go for it. Oh yeah, and try to find a place that DOESN'T have a camera: I doubt the cops will let you keep a copy of the momentous occasion afterward.
I was reading an article in one of my magazines about having sex in public, and how to do it. Now, I'm all for expanding your boundries and getting naughty in new places to keep it exciting, but honestly, there's just some places that are NOT a good idea:
The Bathroom
Let me start by saying, "ewwww...". Why? Your bathroom may be clean, fresh and smell like a spring breeze (that means you obsessively clean like I do, good for you). Now, a public bathroom, you're taking your chances. On an average day, sure it's cleaned, but why would you want to get it on in a place you literally go number #1 and #2?!? It's kind of hard to keep yourself in the mood when you're thatclose to the toilet; you don't know what the last person did in there. Also, in a place like a bar or a club, there's barely even toilet paper, and yet, you want to drop the panties there, the bacteria haven on the city? If you can bring yourself to do it, then kudos I suppose... I will also be spraying you with Lysol the next time I see you.
Dressing Room
Seems like a good idea, right? I don't like dressing rooms anymore because all I can picture is the number of naked butts that have been all over that dressing room, like bench or the mirror or up against the wall. Now, in a place like Express, somewhere that isn't that busy all the time and barely has an attendant, EVER, you can probably get away with this, but usually, you're not that lucky, so really, you're better off trying somewhere else. Just remember the butts thing next time you go to try on a pair of jeans, just imagine the cheeks that have been rubbed up near the door handle, as well as many, many other things.
Your Car
If your car has an alarm, it WILL go off, trust me (ahem...oops). This will draw attention, especially if you're in the backseat and you're scrambling to get to the front or to your keys to shut it off. Plus, unless you have an Escalade or something roomy, this may become a pain to try and maneuver--- if you're tall, you may take out a window.
Your Complex Pool/Hot Tub
You're not the only one that's tried, trust me, and the self cleaning system isn't always the best. You know that fluff and bubbles in the middle of the hot tub? Go ahead and take a guess what's in there.
Now, remember, you can pull these off but you have to do it right (except the hot tub, monumentally stupid idea for the infections and problem that will follow). Like I said, if the place is private (I love you Express --- two sets of dressing rooms, with the main one barely even checked on... oh yeah, you have nice clothes too I guess) but somewhat sanitary --- is sex in a public place worth a UTI or something else slightly disgusting growing down there? If you can find a nice dark place in somewhere like Dave and Buster's, which is big and dark in some areas and not always monitored, then go for it. Oh yeah, and try to find a place that DOESN'T have a camera: I doubt the cops will let you keep a copy of the momentous occasion afterward.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
So...
After battling this damn thing for a week, I am still only half way better. That translates into... I am looking for ideas for the blog. Everytime I try, I think of it, then I cough/sneeze/whatever, and forget it two seconds later and go for medicine instead. Either that or I think of them right before I fall asleep, and because I am too comfortable to move, I don't write them down.
Help a buddy out. E-mail me or leave a comment here and give me an idea and I'll go with it.
:)
Help a buddy out. E-mail me or leave a comment here and give me an idea and I'll go with it.
:)
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Here, Have A Goodie Bag, and Oh Yeah, Don't Get Pregnant.
I will say one thing for sure:
California is SERIOUS on population control... as in, they don't want to add to it.
Because I qualify for the special programs for women out here (YAY FOR BEING POOR! WHOOO!), I am able to get all of my "Family Planning Needs" at the local Planned Parenthood.
Planned Parenthood.
Isn't that the place where people get shot and the places get bombed for being pro-choice??? Oh yes, send me in there. Just give me a water and snack bar for the duration. Maybe some band-aids for afterward.
I had went to the one in Texas before for the same reason (really not a safe idea... they like guns there WAY TOO MUCH... porn too, but that's not about to land you in the hospital as much as a gun will, and I know this: I worked in news). But I will say this, the Texas PP are nothing like a California PP. Why?
Example #1:
While sitting in the waiting room, filling out the the paperwork to qualify for this program. It asks the basics: how much do you make, what kind of job do you have, etc. After I fill this out, I take the set of forms back to the nice receptionist with a gazillion piercings and shiny lip gloss, smile and turn around. Not even 30 seconds later, I am called back up: there's a problem with how much I make. Her response: "Ummm, are you sure you don't sometimes make less than this in a month?"
"I guess I do sometimes..."
"Ohhh, well make sure to list that."
"Should... I be listing a different number?"
"Yeah, it would help, because right now they won't accept you into the program with that number."
