All I need say is the Former Prime Minister, Tony Blair recounted in an interview how he nearly fell off his treadmill when this video came on. And we all know the British are smuttier than they want to let on...but come on, who are they kidding we've all seen 'those' BBC shows. So if it knocked his socks off, I think it's good enough for us.
Saturday, August 1
Tuesday, July 28
The 'Boy You Looked So Good I Could Have...' PlayList
I’ve been laying back and daydreaming this summer away. Sometimes I get caught up in the eye candy – in all the guys I’m not allowed to touch. I'd like to pretend that these things never cross my mind, that I'm just as gentle and harmless as a fly. But the hot & bothered look is getting harder to disguise. I’m trying really hard to be good. This is my summer of no casual hookups…my quest for more soul searching and less lip locking, less fondling, less nibbles on the neck, less sitting on the sofa so close that I can smell the soap off your just showered body.
I chew gum when I’m anxious or antsy and looking for something to do other than what I shouldn’t be doing. Needless to say I’ve been chewing a whole lot of gum since June.
This weekend I was at a block party that was full of good music and good vibes. Not to mention, some very tasty looking guys. And you know me – they walk by, the soundtrack in my head starts thumping and I start molesting people with my mind. What can I say, it was a hot and sultry day flowing freely with tunes and libations. Since I was a perfect lady and went through an entire pack of Orbit while keeping my hands to myself I’d like to release my frustration and post my ‘take me’ music here. What I love is how every guy brings a different song and a different vibe.
So enjoy my, “boy you looked so good I could have had you…
up against the wall,
down on the curb,
during the second set of that band,
while you were playing guitar,
sitting in that chair,
on that stoop,
on the rooftop,
as you were pushing that last bite of food into that lovely little mouth of yours” playlist.
I chew gum when I’m anxious or antsy and looking for something to do other than what I shouldn’t be doing. Needless to say I’ve been chewing a whole lot of gum since June.
This weekend I was at a block party that was full of good music and good vibes. Not to mention, some very tasty looking guys. And you know me – they walk by, the soundtrack in my head starts thumping and I start molesting people with my mind. What can I say, it was a hot and sultry day flowing freely with tunes and libations. Since I was a perfect lady and went through an entire pack of Orbit while keeping my hands to myself I’d like to release my frustration and post my ‘take me’ music here. What I love is how every guy brings a different song and a different vibe.
So enjoy my, “boy you looked so good I could have had you…
up against the wall,
down on the curb,
during the second set of that band,
while you were playing guitar,
sitting in that chair,
on that stoop,
on the rooftop,
as you were pushing that last bite of food into that lovely little mouth of yours” playlist.
Saturday, July 25
Sexy Saturday Video
Sorry guys, today is not your day -- now is your last chance to look away.
Ladies, I'm willing to bet most of you have never seen this video before. This is D'Angelo's 'How Does It Feel'.
Rumors circulated once this came out, some say he had some help in achieving that look of ecstasy toward the end ;) Guys protested, saying that only a 'self-absorbed ass' would film something like this.
When all was said and done, and the camera started dipping lower and lower no one gave a rat's ass what people said. I mean now, as you're watching, is anything important really coming to mind?
Nah, I didn't think so.
Ladies, I'm willing to bet most of you have never seen this video before. This is D'Angelo's 'How Does It Feel'.
Rumors circulated once this came out, some say he had some help in achieving that look of ecstasy toward the end ;) Guys protested, saying that only a 'self-absorbed ass' would film something like this.
When all was said and done, and the camera started dipping lower and lower no one gave a rat's ass what people said. I mean now, as you're watching, is anything important really coming to mind?
Nah, I didn't think so.
Wednesday, July 22
The Middleman
Middlemen are reliable friends that serve as a go-between. Sometimes labeled: The Listener. Dubbed: The Cleaner. Alias: The Fixer. All arguments, love stories, trials, secrets, pondering, and revelations within the group are made in confession like ways to Middleman. These creatures of habit hold a thankless job requiring the ability to multi-task, decipher code, plan and prepare to prevent future mishaps, an eye for detail, and a great deal of tact. Middlemen shuffle information around like Recon Missions. They understand who needs to know what, and when – if at all.
For example…my middleman went on a road trip with a friend whom I’ve had my eye on. During their conversations my middleman made note of all dialogue that directly pertained to me. If the dialogue went astray he skillfully geared it back – without arousing suspicion. Afterwards, he filtered out what he believed should stay on a need-to-know basis, and delivered the rest to me. Now I know where I stand with the aforementioned friend - key information that helped me avoid a potentially embarrassing situation. In turn, I realize that any comments I made regarding that person was sent through the same filtering process and systematically delivered to the friend. You must always assume that he is the other friend's Middleman as well. So you only ask the questions you don’t mind being mentioned in return. Only fill your Middleman with information that you are not ashamed to have repeated.
Maybe you think it’s a horrible mistrust to use a Middleman to take care of my dirty business, but we all use one, maybe he or she is not on the books, maybe its’ just under the table work. But it’s completely legit because everyone is aware of the middleman’s job – he isn’t covert. You don’t think both parties are aware of the Middleman – please. They might not want to acknowledge the existence and need for one but they’re sure as hell not above using one.
All you need is an organized system; simple ground rules, perhaps you should add a disclaimer if you want to make absolutely sure your information stays with only him. Just make sure your disclaimer is mentioned at the start of the conversation to avoid confusion for the Middleman, information not officially sworn in at the beginning of a conversation can be stored in the wrong part of the Middleman’s brain and can therefore be sensitive to leaks.
There are a few minor medical side effects for the Middleman. Too much information coming in and not enough information going out can bring on bouts of nervous twitching, ulcers, migraines, high stress levels, addictions, lapse in memory, and occasionally temporary slap marks (due to information begged for, but not accepted relay). As of late my Middleman has started to exhibit these signs of job stress. The charts he used to keep up with all the information coming in versus what he doled out has started to converge-everything is a blur.
I used to be able to combat the symptoms by coaxing him into his favorite diner (familiarity is an essential key), tempting him with a stack of warm buttermilk pancakes, and a side of corned beef hash (comfort food). I’d wait until I could see the glaze of warm syrup that spread across his Pancake Mountain reflected in his eyes. Ever so slightly I’d increase the level of coffee in his cup (speeds up the heart rate, upping the level of information received). But now, he’s unresponsive to any motivational tricks.
Yes, my Middleman is running out of steam. They say that Middleman don’t have long careers, something about lack of job advancement/quick burnout. Frankly, I’m afraid he’s faking it all, trying to buy time in order to unionize. Then they’ll all start striking, demanding things like…salaries, therapy reimbursement, health benefits, personal days. So here I am abusing my writing privileges in order to thank him for everything – an attempt to quail the situation. I’m thinking about Middleman appreciation day…I wonder if that will work.
