A walk in the Junk Mail folder

The writer Amazing Size emailed me the titled "Ouch that has to hurt" letter today. Even though I did not open said email, I'm going to assume it wasn't for diet pills. I love the subject "I'm looking for some strange cock" though I myself prefer a normal cock. But I will admit to having the occassional humorous cock in my day. And who can forget the amazing author "Bigger Loads"? Being that I haven't dated in more then a decade, I must be a little behind the times. I had no clue that I was to be looking for the size of a man's load. Has the old saying "it's not the size of the wave but the motion of the ocean" been changed? Apparently "wave" size is now being medically enhanced. I would assume that this is to eliminate the who-sleeps-in-the-wet-spot fight by having both parties sleep in it.

Creator SXY_Wife says "Wives want men for sex". Personally, more then one 'dick' in my life is enough for me, but thanks for the offer.

And now there seems to be "Affordable_ED". Here all this time I thought it was free! What a rip off!! But now with affordable prices, at least the women who is tired of Bigger Loads can now can meet the expense of ED. Hurry now, Father's Day is almost here and this offer won't last long. The one I seem to get the most is the one titled "Permant Growth". Is this the competition for all of the drugs promising temporary growth? Is there a pill that will make men 2 or 3 inches longer but only for a few hours? What would that do to a girl's self esteem if the medicine wears off in the middle of sex? So we have strange dicks, multiple dicks, bigger dicks, growing dicks, bigger loads and limper dicks. I guess there really is something for everyone. God bless the internet.

tidbits

I also wanted to mention...... Yea! Jac's back. Beth has a new site that you should check out (in addition to stopping by the old, she's hysterical at either). Also, to crazedmomof4, I checked out your site (though it wouldn't let me comment until I registered and didn't seem to want me to register either. I think I scared it), and I would be honored to be added to your list.

Hmmm did I miss anything? Questions? comments?

Fork in the head Friday

If you thought the last example of zero tolerance was outrageous, just wait until you read these.

First, we have Happy Crack, which I was going to post last week, but I was too distracted by my feet.

Next, we have the girl in middle school with a gun........ohhhh wait a minute, that doesn't say gun, it's gum....

And since I'm on a roll......

Maybe administrators need to spend less time worrying about toys, gum and candy and spend more time checking out their teachers.

Three old ladies

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench talking amongst themselves, when a flasher came by.

The flasher stood right in front of them and opened his trench coat.

Needless to say, the first old lady had a stroke....

Then the second old lady had a stroke....

And the third old lady, well... she couldn't reach that far.

At least there were no dueling banjos

I went away for the weekend to attend a girlfriend's wedding. Though a long drive (400 miles round trip), everything was beautiful - the wedding, the weather, her. She was, except for myself of course, the most beautiful bride I've seen. I wish her and her new husband the best of everything life and marriage has to offer.

I have to admit, however, that the trip to and the area itself was not at all what I was expecting and quite surreal. I am used to the signs appearing on highway entrance ramps stating 'Pedestrians Prohibited' or occasionally, 'Non-Motor Vehicles Prohibited' so I was amused, after making a pit stop, to re-enter the highway and see a sign that stated 'Pedestrians and Farm Animals Prohibited'. Has this been an ongoing problem? People herding cattle on to the highway?

I dismissed it, after a grin and a good chuckle, as 'okay, I'm officially in farm country now'. However, about an hour later, I came upon another sign. This one at the entrance to a side road. The sign read 'Do not enter when flooded'. Pause and consider this for a few moments. Not only did this obvious statement have to be made at all, but apparently, it is such a frequent occurrence that it necessitated a state or township paid for permanent sign. Lord, have mercy.

Luckily the southern accents exhibited by the locals was not so thick as to require a translator, as in the case of my brother who has lived in North Carolina most of his life, but it was surprising none the less. I did manage to find some good classic rock radio stations en route, which I was quite surprised at after the Farm Animal sign. Granted, there was a little more Lynyrd Skynyrd played then I'm used to, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I did come down with a fit of the giggles, I will admit, when the advertisements for the morning show of 'John Boy & Billy' were being advertised however. And I was downright hysterical with laughter when the man introducing himself as 'DJ Jethro' came on the air.