I take back the paper, cross out the original amount, and write in a bogus amount, much lower than the real number. I hand it back, so inputs it and *poof* I am handed my new card. The point? The state may be so damn broke that they're cutting funds EVERYWHERE and issuing I.O.U's for tax refunds, but keeping the population under wraps is priority #1. Either that, or they don't want me personally to have babies. I don't see what the problem is; my babies would be kick-ass.
Example #2
While sitting in said-waiting room that comes with no magazines or anything to look at but the smiling teenagers on a poster that's probably as old as I am, I hear bits and pieces of conversation. I am not trying to listen in necessarily, but you can't help it sometimes:
Woman 1: Well, I am here because I just had my fifth baby and they thought maybe my husband and I should think of something different like the IUD.
Woman 2: Oh yeah, I hear the IUD works really well. I might get that too.
Woman 1: So what are you here for?
Woman 2: Ummmm... well, my profession requires me to get check ups every few months.
Woman 1: *silent, guessing shocked* Oh.
Okay, now let me ask, what type of profession requires you to get "check ups" at a place like Planned Parenthood every few months??? I have compiled a list.
a.) Porn Star
b.) Prostitute/Hooker
c.) Stripper
We are by the porn capital, after all...
Example #3
Once in the room, I am greeted by my doctor. She has no sense of humor. I try to joke with her, but really, she's not interested. Oh, come on Doc, I'm in a paper-thin gown and naked more than normal, you're about to do dirty and horrid, though medically necessary, things to me, and you can't crack a smile and humor me. Fine, I'll just play an episode of Grey's Anatomy in my head until you're done; good thing this was free, because the service sucked. After she is done violating me in a way that normally requires dinner first or some fake sentiment, I am given a bag. Not just any bag: it contains birth control pills, a plethora of condoms and a few boxes of the morning after pill.
Really?
Do I have that look that screams I need all of this?
Lesson learned: California does NOT screw around with population control.
California is SERIOUS on population control... as in, they don't want to add to it.
Because I qualify for the special programs for women out here (YAY FOR BEING POOR! WHOOO!), I am able to get all of my "Family Planning Needs" at the local Planned Parenthood.
Planned Parenthood.
Isn't that the place where people get shot and the places get bombed for being pro-choice??? Oh yes, send me in there. Just give me a water and snack bar for the duration. Maybe some band-aids for afterward.
I had went to the one in Texas before for the same reason (really not a safe idea... they like guns there WAY TOO MUCH... porn too, but that's not about to land you in the hospital as much as a gun will, and I know this: I worked in news). But I will say this, the Texas PP are nothing like a California PP. Why?
Example #1:
While sitting in the waiting room, filling out the the paperwork to qualify for this program. It asks the basics: how much do you make, what kind of job do you have, etc. After I fill this out, I take the set of forms back to the nice receptionist with a gazillion piercings and shiny lip gloss, smile and turn around. Not even 30 seconds later, I am called back up: there's a problem with how much I make. Her response: "Ummm, are you sure you don't sometimes make less than this in a month?"
"I guess I do sometimes..."
"Ohhh, well make sure to list that."
"Should... I be listing a different number?"
"Yeah, it would help, because right now they won't accept you into the program with that number."
I take back the paper, cross out the original amount, and write in a bogus amount, much lower than the real number. I hand it back, so inputs it and *poof* I am handed my new card. The point? The state may be so damn broke that they're cutting funds EVERYWHERE and issuing I.O.U's for tax refunds, but keeping the population under wraps is priority #1. Either that, or they don't want me personally to have babies. I don't see what the problem is; my babies would be kick-ass.
Example #2
While sitting in said-waiting room that comes with no magazines or anything to look at but the smiling teenagers on a poster that's probably as old as I am, I hear bits and pieces of conversation. I am not trying to listen in necessarily, but you can't help it sometimes:
Woman 1: Well, I am here because I just had my fifth baby and they thought maybe my husband and I should think of something different like the IUD.
Woman 2: Oh yeah, I hear the IUD works really well. I might get that too.
Woman 1: So what are you here for?
Woman 2: Ummmm... well, my profession requires me to get check ups every few months.
Woman 1: *silent, guessing shocked* Oh.
Okay, now let me ask, what type of profession requires you to get "check ups" at a place like Planned Parenthood every few months??? I have compiled a list.
a.) Porn Star
b.) Prostitute/Hooker
c.) Stripper
We are by the porn capital, after all...
