Monthly Archives: February 2012

The Oscars MY Way

Aright, enough about me. I can see how multiple posts about myself could get irritating. And so, since the Oscars have just happened, and the most exciting thing to watch was Angelina pose awkwardly in her slitted gown, I have decided to hand out awards the way I think they should be handed out. This encompasses all of film and is not limited to just this year. There may be a few awards you’re not quite familiar with…

Best Romantic Comedy: Just Married– Before Ashton Kutcher was over-rated and before Brittany Murphy was dead.

Most Depressing Yet Inspiring Movie: My First Mister– A little more depressing than it is inspiring, I am quite melancholy for at least three days after watching it.

Best Rerun Movie: Independence Day- It also happens to have the best aliens.

Best Musical: Newsies– Before Christian Bale was Batman, he was in a little Disney movie where he sang with a New York accent.

Best Animated Film: The Little Mermaid– Because it is so colorfully wonderful and beautiful and I could never get sick of it.

Moving on to individual performances…

Best Boobs– Anne Hathaway in Havoc. I bet you thought I was going to say Angelina, didn’t you? Just wait.

Best Realistic Sex Scene-This is a tie.  Angelina and Antonio Banderas in Original Sin/ or Angelina and Ethan Hawke in Taking Lives. What can I say? The woman’s a natural.

Best Lesbian Scene– Here we go again. Angelina in Gia (The unrated version). (I’m really not biased, check it out for yourself.)

Best Vampire Performance- Tom Cruise as Lestat in Interview With A Vampire. He perfectly nailed the character, and it also happens to be the only movie I can stand him in.

Most Endearing Performance– This is for you, Edward Hotspur. Salma Hayak in Fools Rush In. Who WOULDN’T want to marry her in this movie?

Best Comedic Performance- Jack Nicholson in Anger Management/ and Jack Black in School of Rock. I believe these two characters should duke it out for the honor and have a Battle of the Bands in an Anger Management class.

Best Ugly Transformation- Charlize Theron in Monster. How did they get someone so beautiful to look so awful?!

Most Beautiful in a Performance- Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. You find me one person in the world who says she doesn’t look stunning in the last scene of that movie.

Best Villian– Dustin Hoffman in Hook. And yet he is almost likeable.

Best Musical Performance– Gerard Butler in Phantom of the Opera. It doesn’t matter HOW he looked. His voice did the talking. (Or technically, the singing.)

Best Literary Character Performance– Megan Follows as Anne of Green Gables. Maybe she’s more famous in Canada, because I haven’t seen her since.

Best Supporting Actress- Shirley MacLaine as Ouiser in Steel Magnolias. “I’m pleasant, dammit!”

Best Supporting Actor– Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya inThe Princess Bride. “You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.”

Best Performance by a Child– Elijah Wood as Huck Finn. Also the only thing that he’s done where he hasn’t bothered me.

Most Dedicated Performance- This is a three-way tie:

Christian Bale in The Machinist. Because he really did get down to 119 pounds.

Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight. Because he, well, he died.

Christina Ricci in Afterlife. Because she went through almost the entire movie naked and didn’t even flinch.

Best Career Actress- Julie Andrews. Because anyone who can play Mary Poppins, a nun, a transvestite, Peter Pan, and the Queen of Genovia is frickin’ awesome. And she is still gorgeous, even though she’s 107.

Best Career Actor– John Malkovich. Because I cannot name one specific movie that he’s been in, but he pops up in the most unexpected places and always gives the performance of his life.

Ok, I guess that about does it for the Oscars MY way. I really think I should be part of the group who decides who gets what.


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Versatility Is My Middle Name

Here is the final post of my All About Me series. (Ok, let’s face it- there will never be a final post about me- but anyhoo…) Thanks to Archon hiding in his Den, you shall now know 7 things about me that you didn’t know before. And Archon, you may have a booby squeeze whenever you come an’ get it, but I regret to inform you that it will be slightly less enthusiastic than Chris Meloni’s, since you are, in fact, NOT Chris Meloni. (Believe me, I am as upset about that as you are.)

On to trivia about me… (I should really design a board game about me… can you imagine how sparkly and pink it would be?!)

