Recently a local township decided a particular vehicle ornament, that was located just below the trailer hitch representing male genitalia, was obscene and should be outlawed. Personally, I see it as the final resting place of an almost extinct species.
It has been suggested that cavemen would claim the women of their dreams with a light rap on the head followed by a hair-dragging retreat to his boudoir. Through the ages, this concept was refined and finessed into a rather ornate ritual....that is until the 1960's. Then, women of our society rose up in vigilante flourish stating, "....treat women as equals. We can do anything a man can do...". And what happened? Men of our society gave a careless shrug and said, "OK". Women gained equality and men lost chivalry. Gone was the man that held anything: a coat, a door, a cab, an elevator. So the women of society decided that men would need to be "retrained". So what is the product of that outcome you might ask? I refer to this individual as the "Cojoneless King" (CK for short). CK has been so completely castrated that even simple conversations have left him paralyzed with fear and indecision.
"Where are we going to dinner?"
"I don't care, where would you like to go?"
"I want to redo the house, what do you think?"
"Whatever you want to do."
"I'm hungry and you're paying"
"OK"
"Who were you looking at?!"
"Nobody"
and the classic:
"Does this make me look fat?" Ladies do you REALLY expect him to just cut them off himself and hand them to you?
"Yes Shamo, you look about two ax handles wide! Let me get the yard stick! Could you at least beep when you back up so I can get out of the way?! MY EYES, MY EYES!!"
Now don't misunderstand me. I don't seek the Neanderthal of yesteryear, but this wimp on a stick is just too far gone in the other direction. I like assuming he will pick up the check. It's annoying trying to decide how much money I need to stuff into the pathetic excuse that I refer to as an evening bag. Do I need money for my dinner? Money for a cab if he gets stupid? Personally, I like having the door held, my coat held, and the elevator held. I virtually envision male manhood withering; however, when I see him holding a purse. (And no, it's not "His" man bag). What's wrong with a classic sailor bends the nurse backwards to lay a fat (I may never see you again) kiss on her? Ladies, let him make the first move. Gentlemen, get a clue! Move it! Let's spice things up a little people! It's only sexual harassment if you don't like it!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Anatomy of Perfection
Why is it that humans feel a need to claim territorial perfection? My big backyard. My terrific job. My fantastic family. But it doesn't stop there. We even feel a need to claim territory that isn't even ours. "I'm a leg man, I'm a boob man, I like big butts and I cannot..." We then make judgements, based on the territory that we have claimed as our own, to fit our idea of perfection. "You know what they say about a man and the size of his feet." (And if you don't, you are too young to be reading this....PUT IT DOWN!) I even had a friend tell me that she never worried about her size because, "....a man never appreciates more than a handful." To which I replied, "That's why I only go with men with big hands!" Then again...I'm kind of a handful. And of course you know the relationship between the size of a man's hands and the size of his feet......and if you don't....FOR THE LAST TIME PUT IT DOWN!
Personally, I feel the eyes have it. Imagine rolling over and Robert Downey Jr.'s eyes are looking at you still blurred from a peaceful slumber (you know the look...not the one elicited from Rohypnol), you glance up from dinner into the arched eyes of Sean Connery. Perhaps you turn around in the grocery store just in time to catch Johnny Depp wink at you? (Wow, is it hormones or is it hot in here?!)
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but I'm confused...his or mine? If the eyes of George Clooney ever strayed my way, I'm quite certain my trying to see into his soul would be way, way, way down on the list of what my brain would be trying to do. Frankly, I believe after massive short circuiting, every neuron would go into hyper-drive trying to explain what might possibly happen to rest of my body if I was really really lucky. You know, kind of like those people on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange after some fool hit the wrong button. "BUY! SELL! GIVE IT ALL AWAY!!" (This is probably where those cute little paddle things, they use on doctor shows, would come into action.)
Yes dear reader, my money is on the eyes. And since love is blind and hope springs eternal...I'm just waiting for my hunk to see what perfection REALLY looks like!
Personally, I feel the eyes have it. Imagine rolling over and Robert Downey Jr.'s eyes are looking at you still blurred from a peaceful slumber (you know the look...not the one elicited from Rohypnol), you glance up from dinner into the arched eyes of Sean Connery. Perhaps you turn around in the grocery store just in time to catch Johnny Depp wink at you? (Wow, is it hormones or is it hot in here?!)