For example…my middleman went on a road trip with a friend whom I’ve had my eye on. During their conversations my middleman made note of all dialogue that directly pertained to me. If the dialogue went astray he skillfully geared it back – without arousing suspicion. Afterwards, he filtered out what he believed should stay on a need-to-know basis, and delivered the rest to me. Now I know where I stand with the aforementioned friend - key information that helped me avoid a potentially embarrassing situation. In turn, I realize that any comments I made regarding that person was sent through the same filtering process and systematically delivered to the friend. You must always assume that he is the other friend's Middleman as well. So you only ask the questions you don’t mind being mentioned in return. Only fill your Middleman with information that you are not ashamed to have repeated.
Maybe you think it’s a horrible mistrust to use a Middleman to take care of my dirty business, but we all use one, maybe he or she is not on the books, maybe its’ just under the table work. But it’s completely legit because everyone is aware of the middleman’s job – he isn’t covert. You don’t think both parties are aware of the Middleman – please. They might not want to acknowledge the existence and need for one but they’re sure as hell not above using one.
All you need is an organized system; simple ground rules, perhaps you should add a disclaimer if you want to make absolutely sure your information stays with only him. Just make sure your disclaimer is mentioned at the start of the conversation to avoid confusion for the Middleman, information not officially sworn in at the beginning of a conversation can be stored in the wrong part of the Middleman’s brain and can therefore be sensitive to leaks.
There are a few minor medical side effects for the Middleman. Too much information coming in and not enough information going out can bring on bouts of nervous twitching, ulcers, migraines, high stress levels, addictions, lapse in memory, and occasionally temporary slap marks (due to information begged for, but not accepted relay). As of late my Middleman has started to exhibit these signs of job stress. The charts he used to keep up with all the information coming in versus what he doled out has started to converge-everything is a blur.
I used to be able to combat the symptoms by coaxing him into his favorite diner (familiarity is an essential key), tempting him with a stack of warm buttermilk pancakes, and a side of corned beef hash (comfort food). I’d wait until I could see the glaze of warm syrup that spread across his Pancake Mountain reflected in his eyes. Ever so slightly I’d increase the level of coffee in his cup (speeds up the heart rate, upping the level of information received). But now, he’s unresponsive to any motivational tricks.
Yes, my Middleman is running out of steam. They say that Middleman don’t have long careers, something about lack of job advancement/quick burnout. Frankly, I’m afraid he’s faking it all, trying to buy time in order to unionize. Then they’ll all start striking, demanding things like…salaries, therapy reimbursement, health benefits, personal days. So here I am abusing my writing privileges in order to thank him for everything – an attempt to quail the situation. I’m thinking about Middleman appreciation day…I wonder if that will work.
Saturday, July 18
Sexy Saturday Video
I'll admit these days my weekends have been more for working than playing ;)
So this Saturday if you're slaving away like me, I give you permission to take a break and watch Chris Isaak's sinfully dreamy 'Wicked Game'.
Better yet, grab a cold beer first, press play and then wait for the tight shots.
I swear they'll make you feel like a perve watching from the corner.
So this Saturday if you're slaving away like me, I give you permission to take a break and watch Chris Isaak's sinfully dreamy 'Wicked Game'.
Better yet, grab a cold beer first, press play and then wait for the tight shots.
I swear they'll make you feel like a perve watching from the corner.
Friday, July 17
Riding The Bitter Train - A.K.A. "The Other Woman"
You guys are killing me with the requests (which I love - don't stop) but I'm afraid it's going to reveal the more unpleasant side of me. So, 'Wronged Girl'...you wanted to know if I'd ever been dumped - YES! And if I had been dumped you wanted to know how I got over it. Well, I used to write a little column like this years ago for a small paper in NY and the week I got dumped I made myself feel better by killing him in my column. Here's an excert of what went to press. I'll give you my disclaimer before you start reading; "Breakups make you crazy." Read on:"Here I am riding the bitter train today going “woo, woo” at every stop. Been traveling on an all day ticket and I plan on riding to the end of the line several times. I know the passengers would appreciate it if I’d stop pulling the cord for every station stop. But I wanna see every place: Slapsville, Poke-ka-eyeout, Rolloveranddie, and ShesnotasprettyasIam. Then maybe, just maybe, after a day of wandering around these places contemplating what reasons he could have possibly had for leaving me for another woman - I might stem the urge I have to hurt someone.
I’ve already had my daily coffee dosage which may not have been too smart seeing as how my hand is a little jittery right now, all I need is a it’s not you its me and I could end the man’s life with this here stirrer. A plastic straw right through the heart and I’ll suck out all his lies and box him with them. Gonna be like Tyson at a bad fight, the sight of my glove coming towards his pretty face is gonna make pee run down his leg like a little girl locked out of the house after drinking a Big Gulp.
I suppose this is a cautionary tale: when you’re traveling alone on the train you have lots of time to imagine and daydream because the miles in between bore you. Only… my daydreams are becoming a little disturbing. I’d worry, but I really think he should. I’ve been trying to keep the voices down to a minimum-really, no more Lou Rawls singing, You're Gonna Miss My Loving. No more clowns telling me to run him over with their little cars. Though, I have dreamed of stampeding elephants making him no more distinctive then the gum squashed into the ground. Then they could really call it the ‘Greatest Show on Earth’."
That's it - I'm not letting you see the rest because it just got insane. I don't even know why my editor let me print it. I really believe there's no right or wrong way to get over being dumped because the emotions need to run their course. Though I did get a really great piece of advice when I was going through it, "Don't waste your time thinking about someone who's not thinking about you."
Since the ladies who post here have always given great advice I open up the floor to them, perhaps they might have same sage advice for you.
Wednesday, July 15
It's Why He Isn't Calling You
To The Girl Who Emailed Me About Whether Or Not She Should Call Because He's Not,I understand your anxiety. I have been there counting down the days till he calls, waiting for my phone to ring and signify his want to hear my voice. I've experienced the twenty-six days gone by and still nothing freak out. Those times where your fingers keep drifting towards the phone, they want to dial his number, but you've warned them that such behavior could get you hooked again.
But based on what you've told me it sounds like you gave away too much information too soon . This is why he hasn't returned your calls, and barely acknowledges your emails. If he does call you back, I'll bet you'll let slip that you’re upset by his behavior. Then, puzzled by the changing moods of his conversation you'll began to talk too much – rattling on about inane subjects just to fill the silence and the awkward moments in an last ditch effort to sustain this flailing conversation. I promise you that nothing good will come of that besides you instantly beginning to feel ill.
