Booga Booga

I have to send out a very big, very special and very heartfelt

Thank You

 

to Miss Cindy Booga (aka, Boogs, Booga Booga) for my new header.

I

Love

It.

And you for making it.  Thank you, darlin.  You rock. 

Clue #2: For Those With A Penis

Yes yes, it’s that time again fair friends!  It’s … CLUE TIME!  Boys, ready for your clue of the week?

And yes, this is to all of you boys out there.  Men, boys, males, those harboring a penis.

I’m thinking, with no sarcasm at all, that perhaps you all may need some … clues.  Just general clues about chicks.  Women.  Girls.  Those in the female variety.  Those with a vagina.

While I won’t be giving away too much, what fun is that really, I think it’s important I clue you in on something that chicks love.  Women, girls, chicks.  Anyone with a vagina.

Ready?

How To End An Argument; Advice From My Mother

I consider myself lucky.  I have a kick-ass mom that I talk to almost everyday.  She’s been through a lot in her life, having had three children, each of us with very unique personalities.  So having had so much life experience, she does from time to time, (read: every damn day) give me advice on how to handle certain things, from raising Emilee to how to make spaghetti sauce, from dating to how to have a relationship. 

So, once upon a time, when I needed some advice I called  mom.  And it went a bit like this …

“Mom, we are having some issues and we just can’t seem to get past these things.  I’m hurt and he thinks he’s right.  We’ve argued and yelled and we just can’t seem to stop being angry!  What do you think?”

“Honey, the best advice I can give you to stop the arguing is this … Get Naked.”

*Blink*

“What!  Mom! I don’t want to have sex with him, I can’t stand him right now!”

“I said nothing about having sex, sweetie,” she said.  ”Just get naked.  Be naked together and try to argue.  Who can argue when you’re both standing there naked?  Really.  Your dad and I … “

“MOTHER!  Whoa … STOP STOP STOP.  I’m good.  I got the concept,” I said, gagging at whatever story she was about to tell me.

“Okay,” mom said, “Remember that advice.  It works as well as anything else I’ve tried.”

So there you go.  The next time you argue with your significant other and can’t seem to let it go, get naked.  Be naked and try to argue.

Then report back to me on how it went.

Wrenches, Date Night and Vomiting

Remember McPT?  He made contact this past week, throwing what I thought was a wrench into my theory of him being Just Not That Into Me.  Until it was glaringly obvious that he was in fact, into me …

If I was putting out.

While I can in a way, appreciate his candor, I’m not looking for a sex toy in a male variety.  I have some toys that work very well without needing a man, thank you very much.  So I politely declined his invitation and told him, “I’m Just Not That Into You.”

————————————————————————————————-

Weird Thing of the Week

As things go, this is my life people.  Welcome to a glimpse of it.

Now if you read my blog with any regularity, you know that I have quite a hard time containing my laughter when someone, hell anyone, falls in my general vicinity.  Read this post from Random Esquire to get a better explanation of my uncontrollable laughter.

While out to dinner recently, I was quite charmed by this particular restaurant that had a floor that was partially clear so you could see the wine cellar beneath where you were standing.  And if you were extra super lucky, you could actually see people beneath where you are standing, looking for specific bottles of wine.

While waiting for our table, we did order drinks from the bar.  I had my normal, a martini of some type.  I had not, at this point, noticed the clear floor but when we were finally seated, the moment came to actually walk ON the floor.  I stopped, ooooo’ed and awwwwww’ed a bit, finding it quite unusual and very just, fun to see.  I actually was turning circles around, looking down, holding my martini, just staring at the floor.  (Yes, things easily amuse me.) What I didn’t notice however, was that I was spilling my martini everywhere.  Not a ton, but enough to leave vodka all over the clear floor anyway.  My escort commented to me that I was abusing my martini by spilling more than I was drinking.  Point taken, and I stopped oooo’ing and awwwwww’ing and walked to our table.

To my sheer happiness, we were seated at a booth that was directly in front of the clear floor.  Did I mention how easily amused I am?