1. I remember well the very first porn I witnessed. While I do not recall the exact point of it, I seem to remember something about strippers and ping pong balls shooting out of cooches. I also recall my friend laughing at me when I ended up running to the bathroom and throwing up after watching such things. I think the visual sequences were a bit much for my 7 year old brain.

2. I became a born-again Christian when I was 4. It was after Sunday School at the place where I had daycare, and the good old fire-and-brimstone preaching of the Baptists had my 4 year old self terrified of swimming in a lake of fire for all eternity. I still believe Christ died for me, but I also embrace all other religions, because, after all, who am I to decide which one is right?

3. I have wondered on occassion what it would be like to kill someone. No, I do not intend to find out for myself, but I mention this only because I know I’m not the only one. I’m just the only one willing to admit it.

4. I have never taken drugs, nor do I plan on it, but I have decided that if I ever did, heroin would be my first choice. I do not know why, except that if I’m going to indulge, I might as well start with the really bad stuff.

5. My knees can never be considered beautiful, because they sport numerous scars from living the life of an accident-prone child. The worst one came from running down a grass hill as full speed and totally biffing it as soon as I hit the concrete. There is a reason why I look best on my knees…

6. When looking for love, I do not gender-discriminate. In my life I have been in love with exactly 2 women and 3 men. It just happens that the women I fall in love with don’t swing that way.

7. I am not, at any time, ok with people taking french fries and other assorted foody goodness off my plate “just to try it” when I am at a restaurant. If you want some french fries, fucking order some. My french fries are MY french fries. And my ranch dressing is NOT for you!


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Tag, I’m It

Here is the sequal to my post from earlier today. Breezy K over in Canada tagged me, and here are her questions that I have answered, since you all still don’t know enough about me:

1. Are you left or right-handed? Do you play into either stereotype?

I am right-handed when writing, however, while masturbating or giving hand jobs, I use my left hand for some reason.

As far as stereo-types go, the only one I know of is that supposedly left-handed people are smarter. Since I am smarter than most people, (and definitely smarter that any leftys I’ve known) clearly I do not play into that stereotype.

2. Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert?

I am an introvert posing as an extrovert. What that means is that extrovertism is my defense mechanism  (ha, that rhymed) and if you asked anyone that knows me, they would never say that I am shy, because only I know the truth.

3. Who would win in a fight between a grilled cheese sandwich and a taco?

Grilled cheese, hands down. The best way to judge the strength of foods is to see what it does to your poops. And since consuming multiple grilled cheeses would cease a normal person’s ability to poop, I would say that is a pretty good deciding factor, wouldn’t you? (By the way, I poops at parties sos nobody knows it.)

4. Who is your favourite Kardashian sister and why? (AND DON”T SAY NO ONE)

I shall have to say Khloe, because she is the only one I know the name of besides Kim, and I detest Kim. (I’m sorry, Breezy!)

5. Do you write anything else outside of your blog?

I wrote a short story that’s being published, thanks to Gillian Colbert, and I’ve written lots of other stuff. Sadly, all the other stuff is imprisoned in my head.

6. Are you a vegetarian? have you tried meat substitutes?

I have considered becoming a vegetarian because most of the time the thought of eating something that previously had a face gets to me if I think about it too much. That and the fact that the only real meat I like anyway is turkey and chicken. Oh, and Man Meat. But I try not to use my teeth on that….

7. Who is your biggest role model/inspiration in life?

This is a toughy for me, because I strive to not be like anyone else… but Dolly Parton, Audrey Hepburn, and Mother Theresa come to mind.

8. What is your favourite junk food?

I cannot answer this question, as most of the food that I consume is considered junk by most people. I, on the other hand, just consider it sustanence.

9. Who is your favourite band/singer? and have you seen them in concert?

My favorite singer is Martina McBride, because she sings like an angel; and yes, I’ve seen her in concert 3 times, and cried every single time.

My favorite band is Black Stone Cherry, because they have yet to write a song I don’t like. I actually just found out that they’re coming to town soon, but sadly, their tickets are exhorbitantly priced…. I shall take any donations offered if anyone should like me to witness their fantastical musical abilities.

10. Do you have any brothers or sisters?

I have two sisters that I haven’t seen in over a decade, and a brother who is my best friend. I believe if all four of us were to converge in one place, the fucked-up-edness of all of us combined would make the world implode.