But if you do as most will anyway, remember the moment you started feeling ill because it's stemming from the dank, dark place in the pit of your stomach where all your insecurities dwell, just waiting to be regurgitated because you've come to the realization that you lost your cool points.
Don't feel bad, we women understand that the sheer emotion of liking a guy can somehow coax you into divulging more information in one sitting than he would have in an entire lifetime. It leaves you scrambling to try and remember all you said, what effect that had on him, what he might have been thinking about you as he listened to you ramble on, worse yet, how he views you now that he knows the whole shebang. And while you have eagerly divulged personal information, you'll find that afterwards, to recall anything he's said you’d have to scrape together his wanton words in order to make a complete sentence.
I think we get caught up on the sentiments, it's as if they were candy conversation heart messages. Packaged and disguised in array of pretty colors, they might as well be ‘artillery in a box’. The person you’re speaking with pulls back the tab on their box and drops one out; each piece a well sculpted curvature sent in to use as a smoke screen, fogging the brain. You’re dazed and can’t see through the well-scripted little phrases: “you’re cute,” “I love you,” “call me.” The more they use the more body blows they deliver. Eat enough of those and you’ll soon see they turn into chalk in your mouth; you’ll wind up scraping your tongue for the next half and hour.
Try to remember that too much information can be overwhelming and suffocating. Information about oneself should be dispensed over a goodly amount of time, to retain that fresh, oh so interesting viewpoint in their eyes.
So no, you're not going to fall to pieces if you don't hear from him…it's merely our vanity of wanting to be acknowledged that arouses those feelings. Just do yourself a favor and wait to hear from him first. Put yourself on a telephone strike – which is to say strike yourself with the telephone whenever the slightest urge to call him crosses your mind.
And the next time you talk, only reveal as little as humanly possible - keep some mystery alive there. Promise yourself that you’ll speak in as many words and syllables as released from the other person’s mouth, in order to gain even footing. Don’t allow the sound of their voice to make you become oh-so loosey-goosey. That fate will have them knowing the ABC’s of your entire world and you’ll somehow have only a fortune cookie idea of them…you’ll know everything and nothing at all. Give him sometime to digest what you've put out there.
*photo from Post Secret
Monday, July 13
And The Winner of the Best Sex Euphemism Is...
SKYLER'S DAD!!
He's won a copy of "The Guide to Getting It On" By Paul Joannides
One of my favorite thick ole' paperbacks. Let's hope he puts it to good use.
I don't think anyone can deny that his entry rocked the house with filth and creativity:
"making the 2 backed beast.
getting some.
getting lucky.
rock the house.
bow-chicka-bow-wow.
bumpin uglies.
doin the deed.
gettin busy.
goin at it.
horizontal bob or mambo.
hittin skins.
organ grinding.
laying track.
plowing field.
the old heave ho.
play hide the cannoli.
a squeeze and a squirt.
batter dip the corn dog.
taking the skin boat to tuna town.
fill the cream donut.
pour sour cream on the burrito.
and my personnel fav:
take “old one-eye” to the optometrist"
Congrats! I'll be contacting you for your address.
He's won a copy of "The Guide to Getting It On" By Paul Joannides
One of my favorite thick ole' paperbacks. Let's hope he puts it to good use.
I don't think anyone can deny that his entry rocked the house with filth and creativity:
"making the 2 backed beast.
getting some.
getting lucky.
rock the house.
bow-chicka-bow-wow.
bumpin uglies.
doin the deed.
gettin busy.
goin at it.
horizontal bob or mambo.
hittin skins.
organ grinding.
laying track.
plowing field.
the old heave ho.
play hide the cannoli.
a squeeze and a squirt.
batter dip the corn dog.
taking the skin boat to tuna town.
fill the cream donut.
pour sour cream on the burrito.
and my personnel fav:
take “old one-eye” to the optometrist"
Congrats! I'll be contacting you for your address.
Saturday, July 11
Sexy Saturday Video
If you are inside on this glorious Saturday then I'm gonna treat you right on this Sexy Saturday...
Watch Justin and Ciara get closer than you and I ever will to either of them.
And if watching Justin's lips going up the side of Ciara's face & Ciara's tongue grazing Justin's ear doesn't turn you on, check your pulse - cause you're dead.
Watch Justin and Ciara get closer than you and I ever will to either of them.
And if watching Justin's lips going up the side of Ciara's face & Ciara's tongue grazing Justin's ear doesn't turn you on, check your pulse - cause you're dead.
Wednesday, July 8
Sex Euphemisms
Yesterday after reading Lilu's sexy innuendo fueled comment about last week's 'Sexy Saturday Video', I went crazy trying to list all the sex euphemisms I could think of. I even enlisted (rather forced) my friends to help - I think we made a decent go of it. But I feel like I must at least hit 50 before I'll feel satisfied. So put on your dirty thinking caps and let's finish this list together! I want that comment section filled with filth! The best euphemisms is gonna win a dirty, dirty prize ;)
- King my Castle
- Rock my Boat
- Swim to my Shore
- Blow on my Whistle
- Cream in my Coffee
- Butter my Bread
- Pour some sugar on me
- Float my Boat
- Clean the Pipes
- Swing in my Jungle
- Ride my Pony
- Ring my Bell
- Knocking Boots
- Doing the Bump
- Mattress Mambo
- Horizontal Hokey-Poke with a Hot Beef Injection
- Making Whoopee
- Doing the Deed
- Gettin' her Done
- Putting in Work
- Stuffing the Turkey
- Putting the Pig in the Blanket
- Cushion Pushing
*photo by Heathre
Saturday, July 4
Sexy Saturday Video
Please don't be in front of a computer reading this!
It's the freaking 4th of JULY!
Instead, I hope you're at a BBQ viewing this on your iPhone.
I'm with some sexy Desi's right now - which made me this of this video.
So what if only half of it is in English... no one's supposed to be paying
attention to that anyway. At least, not with all these sexy dancers in the background.
And my god, if Abhishek Bachchan doesn't float my boat.
It's the freaking 4th of JULY!
Instead, I hope you're at a BBQ viewing this on your iPhone.
I'm with some sexy Desi's right now - which made me this of this video.
So what if only half of it is in English... no one's supposed to be paying
attention to that anyway. At least, not with all these sexy dancers in the background.
And my god, if Abhishek Bachchan doesn't float my boat.
Tuesday, June 30
Interview With A Guy: The Big 'O'
Politics Chick: So you figure most women lie about orgasms, huh?
Guy: Yes.
Guy: Yes.
Politics Chick: I’m assuming you’re speaking from past experience. Why do you think you've been lied to?
Guy: Oh I know I’ve been lied to, my ex once told me she faked them with me. Maybe she lied because she was mad I broke up with her, but hey, I guess it could have been true. I'd rather know that I haven’t given you one than be lied to about it. I hate the lying!
