While demotivational graphics can be humorous to those endowed with the gift of sarcasm, they absolute do not translate to real life. Unless, of course, you want to make your own damn sammich.
In this day and age, how many Women in this situation would believe that that’s his problem?
For some men, a cheat sheet is a necessity.
The title says it all, first I questioned the sexuality of my house key as it looked a bit prideful. Then we were illuminated with the different shades of gay and a pretty lame diety as Steve Jobs is generally a poo-poo faced kind of guy. Its his computers that we found were slightly in the closet, although that has to do with their operating system.
Yesterday, September 1st 2009, Ben and Jerry’s the Vermont ice cream company we have come to love released a temporary flavor, Hubby Hubby. As you might have guessed it is a localized renaming of their product Chubby Hubby which includes: fudge covered peanut butter filled pretzels in vanilla malt ice cream rippled with fudge and peanut butter, according to the Washington Post. However Ben and Jerry’s describes it as: an all naturally fabulous union of Peanut Butter Cookie Dough ice cream, fudge and pretzels.
The thing that pisses me off is the fact that it is only available in Vermont. Would it not be a better idea to celebrate living in a country where its okay to be out with a national release? I am advocating for changes in marriage laws but I would urge the country to limit the state’s involvement of the process. After all other that tax revenue and legal fees what business does the state really have in my personal life. After all it took three times to be married to the love of my life.
So, go support the reformation of marriage laws, just on a different platform, getting the state out of the private lives of it’s citizenship.
We generally have friends over on Saturday nights. Not because we don’t dig going out, because we do. But going out all the time does tend to get old, plus you have to worry about the PO-PO pullin your ass over in the middle of the night.
Of course, I’m a spoiled, lucky girl. I have a designated driver at all times and I dig it. Regardless of that, it’s nice just to stay in, cook a smorgassboard of tasty good stuff and drink hot toddies or beer or wine or Jack….
Well, on tap for the past weekend’s buffet was pork tenderloin, rosemary potatoes, steamed snow peas and a variety of other crap.
I must say, I’ve never cooked a tenderloin before and I rocked the balls out of it. Baked it sloooooow in the oven, double wrapped in foil filled with every herb you can think of. After being on slow bake for 3 hours, I jerked that badboy out of the foil and slung it on the grill… G-R-U-B!!
Everybody ate way too damn much.
I, of course, was no exception. Quite the contrary. I started drinkin whilst cooking. The flavor of the day was Meridian Chardonnay, mighty good.
I asked Big T to open me the first bottle and it was on. Between me and Taucha, we polished off close to three bottles. A little much.
I paced myself, like a professional New Orleans drinker. Sipping all night long. It’s hard to tell how much wine one has consumed when one’s glass never quite gets empty before somebody happens by to freshen it.
So, it’s 1:00am, and everybody is leaving. I had been giving Big T the eye and making obscene gestures toward him all night. REOW… come here big daddy.
He was sitting on the couch in the love den, when I crawled up in his lap and made close up obscene gestures at him before departing with my clothes and heading toward the bed. I knew it was a matter of 1.8 seconds before he’d be following me that way.
Woooo! I was feeling my oats. I was gonna tear his ass up. I was gonna make him scream my name and write bad checks. I was gonna make him beg for mercy.
Let the makin out and major league cannoooodlin begin!
I kiss my way down into a desireable spot. Somehow, don’t ask me how… I passed out. His goodies right in front of me and I pass out. Of course at first, he thought I was thinking or taking a breather….
He taps me on the head. “Baby, are you ok? If you’re gonna go to sleep, release that and get on a pillow.”
“I’m not asleep. Swear I’m not.” As I sit up and leave a drool puddle on his belly. “Ok, so I might have been asleep.”
“That’s ok, baby. Go to sleep.”
So I did.
Well, I woke up to him staring at me. “Gotta hang over?”
My head was spinnin, “Hell ya. I’m dehydrated and my head’s spinnin.”
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” He picked. “You do remember falling asleep last night, right?”
All day long, kids, I had to hear him slip in little comments about my inability to handle my alcohol and still be sexually fucntional. I mean, granted, it was all in fun, but how embarrassing is that?
“Sorry, baby. I swear I’ll never drink again.” Rolling my eyes. “Gimme some aspirin.”
“Yah. Yah.” He gets me aspirin, “You know you got yours and you were done, ready to go to sleep. Sometimes I think our roles in this marriage are jacked the hell up.”
“I know, huh? I spit, burp, and fart better than you.” Smiling at him like the cat that ate the canary.
Pick on me again some more.