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but I'm confused...his or mine? If the eyes of George Clooney ever strayed my way, I'm quite certain my trying to see into his soul would be way, way, way down on the list of what my brain would be trying to do. Frankly, I believe after massive short circuiting, every neuron would go into hyper-drive trying to explain what might possibly happen to rest of my body if I was really really lucky. You know, kind of like those people on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange after some fool hit the wrong button. "BUY! SELL! GIVE IT ALL AWAY!!" (This is probably where those cute little paddle things, they use on doctor shows, would come into action.)
Yes dear reader, my money is on the eyes. And since love is blind and hope springs eternal...I'm just waiting for my hunk to see what perfection REALLY looks like!
Friday, December 17, 2010
The Happy Holiday Couple?
Ahhh the holidays! A sentiment that can be taken any number of ways. It might be the sigh of a remembered warm glow of a family gathering long ago, an infant smile, the arrival of a new pet. Or, it could be the feeble expression of an emotion that is too weak to even muster depression. Whatever the meaning, we have all felt the holidays' thorny poke around this time of year.
From a time that was suppose to be a celebration of hope and renewed life (according to many religious doctrine's), many of us have concentrated the emotional fervor into a festering puss-ball of worry and procrastination. "Wow, how much did I spend?, The relatives are coming when?, What do you mean I volunteered for this in March?'" and on and on....
Added to this potpourri of stress and hypocrisy is the constant reminder of the joy of being a couple. A couple of what; however, is the bigger question. There are three basic couples that need to be addressed at this most festive season: the newbies, the up-and-comers, and the Way-too-close-for-comfort.
The Newbies are those couples that have just discovered the joy of being together a few weeks prior to the holidays. You have now learned all there is to learn about each other and it's time to launch your significant other head-long into the dysfunctional arms of your family. After all, if they're busy interrogating them.... they won't have as much time to focus on you! To sweeten the pot, you announce to the newest love of your life, that you have just purchased their gift and they are really going to be surprised!. (Now your significant other will hopefully feel obligated to go along with whatever evil plot you have created). What that recipient doesn't know is that 1) if you're a male, chances are you will be purchasing said gift at 11:45pm December the 24Th from whatever drug store is open or 2) if you're a female, you will have been grilling all of his family, friends and work associates for the last several weeks (months, if adhering to the true stalker fashion handbook) so that the gift you give him will be remembered for all time (at least until he stuffs it in the back of the closet). Either way, by the time you survive "family time" you will have reached a new plateau. You will either be bonded and scarred for life, ready to make the next commitment (wallpaper), or be mentally weighing the options regarding your gift, ("......is it returnable?, can I return the gift and they not know?, what were they thinking?!....). Finally, if this experience has caused permanent damage, the last option is always the most difficult. Do I break up with them now or wait and see what I get? (No sense in shooting yourself in the foot.) Who knows? Maybe the gift will be such a Wower that the rest of life's struggles pale in comparison.....but don't bet on it!
The second couple, the up-and-comers, are next on the list. These are the couples that, as a couple, have decided to set guidelines for family survival. The intricate and arduous task of mapping out everything. How much time is spent at each parent's home (time doubled if all parents are divorced ...four homes instead of two minimum). This time frame can continue to be increased exponentially depending on the number of ex's involved. Who gets to host whom and when? When hosting, who's going to pay for all the food etc.? Which of the family members are going to be excluded? Even though this is the time of love and understanding, that last incident with Uncle you-know-who with .....well, was really outside the bounds of common decency. And finally, "Honey, what do you want for....?" A question that everyone lies about, but who's answer may be the grounds for the next divorce court.
Finally, the Way-too-close-for-comfort couple. This is the couple that has been married or together from the time when dirt was a baby. They finish each other's sentences, have everything, but still need to find that "special" something that will remind them that the spark in the other's eye is not merely the pace-maker malfunctioning again. It is this couple, more than any other, that I admire the most. They have not only survived the Newbie and Up-and-Comer stages, but have managed to do so with a dignity that is only rivaled by certain species of birds. They have not only built their nest, kicked the kids out of the nest, but then continued to grow their nest egg in preparation for their eventual non-nest oriented retirement. It is for this couple, that the true "ahhh the holiday's" sentiment might actually mean something good.