Example #3
Once in the room, I am greeted by my doctor. She has no sense of humor. I try to joke with her, but really, she's not interested. Oh, come on Doc, I'm in a paper-thin gown and naked more than normal, you're about to do dirty and horrid, though medically necessary, things to me, and you can't crack a smile and humor me. Fine, I'll just play an episode of Grey's Anatomy in my head until you're done; good thing this was free, because the service sucked. After she is done violating me in a way that normally requires dinner first or some fake sentiment, I am given a bag. Not just any bag: it contains birth control pills, a plethora of condoms and a few boxes of the morning after pill.
Really?
Do I have that look that screams I need all of this?
Lesson learned: California does NOT screw around with population control.
The Flu Brings Out All The Love Bugs...
As I am writing this, I have a terrible flu. Like the kind that if it had limbs or extremities of any kind, it would be punch me and kick me, and laugh. Bastard bugs. My boyfriend, Bart, is being nice and bringing me things like Gatorade and all the medicine I could possible handle but seems to view all of it like a buffet: have a couple of these pills, and maybe a shot of this syrup, and, ohhhh, how about a nice throat spray for desert?
No thanks, I'll just go throw up over here instead.
I mention all of this because as we all know, love is part of sex. Love and relationships tend to equal sex (kind of like lots of booze and no panties equals sex, but I like my equation better right now). As I am sick though, I am reminded of that episode of Friends where Monica is sick, and Chandler refuses to go near her. She has to trick him into having sex with her by seductively rubbing the vapor rub stuff all over her chest and moaning. Let me tell you something: that does not work. You could stand there naked rubbing whipped cream all over yourself and topping yourself off with sprinkles, and there's a good chance your partner is going to sit there and look at you like your nuts: a.) for dressing yourself up like a dessert and b.) for thinking they will want to be intimate with you while you're sick, hence, increasing their odds of getting sick. I have actually heard someone say before, 'I wanted swine flu, I'd sleep with some bacon'. That point was a little bit lost on me, but understood none the less. For the people willing to risk it for a little bit of pleasure, kudos to you, you're helping America somehow (I'll think of a reason later...). For others, it's like a mini chastity belt that has taken over their nether regions, as if that's the ONLY opening for germs to invade. Really, all we need is a good work out to bust this bug up; it's better than the treadmill, so what's so hard to understand? Be a goodwill ambassador in the bedroom, and help a sick person out. If you're that good, maybe that person will make a little ribbon for you and give you and I.O.U. for when you get sick and horny, because you're possible about to.
One last note: Bart thinks it's funny to kiss me via the blanket: he's currently letting me use his blanket/comforter (as opposed to our big one for the bed) and I carry it with me everywhere. To kiss me, he holds one end of the blanket up and kisses me that way. Five bucks says, after I am done being sick, he will forget that I have sneeze, coughed, almost barfed, rubbed Vick's vapor rub and other crap into it, and forget to wash it, using it on the bed that very same night.
No thanks, I'll just go throw up over here instead.
I mention all of this because as we all know, love is part of sex. Love and relationships tend to equal sex (kind of like lots of booze and no panties equals sex, but I like my equation better right now). As I am sick though, I am reminded of that episode of Friends where Monica is sick, and Chandler refuses to go near her. She has to trick him into having sex with her by seductively rubbing the vapor rub stuff all over her chest and moaning. Let me tell you something: that does not work. You could stand there naked rubbing whipped cream all over yourself and topping yourself off with sprinkles, and there's a good chance your partner is going to sit there and look at you like your nuts: a.) for dressing yourself up like a dessert and b.) for thinking they will want to be intimate with you while you're sick, hence, increasing their odds of getting sick. I have actually heard someone say before, 'I wanted swine flu, I'd sleep with some bacon'. That point was a little bit lost on me, but understood none the less. For the people willing to risk it for a little bit of pleasure, kudos to you, you're helping America somehow (I'll think of a reason later...). For others, it's like a mini chastity belt that has taken over their nether regions, as if that's the ONLY opening for germs to invade. Really, all we need is a good work out to bust this bug up; it's better than the treadmill, so what's so hard to understand? Be a goodwill ambassador in the bedroom, and help a sick person out. If you're that good, maybe that person will make a little ribbon for you and give you and I.O.U. for when you get sick and horny, because you're possible about to.
One last note: Bart thinks it's funny to kiss me via the blanket: he's currently letting me use his blanket/comforter (as opposed to our big one for the bed) and I carry it with me everywhere. To kiss me, he holds one end of the blanket up and kisses me that way. Five bucks says, after I am done being sick, he will forget that I have sneeze, coughed, almost barfed, rubbed Vick's vapor rub and other crap into it, and forget to wash it, using it on the bed that very same night.
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