Politics Chick: Maybe she wasn’t satisfied and didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so she fibbed about it.
Guy: Well, put it this way ... women, if you cum and you enjoy yourself let me know with your moaning. But if you don’t reach that ‘O’ status I want to know that too. It's better for you... if I think I'm giving you orgasms, then you'll never reach one... but if I know you haven't yet, then I'll keep trying harder to get you there and someday you will!
Politics Chick: So you're saying you won’t be deterred by it but spurred on?
Guy: Exactly ... if you haven't reached that point, then I need to do better. But if I think I'm already doing that, there's no reason to improve. Does that make sense?
Politics Chick: Yup.
Guy: Now if you laughed at me and said something like "you suck at this" or "you're too small”... Those types of things would be hurtful.
Politics Chick: To say the least. Do men fake it I wonder?
Guy: How would we fake it? I mean, you can tell if we cum and we can tell if you're wetter than normal.
I think most men think if they cum then they've had an orgasm and I have to be honest, I'm not sure if I've ever orgasmed. Not sure I know what it feels like to have that feeling of going beyond …
Politics Chick: I believe it’s entirely possible for a guy to pretend he came. But hey we don't have the same equipment so maybe I'm wrong. But it occurs to me that women are motivated by good sex and the emotion and when one is missing then the goal of the “O” is lost. Some men must require both (few I bet).
Guy: Actually, now that I think about it some more... I have noticed a difference from time to time so maybe I have. Who knows?
Politics Chick: Um, I think if you’d had you would know. I’m just saying…you know? You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.
Guy: I’m not. Why would you think I’d be…
Politics Chick: Anyway - my ex had said something to me before about not being able to orgasm because his girlfriend at the time started to feel like more of a friend than a girlfriend. He fakes it because he doesn’t know how to tell her that she doesn’t turn him on anymore. So I guess guys do pull a fake every now and then.
Guy: I did find that at the end of the relationship with my ex I was never in the mood even though she still looked the same as when we started dating and she still had great moves in bed. But I just couldn’t get aroused. We lived together and probably didn't have sex once the last month we were together, she would try and I just couldn't and didn't want to. Something just turned off.
Politics Chick: Ouch...it doesn't get anymore humiliating than that. Not to get technical or anything, but that not faking, that’s just not doing it.
Guy: Well I felt bad! Doesn’t that count?
Politics Chick: No.
Guy: Oh I know I’ve been lied to, my ex once told me she faked them with me. Maybe she lied because she was mad I broke up with her, but hey, I guess it could have been true. I'd rather know that I haven’t given you one than be lied to about it. I hate the lying!
Politics Chick: Maybe she wasn’t satisfied and didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so she fibbed about it.
Guy: Well, put it this way ... women, if you cum and you enjoy yourself let me know with your moaning. But if you don’t reach that ‘O’ status I want to know that too. It's better for you... if I think I'm giving you orgasms, then you'll never reach one... but if I know you haven't yet, then I'll keep trying harder to get you there and someday you will!
Politics Chick: So you're saying you won’t be deterred by it but spurred on?
Guy: Exactly ... if you haven't reached that point, then I need to do better. But if I think I'm already doing that, there's no reason to improve. Does that make sense?
Politics Chick: Yup.
Guy: Now if you laughed at me and said something like "you suck at this" or "you're too small”... Those types of things would be hurtful.
Politics Chick: To say the least. Do men fake it I wonder?
Guy: How would we fake it? I mean, you can tell if we cum and we can tell if you're wetter than normal.
I think most men think if they cum then they've had an orgasm and I have to be honest, I'm not sure if I've ever orgasmed. Not sure I know what it feels like to have that feeling of going beyond …
Politics Chick: I believe it’s entirely possible for a guy to pretend he came. But hey we don't have the same equipment so maybe I'm wrong. But it occurs to me that women are motivated by good sex and the emotion and when one is missing then the goal of the “O” is lost. Some men must require both (few I bet).
Guy: Actually, now that I think about it some more... I have noticed a difference from time to time so maybe I have. Who knows?
Politics Chick: Um, I think if you’d had you would know. I’m just saying…you know? You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.
Guy: I’m not. Why would you think I’d be…
Politics Chick: Anyway - my ex had said something to me before about not being able to orgasm because his girlfriend at the time started to feel like more of a friend than a girlfriend. He fakes it because he doesn’t know how to tell her that she doesn’t turn him on anymore. So I guess guys do pull a fake every now and then.
Guy: I did find that at the end of the relationship with my ex I was never in the mood even though she still looked the same as when we started dating and she still had great moves in bed. But I just couldn’t get aroused. We lived together and probably didn't have sex once the last month we were together, she would try and I just couldn't and didn't want to. Something just turned off.
Politics Chick: Ouch...it doesn't get anymore humiliating than that. Not to get technical or anything, but that not faking, that’s just not doing it.
Guy: Well I felt bad! Doesn’t that count?
Politics Chick: No.
**For the record, and before I get the angry emails. I do believe in Global Warming
Saturday, June 27
Sexy Saturday Video
You know the drill - it's Saturday - you're home and I felt sorry for you
So I left you this Sexy Saturday Video.
Now, the men may not be so happy with this Saturday's Post.
But this is for the ladies.
This video, this song, these lyrics, that voice...yum.
That combo could find me befuddled, in the corner, twisting my hair, saying something like
"...and the next thing I knew my panties fell off."
Enjoy ;)
So I left you this Sexy Saturday Video.
Now, the men may not be so happy with this Saturday's Post.
But this is for the ladies.
This video, this song, these lyrics, that voice...yum.
That combo could find me befuddled, in the corner, twisting my hair, saying something like
"...and the next thing I knew my panties fell off."
Enjoy ;)
Thursday, June 25
Email Virginity
It’s like a flashback - I touch the Home Row…he touches me.I type my first letters, unravel my first thought, layers of emotions are peeled off, leaving me as vulnerable and naked as the first time. It’s so unfamiliar yet exciting, spine tingling and painful.
This is a big step for me. I’m still hesitant to expose myself.
I’ve spent the first few awkward moments wondering if my body was fit enough. Then I realize he’ll never see it. Great! Now I’ll spend the next few wondering if he’ll be attracted to me, without the perfect abs, the designer clothing, the makeup and everything else we mistakenly use to seem ideal in another persons eyes.
AAUGHH! What is it about sending out the first email to someone you have even the remotest feelings for that makes you so nervous? I mean, it’s not as if I’m trying to convince him to procreate with me. I’m just looking to come across as smart, sassy and funny.
Not too much too ask for, right?
So why is it that with every keystroke I feel like I’m putting on more layers than taking off? Brick by brick, I’m building a wall to protect myself from what might be waiting for me on the other side of a @dot-com address.
