I just have to say this. Men, your penis is like a power drill. The only
time a woman wants to see it is when she wants to screw something.
For the love of God, please, please, please listen to me. I know you think
it's sexy to accost unsuspecting women with wild waggles in the hallway
while shouting "whoo whoo", but it isn't. It's kinda disturbing actually.
No, it's really, really disturbing if I'm going to be honest here. I can't
tell you how awkward you look or truly explain the depth of how unattractive
that motion is, but believe me the best you can hope for with that is some
sort of "aw, he's retarded" response; nothing resembling "oh my God, take me
now." I have taken an unofficial poll on this one. The women I have
questioned agree with me. Men are sexier with the boxers on.
Really, think about it, and I don't mean to be cruel, how in the hell would
you feel if you turned around from folding laundry to find yourself staring
at that. It is really weird, not to mention creepy. And no, it does not
immediately turn us on.
Life isn't a porno, as much as you might wish it was. Most women are turned
on by mental, not visual, stimulation. The waggles (best word I can think of
for that unholy movement) do not turn us on. So I implore you, please
remember and apply the simple phrase.
There is alliteration and everything...
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Life is just a matter of perspective
I am a very strong believer that life is what you make of it. Case in point, I grew up in a small town in southern Illinois. To the naked eye there wasn’t that much to do. Especially not on a farm. My closest neighbor was a half mile away. Now, to some that may sound boring, but to me it isn’t. Everything is just a matter of perspective.
For example, I could say that last Friday was stressful. I woke up late, had to turn around because I forgot to feed the cat, and then had a boring day at work with the exception of one shitty customer.
Or I could say this…
That Friday started out as any other. But as soon as I opened my eyes I could feel something different. The air was heavy, expectant, like the very universe was holding its breath, waiting for greatness. It is impossible to lie still with the entire universe waiting on you to fulfill your destiny.
So, I woke up, pissed off my cat, and choked down a granola bar on the way to my car. Halfway down the driveway I realized that I had not fed Natasha. I had run over her eight days earlier, and rescued her from her attempted suicide. She is a tiny striped tabby cat, and FIV positive so she can’t live with Dex, because he’s hateful. So, she roams the basement like a wild disease ridden panther. I slammed on my brakes. They made a dramatic scrunching noise on the gravel as I flew to a stop. As I backed down the driveway with I was hit with the sneaking suspicion that it was going to be one of “those” days. The universe was still waiting, but dammit if she wasn’t going to make it difficult for me to fulfill my glorious quest, whatever it was meant to be.
I returned to the fortress of my parent’s home and wended my way through the obstacle course of dogs that run rampant and insane through the driveway. I could see the entrance to Natasha’s lair from my car. Then I heard it. Thump. Thump. Thump. What was that noise? The screech of claws came against my car door. What unholy beast could be trying to rip apart my protective steel cocoon? Was it? Yes, it was. Susan the Skunk Dog. On the surface she appeared to be a harmless pit bull cross, but beneath the overjoyed exterior her evil lurks. I cracked the door, and the dreaded stench permeated my senses. She was there. How could I avoid her overjoyed lunges and dastardly attempts at affection? I didn’t dare touch her. I would smell of skunk for days. I would be avoided, ridiculed, I would be the smelly girl. On such a magical day I could not let that happen. I searched around my car for some sort of weapon to wield against her. My eyes landed on the crushed up partial bits of granola bar. Success. I wouldn’t attack the vile creature. I would lure it away. Picking up the crumbs of oat and honey I rolled down the window, and with a short prayer, I threw the hunks away. Would they tempt her? Would the other canines eat them before they could work their magic?