But everyone was very kind, helpful and generous and I enjoyed my weekend tremendously.

So where was this backwoods southern farming town?

Northern Ohio.

I shit you not.

So now I know, the next time I'm in the mood for a little southern hospitality, I just need to drive 200 miles North.

Fears and Fouls -a pungent problem

Now everyone has something that they are afraid of, though many are loathe to admit it. I, myself, suffer from a few; Arachnophobia (fear of spiders), Acrophobia (fear of heights), and Apeirophobia (fear of Infinity), all of which are quite common. And none will effect, for the most part, my daily life. Despite never having been in an airplane, a panic attack or two over the thought of 'forever', and some girlish screams at the sight of a Daddy Long Leg, I have managed to become a productive member of society.

And I always remember, it could be worse. I could be like my daughter, who suffers from Neophobia (fear of anything new), Ligyrophobia (fear of loud noises), and Anthropophobia (fear of people in general). Or I could be like my son, who fears absolutely nothing. NOTHING. I've seen the boy do everything from skateboard off the roof of my house to eating raw sardines straight out of a can….he knows no fear. In these cases, it would be a little harder to get along, be it due to hiding in the house or in the hospital in traction.

But it's May again already, which means it's time for another one of my fears to rear it's ugly head. May, when Spring starts to flow into Summer, flowers have bloomed, the sun is shining….and I have my yearly appointment with the gynecologist.

This is actually a bittersweet experience for me. First off, you see, my Gyn is a Hottie. Yep, capital H and double T, Hottie. If given the opportunity and some lube, I would do things to that man's body that would set his exam table on fire. Alas, the H-O-double T-I-E is married….though I'm quite certain she's ugly.

And, admittedly, he being the only man besides the Paperweight to touch my body in years has it's own attraction. And being that I haven't had sex in forever, this year should be particularly interesting.

Anyway, back to my fear. I also happen to suffer from a little less commonly known fear, Autodysomophobia, which is the fear of smelling bad. In my case, it is a very specific fear, otherwise known as The Fear of Foot Funk. Yes, laugh if you will, but do you know the terror of going to a friend's new home and seeing the dreaded notice "Please remove your shoes"? Or the anxiety caused by the coworker who casually says "what's that smell"? Granted, there are an office full of people wearing sandals this time of year and I just gave myself a complete pedicure and foot massage the night before…..but it doesn't stop me from removing the emergency bottle of lilac scented foot spray from my purse and giving a little extra spritz to the tootsies.

Now, as far as I know, if I were to stop and consider rationally, my feet do not actually stink. You may be thinking, why don't I just ask someone? Um, no. No one will ever get that close to my feet (see above about self pedicures) with the exception of….drum roll please…….my Gyn. Yep, I have to have Hottie sit there with his head between my, um, feet. The panic that this instills in me each year is truly mind boggling.

Preparations start a week in advance. I give myself a pedicure and lotion every night. I highly recommend the Dr. Scholl's Pedicure Essentials line. A couple days before, I decide which shoes to wear. I have to schedule my appointments for after work so what ever shoes I choose to wear, will be coming off after having worn them for 11 to 12 hours straight. While you would think sandals would give better ventilation, there is the dirty-feet-factor to consider. I usually choose something in between, like mules. However, they have to be the proper size in order to conceal the new Odor Eater foot pad that I will by and install in said shoe the night before. I also pack a fresh pair of socks to slip on right before the examine, but not before adding a generous dose of foot deodorant powder. And a spritz of that emergency lilac scented spray on the outside of my new socks usually comforts me as I sit on the exam table.

What a girl will go through for a Hottie with a speculum...

Short story

(no pun intended)

Okay, I'm stumped and I need the help of the vast collective wisdom of the internet. I realize I'm setting myself up for a bashing but very few people actually read this blog on a regular basis so I figure I'm pretty safe.

My son and I were having a conversation and I really have no idea where or how it started. Where it ended up was a question pertaining to amputees. And I guess that brings up a question in itself doesn't it?

In this age of political correctness, can I say amputee? Is there a more proper term? Or should it just be person-who-has-had-a-limb-amputated? Though not necessarily hyphenated to death, I suppose.

But I digress.

The original question pertains to the part of the limb that remains after an amputation. Does that have a name?

