Archive for category humor
Just so you know you all aren’t the only ones who have to put up with my vaginal whining. Poor Jane has had more than a few earfuls along with the other friends in our little circle. It would seem though that I am the only one willing to openly gripe, and probe about the deteriorating condition of my uterus. I know for a fact that I am not the only one old enough to face these issues since I am third (She types proudly 😉 ) to the youngest in our little bunch.
Jane has me beat in the birthday department by a few years so after my repeated hounding she finally snapped saying she really didn’t see the point of dwelling on this subject. Now at this particular point I completely tucked away my despair due to my sudden amusement of her reaction. Yes I’m a horrible friend who is actually amused by her friend’s discomfort over subject matters that make them squirm. Jane in particular is still sensitive to her stripper pole injury that ended in her having to use a walker for a little while.
The injury has long since healed, but she is still touchy about my public ribbing in her doctor’s office. Okay a lot of ribbing even outside of the office too.See my post ” Love Hurts- When You Fall Off Your Stripper Pole.” I just wish I were able to completely convey the hilariousness of Jane when she is embarrassed by something. As I type this out loud it occurs to me that if she were as awful a friend as I am she would have realized that I had actually given her some pretty good ammunition to retaliate. Lucky for me she was so uncomfortable with my “Vagina monologue” that the idea has not even occurred to her.
Finally Jane confesses that my vagina isn’t the only one with drought issues. Her face scrunched up, and her left eye twitching nervously. Seeing the eye twitch immediately lowers my maturity number to the single digit level. So I lean forward holding my imaginary interview microphone, and ask her how she’s bringing rain to her desert. She physically scoots farther away from me on the couch, then snaps “That this is the exact reason why she does not want to have this discussion with me!” So of course I scoot closer to her with my imaginary microphone in hand, and say ” Jane what kind of friend refuses to share her dried up vagina stories with a friend inquiring minds want to know?” Her eye stopped twitching while her middle finger shot up, then she made a “Target Lady at Christmas dash for her bar.
I run over next to her promising to never call her vagina a desert again as tears stream down my cheeks trying to control my laughter. Jane slaps my arm, then asks me what exactly did I want to know? My first question was why she never brought this subject up to me? Okay dumb question I know, but there is seriously some great secrecy out there with women who are experiencing some betrayal from their own vaginas. Then she looks me straight in the eye, and asks me “How much humor was I finding with in my own desert?” Yep, it’s all fun & games until it’s your dried up vagina. 😉
The female vagina is quite possibly one of the great mysteries in life. Women like men sometimes name their secret spot. I have been known to call my own “The Magical Vagina” on more than one occasion, g-2 even trade marked my pet name at one point. Lately though I have revoked her (my “Magical Vagina”) of the privilege due to the fact that she has become a traitorous bitch.
Being a female I have experienced more than a few back- stabbings from other vaginally equipped species of my gender, but the betrayal of my very own “Magical Vagina” was a completely harsh blow. I’m not exactly sure why I thought my personal vagina would be impervious to the symptoms of “The Big M” (Menopause), but I did. I find being betrayed by one’s own vagina to be unsettling in more than one way.
The secrecy of the well-known betrayal runs deeper than one might imagine. Aside from “Frankie & Grace” no one seems to want to talk about it. I guess for women it’s on the same level as erectile dysfunction, there seems to be a great deal of shame attached to the whole phenomena. This shame has some pretty deadly side effects, and should come with some strong warning labels like-…
Warning your vagina can suddenly go from being a lush garden to a dry, and barren desert. Side effects include painful sexual encounters, the forced practice of finding compatible lubricants, and God forbid vaginal tearing.
You may find yourself being secretly ambushed over a period of time by a diminishing sex drive caused by a depression that sneaks up on you like a terrorist in an airport. The terrorist (Menopause) is there right under your nose. You know it exists, but it’s attack is somehow surprisingly devastating.
Dealing with the psychological realization that you have to first accept, then deal with your no longer “Magical Vagina” can cause you to unknowingly leave your sexual partner feeling unwanted, and undesirable.
The fear that your sex life will never be the same again may cause severe bouts of irrational thinking/bizarre reactions. Such as the demonizing of your own genitalia. resulting in such things as revoking her previously glorious title “The Magical Vagina!” 😉
I believe in an earlier post I described socializing with the Yankee, and getting to know the Hippy. the Hippy and I especially have been bonding a great deal. Hippy was rather distracted and irritable during our stellar Excel class, more so than the exemplary education we were receiving could be causing, so we teased her quite a bit about the possibility of her being pregnant, no less due to the extremely picky and insatiable appetite she had going on the entire day. Hippy even mentioned at one point she’d name it after me with a “McDickface” in there somewhere if that happened to be the case.