The clever deception worked. Susan and her canine cadre raced across the yard to search for the bits of human food. I sprinted for the door to Natasha’s lair. What would I find there? I edged the door open and descended into darkness. Natasha’s cry echoed through the room disorienting me as I fumbled pointlessly for the light switch. Before I could operate it, she was there, winding through my ankles. Onlookers would say that she was just wanting affection, but I knew better. She was a clever, clever kitty. I perched precariously on the stairs in the darkness. Her movements through my legs shifted me forward inch by inch towards my imminent demise. If I slid down the stairs I would do her work for her. The voracious beast that she was, she would consume me if I showed any sign of weakness or injury. The potted meats that kept her temporarily sated, never truly satisfied her appetites. The striations of her fur were a mesmerizing blur, disorienting me further. I felt myself teetering on the edge of the concrete stair. Warm cat brushed constantly against my legs. Plaintive cries filled my ears. A small part of my being cried out for me to shake free of the trap before it was too late, but I couldn’t. I stumbled over the cat, and tumbled down the last four steps. I landed against the bank of cat cages. My head swam. My arm stung, but miraculously I survived. As the jolt of my landing slammed through my body I realized that Natasha was advancing on me slowly, stealthily, she came down the stairs. I was free, I had to act quickly! But, I was also in pain. I muttered a curse and limped valiantly towards the cans of processed meat. I ripped the pull tab open and with a loud “schlock” plated the meat in front of the vicious beast. My morning supplication pleased her. She allowed me to escape the darkness of her lair. I shook my head as I came out and into the bright sunlight. Was that the epic battle that the universe had prepared me for? I feared not. I still had to survive the most harrowing part of the day, work.
I traveled many miles uneventfully, nursing my wounded arm and ego. I would not fall victim again! And I didn’t. Work was really boring actually. I typed some stuff, and filed some stuff, and then I broke the copier, but I didn’t actually break it. I just thought I did. Then I went to lunch, and it was okay, but not poisoned or anything exciting. I drove back to work and clocked in and the secretary was like “Lauren you had a call.” And then, just like that my peaceful day was blown out of the water by my most challenging adversary ever, a customer (*duh duh na* <- dramatic effect). Customers are worse than Susans, Natashas, or anything else really because they hide themselves so well. On the surface they look like rational, reasonably intelligent people, but below that benign exterior their evil knows no bounds. Some of them function well, as in they actually pretend to know what they want and give the semblance of being “happy.” But really, those are only decoy customers to lure me in with a false sense of success and confidence so that the ringers can come out and trod my poor little brain into mush. Customers wear on you. They require you to be perky, and giving because “they’re always right” even when they’re dumb and cranky and needy as hell. So anyway, I laid out my weapons. Catalog, price list, and inventory levels were placed close at hand for whenever I need them in my upcoming duel. I picked up the phone and dialed my nemesis, steeling myself to sound happy. I would not lose this battle. After all, on this day the universe has great expectations of me. I chanted to myself, “Above all I will not get frustrated and cry.” It was on a loop in my head. The rings stopped. A voice answered. The battle lines are drawn. I have entered the arena. I finger the edge of my catalog nervously, ready to flip it open at a moment’s notice. Then I hear it, a part number… that doesn’t exist. I try to explain, but no, it can’t be, the customer can’t be wrong. My stores of perkiness wear thin. I resist the urge to shout “There is no damn XH85! Go get a freaking tape measure. There is XH at 103mm and X85 at 83mm. Nothing else! Learn how to measure and then call me back!” into the receiver instead I say, “Okay sir, can you do me just a little favor and measure the width of that chain for me? I want to make sure that I have this absolutely right for you, and I don’t seem to have any XH85 callouts here.” There. Success. I have survived the encounter. I breathe a sigh of relief as I hang up the phone. I have battled a customer and won. Still I feel as though my epic journey is not finished.
I clock out. I crave liquor. I crave chocolate. I crave chocolate liquor. And then it hits me. There is somewhere I need to be. I am making another journey this night, but where, and why? I am going to be fighting miles of traffic and the insurmountable obstacles known as farm equipment. I am amped to do battle past unknown roads and deer of certain doom. But for what? I flip past the meaningless blurbs in my Google calendar that attempt to distract me with their colors and seeming importance, and it hits me. The very universe shifts with my realization. Suddenly, I know what my battles have been for. I know the great purpose that I woke up with that very morning. It’s Friday. I’m having wine with V.