11. What is your favourite (non-sexual) thing about the opposite sex?

Non-sexual…. non-sexual…. hmmm….I suppose I love the fact that guys can hang out and meet new guys without being completely obvious about the fact that they think they’re better than the other guy. Women, on the other hand, get all bitchy and cuntish if they are threatened by another woman. (Except for me, because I love everybody and don’t feel threatened because I am so obviously superior to all. 😉  )

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It’s All About Me

As if you all didn’t already know that… Anyhoo, it seems people cannot get enough of reading useless facts about me, or they would be tagging me and Versatiling (I just made that a word) me. I would like all my fans to know that I haven’t been ignoring their nominations and tags- I’ve just busy lately. There are so many rules regarding the tagging and Versatile Blogger Award, and since rules are meant to be broken, I am the perfect person to be breaking them. (And I am much too lazy to actually complete all the rules. So what I intend to do is go through and pick and choose which rules I shall follow. Thanks to those who tagged me and nominated me, because without you I will still be talking about myself, it would just look much more self-absorbed.

Firstly, Megan over at VeryNormal tagged me with these questions:

1. The best moment of your life?

I am quite certain this hasn’t happened yet, because I haven’t had the opportunity to be alone with Chris Meloni,  so until it does, I shall combine all the almost-best moments of my life- every time I purchase a new used book, every time I have an orgasm while sitting on my Rockstar’s boner, every time I get a hug from my special friend Delightful… you get the picture.

2. The worst moment of your life?

I am absolutely sure this has not happened yet, but the moment that comes to mind is- a couple years ago, a month or so after leaving my husband, I was sitting in my completely empty rented apartment and my Rockstar had said he needed a night to himself. I was feeling incredibly lonely, and when I’m alone I think too much. And though I knew I did the right thing by leaving my husband, I was missing him. So I sat in my empty apartment and cried for the things that weren’t, and the things that were, and the things that had been and could have been. Poor me. What is ironic is the whole situation was of my own doing.

3. If you could go back and change one thing what would it be?

I would have told my ex-manager that was a moron that he was, in fact, a moron to his face as I was getting fired instead of just writing it in my blog.

4. If you could go back and tell someone how you really felt when you didn’t, who would it be?

I suppose the above could have been put here, but I’ll think of another.

I would have told the boy I fell in love with at first sight and stayed in love with all through high school that I loved him. We would have been married now, or so I like to imagine.

5. If there was someone who you could tell how you really felt now who would it be?

This is kind of the same question, and so I would like to say that because of the above answer, I now tell people exactly what I feel whenever I’m feeling it.

6. Your greatest achievement?

Getting you people to read my blog. I still don’t know how I did it.

7. Someone you wanted to be proud of you who weren’t?

I suppose at one time I wanted my dad to be proud of me, but he wasn’t and isn’t, because according to him I’m the Devil, and according to me, he’s an asshole.

8. List the best people in your life right now.

My beloved friend, Delightful, because she is always there for me, and she is always excited to see me, and she is amazing.

My beloved Rockstar, because he loves me. (I know this because even though I have taken over his apartment with bookshelves, he let me know that bookshelves are on sale at Fleet Farm this week.)

My beloved Auntie, who never runs out of things to say, even when I do.

My beloved blog readers, because without them, I would just be writing for myself.

9. Your joy in life is…

Making people smile. And french fries. And shoes. And hugs. And books.  (Was I only supposed to pick one?)

10. What you wish you could do but cannot?

Break out in a foreign accent at any given time. This would be completely useless, but highly entertaining. When I try it, I just end up sounding like a pirate. Aaargh!

11. If I gave you an airline ticket for anywhere in the world were would you go?

If you gave me a ticket, Megan, I would feel compelled to come visit you. If you were busy, I’d hop a plane on over to Ireland, because I need to start looking for a castle to live in.

I guess this is going to have to be a three-part series. Hooray for you that you get to know so much about me!


