Sunday, July 28, 2013

Royal Reality

I'm not a royal watcher nor am I a reality TV fan, but if the two were combined, I'm thinking that might be worth watching.  A glimpse "Behind Castle Walls" to see life with Will, Kate and baby George WITHOUT domestic help would be a ratings smash.

Kate has been home alone with the baby since Will went back to work.  She hasn't had a chance to pee or brush her teeth all day, so she's looking forward to the moment Will walks through the door and she can hand the baby over for a bit. Unfortunately, Will heads straight to the bathroom with his iPad to catch up on the day's polo and cricket matches.  Thirty minutes in to his royal dump, Kate has had enough, yelling, "Damnmit Will!  I'm going to cut your balls off if you don't get out here before I piss myself!"

Knowing what's good for him, Will finishes his daily deuce, strikes a match and heads out hoping for a quick snog with his lady.  Instead, their bundle of joy is shoved into his arms with the proclamation from his mum, "He just shit his nappy, so he's due for a change." (They're very proper, so perhaps instead of shit, they say "shat," but I'm not sure.)

Later that night, we catch a glimpse of Kate sneaking outside beneath the cloak of darkness.  She is wearing a pair of Will's old pajama pants, a burp stained tank top and some bedroom shoes she's had since college.  She removes a loose stone from the castle wall and reaches inside....  She finds her hidden stash of fags (cigarettes people, don't get excited) and proceeds to burn one as the fog settles across the moor.

The thing to remember is, that even if we catch the royals going all white trash, they will still sound classy because of that accent.  "I'm going to put a boot up your ass" sounds like a delightful experience when threatened in a British accent.  That will no doubt serve Prince George well as he learns to talk.

When my godson, Bert, was just a tot, his favorite treat was chocolate milk.  Unfortunately, when he would ask for chocolate milk, it came out sounding exactly like "fucking" milk.  You can imagine how that went over when he decided he wanted some chocolate milk during Sunday service at church.  I'm pretty sure their family is still on the prayer list and that was over 8 years ago....  Even in this worst case scenario, I think the British accent would have helped lessen the shock.

Imagine when the little prince gets old enough to start repeating everything his parents say....  Sunday lunch with the Queen should be interesting.  (I'm sure Liz pops some stag or grouse into the royal Crock Pot before church.) While it's quiet around the table, George will innocently ask something like, "Great grandmum, may I please see the bat?"

Puzzled, the old gal will no doubt inquire as to what the boy is talking about, so he will explain, "My mum says an old bat lives in the palace."  Will chokes back a laugh while Kate kicks him under the table.

We always see royal children on their best behavior.  I want to see them acting like REAL kids.  I want to see Will trying to beat George's ass when he throws a tantrum in the local stop-and-shop.  I want to know if the dish-rag maneuver (when you try to put a child down and he goes limp and won't lock his knees) extends across the pond and into the royal set.

I want to see Kate totally lose her shit when the future kind of England spits pudding in her hair.  I want to see what happens when George becomes fascinated with the "loo" and flushes one of Mum's heirloom jewels.  How great would it be to see Kate wearing a macaroni necklace during a public appearance?

Royally. Awesome.

Monday, July 22, 2013


Do you know what a furry is?  (Furry as a noun, not as an adjective.)  Well, in case you don't, let me tell you.

A furry is someone who likes anthropomorphic (humanlike) animals in art, fiction, cartoons, costumes, etc.  The degree that someone participates in this subculture can range from a hobby to a full-blown fetish.  Whereas one furry might just enjoy collecting cartoon memorabilia, another might get his rocks off by dressing up in a rabbit costume and bumping uglies with someone dressed as a goat.     

Many furries like to dress up in animal costumes and may even enjoy role-playing in what they refer to as their animal "fursona."  They create a whole character for themselves and go out in public.

Why the hell do I posses this knowledge?  After witnessing a number of oddly attired people on the street the same evening we experienced the Night at the Dusty Beaver, I did some research.  I wanted to know what the deal was with these folks.  (That was a wildly educational night all the way around....)