Upon sitting at the table, we are given our menu’s when I look up to say something to my escort for the evening, and it happened. A waiter, with a full tray of drinks, was walking across the clear floor when he slipped.  And … and … he slipped and was trying to right himself but let out this noise of … “Whoooaaa!  Whooooooooa” as he was trying to balance himself.   The man slipped … in my spilled vodka. In MY spilled vodka.  He never did right himself, and he, the tray, the 8 drinks on the tray, all went down, in one large mess.  There was ice, waiter, and drinks all over.  My mouth opened in shock because you see, I realized, I realized he slipped and fell because of me.

And then it began.  I started to laugh.  And I don’t mean giggle people.  I was laughing so hard I had tears coming out of my eyes.  I immediately grabbed my cloth napkin and put it over my face.  I laughed into it until I could hardly breathe.  While covering my face with the napkin, I heard another large PLOP.  I peeked out of the napkin to see that the other waiter who came to help the original fallen waiter, had also fallen in the large mess of wetness on the floor.  Now, there are two waiters, tangled up almost, trying to get up yet at the same time trying to help each other up, both slipping on the clear, wet floor.

It was too much.  TOO MUCH.  I immediately again started to laugh, this time with big hiccups because I was obviously asphyxiating myself, and my escort was staring at me in horror.  I tried to do the wave, like you know, the “Oh this is completely fine, just ignore me” wave.  Let me point out that it did not work so well.

The moral of this story?  Stay away from clear floors.  Or at least don’t spill on them.  Not when I’m around anyway.

Clue: For Those With A Penis.

That would mean all of you boys out there.  Men, boys, males, those harboring a penis.  You know who you are.    At least you should by now.

I’m thinking, with no sarcasm at all, that perhaps you all may need some … clues.  Just general clues about chicks.  Women.  Girls.  Those in the female variety.  Those with a vagina. 

While I won’t be giving away too much, what fun is that really, I think it’s important I clue you in on something that chicks love.  Women, girls, chicks.  Anyone with a vagina. 

Ready? 

Closure. The Hell With It.

Does anyone really need closure to move on?  Does it really do anyone any good to get closure?  I can’t decide.

Closure has been defined as a woman feeling “that all of the final emotional “loose ends” have been tied up to her satisfaction, and there is no remaining “unfinished emotional business” that she needs to take care of before moving on with her life”. 

Here is my question.  How would I get closure if I stuck to the above definition?  How can my situation be tied up to MY satisfaction?  Do I really need for McPT to tell me I’m just not that into you.  Would hearing that help me close this?  This feeling of wondering, this feeling of not knowing what the hell is going on with him and why hasn’t he called me?  Cuz I’m thinking no, it wouldn’t.  At all.

I Kissed a Toad …

… Again.  I think.

Seems to me, that I’ve kissed a lot of toads lately.  In fact, I think I’ve kissed my fair share of toads.  I spent well over a year kissing the biggest Dickhead, er, Toad of them all.  And since then, I’ve kissed so many toads I’ve lost count.  Dammit.

Just how many freaking toads do I need to kiss in order to find my prince?

Recently, I thought perhaps maybe a prince finally came into the picture.  I may have been mistaken, however.  Yet I may not have been mistaken.  It’s really very early to tell actually.  I’ve not been blogging about McPrinceToad (who shall now be known as McPT) because well, I was almost afraid of jinxing it.  And in the process, I’ve kept him from you.  So let me tell you a story …

Life …

Is so busy these days!  Emilee and I are leaving for the sunny state of Florida tomorrow, to spend Easter with my dad.  She is as excited as can be and of course, hasn’t been sleeping well because of it.  Which makes for one tired mama who has yet to pack a single thing.

So, while in Florida I’ll be taking a break from blogging.  I want to wish you all a very Happy Easter.  And think of me basking in the sunshine under 45SPF please. 

Ta Ta for now …

Sometimes …

Sometimes I think I’m so very right about something.  In fact, I’m so damn sure that I’m right that I accept it as reality, even before it has become reality. 

And sometimes, I’m so damn wrong.

And sometimes, that makes me so damn happy.