This is precisely why we ask for email addresses – it’s easier than speaking face to face and you can avoid those deadly silences that occur during your first phone conversation. Personally, I appreciate the freedom that comes with emailing. If I were left without its saving grace, I’d be reduced to relying on my menu of stupidity to guide the way. Believe me, those choices don’t exactly paint me in a flattering light, they make me seem, how shall we say, special, and not in the ‘rare/extraordinary’ sort of way.
I instantly become that android from a sci-fi flick; suddenly as I come across an obstacle, before my eyes appear a screen with well-calculated options based on the probabilities of a good outcome. Got this picture in your head?
OK, now knock out the words well-calculated and good outcome. We’ll keep probabilities but let’s crop it down to probable, because it’s more than probable that these options will appear instead:
a. freeze
b. run
c. stutter like Rain Man
d. all of the above – guaranteed to be the floor show option
What is that! It’s as if I confused the emergency procedure on what to do if you’re on fire with meeting a guy - Stop, Drop, and Roll!
I’m witty! I’m intelligent. All I want is to convey that in this email. It should all be so simple. I’m trying to keep some perspective here - after all they’re just words, sentences, paragraphs and maybe a Love, The Politics Chick thrown in somewhere at the end.
The reality is that if you say something stupid in your first email your chances could be blown, forever. Face-to-face advantages are lost in realm of cyberspace; a person can’t just overlook your mistakes and focus on you. When you’re face-to-face, you might be thinking… “God, he pronounces that word wrong one more time, I’ll scream.”
But, you could become oblivious to this if perhaps the words are accompanied by an exotic accent. Maybe it works better for you if you have the ability to focus in on their beautiful face. “Yeah,” you keep telling yourself, “stare at their wonderful face and I’ll get through this dreadful, ungrammatical conversation.”
But with email, accidentally misspell a word (or oftentimes, words) and the person on the receiving end is thinking, ‘Well, she never won any spelling bees, did she?’ If you put your commas and semicolons in the wrong place, you could have meant to convey your feelings one way but you now you’ve goofed, leaving the receiver ample opportunity to read something else into it - now you’re being served with a restraining order.
Factor in the time you’ll spend waiting for a response back, while you try not to obsess over the reaction and conclusions the other person will be drawing from your email, and now you’re dealing with a person a little less stable than before they had pressed SEND.
It’s completely mind-blowing to know that our personalities are out there; traveling through cables, sitting in in-boxes, waiting to be opened, judged, and sentenced. Come on! Look at what it’s doing to us! Here we are sitting in front of our computers chanting these crazed mantras: “Come on, baby…save my email…save me, baby…press save…don’t delete me…file me in your folder.”
I once received an email that was so dorky, I just have to believe that the pressure of the first email got to him and caused him to write: “Yes my little sunflower. Do you like that? Because that’s what you remind me of. You will wilt unless you let me water you (I suppose that means let me take you out on a date and feed me. God, I hope that’s what it meant). Sunflower, your petals are so pretty.” Hey, I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound psychotic. But that night, I had a nightmare about some rabid gardener ringing my doorbell, trying to coerce me into going out with him.
I’m telling you this because you need to stop and think. Please stop and think about what you about to say! You can’t bring that email back after you’ve pressed send no matter how you cry and repeat over and over ‘No, no’. There is no second e-mail virginity! At least not a legal one. You know what I’m referring to. So if you do have his/her password, please remember that it is a violation, not to mention somehow very morally wrong to pry into another persons email without permission.
I’m stressing now. Somewhere in the world, things more pressing than my first email are taking place. But I’m not aware of them, I’m too busy being intimidated by the sins my keyboard has yet to commit. But then again, his email address is burning a hole through my pocket, and I get all tingly just knowing that I can make direct contact with him. Perhaps he’ll like my message so much that it compels him to read it over and over and over again. This could spawn continuous emailing, relating, online laughing, late night chatting on instant messenger. Somewhere in between breaths, when my fingers are close to pressing SEND, I want to forget all the worrying and end it all with a press of a button.
You wait and wait until you think the right one has come along…but is he worthy?
Will the return email live up to your expectations? Will he? Everything’s so clumsy, exciting, spine tingling and painful in the beginning…but you’ve just got to keep on going…right? I mean, you only lose your virginity once.
Monday, June 22
Therapy For Friends
Administering therapy to your friends is a tricky thing. The mere fact that you regard the person as a friend refers you to the unwritten book of rules. Every sect has got their own set of guidelines that they follow, but some rules are just hard and fast, they translate into any society, no matter the language barrier or difference in tax bracket. We have a common ground, a foundation of sorts that we base morally sound friendships on. Maybe your wording is a bit different then mine, but it’s a needless to write down; mere common sense rules and I bet it goes a little something like this…
"The Giver, ‘he who gets his life’s blood sucked out’ must have an opinion when asked for one. He must also freely dispense his or her thoughts when requested, with no regard to its being contrary to what said friend wants to hear. The Taker, ‘he who bothers you with questions pertaining to the meaning of it all never to follow said advice’, is under no obligation to pay for or appreciate the given advice. ”
The ruling is pretty unfair if you are in the position of the Giver, but the rules however are binding. Personally, I have never seen the scenario played differently. But in my head I have imagined the Giver having the foresight to be an entrepreneur like Lucy from the Peanuts strip. The Giver could set up a stand and charge for their advice, making sure as hell to get more then five cents for it. Maybe, five cents a word could work if they could drag out their responses all while recording them on a tape player to keep accurate account and get every cent owed to them.
On second thought, that may not be the best way to handle these types of situations. I wouldn’t even be prone to this wild imagining if it weren’t for the fact that had I’d gone to school to be a shrink, I might actually be getting paid for my gems of advice. It almost made me faint when I calculated just how much I might have earned from my basket-case friends. Figuring in the amount of hours they’ve spent on my couch, the late night phone sessions, all the emergency happy hour drinking, the weekend road trips/ getaways to detox the best friend. Multiply all the hours striped from my youth that I’ll never get back, times the going rate in psychiatry these day’s, and I figure I’m owed seven thousand and five hundred dollars and eighty-seven cents for the past two months alone. Quite honestly, I’m rounding down.
To be fair, not everyone has that kind of money laying around earmarked for the express use of maintaining mental sanity – which is why most of us have friends in the first place. We can afford the booze that goes very nicely with the conversation about passed over promotions, cheating mates, etc. What we can’t afford however is the time it takes out of a busy schedule to actually see a professional, let alone pay a professional to humiliate us by telling us what we already now but don’t want to apply. But our friends, they already know we’re crazy and broke.