Hippy lives with her boyfriend of a couple years. I met him, we bonded in the younger brother from another mother kind of way. He was a great guy and I liked him a lot, saw a lot of myself in him and by extension, I saw a lot of immaturity as well. He’s gruff, brusque, tough fronted, but when Hippy turns her head, his expression changes to something very tender. She has often started using me as her boyfriend interpreter.
They’ve known one another since high school, when he was dating a friend of hers. Of course, he tries very hard to minimize the importance of that relationship whenever it comes up with the Hippy, but she knows better and doesn’t let it bug her as it once did. the friend cheated, time went on, and now the friend gets to watch their facebook posts as their life together progresses. Things turn out odd in life.
Spawn’s other parent was an attendee at my wedding. Life has a twisted sense of humor.
So Hippy is pregnant.
They’re not married, had no current plans on even discussing it any time soon as they’ve had a pretty shaky but stabilizing beginning and have now been suddenly thrown into parenthood.
This is pretty much how Spawn came to pass, only when their presence was discovered, I was long over the relationship and had tossed the other contributor out.
I, of course, was a model of decorum when she gave us the news and almost fell on the floor from laughing. I also demanded she agree to keep the name she’d threatened to bless it with in my honor.
Jane said it was actually different from all the sex they’d had during their marriage. She thought it was going to be like riding a bicycle something familiar that would not require any thought. As it turned out that was in fact not the case at all. Apparently when someone rides another bicycle for a while they change their riding style, right down to the way they kiss.
In an awkward way she felt like she was also sleeping with his young wife. apparently Ex-hubby has picked up some new moves. So of course I asked her if he had improved? She smiled then said it was different not better. So of course I asked for some details.
Kissing technique has definitely not improved. Apparently he holds his mouth differently, and uses an over abundance of tongue. His young wife requires him to go to the gym so his body was in better shape than when she last saw him naked so that was a plus. He was pleasantly more skilled in the oral department. Jane attributes this to the previously mentioned changes in his kissing technique, the over abundance of tongue with a stiffer mouth positioning worked better for her in this region. His timing remained the same, but Jane reminded me that he had been using Viagra while they were still married.
Then of course I had to ask her if the sex was better than it was with Tarzan? (Don’t shake your heads you know you want to know too. 😉 ) That’s when her face changed to sadness, and she said “No it wasn’t.” Tarzan, and Jane were having some really good sex before the whole I have a daughter secret. It was clear that Jane misses both him, and their steamy jungle sex.
Finally I asked the biggest question of all “Did she regret sex with the Ex, and would she do it again? Ok I already knew she regretted it, but for my own sanity I needed her to say it out loud. LOL a kind of reassurance that I would never have to revisit that disturbing thought again mentally. Jane reassured me that it would not happen again. She and Ex-hubby likened it to the concept of “You can never go home again.”
Jane said when they had finished they both knew that this would not happen again. As for regret, she didn’t regret it. She felt completely like the tiny lit crack into the door of her past was finally a door she could close without looking back. Even though it was a little sad it was also a relief. Then she looked me in the eye, and said “I think I made a huge mistake. I want Tarzan back.”
So apparently, my 8 weeks is up.
My diet buddy immediately wanted to schedule a celebratory outing at our favorite burger joint. I think diet buddy is trying to make this translate into places of temptation. I’ve already been doing this, but apparently they feared trying it. I wanted to ease back into the real world without going nuts in it.
Personally, I would have preferred a giant boat of fucking sashimi. I haven’t had sushi at all in this time and I miss it. Sashimi is a perfectly acceptable alternative. Sure a flash fried roll of some sort would be awesome, but I’m not there yet.
I mentioned that my eight weeks ended to Spawn when I got home and they just said “huh, well kind of too late to change now after all this effort.”
What a great answer.
I do plan on hitting a wing and ale place at some point, I don’t like potatoes but I like raw fries (floppy, thank you, with loads of malt vinegar) – don’t ask, and although I inhale my food when I eat, I’m eating less overall.
In all, it wasn’t as stellar as I thought it was going to be. There was no nipple scars from chest tape going across the finish line, no cheering, no passing out in the pavement and thanking everything to have to made it. I think my main thought was “huh, that got here faster than I thought it would.”
I’m still not where I want to be weight-wise, of course, this was a tiny amount of time. Yes, my pants are looser, my shirts fit better, the water weight in my legs is finally starting to fuck off and is mostly gone, I’m sleeping better, I’m moving better and with less (not none yet) pain. But I’ve a 6 year jagged track to reverse and I intend to do that in a lot less time.