See there. It’s all a matter of perspective. You’d be amazed at how much more eventful and fun life can be when you picture yourself as the hero in your story – which you are. So, go out and battle a “Garbage Dragon” instead of being stuck behind a boring old garbage truck. It’ll be fun. Trust me, after all I survived a vicious Susan attack, an encounter with the dread Natasha, a boss level challenge with a customer, and I got to drink with a princess. Hells yeah.
For example, I could say that last Friday was stressful. I woke up late, had to turn around because I forgot to feed the cat, and then had a boring day at work with the exception of one shitty customer.
Or I could say this…
That Friday started out as any other. But as soon as I opened my eyes I could feel something different. The air was heavy, expectant, like the very universe was holding its breath, waiting for greatness. It is impossible to lie still with the entire universe waiting on you to fulfill your destiny.
So, I woke up, pissed off my cat, and choked down a granola bar on the way to my car. Halfway down the driveway I realized that I had not fed Natasha. I had run over her eight days earlier, and rescued her from her attempted suicide. She is a tiny striped tabby cat, and FIV positive so she can’t live with Dex, because he’s hateful. So, she roams the basement like a wild disease ridden panther. I slammed on my brakes. They made a dramatic scrunching noise on the gravel as I flew to a stop. As I backed down the driveway with I was hit with the sneaking suspicion that it was going to be one of “those” days. The universe was still waiting, but dammit if she wasn’t going to make it difficult for me to fulfill my glorious quest, whatever it was meant to be.
I returned to the fortress of my parent’s home and wended my way through the obstacle course of dogs that run rampant and insane through the driveway. I could see the entrance to Natasha’s lair from my car. Then I heard it. Thump. Thump. Thump. What was that noise? The screech of claws came against my car door. What unholy beast could be trying to rip apart my protective steel cocoon? Was it? Yes, it was. Susan the Skunk Dog. On the surface she appeared to be a harmless pit bull cross, but beneath the overjoyed exterior her evil lurks. I cracked the door, and the dreaded stench permeated my senses. She was there. How could I avoid her overjoyed lunges and dastardly attempts at affection? I didn’t dare touch her. I would smell of skunk for days. I would be avoided, ridiculed, I would be the smelly girl. On such a magical day I could not let that happen. I searched around my car for some sort of weapon to wield against her. My eyes landed on the crushed up partial bits of granola bar. Success. I wouldn’t attack the vile creature. I would lure it away. Picking up the crumbs of oat and honey I rolled down the window, and with a short prayer, I threw the hunks away. Would they tempt her? Would the other canines eat them before they could work their magic?
The clever deception worked. Susan and her canine cadre raced across the yard to search for the bits of human food. I sprinted for the door to Natasha’s lair. What would I find there? I edged the door open and descended into darkness. Natasha’s cry echoed through the room disorienting me as I fumbled pointlessly for the light switch. Before I could operate it, she was there, winding through my ankles. Onlookers would say that she was just wanting affection, but I knew better. She was a clever, clever kitty. I perched precariously on the stairs in the darkness. Her movements through my legs shifted me forward inch by inch towards my imminent demise. If I slid down the stairs I would do her work for her. The voracious beast that she was, she would consume me if I showed any sign of weakness or injury. The potted meats that kept her temporarily sated, never truly satisfied her appetites. The striations of her fur were a mesmerizing blur, disorienting me further. I felt myself teetering on the edge of the concrete stair. Warm cat brushed constantly against my legs. Plaintive cries filled my ears. A small part of my being cried out for me to shake free of the trap before it was too late, but I couldn’t. I stumbled over the cat, and tumbled down the last four steps. I landed against the bank of cat cages. My head swam. My arm stung, but miraculously I survived. As the jolt of my landing slammed through my body I realized that Natasha was advancing on me slowly, stealthily, she came down the stairs. I was free, I had to act quickly! But, I was also in pain. I muttered a curse and limped valiantly towards the cans of processed meat. I ripped the pull tab open and with a loud “schlock” plated the meat in front of the vicious beast. My morning supplication pleased her. She allowed me to escape the darkness of her lair. I shook my head as I came out and into the bright sunlight. Was that the epic battle that the universe had prepared me for? I feared not. I still had to survive the most harrowing part of the day, work.