I’m beginning to visualize some sort of barter system. For every piece of wisdom I dole out they would have to fulfill one wish off of my payment list; the payment list consisting of a number of decent options that they can choose as alternatives to real currency. After a fair amount of advice had been doled at to said friend, my checklist of payment options would be mailed out to them. They would simply check off which option best suits their budget, mail the form back and I would collect when the opportunity presented itself.
For example…
( )One, guilt free ride to work.
( )One, candy of my choosing for our next movie outing.
*Candy must come from the concession stand; picking it up from the drug store on the way to the theatre is forbidden.
Now let’s just agree that some of our friends need more help than others. They require what might be viewed as a more than a monetary amount of tuning up in order to run smoothly. So if the therapy has been taking place on a ‘more than normal’ amount of time I’d be forced to up the anti. It's not gouging, but special circumstances call for special rates. Lets’ look at it from a worldly perspective; if you were on a cruise ship and had to see the Ship’s Doctor, he would have a separate rate for a weekday visit and a weekend visit. Heck, there’s a different rate for day and night hours. If that doctor has to step away from his dinner table or interrupt his weekend excursion in order to see you, get ready to pay double for that tummy ache you could have averted by staying away from the mid-afternoon surprise sushi hour on the Lido deck. I speak from experience.
So I’d mail out what I like to call the High Rollers card.
Select one of the following – and please, to avoid altercation, pay promptly. Thank you.
( )One (unused) ticket to a Yankees game.
*Home games only – away games only incur further cost for me. And lets face it, if you’re receiving this card I’ve paid enough already.
( )One $20 gift certificate.
*The certificate must not bare the following store names or include the combination or use of the following words: less, discount, why, land, world, bargain, or hut.
Once their form is filled out, returned and fulfilled, I could again spill out my never-ending jewels of wisdom till it was time to start the billing cycle again. Now if you do decide on this route, let me suggest you only run a tab for your very good friends as a gesture of good faith. Everyone else pays or you don’t play (i.e. send over your goons).
For years I have made wild speeches and keen observations in accordance to my friend’s problems. These pearls of wisdom were golden; they were “I have a Dream” quality! But alas, in one ear and out the other. Regardless of how many times they ask for it, you always hear “You're wrong, it’s not like that”, only days later to hear, “You were right. Why didn’t I listen to you?”
My personal favorite is “I can’t believe you let me do that!”
Why do they waste God Given talent? Had they been forced to go to some shrink who charged them a hundred bucks an hour, they’d be like monks waiting to hear wisdom fall from the lips of the Dalai Lama, the advice would be precious and they’d snort it like coke.
But why should they buy it when we’re giving it out for free? But I know another saying, we hear this phrase all the time. You get what you pay for.
Before I rock the system and institute my new barter system, I’ve been trying to alleviate the burden of my Giver duties by using what I’ve since tagged as the ‘Fortune cookie one liner’. It’s currently being used on a trial basis. You can try it, it’s very simple. For every problem you are asked for advice on stop and give your friend a look of genuine pondering. Wait a few minutes to give the illusion of deep thought – your body language should say “I am calculating and the pros and cons of this highly interesting conundrum.” Then in response use a generic, homogeneous statement: Ask and ye shall receive. Follow the urgings of your heart, not your mind. Be quick; lest the race be won be
someone else.
I figure these responses pretty much cover a wide spectrum of questions. You can’t really get into trouble with answers like these, because, they basically say nothing and everything all at once. Hopefully, you like I, will come off looking wise, throwing to the untrained ear what will seem like cool eastern philosophies. Most essentially it will allow you to retain the good stuff to impress the new friends you are bound to receive.
At least, that’s what my last fortune said.
Saturday, June 20
The Sexy Saturday Video
It's Saturday and you shouldn't be here reading this, you should be having fun and creating havoc. But if you are stuck inside, watch the Sexy Saturday Video - it'll make you feel better.
Why?
Because even if you don't understand Spanish they still sound sexy as hell.
Because that's freaking Alejandro Sanz in the video!
Because the Reggaeton versions are always dirtier.
Because everyone knows she's hot - even I have to admit that if I met Shakira and thought about her sliding across the table simultaneously, I'd start to stutter...
Catch ya Monday ;)
Why?
Because even if you don't understand Spanish they still sound sexy as hell.
Because that's freaking Alejandro Sanz in the video!
Because the Reggaeton versions are always dirtier.
Because everyone knows she's hot - even I have to admit that if I met Shakira and thought about her sliding across the table simultaneously, I'd start to stutter...
Catch ya Monday ;)
Thursday, June 18
Sappy Song Blog: Love Me Or Leave Me
Ok Dearies, this is a Song Blog. Press play and then read on.
A couple of nights ago during a movie that I waited two months to be available on my Netflix queue, I was barraged with text messages.
The texts came from a guy I dated over three years ago. I thought myself to be madly in love but it didn't work out, mainly because he kept running into and touching other women that he swore the universe was sending his way. After a years of being continously reshelved I dusted myself off so he could clearly see my expiration date for his crap had well past.
Because of the recent events I’ve been playing and replaying, Nina Simone’s, “Love me or Leave me,” as we both discover the intricacies of that crazy ball of love as it bounces from the lovelorn to the loveless.
Love has a bad way of timing. It’s never a choice decision who you give your heart to. One moment it's just having fun and the next someone’s stealing it away.
I want to ask of my heart, “Do I get to have an opinion, can I have a thought of my own?!”
My biggest gripe is that my ‘someone’s’ don’t seem to be working out.
I’ve come to the point where I’d like to return them.
I’ve still got the receipts - in some instances I never even opened them.
It may be hard to return the others... the bubble wrap was just too tempting.
Why do my products have so many defects? By saying ‘products’ I do mean guys. I hate to objectify but I’m into associations now, so bare with me. I mean come on - just like a product, we see you, we buy you, and then we apply you. Typically like so many others I have purchased before you never work and I can’t take you back because I already used you. So you wind up in my bathroom closet in the corner on the second shelf where all the others go to die.
Three years later on a lazy Saturday afternoon with nothing else to do I’ll decide to clean up a little and go into that closet systematically throwing out everything and wondering why I ever brought them all in the first place. So I can’t help but wonder, is it my love or do my guys have defects?
So Nina and I continue to break down our song of heartache in a way that only those all too familiar with that bastard love can understand…“Love me or leave me and let me be lonely/you won't believe me but I love you only/I'd rather be lonely than happy with somebody else”
Grandiose sounding, isn’t it? I imagine that Nina herself was hopelessly lovesick singing in some smoky, dim lighted club. In an elegant dress she moved about the stage, floating her woes out to the crowd on her gossamer wings of a voice - evoking emotional nods of the head, thoughtful tapping of fingers on the tables. She’d look like she meant every word of this song. She sang it for everyone suffering through these great catastrophes of the heart…“you might find the night time the right time for kissing/night time is my time for just reminiscing/regretting instead of forgetting with somebody else…”
But I’ve come up with a theory to Nina’s, and mine, and yours; in love we sometimes make stupid mistakes at the urging of our hearts, but we are hard pressed to regret them. Our hearts know that in order for it to be happy now - at this moment, it must hold tight to its sanity. It must believe that the love we received was well worth the pain it caused in the end.