Apparently there was a furry convention in town.  (Yes, that's a thing.)  People were walking around in costumes that ranged from furry tails to full mascot-type get-ups.  We saw this at a neighboring table during dinner:

Gives a new meaning to "chasing tail."

Now I'm a pretty open minded gal, but I just don't get this whole deal.  People dressing up in animal costumes to get their freak on?  Adults who like sexualized, animated creatures with human features like big boobs or muscles?  That'd be like someone looking at Bambi's mom as a MILF.

Totally. Creeps. Me. Out.

Check out this furry at the same table as the dude with the tail:

Not really even sure what that thing is....  A visually impaired wolf?
(That's me keeping it on the down low behind the star.)

At the very least, it has to be hot as hell inside that costume.  How would you enjoy dinner?  Would you order beer in a bowl?  Fellas, how would you like to see that step up to the urinal beside you?  Hubs wondered if he would hike his leg.

The whole furry fascination is just beyond me.  Hell, I can't even stand to see a guy with a hairy back.  (No offense to all you bears out there, but it just doesn't do it for me.)

It's a damn good thing I don't have children because I don't think that I could let them enjoy Disney World if I'm constantly on the lookout for Pluto humping Donald during a smoke break.  Also, now I can't help but think that the inside of those costumes is sticky.... 

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Foul Play Pact

Actor David Carradine, most famous for his role in the 1970s TV series, Kung Fu, was found dead, hanging naked except for fishnet stockings and a wig in the closet of a hotel room several years ago.  His hands were tied and there was a ligature around his genitals.  (I read that "accidental asphyxiation" was given as the most probable cause of death.)

I'll never forget this news report because it didn't seem to take authorities long to determine that foul play was NOT involved.  I remember wondering what kind of crazy shit someone must be into if being found this way doesn't scream, FOUL!

This bizarre news item led my friend "Skeeter" (not her given name) and I to engage in an important discussion.  We decided that we should make each other aware of factors that would instantly confirm foul play in the event of the other's untimely demise.  A Foul Play Pact, if you will.

For example, we both agree that if either of us is ever discovered on a jogging trail, a crime has taken place.  Clearly, we were killed elsewhere and our bodies dumped.  We would NEVER be on a jogging trail of our own accord, so no standing around speculating what we might have been doing out there.

With this assurance of the other's proclivities, the remaining one could call in the authorities -- local police, GBI, FBI, CIA, NASA, and any other agencies big enough to have an acronym -- post haste to investigate. 

Likewise, if either of us is ever found deceased with anything tied, dangling, clamped, etc. to any of our naughty bits, a crime has indeed been committed.  No need to ask around.

Would.  Not.  Happen.

I also made sure that Skeeter knows to call in the troops on my behalf if it is ever reported that I was:

  • last seen in a Gymboree or Chuck E. Cheese
  • found wearing a string bikini
  • rumored to have disappeared while working out at a public gym
  • conversing with a carnival worker
  • found sitting in front of the TV watching DVR'd episodes of anything with Kardashians
  • revealed via toxicology reports to have consumed nonalcoholic beer
  • seen running TOWARD a clown
  • buying ice cream from a truck
  • camping
  • last seen at a Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber or Kanye West concert
  • on a road trip with children or my ex sister-in-law
  • seen wearing Crocs

All of these are sure signs of foul play.  Now, if I am found slumped over my buggy in the liquor store, that could very well be chalked up to natural causes.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Subject Lines

I will be the first to brag on Hubs for being great at pretty much everything.  (Are you sensing a BUT coming up?) BUT, he is not so great when it comes to answering my emails.

The problem isn't that I inundate him with correspondence.  Quite the opposite.

Hubs works very hard to fund my pleasure (Shout out to my Hubs, Woot!  Woot!), regularly getting over 400 work emails a day, so I limit my correspondence to only the very necessary.  No cutesy junk or forwarded bullshit.  Strictly an exchange to give or request information in lieu of a phone call.  For example, "Dinner at Mom's" or "Need your SSN." 

However, when I have conveyed or requested more than one tidbit of information in a single email, I noticed that Hubs would only respond to one.  Over time (because I'm nowhere near as loaded up on smarts as Hubs) I figured out what was happening.  He was only reading the subject line of my emails! 