I traveled many miles uneventfully, nursing my wounded arm and ego. I would not fall victim again! And I didn’t. Work was really boring actually. I typed some stuff, and filed some stuff, and then I broke the copier, but I didn’t actually break it. I just thought I did. Then I went to lunch, and it was okay, but not poisoned or anything exciting. I drove back to work and clocked in and the secretary was like “Lauren you had a call.” And then, just like that my peaceful day was blown out of the water by my most challenging adversary ever, a customer (*duh duh na* <- dramatic effect). Customers are worse than Susans, Natashas, or anything else really because they hide themselves so well. On the surface they look like rational, reasonably intelligent people, but below that benign exterior their evil knows no bounds. Some of them function well, as in they actually pretend to know what they want and give the semblance of being “happy.” But really, those are only decoy customers to lure me in with a false sense of success and confidence so that the ringers can come out and trod my poor little brain into mush. Customers wear on you. They require you to be perky, and giving because “they’re always right” even when they’re dumb and cranky and needy as hell. So anyway, I laid out my weapons. Catalog, price list, and inventory levels were placed close at hand for whenever I need them in my upcoming duel. I picked up the phone and dialed my nemesis, steeling myself to sound happy. I would not lose this battle. After all, on this day the universe has great expectations of me. I chanted to myself, “Above all I will not get frustrated and cry.” It was on a loop in my head. The rings stopped. A voice answered. The battle lines are drawn. I have entered the arena. I finger the edge of my catalog nervously, ready to flip it open at a moment’s notice. Then I hear it, a part number… that doesn’t exist. I try to explain, but no, it can’t be, the customer can’t be wrong. My stores of perkiness wear thin. I resist the urge to shout “There is no damn XH85! Go get a freaking tape measure. There is XH at 103mm and X85 at 83mm. Nothing else! Learn how to measure and then call me back!” into the receiver instead I say, “Okay sir, can you do me just a little favor and measure the width of that chain for me? I want to make sure that I have this absolutely right for you, and I don’t seem to have any XH85 callouts here.” There. Success. I have survived the encounter. I breathe a sigh of relief as I hang up the phone. I have battled a customer and won. Still I feel as though my epic journey is not finished.
I clock out. I crave liquor. I crave chocolate. I crave chocolate liquor. And then it hits me. There is somewhere I need to be. I am making another journey this night, but where, and why? I am going to be fighting miles of traffic and the insurmountable obstacles known as farm equipment. I am amped to do battle past unknown roads and deer of certain doom. But for what? I flip past the meaningless blurbs in my Google calendar that attempt to distract me with their colors and seeming importance, and it hits me. The very universe shifts with my realization. Suddenly, I know what my battles have been for. I know the great purpose that I woke up with that very morning. It’s Friday. I’m having wine with V.
See there. It’s all a matter of perspective. You’d be amazed at how much more eventful and fun life can be when you picture yourself as the hero in your story – which you are. So, go out and battle a “Garbage Dragon” instead of being stuck behind a boring old garbage truck. It’ll be fun. Trust me, after all I survived a vicious Susan attack, an encounter with the dread Natasha, a boss level challenge with a customer, and I got to drink with a princess. Hells yeah.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Vowels Sue for Equal Rights in Written Language
For years the spelling of words has been governed by dictionaries across
the land. Not since the olden times when no one had a clue as to how
things should be spelled other than by sound has the spelling of words
been so fluid. You all know what I am referring to, the startling trend
of creating new words containing nothing but singular letters. This
trend has left many vowels saying, WTF? I decided to investigate.
In order to understand this suit I decided to catch up with a consonant
sympathizer, H.
I: So, H, can you tell me a little bit about how the concept for this
suit got started?