How else would we keep getting people to sing tragic yet beautiful love lost songs that we drown ourselves in…“there'll be no one unless that someone is you/ I intended to be independently blue” .
When Nina sings I can feel myself drowning in the reminder of that feeling when there's misery inside your love, and I love knowing that somewhere someone else is listning to this and knows the same ache.
While I go on strutting down the streets of Philly looking for, Mister Right, I’m going to feel a little better knowing that even if the next one fails I’m going to keep trying until I do succeed. Because heck, even if he isn't reliable I'll always have Nina.
Tuesday, June 16
Potential Whatever
Potential Whatever (pō•tĕn•shăl hwŏt•ěv´er): a phrase used to describe an individual who won’t make the final cut.
The foretelling of a Potential Whatever comes from that gut feeling we sometimes get. It’s when we know that the relationship we’re in won’t make it through the calendar year. Basically, it’s when the person you’re dating has the potential to wind up in near imminent conversations in this manner:
Your friend: “So how’s insert Potential Whatever’s name here?”
You: “Who?”
Your friend: “You know, PW’s name goes here again.”
You: “Who?” (By now you are rolling your eyes.)
Everyone’s harbored a PW at one time or another. What makes us hold on to them for so long? Wrong as it may sound, they generally tend to have a good shelf life. These temporary products consume your time for the moment providing that quick fix when you need it. The problem with indulging in a Potential Whatever is the fact that they have to expire. The fun runs out, your patience runs out, you stop dreaming and reality steps in. You get to the point where nothing they say, do, or have is going to make them worthy in your eyes. Now the only potential they’ve got going on is the potential to make you sick.
Maybe you were the one who started the relationship and now you feel like being the one to end it would be unkind. Even so, staying in a relationship that you’ve come to realize has reached its expiration date makes you the user in the union. Yeah, I said user. Knowingly walking into or staying in a relationship with a PW based selfishness and a wanton attempt at trying to fulfill your own desires makes you the user. There are consequences in staying the course in this type of relationship. The trappings in this course of action occur when the PW catches on to their own sure demise and that’s when they become Masters of relationship manipulation.
When a PW catches wind of your knowledge of them possessing a ‘good thru’ date, to stay in the game they need to divert your attention elsewhere with Vegas-style illusions. The PW has no intention of bailing out on you so they’re not about to make it easy for you to send them to the place where products go to die. Their showy display of exploitation comes in varying types of poison. I’ll just list the deadliest concoctions:
The Skillfully Planned Unreturned Phone Call - You will try to end it an in environment that is safe for you - the less damage the better. No pieces to pick up-just a phone to hang up. But the PW is clever, they have more experience in ditching the blows. T here’s no way they’re going to let you catch them on the phone. Therein lies the bait; more than likely, no one has ever ignored you so expertly. This move is delivered to spur you on to frenzies of unparalleled proportions even if you’re hesitant to say it out loud. It’s the old way of making you want what you can’t have. Somehow you are coerced into believing their hype. Before you know it you’ll start thinking that perhaps you were about to make a horrible mistake by letting them get away.
The Catch Lines - “I really wanted you to get to know the real me.”
It’s a thought planted and left to linger, arousing and stimulating the brain into thinking that they are a viable option for future appearances. They become literal thieves of your mind and time-casually alluding to having personality, persona, dreams, and goals. Words pour out of their mouths slowly, drizzling like honey over your reasoning only serve to disguise their real agenda here – survival.
They’ll play on your sympathy claiming to need help and protection from the harsh world, pretending to be scalded, scarred, and trumped in the tragic burden that is their life - and you’ll fall for it if you're not careful. Trust me, it's not worth it, over time they slowly revert to what they were before. The gauze will fall from your eyes to reveal the same PW you were trying to rid yourself of in the beginning.
But don’t go back! This burden of being with the wrong person will wear on you, cause you to start canceling dates, lack the ability to communicate, notice nothing substantial about your life anymore, think that the phrase "it’s better to give than receive" only applies to you. If that happens you'll become the damaged goods and the PW will tire of you and start making eyes with other people in your presence, start introducing you as a friend, talk to you one minute and ignore you the next, make flirting without ever soulfully committing to someone a sport. You can take a breath now. You will wind up being dumped by the PW instead of the other way around.
If what I’ve said here sounds strangely familiar, then come on! Let them go. A person’s flaws should be ones that you finally don’t think you need a Band-Aid for, because if you’re trying to bandage them they’re sure to be your “Potential Whatever”.
The foretelling of a Potential Whatever comes from that gut feeling we sometimes get. It’s when we know that the relationship we’re in won’t make it through the calendar year. Basically, it’s when the person you’re dating has the potential to wind up in near imminent conversations in this manner:
Your friend: “So how’s insert Potential Whatever’s name here?”
You: “Who?”
Your friend: “You know, PW’s name goes here again.”
You: “Who?” (By now you are rolling your eyes.)
Everyone’s harbored a PW at one time or another. What makes us hold on to them for so long? Wrong as it may sound, they generally tend to have a good shelf life. These temporary products consume your time for the moment providing that quick fix when you need it. The problem with indulging in a Potential Whatever is the fact that they have to expire. The fun runs out, your patience runs out, you stop dreaming and reality steps in. You get to the point where nothing they say, do, or have is going to make them worthy in your eyes. Now the only potential they’ve got going on is the potential to make you sick.
Maybe you were the one who started the relationship and now you feel like being the one to end it would be unkind. Even so, staying in a relationship that you’ve come to realize has reached its expiration date makes you the user in the union. Yeah, I said user. Knowingly walking into or staying in a relationship with a PW based selfishness and a wanton attempt at trying to fulfill your own desires makes you the user. There are consequences in staying the course in this type of relationship. The trappings in this course of action occur when the PW catches on to their own sure demise and that’s when they become Masters of relationship manipulation.
When a PW catches wind of your knowledge of them possessing a ‘good thru’ date, to stay in the game they need to divert your attention elsewhere with Vegas-style illusions. The PW has no intention of bailing out on you so they’re not about to make it easy for you to send them to the place where products go to die. Their showy display of exploitation comes in varying types of poison. I’ll just list the deadliest concoctions:
The Skillfully Planned Unreturned Phone Call - You will try to end it an in environment that is safe for you - the less damage the better. No pieces to pick up-just a phone to hang up. But the PW is clever, they have more experience in ditching the blows. T here’s no way they’re going to let you catch them on the phone. Therein lies the bait; more than likely, no one has ever ignored you so expertly. This move is delivered to spur you on to frenzies of unparalleled proportions even if you’re hesitant to say it out loud. It’s the old way of making you want what you can’t have. Somehow you are coerced into believing their hype. Before you know it you’ll start thinking that perhaps you were about to make a horrible mistake by letting them get away.