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It Is An Honor, Sir Anthony Hopkins

To you, Sir Anthony Hopkins, the most highly-esteemed,

I have decided to compose this letter to convey the gratitude I feel to you for gracing the world with your unrivalled acting skills. It is only you, Sir Tony, who is able to portray a horrifically disturbed cannibal such as Hannibal Lector and still have enough charisma to make me want to dine with you. (Minus any human-based hors d’oeuvres)

Despite your ripened age, you seem to be unaltered- that may be partially due to the fact that you have looked old for many years, much like Willie Nelson. Your work ethic is admirable; you seem to be unslowed in recent years, still portraying demented and fantastic characters, such as the demon-possessed priest in The Rite– only you, Tony, could play an 80 year old man with the Devil inside of him with such refinement. And though you are not particularily attractive, I find myself drawn to you in a slightly perverse Anna-Nicole Smith- sort of way.

Perhaps it is because the of the moment in Legends of the Fall after you had had a stroke and you were so filled with joy at having your family reunited that makes you so alluring to me. Even though you went through the second half of that movie looking unwashed and sporting a stogie while being completely unintelligable, you made me want to sit down on your lap and have a conversation with you.

I was slightly disturbed by your performance as C.S. Lewis in Shadowlands, however. While The Chronicles of Narnia are among my top favorite children’s books, I very much disliked your emotionally-stunted C.S. Do not get me wrong, your work was stellar- I just prefer you as a highly-intelligent cannibal instead of a man not quite in touch with his emotions.

That reminds me, too, of your Van Helsing in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Your excitement at discovering “the whore of the Devil” was made complete by your crazed dance. I should like to dance crazed with you at any time if you should so feel the need for company.

Since you are a Sir, Sir Anthony, I am assuming that you own a castle, or something comparable to a castle. If you need a maid, or a mistress with a supply of Viagra, or a mistress dressed as a maid with a supply of Viagra, I am your gal. If you need someone to play opposite you in a movie where you play a deranged cannibal or a demented doctor, I will gladly do that as well.

Your Truly,




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Bragging Rights

I feel like I got run over by a pack of Disney elephants. That in no way hindered me from performing a stellar blow job this morning that took less than 1 minute to complete. Sometimes I forget how good I am…

P.S. I will clarify that the shortness of time it took to perform said blow job has nothing to do with my Rockstar’s ability to last long.


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“Breaking Dawn”: A Review

In another life, I believe that I should have been a movie critic. My belief is only confirmed when, year after year, completely uninteresting movies are nominated for Oscars (the exception being Inglorious Bastards. That movie kicked ass.) Anyhoo, time for a review.

I may have mentioned once or twice the utter abhorrence for Stephanie Meyer writings, and I do not recall if I mentioned the loathing I have for movies with “Twilight” in the title. That in no way impedes me from having watched all the Twilight movies to date. Call me masochistic, but I for some reason cannot halt myself from wasting 2 hours of my life that I KNOW will be wasted each time another chapter of this ridiculous Pale Skin/Doggy-style/Lack of Personality love triangle unfolds on screen.

I am proud to say that I restrained myself from wasting my hard-earned $9 an hour at the theatre for this last one, and waited patiently for it to come to Red Box. My embarrassment at renting such a load of crap was kept to a bare minimum, since I ventured to Red Box in the dead of night after closing at work last night.

I must admit, while reading Breaking Dawn a few years ago, I couldn’t put it down. Simply for the fact that I couldn’t believe the storyline could get any worse than it had in the 3 previous books. How wrong I was. I honestly believe the book should be kept in the HUMOR section of any good bookstore, because there were many instances when I burst into uncontrollable laughter. But we are not talking about the book.

I awoke this morning a bit groggy, until I remembered that I had rented such a deliciously foolish film to waste my time with- then I was instantly awake. I served myself up a bowl of the finest Cinnamon Toast Crunch and hunkered down to rot my brain.

The beginning of the movie started off with ugly Bella Swan getting married to an equally ugly Edward Cullen. I forgot to check the credits, but I have no doubt in my mind that Stephanie Meyer contributed to the writing of the screenplay, because it was as badly written as the book. Perhaps some people have a horrific aversion to the idea of marriage, but I have yet to meet an 18 year old girl who is one of them. This being said, Kristen Stewart perfectly portrayed a teen with no personality dreading marriage. She showed no excitement whatsoever over the beautiful wedding provided her (way to marry into money, girl!) Edward, (I’m sorry, I refuse to use the boy who played him’s actual name) equally seemed unthrilled to be marrying such a douchey bride. (Understandably so) I am slightly disappointed in Taylor Laughtner’s performance- he was superb in the first two movies, but I believe the dread of being a part of such a horrendous series has leaked into his acting. (Or maybe he was just sucking so as not to offend the other stars with his superior acting)

