This Blog Can’t Even Handle Me Right Now

Before you read this I have two very important announcements:

1. Check out my guest post over at Cynicism 101. I am very honored to be Doc”s first guest blogger and I would be more honored if you visited us. He’s me, except a man.

2. Bearman is revealing what my yearbook pics would have looked like throughout the decades. He also posted an obscure homecoming photo that no one knew about till now!

Now let’s get down to bid-ness.

Two three things come to mind when I receive Royal Mail:

1. My British-drug-addict-ex is trying to contact me again, which will cause me to reflect upon a time in my life that makes me wish that London Bridge really was falling down. With me on it.

2. Are we past having to worry about Anthrax?

3. Good Morning America must have gotten my contest entry and this is my invitation to Prince William’s wedding! 2011 is the year all my dreams are coming true!

But then, I open it, and I discover something even better.

Better than Anthrax?

Well, if you can believe it, yes.

Free stuff.

I know what you’re thinking, Anthrax is free. True. Yes, but it will also impair your respiratory system and effectively kill you.

I received custom made greeting cards inspired by my blog, which were made for me by the awesome duo from Caffeinated Designs – Cheryl, my Asian Sunrise, located in sunny CA, and Jen, the Secret Keeper, located in foggy London. And I didn’t even ask for them – they just did it all on their own. Never mind that I have promised to put their kids through college as long as they send me customized periodical gifts for the remainder of their lives.

I had sort of forgotten that they had asked for my address a couple months ago.

Phew. That was a close one, Royal Mail. You had me sweatin’ like an 8th grade me during an algebra test.

They have recently branched out into designing greeting  cards.

Thanks guys! Loved the cards!

What Women Really Want

Come on in.  Pop open a cold one (non-alcoholic, of course, cus I need you to keep it classy and focus on what I’m saying).  Grab all your friends and sit Indian style on the mat.  Please don’t be concerned if you can’t sit Indian style, the more important problem is, why don’t you have any friends?   Men, I especially want you to listen up.  Hurricane honesty is about to blow you away.   Sorry Mary, there’s no spoonful of sugar with this Robitussin.  Just the cold,  green, mystery flavor your mother used to shovel down your throat.  So let’s recap what we already know:

1. We want you to be nice. But not too nice, Nicey McCallaghan.

2. We want you to pay attention to us. But watch it, Smothery McFerguson.

3. We want you to give us our way. But only half the time, Doormat McPushoverPants.

Alright, so now that I’ve given you a month to digest that very scientific and logical information, we can move on to Part II:

christina-aguilera-and-husband4.  We want you to be funny. But not a comedian with a complex that has to make a joke out of everything or he has no self-worth because he used to get beaten up at the bus stop or something.  Got that?  If you can’t make us bust a gut, then it’s OVER, Snoresville McGee.  You know how you always get perplexed when you see a fine lookin lady with an awkward geek who is unfortunate looking?  Well that’s cus she just dumped her rich, gorgeous underwear model for the guy who works the late shift at Taco Bell because he cracked a joke when he handed over her Chalupa.   Yea.  I never said these were smart decisions.  But they are what we choose, nonetheless.

5. We want you to be manly. But over the years it seems that you’ve taken this to mean stubbly and un-showered with a beer belly?  No, no.  Just because you shower, shave regularly, and don’t wear brown shoes with black pants it doesn’t mean that you’re not a man.  P.S.  it won’t KILL you to do a face mask or a pore strip once in a while.  You’ll still be allowed to shoot people on Call of Duty.

6. We want you to be romantic. The problem is, you’ve taken this idea of “romance” and twisted it into a pretzel of ungodliness.  It’s downright scary, what you’ve done.  I think the underlying roses-with-babies-breathproblem is somewhere along the line there was a glitch in the matrix and you guys got terribly confused by the term: romantic.

I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean: red roses with baby’s breath (and perhaps a fern), heart-shaped pendant necklaces (actually, heart-shaped anything), stuffed animals with mushy sayings, “gamble chocolates” with mystery fillings, or an attempt at writing us poetry.  [[Sigh]]   So really, the bottom line here is creativity.  So maybe we should rephrase this to say – we want you to be creative.

Can I get a witness ladies?

Remember it.  Write it down.  Fold it up.  Tuck it in your jockstrap.  And have a more successful life.

You’re welcome.