So although yes, I won’t adamantly abstain from everything now, but this is where the cycling has to begin, My body freaks out when I don’t go by a routine. I was off to a good start because I was doing extreme things it couldn’t predict and plan for. I will have use that information in order to make sure my body stays in a constant state of WTF?! until I’m back to a state I want to be in: High one day, extreme low the next 3, week of normal, two weeks of low cal/carb, etc.
It’s all ok…. because I still have cheese ;p
Schnookums got back in town from their dad’s. Apparently, only for the weekend though and then its off to grandma’s. I used to feel bad that Spawn didn’t have all this extended family to visit and become close to, but then I hear of shit like this and realize I’m glad I don’t have to share because fuck that noise. Had one or both of Spawn’s grandmothers been alive, I would probably barely see the child.
Once again, mom and her brood of three flew in, chatted for a little while and deposited Schnookums into our care. I asked up front if it was ok if they ran a few errands with us. I was told that was fine, but to please limit them to only one soft drink as they felt the caffeine might worsen the seizures. I was conned into two the last time, so when we both looked over at Schnookums they just silently nodded in agreement like a villain who got off scot free.
It started off as a silent breakfast, apparently the hyper-interactive side had not been able to present itself in Schnookums for a while, so they were adjusting to be around us again. My mind and ears started wandering over to the geritol table beside us where they were discussing some trip with a friend by the name of Richard apparently.
Then I leaned over to Spawn where Schnookums could hear and whispered, “they’re talking about Dick.”
Both kids erupt into snorts.
Then we all kind of tuned into the geritol squad where they went on about having several good pictures of “Dick” and how they had copies made of those and passed them around.
Needless to say, we were in tears for a good twenty minutes or so.
Schnookums:”This is the best breakfast ever.”
And the floodgates of chatter opened once more.
Spawn and I played rock, paper, scissors to see if we would be going to the music store (I had needs) or the art store first (Spawn has been commissioned to paint a picture for a co-worker with a new house). I won and Schnookums got a lesson in local music stores and how awesome they could be. They picked a couple of cd’s themselves even, one of which was My Chemical Romance. I’m not a fan, mostly because I’ve only heard blurbs of a couple songs and it really didn’t pique my interest too much, but when Schnookums found it and got excited, I leaned over to see what it was and said “you know the lead singer writes comics, right?”
Schnookums:”Whoa, no way! Really?”
Schnookums and Spawn are currently writing a comic. In fact, Spawn is currently storyboarding Schnookums’ story. So this was like finding out your idol is your idol twice-over.
We went all over the store, Spawn almost physically dragging me out when they saw the stack of cd’s I’d accumulated. It has been too long since I’ve been and I have time to make up for. I even placed an order for items they didn’t have, something I tend to do more than I like to admit. Schnookums was having a great time, and I told them they need to show their mom this place when they got a chance.
I decided on a classic as the first song when we got in the car, a truly enriching cd to play. One both educational as well as entertaining, one that epitomized the youth of my era.
The first track? Smack My Bitch Up by the Prodigy, of course.
(BTW, probably NSFW, I’ve not seen the video, so be warned)
The art store always sucks me into an infinite vortex of possibilities. Schnookums asked if they could run to the bathroom. I gave a vague direction of where they were usually located and they were off. Spawn went to scout out canvases. I wandered a little, but found the two checking canvases in the back of the store. I asked Schnookums if they found the bathroom, only to be told they didn’t need to go anymore. I’m worried that a backed up bladder is going to somehow bring on a seizure or something only to be told:
Schnookums:”Actually, I just wanted to look around.”
me:”Why didn’t you just say so?”
Apparently, this is how Schnookums gets away from mom and brood when they want some solo time.
Schnookums found out quick that in our dynamic, I’m the one who usually wanders off to who knows where, at one point Spawn demanding that I stay nearby.
me:”But I found furry skull pillows! I need these!”
Spawn:”No you don’t!”
me:”Then you can pay for your own crap.”
Spawn:”I would but I forgot my wallet”
I was told to turn the Prodigy cd down on the way home and the kids once again played video games when we arrived. Schnookums created a character that was based loosely on our fatass cat named Munchkinsquishytush or similar. They ran it around at first and asked other players “tell me I’m cute.”
Before we were due to meet Schnookums, I had already tried to install a few games on my computer, ones they could play together, mostly online. Of course as soon as I went to run them, most wanted to do a five hour update or some bullshit, so that idea was blown out of the water before it had a chance. Those two never minded though.
Oh yeah, my belated birthday gift to myself was a gaming computer. It’s red and glows. Spawn is jealous. They can suck it.