This time of year is particularly trying for those individuals that are not part of these couples. Are we continually reminded of this fact? Positively. Do we want to throw a well-placed round-house kick into the abdomen of every cheery soul that wishes us Merry? Absolutely. Am I anit-holiday? Not necessarily. Maybe I'm just adjusting to this sudden and annoying growth of body hair and bilious green pallor that I have developed. The fact that Dicken's suggestion of driving a stake of holly through a heart, that has nothing to do with vampires, is appealing in it's own right. There are worse things than being alone.....like being the recipient of a really bad gift that you are too embarrassed to return. But I'm telling you.....the catalog said it was the latest in penis pumps!
So, couple or no.....have a Merry, Happy whatever (is that really politically correct?) and better luck next year!
From a time that was suppose to be a celebration of hope and renewed life (according to many religious doctrine's), many of us have concentrated the emotional fervor into a festering puss-ball of worry and procrastination. "Wow, how much did I spend?, The relatives are coming when?, What do you mean I volunteered for this in March?'" and on and on....
Added to this potpourri of stress and hypocrisy is the constant reminder of the joy of being a couple. A couple of what; however, is the bigger question. There are three basic couples that need to be addressed at this most festive season: the newbies, the up-and-comers, and the Way-too-close-for-comfort.
The Newbies are those couples that have just discovered the joy of being together a few weeks prior to the holidays. You have now learned all there is to learn about each other and it's time to launch your significant other head-long into the dysfunctional arms of your family. After all, if they're busy interrogating them.... they won't have as much time to focus on you! To sweeten the pot, you announce to the newest love of your life, that you have just purchased their gift and they are really going to be surprised!. (Now your significant other will hopefully feel obligated to go along with whatever evil plot you have created). What that recipient doesn't know is that 1) if you're a male, chances are you will be purchasing said gift at 11:45pm December the 24Th from whatever drug store is open or 2) if you're a female, you will have been grilling all of his family, friends and work associates for the last several weeks (months, if adhering to the true stalker fashion handbook) so that the gift you give him will be remembered for all time (at least until he stuffs it in the back of the closet). Either way, by the time you survive "family time" you will have reached a new plateau. You will either be bonded and scarred for life, ready to make the next commitment (wallpaper), or be mentally weighing the options regarding your gift, ("......is it returnable?, can I return the gift and they not know?, what were they thinking?!....). Finally, if this experience has caused permanent damage, the last option is always the most difficult. Do I break up with them now or wait and see what I get? (No sense in shooting yourself in the foot.) Who knows? Maybe the gift will be such a Wower that the rest of life's struggles pale in comparison.....but don't bet on it!
The second couple, the up-and-comers, are next on the list. These are the couples that, as a couple, have decided to set guidelines for family survival. The intricate and arduous task of mapping out everything. How much time is spent at each parent's home (time doubled if all parents are divorced ...four homes instead of two minimum). This time frame can continue to be increased exponentially depending on the number of ex's involved. Who gets to host whom and when? When hosting, who's going to pay for all the food etc.? Which of the family members are going to be excluded? Even though this is the time of love and understanding, that last incident with Uncle you-know-who with .....well, was really outside the bounds of common decency. And finally, "Honey, what do you want for....?" A question that everyone lies about, but who's answer may be the grounds for the next divorce court.
Finally, the Way-too-close-for-comfort couple. This is the couple that has been married or together from the time when dirt was a baby. They finish each other's sentences, have everything, but still need to find that "special" something that will remind them that the spark in the other's eye is not merely the pace-maker malfunctioning again. It is this couple, more than any other, that I admire the most. They have not only survived the Newbie and Up-and-Comer stages, but have managed to do so with a dignity that is only rivaled by certain species of birds. They have not only built their nest, kicked the kids out of the nest, but then continued to grow their nest egg in preparation for their eventual non-nest oriented retirement. It is for this couple, that the true "ahhh the holiday's" sentiment might actually mean something good.
This time of year is particularly trying for those individuals that are not part of these couples. Are we continually reminded of this fact? Positively. Do we want to throw a well-placed round-house kick into the abdomen of every cheery soul that wishes us Merry? Absolutely. Am I anit-holiday? Not necessarily. Maybe I'm just adjusting to this sudden and annoying growth of body hair and bilious green pallor that I have developed. The fact that Dicken's suggestion of driving a stake of holly through a heart, that has nothing to do with vampires, is appealing in it's own right. There are worse things than being alone.....like being the recipient of a really bad gift that you are too embarrassed to return. But I'm telling you.....the catalog said it was the latest in penis pumps!