The Catch Lines - “I really wanted you to get to know the real me.”
It’s a thought planted and left to linger, arousing and stimulating the brain into thinking that they are a viable option for future appearances. They become literal thieves of your mind and time-casually alluding to having personality, persona, dreams, and goals. Words pour out of their mouths slowly, drizzling like honey over your reasoning only serve to disguise their real agenda here – survival.
They’ll play on your sympathy claiming to need help and protection from the harsh world, pretending to be scalded, scarred, and trumped in the tragic burden that is their life - and you’ll fall for it if you're not careful. Trust me, it's not worth it, over time they slowly revert to what they were before. The gauze will fall from your eyes to reveal the same PW you were trying to rid yourself of in the beginning.
But don’t go back! This burden of being with the wrong person will wear on you, cause you to start canceling dates, lack the ability to communicate, notice nothing substantial about your life anymore, think that the phrase "it’s better to give than receive" only applies to you. If that happens you'll become the damaged goods and the PW will tire of you and start making eyes with other people in your presence, start introducing you as a friend, talk to you one minute and ignore you the next, make flirting without ever soulfully committing to someone a sport. You can take a breath now. You will wind up being dumped by the PW instead of the other way around.
If what I’ve said here sounds strangely familiar, then come on! Let them go. A person’s flaws should be ones that you finally don’t think you need a Band-Aid for, because if you’re trying to bandage them they’re sure to be your “Potential Whatever”.
Saturday, June 13
Sexy Saturday Video
Cause it's Saturday and you shouldn't be here reading this. You should be out having fun and creating havoc.
But if you are stuck inside then you deserve a little flirty fun, a little lusty loving.
So enjoy your Sexy Saturday Video.
Catch ya Monday ;)
But if you are stuck inside then you deserve a little flirty fun, a little lusty loving.
So enjoy your Sexy Saturday Video.
Catch ya Monday ;)
Thursday, June 11
The Third Wheel Manifesto
Couples, these musings you are about to read are the collective sighs we let out every time we are asked to be “The Third Wheel”. We as your friends realize that you don’t mean to deposit upon us the guilt and shame that comes along with this status, but, you must realize, you are different now. You used to be one of us, the single, grazing few who look up from the grass every now and then to gaze lazily across the plain, but you’ve been picked off - taken from the herd.
Being the Third Wheel makes us feel semi-pathetic, because if we’re available to go out with you that usually means we didn’t have better plans ourselves. Now, I suppose that when I start dating again someone will register the same complaints with me, but until then, I’m trashing this antiquated buddy system.
When I think of three, I think: odd number…disharmony… three’s a crowd.
People stare at us when we’re trailing behind you; pitying us like we’re some poor, humpbacked, misshapen creature from a horror movie. Forget trying to offer a rebuttal, because let me assure you that my sources are strong. In order to relay accurate and reliable statistics, I required that all “Wheels” have at least thirty hours or more out in the field before they could participate in this study. These poor souls and I only hope that you take heed to our research as well as our pleas.
What is agreed upon, according to most Wheels are the following: once you start dating, it’s as if your new personality arrived from a parallel universe. It’s bizarre; you seem to have lost brain cells. Apparently you all possess dictionaries that only supply pet names like ‘Boo Bear’, ‘Honey Love’, ‘Noodle’, ‘Cupcake’, ‘Pumpkin’ and ‘Love Muffin’. I mean, are those names or menu items? Are you dating them or eating them?
Ever notice that when you engage us in conversation using these names that we supply a look of confusion and proceed to ask you “whom are you referring to”? You follow-up by saying, “you know who I’m talking about, I’m talking about my boo.”
"Oh. Your boo."
Now listen up, because you NEED to know this. We WANT you to know this. First, yes, we do know whom you’re speaking about. But our rulebook on such matters clearly state… in order to preserve ones dignity a reply of no is required, yes, a firm, “no, I don’t know who you’re talking about”.
This allows us to retain some self-respect. This is not story time; you are not reading to children. Please, spare us and use their real names.
Second, sitting. There are major problems with the seating arrangements. We, as the minority, realize that there’s no solution, no better way to handle it, but it doesn’t mean we have to like it. We don’t want to be alone on the aisle two rows behind you; it’s lonely and obvious. Problem is, if we sit with you, you don’t really want us there and furthermore it’s not our idea of fun to watch you cuddle, swap spit and play with each other’s hair through a two hour movie. So, basically, it’s a case of screwed if you do, screwed if you don’t.
There have been complaints made by other “Wheels” that good movies are being ruined on account of insane, uncalled for acts of lovey-doveyness…and in public view nonetheless!
One Wheel said, “I was sitting there enjoying my popcorn, when BOOM! Out of nowhere the couple began taking turns sipping from the same straw repeating to one another, “…and one for you and one for me…” I became so physically ill I had to excuse myself and use the ladies room.” Couples, this behavior and utter lack of respect for your Wheel has to stop!
So low on the totem pole is the Wheel that it is now being compared to Chinese Water Torture; every outing like a slow drip.
Waiting in the car while you the two of you commence a thirty-minute goodnight.
Drip…
Having to watch you no longer realize how to walk independently, always holding hands, apparently, in order to stand up straight.
Drip…
Asking us to do our own thing for about an hour and then meet you back at the car after you invited us to hang out with you!
Drip…
Now for the record, there are exceptions. Some “Wheels” have reported pleasant times accompanying their friends. They said being treated as part of a group and not apart from it was entirely refreshing. I assure you this is not a common occurrence; they happen about as often as pink elephants are spotted.
Reality of the matter is, even though I state and claim these things, I’m a sucker when it comes to my friends and suckers get sucked in. So, until I learn my lesson or retain the will power to say no, chances are that’ll be me you see sitting behind two people gazing into each other’s eyes. I’ll be the one staring off into space wondering what I should have said to avoid all this. I’ll be thinking I should have handled this situation as one wise doctor might have:
“I do not like to be the wheel.
I do not think it’s a fair deal.
You have me sitting in the back.
It’s worse than being on the rack.
I would not like to meet you there.
And would I like to drive you where?
It’s like you’ve gone and lost your mind.
I’ll tell you this just one more time.
My brain is fried, I think no more.
I’m slowly gagging on the floor.
And if you ask me one more time,
I swear I’ll poke you in eye.”
Or something like that.
photo by John Fraissinet
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)