Monthly Archive for May, 2011

Page 3 of 9

A Woman Described Her Boobs and Her Poopy Pants So I Gave Her Ten Bucks

Jamie Wright wrote about her boobs recently and I reacted like most men my age: I gave her money.
Ten bucks.
Via PayPal.

It is the equivalent of tuck-a-buck to a church lady.

Yup, I’m talking about boobs. But, don’t worry – I brought my other lady parts along, too.

She not only wrote about her boobs, she wrote how much she enjoyed it when boys noticed.

I know, I know. I’m supposed to hate it. As a woman, I’m supposed to feel objectified by the catcalls and horn honking. As a missionary, I’m supposed to feel embarrassed by my own sexuality and particularly horrified by the possibility that I may be causing my brother to stumble, or whatever. As a human being, I should feel degraded by being cajoled like an animal. But if I’m being really honest, and I am here, I have to tell you that -while I’m sort of uncomfortable with the aggressive nature…

Yeah, Jamie is a missionary. She is The Very Worst Missionary… and she’s cool with the fact that boys notice her when she walks to town.

I hope we get to meet in Costa Rica someday. I want to see if the Latin Boys are right.

The poop? She was interviewed by a Church Guy and said about the invitation

I *may* have pooped my pants *a little* when he asked.

But she didn’t, admitting during the interview that she has never pooped in her whole life.

Missionaries don’t poop,

she revealed.
You got ten bucks? Send it to Jamie.

Maybe she will won’t have to ride in janky pickup trucks in her pajama bottoms anymore.

OMG! Acquaintances and Cow-orkers May Be Reading This

This is a scary thought.

My blog traffic may increase because acquaintances may be reading.

Chris got me started blogging. Because I was employed in a position of responsibility at a conservative company, I thought it best to not to reveal my true identity – ala Clark Kent.

Until Susan found my blog, nobody cared. I wrote hundreds of posts without a single person asking about my true identity. Susan asked and because she is a power blogger I felt I could trust, I told her my story.

At the genesis, plenty of other bloggers – mostly female – were forthcoming with their identities. Some even used their real names. And pictures! I learned about their husbands, kids, dads,  menstrual cycles, P.A.H., big butts, diets, divorces, plastic bags in trees, Jesus, random weirdness and jokes about men…and way more that usually was TMI.  Men usally wrote about cash, tech, Bill Gates, and turds. Men don’t write about themselves. And we sure don’t post pictures of ourselves.

I wrote stuff that I hoped was interesting and maybe a little funny to other guys my age or to women who know or are/were married to guys my age.

They were all strangers to me. Over the years, I know a quite a bit about a few of them and a few know quite a bit  about me. The handful that I have grown to know and trust, know my name. And they are strangers.  Really. We exchange tidbits via emails and blog posts, but they are strangers.

My family knows I blog. But most of my extended family comes from my wife’s side and they don’t know I blog. We have some friends that know I blog, but they aren’t blog readers.

It’s time to let acquaintances in on the act.

Acquaintances are those people that fall between family and friends. The folks that I chit-chat with at Kroger or in the hallway.

Now that I’m leaving my conservative employer, and I don’t have to maintain a certain decorum as part of my community personna, (oh shit, does that sentence wreak of Schwarzeneggerism!) I think its OK to let them in on the fun.

Same with Facebook. Until recently, I had more strangers as friends than acquaintances. I had read enough horror stories to know that having cow-orkers as Facebook friends could backfire.

But now, all bets are off and I hope my acquaintances will become regular readers.

Or I’ll just go back to fooling myself that my traffic is puny because I’m a Clark Kent kind of guy.

 

 

 

Geeky Animated Gif Monday

Married 43 Years And She Still Is Keeping Secrets

We are missing a debit card. Visa said they sent us two, I have one, one is missing. Nancy will need it in 30 days when she moves to Costa Rica.

Before I called to get another, I asked if it was OK to rifle through her storehouse of cards, loyalty cards, FSA debit cards, credit cards, gift cards, and the ilk.

She said it was OK and then.
THEN.
I found it… her secret Dairy Queen discount book.

Confronting her she played it cool. Not admitting her little secret, she just kept on playing her latest game obsession. As with all women, she is skilled in the art of making it my fault.

She said: “Well, I tried to get you to go yesterday and you said no.”

Never mind that her secret coupon book had goodies that would last us a year… and there are no Dairy Queens in Costa Rica, I just let it slide. She’ll be gone soon.

My only hope is she will leave behind the Dairy Queen coupon book for me while I finish up loading the crap into the shipping container.

I’ll need a Peanut Buster Parfait or nine I’m sure.

I can last ’til then… and they will be mine, all mine.
Dairy Queen discount coupon books were not specifically covered in our vows, but doesn’t this fall under the “richer or poorer” part?

UPDATE: She says all the Peanut Buster Parfait coupons are gone. She has removed them for her personal use. I’m left with Blizzards, Dilly Bars, and Burgers. Not bad.

5/21/11: Rapture Fail. Move to Costa Rica is On Again.

Brian said:

I’m sure that the nutbag who figured this all out paid very close attention to timezones, since Jesus probably has one of those awesome watches with three different timezone settings and a stopwatch and everything.

I love the cartoon on his blog. It’s more original than mine, but he had it first and we all know there is no stealing in blogging.

I’m still here. The Rapture was  for Christian believers. I didn’t expect to be rapturized. I just had my eyes on a couple houses and a lot of really nice cars  that would be vacant in case the world really started to end and the owners were beamed up. I was gonna flip the houses to the Jews and Catholics and Muslims that were left behind with the rest of us sinners. The cars I was gonna keep.

My back-up retirement plan depended on the world starting to come to an end on May 21, 2011.

So wassup in your life? Your soul?

No. Guess not because I’m pretty sure there are no blogs in Heaven. Blogs are the work of Satan. Blog readers are the work of Satan.

Family Radio predicted a massive earthquake would strike May 21, 2011 to herald the second coming of Jesus Christ. Of the seven billion people worldwide, there won’t be enough left alive to bury the dead.

Next Up on Survivor… We continue our plans to move to Costa Rica.