So, couple or no.....have a Merry, Happy whatever (is that really politically correct?) and better luck next year!
Monday, October 4, 2010
You Know You're In Trouble When the Toothbrush Moves In
For the first time in American history, it is now more profitable for a man to marry than a woman. With the current economic environment, more men are loosing their jobs and women are retaining or replacing theirs at an unprecedented rate. Marriage is now the golden parachute of the boys.
Case in point. A young lady decided to give into the weekly pleading of a co-worker and go out on a date. Next thing she knows, he is asking if he can stay overnight (he'd had too much to drink). On the heels of that revelation, socks started showing up in her laundry. (I've had them become MIA in mine, but not appear out of thin air and bring their friends). Next, this drunken centipede offers to bring over groceries and fix dinner. Wow, a pest that can cook. The exterminators don't seem to have sprays for this kind of infestation. (Is this the bed bug everyone is talking about?!) In the next blink of an eye.....the toothbrush shows up. From that point on, the true insidious nature of the bug rears its ugly head.
Food mysteriously disappears. Water bills start going through the roof. The cable bill starts to skyrocket. (For movies the female doesn't remember watching). An incessant whine can be heard throughout the dwelling......sounds like........where you going? who you going with? when will you get back? what am I suppose to do? we never spend any time together yadda, yadda, yadda.
So, how do you get rid of this kind of rabid roach? Aggressive action is the only known cure. This critter does not respond to subtly. Begin with the tried and true favorite.....pack up the sh***, throw it on the porch (set fire to it only if there is no regional burn order restriction in effect), change the locks and de-friend him on facebook. If the leach continues to be the pest, phone a friend with an unfriendly canine of say.....150 pounds or more and offer to babysit. (You've already been babysitting and this one you don't have to have sex with). Craigs list any remaining debris and use the money for fun money. If questioned about the bug's droppings, say you're new friend (the line-backer) really liked the stuff. As a last resort, join the middle-aged menopausal branch of the NRA. Nothing will have a toothbrush packing arachnoid scuttling for cover faster than an angry woman packing heat that has nothing to do with a flash!
Case in point. A young lady decided to give into the weekly pleading of a co-worker and go out on a date. Next thing she knows, he is asking if he can stay overnight (he'd had too much to drink). On the heels of that revelation, socks started showing up in her laundry. (I've had them become MIA in mine, but not appear out of thin air and bring their friends). Next, this drunken centipede offers to bring over groceries and fix dinner. Wow, a pest that can cook. The exterminators don't seem to have sprays for this kind of infestation. (Is this the bed bug everyone is talking about?!) In the next blink of an eye.....the toothbrush shows up. From that point on, the true insidious nature of the bug rears its ugly head.
Food mysteriously disappears. Water bills start going through the roof. The cable bill starts to skyrocket. (For movies the female doesn't remember watching). An incessant whine can be heard throughout the dwelling......sounds like........where you going? who you going with? when will you get back? what am I suppose to do? we never spend any time together yadda, yadda, yadda.
So, how do you get rid of this kind of rabid roach? Aggressive action is the only known cure. This critter does not respond to subtly. Begin with the tried and true favorite.....pack up the sh***, throw it on the porch (set fire to it only if there is no regional burn order restriction in effect), change the locks and de-friend him on facebook. If the leach continues to be the pest, phone a friend with an unfriendly canine of say.....150 pounds or more and offer to babysit. (You've already been babysitting and this one you don't have to have sex with). Craigs list any remaining debris and use the money for fun money. If questioned about the bug's droppings, say you're new friend (the line-backer) really liked the stuff. As a last resort, join the middle-aged menopausal branch of the NRA. Nothing will have a toothbrush packing arachnoid scuttling for cover faster than an angry woman packing heat that has nothing to do with a flash!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Weeding 101: Crabgrass
Have you ever met that person where everything in the world is someone else's fault? "..I lost my job because the boss had it in for me. ...we broke up because (they) couldn't respect my needs...etc." Please, grow a responsiblity! You were a !!@#@! ADMIT IT!
I recently had a phone conversation with an individual whose contact name was "Renaissance man". It was fitting considering his thinking belonged in the dark ages. Our conversation began with what I thought was a rather innocuous topic of going out dining. I asked him where he liked to eat. WRONG! He then proceeded to tell me that he was trying a new restaurant with "friends". "Friends" that he really couldn't stand, but they provided a means to get there. Really! (Remember, this is out first conversation).