When confronted, Hubs confessed, "Usually whatever you put on the subject line tells me what I need to know." 

How do you know if you don't read the whole thing?!

Desperate times. Desperate measures.  I knew what I had to do....  NEVER put the actual subject on the subject line.  Here are some examples of subject lines I've used to successfully correspond with Hubs now that I know the deal:

  • Chewbacca Dandruff
  • Jalapeno Cleanse
  • Holy Guacamole
  • Maternal Psychosis
  • Chartreuse Pompadour
  • Evidentiary Propagation
  • Histrionic Patella
  • Sonuva Squid Shooter
  • Moronic Embolism
  • Elusive Weedwhacker
  • Carburetor Antithesis
  • Stranger Danger
  • Molting Podiatry
  • Homogenous Aristocrat
  • Contrary Lobotomy
  • Cranial Nomenclature
  • Pancreatic Potitus
  • Matrimonial Pony
  • Angular Constipation
  • Blazing Tricycles
  • Testicular Modification
  • Amphibious Progeny
  • Tangled Testicles*
  • Gestational Syphilis
  • Ostentatious Hobo

*Note:  If you decide to use this technique, stay away from words like shit, damn, asshat, asshole, bullshit, porn, testicles, boobs, hooters, tits, penis, cock, fuck, motherfucker, etc. because those tend to end up in the SPAM folder.

    Monday, July 1, 2013

    The Art of Seduction

    I read.  A LOT.  Everything from popular fiction, nonfiction, Christian, to smut.  I can't read that much without noticing some trends.

    Ever since Fifty Shades of Grey came out, it seems "romance" has been replaced more by getting tied up and spanked by someone you call Sir rather than having a relationship evolve from attraction to an emotional and mental connection.  Now don't get me wrong.  These books are fun to read, but sometimes I just have to laugh.

    I can't tell you how many times I've read about a woman biting her bottom lip and that resulting in a man's "member" getting harder than a diamond in a snow storm. The guy always says something like, "If you don't stop biting that lip, I'm going to do it for you."  This usually garners a wide-eyed gasp from the timid nymphette and then there are animal noises.

    Biting my lip has never resulted in Hubs jumping across the table, ripping off my clothes and pounding me until I walked funny the next day.  A more realistic exchange would be something like....

    I gently nibble my lip in contemplation as I study the menu.
    Hubs:  What's up with your lip?

    THAT is reality, people!

    I guess there are only so many different ways you can describe the act of knocking boots, but every time I read that the man's "cock sprang free" (I shit you not.  I've read this more than once.) I mentally hear the cartoon sound effect of a bouncing spring, "BOOOOOOOINGGGGG!"  That ruins the hot and heavy for me.  Other words used way too much are thrust, pulse, throb, and growl.  Why not go ahead and throw in hammer or bang to mix things up a little?

    As crazy as some of those descriptions sound, I just finished a book where I read this very sentence: 

    His erection stood out proudly and my mouth watered.

    What. The. Fuck.  I laughed out loud at that one! 

    Now that's nice and all that his boner was proud rather than self-conscious and shit, but REALLY????  Her mouth watered???  I call bullshit on that whole scenario.  Supposedly, a woman wrote the book, but that totally sounds like a man's fantasy to me.  Now had he pulled out a proud, cream cheese iced, cupcake from his pocket, THEN I can see the whole mouth watering thing. 

    I think I can write a better seduction scene....

    We sit quietly, not even side-by-side, but in the same room.  I gently drag my finger across my iPad to align three like candies while he brazenly swipes his iPad screen, searching, searching for something more.
    Suddenly!  The dryer lets out a loud BUZZZZZ! breaking the silence.
    He looks at me.  I play coy and pretend not to notice.
    He rises from the sofa.  Then, in a deep, penetrating voice, he says, "I'll get the clothes out of the dryer."

     Ho. Lee. Shit.

    Excuse me while I take off my clothes....

    Now THAT is a man who knows how to please a woman!

    I need a cigarette.