H: Yeah, sure thing. This whole thing was started by O. She was sick and
tired of being left out of words like: you, before, and sorry. I can see
it. I mean, she was crucial in those words before, you know? So, anyway,
she and Y were commiserating over a couple of cold ones one night. E and
A happened to be in the same bar, and you know how it is when the drinks
start flowing. Well, O got a little loose and started bawling to anyone
who would listen. She was all like, " How sorry are people when they
can't even take the time to write out the damned word? I mean, how
disrespectful can you be?" and, "I might as well not even be in the
alphabet anymore!" E and A started nodding over in the corner, and by
the end of the night E and A got on board.
I: Well, that sounds like one heck of a night H. I am to understand that
you and a few other consonant supporters are going to be making the trip
to the capitol with the vowels in order to see this suit through?
H: Yeah. It started out with just the vowels but now a lot of us
consonants are on the bandwagon. T was all like, screw the numerals I
have a place in the word to too dammit. G isn't too happy with being
synonymous with the big guy upstairs either. He has always been a
stickler for capitalization when talking about nouns, and let's face it
when people start writing without vowels they sure as heck don't use
things like capitalization.
I: That's true. So, it sounds as if many of the letters of the alphabet
are outraged?
H: Oh no. That isn't to mean that all the vowels and consonants are
happy about this suit. Honestly, U was pissy about the whole thing.
Things have worked better for her. She never knew why Y and O were in
you anyway.
I: I see. I see. Is anyone else going to be making this trip?
H: Well, a couple punctuation marks were thinking about going, but
honestly, no one has seen Semi Colon or Apostrophe in so long that the
other marks are busy doing a missing person report and scanning the
boards to see if they have somehow disappeared. It is still up in the
air right now. I think they will make the trip if they find any trace of
them. It is a very dark time to be written communication I, a very dark
time.
Thanks to that interview with H I believe we can all see the point of
those brave vowels, consonants, and oft overlooked punctuation marks as
they march on legislature tomorrow to try and get equal representation
in text messages, Facebook posts, and even emails once more. Even though
I have not been effected nearly as much as my fellow vowels I too will
be there tomorrow, praying for a brighter future. This is I, and I am
just one more written symbol of communication looking for equal rights.
the land. Not since the olden times when no one had a clue as to how
things should be spelled other than by sound has the spelling of words
been so fluid. You all know what I am referring to, the startling trend
of creating new words containing nothing but singular letters. This
trend has left many vowels saying, WTF? I decided to investigate.
In order to understand this suit I decided to catch up with a consonant
sympathizer, H.
I: So, H, can you tell me a little bit about how the concept for this
suit got started?
H: Yeah, sure thing. This whole thing was started by O. She was sick and
tired of being left out of words like: you, before, and sorry. I can see
it. I mean, she was crucial in those words before, you know? So, anyway,
she and Y were commiserating over a couple of cold ones one night. E and
A happened to be in the same bar, and you know how it is when the drinks
start flowing. Well, O got a little loose and started bawling to anyone
who would listen. She was all like, " How sorry are people when they
can't even take the time to write out the damned word? I mean, how
disrespectful can you be?" and, "I might as well not even be in the
alphabet anymore!" E and A started nodding over in the corner, and by
the end of the night E and A got on board.
I: Well, that sounds like one heck of a night H. I am to understand that
you and a few other consonant supporters are going to be making the trip
to the capitol with the vowels in order to see this suit through?
H: Yeah. It started out with just the vowels but now a lot of us
consonants are on the bandwagon. T was all like, screw the numerals I
have a place in the word to too dammit. G isn't too happy with being
synonymous with the big guy upstairs either. He has always been a
stickler for capitalization when talking about nouns, and let's face it
when people start writing without vowels they sure as heck don't use
things like capitalization.
I: That's true. So, it sounds as if many of the letters of the alphabet
are outraged?
H: Oh no. That isn't to mean that all the vowels and consonants are
happy about this suit. Honestly, U was pissy about the whole thing.
Things have worked better for her. She never knew why Y and O were in
you anyway.
I: I see. I see. Is anyone else going to be making this trip?
H: Well, a couple punctuation marks were thinking about going, but
honestly, no one has seen Semi Colon or Apostrophe in so long that the
other marks are busy doing a missing person report and scanning the
boards to see if they have somehow disappeared. It is still up in the
air right now. I think they will make the trip if they find any trace of
them. It is a very dark time to be written communication I, a very dark
time.