He then asked me where I worked. After I told him, he replyed that, "....yes, I looked into that, but they just didn't pay me enough for me to work there." BAM! I've been hit again.
After having asked me to call, he caps this less then memorable meeting of the minds with, "....well, I've got to get back to the World Cup...the USA is behind by one."
Brother, they're not the only ones!!!!
I recently had a phone conversation with an individual whose contact name was "Renaissance man". It was fitting considering his thinking belonged in the dark ages. Our conversation began with what I thought was a rather innocuous topic of going out dining. I asked him where he liked to eat. WRONG! He then proceeded to tell me that he was trying a new restaurant with "friends". "Friends" that he really couldn't stand, but they provided a means to get there. Really! (Remember, this is out first conversation).
He then asked me where I worked. After I told him, he replyed that, "....yes, I looked into that, but they just didn't pay me enough for me to work there." BAM! I've been hit again.
After having asked me to call, he caps this less then memorable meeting of the minds with, "....well, I've got to get back to the World Cup...the USA is behind by one."
Brother, they're not the only ones!!!!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Quintessential Male
The travel channel harbours a celebrity curmudgeon that tosses the word "Quintessential" like pennies into the proverbial fountain. So, in deference to my own ignorance, I decided to look the term up. According to Mr. Webster, it means, "...the concentrated purest essence of anything; the perfect form." Now, you are probably thinking that I am going to tell you how to find, train, or purchase said perfection. Wrong! The last time the quintessential male existed, his name was Adam and he hung out in a garden. And we all know how well THAT worked out!
Instead, dear reader, I would prefer to concentrate on the recognition of near-perfection. I was once told, "...if you expect nothing, that's exactly what you'll get." Because of this, I have always set the bar, one that regrettably many do not hurdle, high. This lack of athleticism; however, is not without hope albeit with some guidance.
Let's turn back the clock a little. Men often complain that they don't know what is expected of them. That having been said, here are some pointers. Expectation number one, I like having the door held for me. Blowing past me at the speed of a sonic boom, just to be sure of that seat by the window, is not what makes my heart do pitter-pats. Expectation number two, ask before you order for me. If I don't know what I want, I'll ask for input. Don't assume anything! It is said that a mouth opened in error may be wired shut on purpose. Expectation number three, I want a friend first and anything else second. A kiss is not the opening bell for the Octopus Olympics. My girley appendages are just that...MINE! No trespassing signs and razor wire should not have to be coordinated with the other evening accessories. Mace is supposedly used for the other guys! Expectation number four, clean up for me. When you ask me out on a date, I expect you to dress the part...clean, neat, coordinated. You don't need a suit, but I also don't want to be seen in public with an individual that looks like he just ran the bulls in Barcelona and got gored on the way!
Do I expect a lot? Yes! And I don't want my great expectations to end up languishing at a vermin infested after party! Mr. near-perfection is out there if we just look for him hard enough...probably next to that other allusive creature....you know.....the diet that works.
Instead, dear reader, I would prefer to concentrate on the recognition of near-perfection. I was once told, "...if you expect nothing, that's exactly what you'll get." Because of this, I have always set the bar, one that regrettably many do not hurdle, high. This lack of athleticism; however, is not without hope albeit with some guidance.
Let's turn back the clock a little. Men often complain that they don't know what is expected of them. That having been said, here are some pointers. Expectation number one, I like having the door held for me. Blowing past me at the speed of a sonic boom, just to be sure of that seat by the window, is not what makes my heart do pitter-pats. Expectation number two, ask before you order for me. If I don't know what I want, I'll ask for input. Don't assume anything! It is said that a mouth opened in error may be wired shut on purpose. Expectation number three, I want a friend first and anything else second. A kiss is not the opening bell for the Octopus Olympics. My girley appendages are just that...MINE! No trespassing signs and razor wire should not have to be coordinated with the other evening accessories. Mace is supposedly used for the other guys! Expectation number four, clean up for me. When you ask me out on a date, I expect you to dress the part...clean, neat, coordinated. You don't need a suit, but I also don't want to be seen in public with an individual that looks like he just ran the bulls in Barcelona and got gored on the way!
Do I expect a lot? Yes! And I don't want my great expectations to end up languishing at a vermin infested after party! Mr. near-perfection is out there if we just look for him hard enough...probably next to that other allusive creature....you know.....the diet that works.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)