Part of the reasoning I had in watching this movie is the promise of seeing vampire sex. As the movies are geared toward young adults, I understood that there wouldn’t be the hard-core ass pounding that there should have been. (Or that I wanted to see) However, I do believe after a century of living like a priest, ANY vampire would have a little bit more reaction than, “Oops, I cracked the bed frame and hit you with a feather pillow.” There should have been AT LEAST one “Fuck yeah! I’m gettin’ laid, baby!” (You are allowed to say “fuck” once in a PG-13 movie) All I can say is, Bella must have been REALLY frickin’ bad in bed to have Edward completely refuse her after breaking the sex seal. (Call me up, Bella. I’ll give you some pointers)

I had thought on occassion, that Kristen Stewart couldn’t really look any worse than she did. (I think it’s the constant look of constipation that gets to me) I was wrong once again.

The story goes that they do sex once and then she is pregnant with a demon baby that is eating her from the inside out. I must say that the computer editing they did to make Bella look skeletal was excellent, she indeed looked worse than she did before. There’s not really too much to say, since they stretched out a book where not much happened into two movies where the same amount of nothing happened. There was alot of “Kill the fetus!” and “I’m keeping my baby!” and “Damn you, Edward! Everything is your fault! If she was with me we’d be having hot dog sex right now.” That is, until the baby was born- then it was, “Damn! That baby’s hot! I’m going to marry her one day!” (The werewolf imprinted on the baby. Don’t even get me started. Just read the book if you want to be greatly disturbed.)

Since it’s been awhile since I read the book, I didn’t recall exactly what went down after the gruesome labor scene (Kudos, Stephanie, you should really write horror), but I knew it was something like Bella almost died, blah, blah, blah.

Just when I was getting thrilled at the possibility that they killed Bella off for good, she opened her damn red eyes.



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A True and Sparkly Tale

Once upon a time, there was a land full of happy people with sparkly souls where everyone loved everyone else and no one judged anybody. The King and Queen  gave birth to a daughter they called Glitteratia. Princess  Glitteratia was blessed at her christening with the ability to make people smile, and everyone in the kingdom would go around grinning after going to visit her.

One day, some horrible people called Baptists snuck into the castle and stole Glitteratia from her cradle while she slept. They stole her because they didn’t think it was proper for a child to be raised in a place where it was ok for men to fall in love with other men, and where alcohol flowed freely. So the Baptists raised Glitteratia as their own, brainwashing her to think that sex was Evil, and that no living person would ever look at her again if she had it. The land of Baptists was filled with sad people who when around with furrowed brows who would occassionally find it necessary to confess the sexualized thoughts in front of an entire congregation of Baptists. This is how Glitteratia came to know that she was not one of them, because she lacked the desire to stand up in front of the multitudes and confess her sins.

On her 18th birthday, Glitteratia escaped with her Beany Babies and books and made her way through the wilderness to a sort of Purgatory that was filled with Republicans and just a few Democrats. While this land was not achingly beautiful like the land of her birth, she decided it was far superior to the Baptist land she had escaped from, so she decided to stay for awhile. She started dating a pretty boy who fell madly in love with her (for awhile) and ended up marrying him. The pretty boy had a sister who lacked a personality and insisted on trying to be friends with Glitteratia, even though her lack of personality bothered Glitteratia immensely.

Glitteratia grew depressed in the land of Republicans, because their favorite pasttimes were to go four-wheeling and to shoot deer. They also made a national holiday out of Election Day, and everyone would hunker down in front of the TV do view the results of voting. This is when Glitteratia realized she did not belong.

In the world that is not Glitteratia’s birthplace, people have a name for the sparkly land’s natives personalities. It is called histrionic, and here it is considered a disorder. Glitteratia’s husband was not willing to properly care for her personalitie’s needs and he did not realize that in an act of self-preservation, Glitteratia would leave him in search of someone more capable of giving her attention and appreciating her sparkliness. He was heartbroken, and was never fully healed.