I know, I know. I'm risking sounding like a complete dork but I would seriously like to know. And the nice thing about the internet is, even though you may laugh at my dorkness, I don't have to hear it, which is what would happen if I asked a coworker.

Currently, my boy swears to me it's called a 'nub'. And I'm just really not buying that.

Though I'm not that concerned about turning my teenager all P.C. I would like to teach him how to be polite, courtesy, and senstive to other people's feelings.

I googled it, of course, but I either got medical definitions that are just way beyond me or some really really bad fetish sites that will probably get me fired.

So if you happen to know, or know where I can find out, please enlighten me so that I may pass it on to the boy.

Fork in the head Friday

Yep, it's once again time for me to point out someone else's stupidy (and my desire to help out Darwin by whacking an undesireable). Today's lesson? Apparently Zero Tolerence = Zero Common Sense. The story of a 10 year old boy who took a water gun to school and the school administrators who need a fork in the head.

severely traumatized

It was like a like a bad car wreck. I didn't want to take a closer look but felt compelled too. I could even hear the theme music from Jaws playing in a corner of my mind. It was just an ordinary day like any other until something went horribly wrong.... Yesterday, after picking up the girl from preschool, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. As most shopping trips are, it was a mundane experience at best. Until we were on our way back to the car. Out in front of the store, a middle-aged man was talking on a pay phone. I didn't take much notice at first except to note that he was wearing one of those shirts I hate. I am not a fan of tank tops in general, but these type are the worst of the bunch. Where a normal arm hole would be are holes that are wide enough and long enough to fit a small child through. And since most men don't have a small child dangling on their hip while they wear these shirts, it instead gives us a clear view of the intimate details of their upper body. As my daughter and I proceeded along the sidewalk coming closer to this gentleman, I suddenly realized that he was not nearly as tan as I had thought he was. Yes, you guessed it. Body hair. Now please don't misunderstand me. I want to make some things very clear....

1. Yes, I am a fan of 'male' looking men and a some chest and body hair can be extremely sexy.
2. Yes, I realize I am in the majority of women who dislike extreme hairness.
3. Yes, even extreme back hair is nothing new and I'm sure everyone has seen a guy who looked like he needed to be dipped in hot wax.

However, the sheer length of this man's body hair blew my mind. My profession being what it is, I feel entirely confident estimating length.

And if his back, shoulder, chest, side and stomach hair was less then four inches long, I will eat this keyboard.

do do do do.....do do do do...

Out of order

I've been suffering this week from temporary insanity. I'm planning on getting over it anytime now though. And then we will be back to our regularly scheduled program. In the meantime:

Chinese for lunch yesterday

From my fortune cookie:

Before you wonder "Am I doing things right?", ask "Am I doing the right things?"

Sign on my office wall

Dear Lord, I pray for

Wisdom to understand my man,

Love to forgive him and

Patience for his moods.

Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength

I'll beat him to death.

You never know just how you look through other people's eyes

Over the weekend, I watched Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead, which if you haven't seen, I highly recommend it. I always crack up when I watch this movie though because it reminds me of when it first came out on video. My friends passed it around snicker among themselves and then passed it on to me to watch. Apparently, according to my friends, the character Dagney, played by the adorable Gabrielle Anwar, is me. Don't get me wrong, as much as I loathe to admit it, I don't look anything like the gorgeous Ms. Anwar. My friends were speaking of her character's personality, the way she acts, even, they say, her mannerisms. I've seen this movie and I'm totally okay with my friends feeling this way. Dagney has an elegant sureness to herself; an ability to remain calm and steady even though some events in her life are anything but calm and steady. Dagney, in short, is one pretty cool chick. But it is not AT ALL how I picture myself...how I feel inside myself. I've always related more to Lucy, played by Sandra Bullock, in While You Were Sleeping. That cute in an akward sort of way, very nice and funny, but very unsure and lonely..... And like most of the characters that Sandra Bullock plays, I too tend to snort a little when I laugh. It's a genetic trait; all the women in my family do it. So which is the real me? Which is the real you? The one we feel or the one we portray? Is what I portray to my friends a false mask and what I feel is real? Or are my friends just seeing things that I am not? Do I tend to only see the 'negative' in myself?