Thanks to that interview with H I believe we can all see the point of
those brave vowels, consonants, and oft overlooked punctuation marks as
they march on legislature tomorrow to try and get equal representation
in text messages, Facebook posts, and even emails once more. Even though
I have not been effected nearly as much as my fellow vowels I too will
be there tomorrow, praying for a brighter future. This is I, and I am
just one more written symbol of communication looking for equal rights.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Rhyming Rant
Ever feel like your man isn’t listening to you? Perhaps your partner just can’t get it through his head what it is you’re saying? Guys, is she speaking in gibberish? I came to the conclusion that maybe guys would get it a bit better with short stanzas and rhymes. Actually this idea started out as a pop-up book for that speacial someone. Poor guy; hope he has a sense of humor.
Here it goes:
Every man is a dumbass;
regardless of race or creed.
They are all confused,
by a woman’s basic needs.
In light of this,
this advice I beg you to heed.
To be desired is a goal much aspired!
But for the love of God respect that we’re tired!
Remember please that all good things happen in time.
(Or in my case if you add enough wine!)
Dates are lovely too,
but only if the planner is you.
I know decisions are scary
But the results rarely vary.
I am Always happier with you.
To be cherished and loved is great!
But please be warned,
If I feel possessed you’ll get nothing but hate
And you and yours will be scorned.
To be needed is simply divine,
But please act older than nine.
I swear if you act older and wiser
I’m really not a physical miser.
Gifts and flowers are amazing.
Preferably when the reason is hazy.
They always mean more,
When they don’t come from the store.
For reasons non-to obscure!
Compliments are always nice,
But only if you mean them.
Even in relationships lying is a vice!
You really don’t want to demean them.
Listening isn’t a gift.
Do it, or it will cause a rift.
It isn’t an optional thing.
So, please stop living that dream.
I hope these suggestions have helped.
Perhaps new insight they’ll whelp.
I hope you’re more inclined,
To actually know my mind,
*And maybe remember what I have said this time!*
Every man is a dumbass,
Universally confused.
They say they want smart sexy woman,
And then all act like they’re abused.
Smart sexy woman are rare.
So appreciate yours while she’s there!
Follow the rules said in rhyme.
Both will be happier in time!
Before I go, one last thought:
When you get what you say you wanted,
Be glad with what you got.
Please don’t be a fool like the rest of your lot!
Here it goes:
Every man is a dumbass;
regardless of race or creed.
They are all confused,
by a woman’s basic needs.
In light of this,
this advice I beg you to heed.
To be desired is a goal much aspired!
But for the love of God respect that we’re tired!
Remember please that all good things happen in time.
(Or in my case if you add enough wine!)
Dates are lovely too,
but only if the planner is you.
I know decisions are scary
But the results rarely vary.
I am Always happier with you.
To be cherished and loved is great!
But please be warned,
If I feel possessed you’ll get nothing but hate
And you and yours will be scorned.
To be needed is simply divine,
But please act older than nine.
I swear if you act older and wiser
I’m really not a physical miser.
Gifts and flowers are amazing.
Preferably when the reason is hazy.
They always mean more,
When they don’t come from the store.
For reasons non-to obscure!
Compliments are always nice,
But only if you mean them.
Even in relationships lying is a vice!
You really don’t want to demean them.
Listening isn’t a gift.
Do it, or it will cause a rift.
It isn’t an optional thing.
So, please stop living that dream.
I hope these suggestions have helped.
Perhaps new insight they’ll whelp.
I hope you’re more inclined,
To actually know my mind,
*And maybe remember what I have said this time!*
Every man is a dumbass,
Universally confused.
They say they want smart sexy woman,
And then all act like they’re abused.
Smart sexy woman are rare.
So appreciate yours while she’s there!
Follow the rules said in rhyme.
Both will be happier in time!
Before I go, one last thought:
When you get what you say you wanted,
Be glad with what you got.
Please don’t be a fool like the rest of your lot!
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