Glitteratia wandered Minnesota until she found her soulmate huddled in an empty apartment all alone. He was called Rockstar, and had been stolen from Glitteratia’s homeland also when he was just a babe. They came together, and were never parted, no matter how many times his Daughter tried to run Glitteratia off. Since Rockstar was older, he had been away from the sparkly land for much longer, and had a hard time finding the sparkliness in his soul. Glitteratia was convinced this is why she found him; so that he can realize his true identity and they can live happily ever after.

Glitteratia now blogs under the psuedonym Sparklebumps.


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Whiskers In The Sink

I realize the title of my post today sounds a little bit like a country song.

Would it also sound like a country song if I were to write, “If he does it one more time, I’m gonna hog-tie him and drag him around behind my dented up Cougar” ?

I have mentioned my Rockstar’s grooming habits once before here, but that was strictly for amusement purposes only. This post is simply an inquisitive rant.

How can a man who is semi-anal about dust accumulating on things not be greatly disturbed by shaven whiskers accumulating in the bathroom sink?

Yes, my Rockstar fails to clean up after himself after bi- or tri-weekly shaving his facial bush. This is the man who comments on the left-over conditioner that hasn’t quite made it down the drain after I have emerged from my hour-long showers. While I have no issues with re-entering the bathroom and turning on the shower momentarily to rinse the tub, I am completely baffled that he seems to be completely unaware of his dead chin hairs that garnish the sink.

Is it because they come from him? Does his eyesight instinctively dis-observe his own body hair? It certainly seems so, since he has no problem mentioning the hairs of MY head that occassionally go uncleaned up in the sink. (For the record, my hairy messes only go unswept when I am late to somewhere.)

This is the man that can hardly stand to have the dirty dishes from yesterday still present today; The man who actually brings out the vacuum after having trimmed his toenails, (all men should do this, but feel that he is probably in the minority in this instance.) The man who comments on the messiness of my cooking when his trek to grab my ass while I’m baking is stopped short when he notices the flour I’ve spilled on the floor. (I am quite messy when cooking, but I always clean up after myself. Generally.) So what is it that he finds acceptable about his upper-lip hair ashes being spread across the bathroom counter?

I must point out that I’m not bitching. After all, I make a eyeshadow and face powder dusting daily thick enough to find fingerprints with. We have these handy little things present in the bathroom called Butt Wipes that with one or two swipes wipe away my makeup litter. Since he awakens earlier than I, it makes sense that I do my makeup and THEN clean up his and my daily facial messes. I just wonder if he notices the mess he makes, or if his Tidier-Than-Thou ego makes him completely blind to his own trangressions…



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“Real” Men- The Miniseries: Men and Money

It has come to my attention as of late that htere are many different perceptions as to what constitutes a “real” man.

When the term comes to mind, I immediately wonder, “Why is there so much pressure on the weaker sex? On certainly doesn’t hear the term “real woman” as frequently as “real man.” But then again, men need to be pressured once in awhile.

The purpose of my miniseries is to bring up the generic qualities associated with “Real Men” and either hurrah or poo-poo them.

Part One: “Real Men” pay for the date.

I am on the fence about this one. While I understand the concept, I, as a “Real Woman” have a hard time saying, “Pay for my french fries , Dude.” My firm belief that I should pay for my own taters resulted in divorce, when on my first date ever, I blatantly refused to have a man pay for my food- that man became my husband and then ex, when he became much too comfortable with me paying for things.

On the upside, I ended up with my Rockstar, who is of the opinion that he should pay for my fries. (and other assorted restaurant fare.) While this is a nice change, he is also of the opinion that if he lacks fundage for French fries, we mayn’t dine out- when this happens, I have no problem offering to pay, since any chance to pass up cooking immmediately thrills me.

Going deeper into this, I would like to state that I at no time expect any man to pay my bills. The only exception would be if one were to knock me up with 5 or 7 children (it is hoped not simultaneously) and I were to stay home and care for them in order to safe money on daycare. If this were to happen, my household would be immaculately clean and wondrous multi-cultural meals would be served nightly when my man arrived home from work. However, I would probably end up finishing my book, and proceed to make millions, therefore contributing to our monthly dollar accumulation.

I despise women who expect the man to pay for everything, because, I’m sorry- it is not the 17th century.

And so, as far as this subject is concerned, I would have to say a “Real Man” is one who expects to pay for the date, but is humble enough to allow the woman to buy her own damn French fries if she wants, or if the funds are needed.


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