Somewhere during their reverie, the heat and over exertion of the puny a/c’s in our shitty little house kept tripping the breaker. I don’t know what fucking electrical idiot decided to put over half the house on one circuit, but if I ever meet him, I’ll rip his dick off and make him eat it.
I’m only a little angry, I promise.
So of course, our computers are on that circuit, which means we can’t even get more than one AC to run and stay running, as soon as we flipped the 2nd, the breaker trips again… and again… and again. It’s a very muggy 102 outside at the time. We’re hating life.
Spawn and I did a little testing and find out there are about two or three outlets NOT on the one damn circuit but nowhere near our desk. So, another trip out to Lowe’s where I grossly overestimate the length needed and get the 100 yd one, “just in case.” But, it solved our problem and kept us cool and going.
While we were out, I asked if they were hungry (it’s been hours since breakfast by this time) to which I got a resounding “yes!”. Again, I introduce Schnookums to yet another local favorite, a burger joint that looks like a warehouse from the outside and only has one small sign in the back parking lot, behind a tree. You find it by word of mouth only.
And for the folks who have been following my diet quest, yes this was a high calorie day for me. The next was protein shakes and a bag of salad mix to even it out. By high, meaning I had a bacon spinach omelet and a piece of rye for breakfast, a cheese burger with no bread, with a side salad for dinner. No shakes, unsweetened tea and water. I was kind of pained from the amount actually, but so good.
Schnookums opted for a ghost chili burger. They lived to regret it. They ended up having to eat their burger with a knife and fork like i was doing once we scraped as much as the cheese off as we could.
I was glad this time Spawn was a bit past the brooding silent observation they had the first time I met Schnookums. I wasn’t sure if it was irritation we were getting along or just that initial hesitation that Spawn can get when a new element is in their territory. Spawn adores their BFF a lot for example, but only likes to be around them in limited doses. I can tell when they have had enough of even me as they will don earphones and find a corner to have quiet time.
Schnookums asked me to tell them when we got sick of them, but I never responded. They melded into our world pretty well so I really didn’t have my usual amount of exhausted overstimulation either. Maybe I’m getting a thick skin to it. Like last time, it was their mom who finally decided they were coming to get them.
Schnookums has a chromebook that has been inoperable for a while, so I had a rescue thumbdrive ready this time. I also put a bug in mom’s ear that a gaming machine could be had for less than a laptop from the right spot. Then showed them the right spot. Apparently, mom was just as aggravated with the uncle who didn’t follow through as much as Schnookums was. Schnookums was promised usage of the laptop mom didn’t use, and Schnookums and Spawn arranged to try to play together later.
Spawn and I have been craving pizza like mad. Pizza in and of itself and the toppings I like on them, NONE of them are bad. It’s that mutha effin’ crust that kicks a diabetic’s ass.
I found one recipe on dietdoctor.com for a pizza with a crust made from cheese and egg.
This doesn’t even remotely sound appetizing to me so I held off and kept searching.
Then I found this one:
I’d never heard of the Fathead movie. I did watch the movie Supersize Me that it was made to openly mock though. Of course, what I got from the latter was:
- McDonald’s had unhealthy food (no shit, sherlock)
- His girlfriend is all about vegan
- Diet can make a huge impact
I completely agree with the first and last and don’t give a shit about the middle one. It got a lot of backlash because he didn’t post a log of what he ate, didn’t use some scientific method, was full a shit on the whole panic part where his doc and gf begged him to stop… hell, I don’t know. I got the vibe it was meant to shock and create a frenzy of fear in America’s overall health, but I tend to not really get sucked in easily and I tend to agree that diet makes a huge impact.
I just tend to lean to the side that low carb (what Fathead trumpets) is the better impact, for me. If gluten-free, vegan is your jam, then that makes an impact for you. Johns Hopkins and their high fat diet that treats epilepsy… awesome. Anytime someone takes a leap to change what they already consume to treat the bad things they feel, I tend to think that is a smart move even if its not completely successful. But there is never one answer to everything or everyone.
All I knew is my ass wanted pizza. So we made this and topped it with bacon, chicken sausage, portabello, and although I wanted to put spinach on it, we didn’t have any.
I had to use a little more almond flour than listed to get a doughy enough feel to start spreading it. Spreading also ended up being more of an oiled hand quickly patting it into a pizza like shape as I didn’t have the paper. I didn’t have to poke any more holes in it after 8 minutes and I wasn’t able to hold it to eat it. I will probably play with another egg and a bit more flour or more cheese. I dusted it with sea salt and garlic, fresh oregano, basil and Spawn tossed some rosemary on it for fun.
It fucking rawked, taste-wise. Even with a fork, it felt, smelled and soothed our soul like pizza.