Close Your Eyes and Think of the Empire Strikes Back

Being from a generation that attended schools where shit was not put up with I never got to wallow in my ADD like kids today. You were crazy, gifted, advanced, normal or special. You did what you could to be cool and get the hell out of there knowing that if you dropped out you would have to get dirty for a living.


I did not even know I really had a thing. I just assumed school was boring and stupid and if things were worth it they got my attention. By grade 13 (stupid Ontario) I had been in the same home room for 5 years and was totally baffled by some of the people signing my year book the last day. 


Five years, 9-920 a.m. ten months a year and by June of 1994 I had no fucking idea who these people were. It as true today as it is now, you have 30 seconds from the moment you are introduced to me to make yourself memorable or it will never happen. I will call you You for the rest of our acquaintanceship. 


I find as I get older the ADD interestingly manifests itself in conjunction with OCD. It makes for some imaginative sex. 


Not on my part. I mean on his because he has to keep imagining things to do to hold my attention and keep sweat from touching me. Its all very erotic.


I don't like getting hot. Or wet or sticky. And too much going on in my peripheral vision makes me sort of sketchy.


Never point me in the direction of the tv. Or if you must at least pass the remote. I hope you like Star Wars.


Its not that sex isn't wildly entertaining, I just get distracted. By anything and everything. Not only can I barely remember the last time I had sex I can't remember the last time I had sex and did not think about Han Solo at least once.


I'm not fantasizing exactly. More like dude will say something that starts with "I can" and the sentence gets completed in my head as "make the kessel run in 12 parsecs" and then its the whole a parsec is a measure of distance  not time and next thing you know your face is being compared to Han's when frozen in carbonite. 


Sometimes I play out a whole scene of Han & Lando grocery shopping. But that is only when I know there is stuff I need to pick up. 


Its sexy sexy  stuff I tell you.

Now There's a Thought.

If I could pay a man whore for all the things men pay woman whores for I totally would. At least the basic things, not the stuff that makes the whore take a step back and say "that costs extra."

I would have a little jar marked "man whores" and I would put my spare change in it. When I had enough I would dial-a-ho, have him come over, service me, and then do some small chore I don't want to. If the sex trade truly was a trade I wouldn't even need change, I could barter.

I think prostitution should be one of the trades like welding or culinary arts. You would know up front what you were getting and you could save by hiring a student.

"Excuse me good Whore, thy cod piece is most bulgy. I have 3 oranges and a pint of strong ale, willst thee tradest for a roll in thine hay?"

"Nay but this here apprentice works for oranges and can get the job done in half the time"

That is how I imagine man whore shopping.

I'm all for the sex trade because people are constantly trading sex for stuff anyway they just don't want to admit it. It doesn't make you cheap or slutty its good time management. If a well timed and executed handy j that takes under 6 minutes means garbage gets out, dog gets walked, you get a glass of something from the fridge brought to you, well Madam, I would say that adds up to being well worth it!

No Thank You, I'm Still Full From Dinner

If I have a panic attack whenever I look at my bathing suit, I can only imagine how the bathing suit feels. I feel like I should kiss it before I try to squeeze in.

I am no where near as svelte as I thought I would be by now. It is not my fault. I am being sabotaged. Every time I go to the Wii to work out batteries are missing from the controllers. I find it hard to believe that in a home with multiple electronic devices and a pit bull, someone keeps getting in and stealing only the re chargeable batteries from the Wii remotes, one or two at a time. Why? Why would someone do that? Don’t they know about the bizarre band of fat around my mid section? If they come back I’m gonna show it to them and traumatize them for life. Talk about scared straight. Pretty sure they will be scared gay. Flamboyantly gay.

I usually ask both offspring where the batteries are, and am met with blank stares like this is the first they are hearing about us having a Wii. Then I make a sarcastic comment to each of them and stomp around muttering to myself about ingrates and my body mass index.  I’m a big jiggling mess. Cranky too. We mustn’t forget the cranky. I need to get this weight off me NOW! None of my fat clothes from last year fit me.

The kids also started seeking out other places to eat so I had to start being a bit more kid friendly again at meal time and its really damn hard to try and find a balance with what I am trying to do with food and what they will willingly consume. On what planet is a black bean taco fun OR delicious? And why put random greens on everything? Kids hate leaves. I can get mine to eat spinach quiche but if I put a baby spinach leaf on their plate there is instant mutiny. Why must raw veggies be so gross? Please don’t suggest dip. My kids don’t do ketchup, ranch, plum, sweet & sour or BBQ. Only gravy. I wonder where they get that?

If I switched to some kind of raw food diet, they would both starve. I would be thin and bitchy and they would be on the floor with flies on their faces and totally ignored plates of sprouts and edame within reach. People say kids will eventually eat anything once they are hungry enough. Not mine. Hell no. They would come up with some kind of shepherd’s pie getting scheme or die out of spite. The night that I made egg plant the boy miraculously found a friend who was having pizza, with meat on it, and the girl made herself Kraft dinner, with cut up hot dogs. I love it. I try to go healthy and they go right for the white trash casserole.   

It is very discouraging to spend 20 of 30 minutes of cooking time chopping vegetables and fresh herbs only to find most of them picked out and on the side of the plate later. My new trick of adding bacon to every vegetarian dish does gets them to eat it but totally defeats the purpose. Its not their fault that so many grains and vegetables taste like shit and bacon hides that with sweet smoky piggy goodness.

I have been told many times that the whatever super food that tastes awful of the moment is an acquired taste. I have to ask, why on God's green earth would I want to acquire a taste for moldy ass? So I could live a few extra years and enjoy a few more bowls of assy goodness? No thank you.

An ex once requested I lick his butthole. When I declined on the basis of having taste buds he assured me it was an acquired taste. No thank you. Not even stuffed with bacon.

Sign Here...Here...Here AND Here...and Initial There..aaaaaannd Here

I'm not doing well with online dating. To be fair, I have not even opened a message yet. Messages annoy me. I don't like the implied responsibility  that I must respond. Or even open them.

I definitely should not have signed up for the ones that do not let you at least look at the people on their site before joining. Seriously, if 90% of your male members are more Costanza than Clooney just say so. Some women really don't care. In my experience the less classically attractive men are better in the sack because they are more grateful to be there.

baldingdudesinsweatpants.com they could offer free subscriptions to the ladies from playingbingoinstretchypants.com

I made those both up. But help yourself. Be proactive, buy domains and build the sights. I wont sue for royalties until I think you have a sweet nest egg built up.

I know I am not exactly helping myself. I know I am a big weirdo. I insist on hanging out with wildly inappropriate guy friends who only introduce me to more undesirables. I don't even know where to find speed dating or singles mingles or whatever the hell you would find here. It is not like I live in a big city with places to go and stuff to do. Oh God no. I can't even visualize what Saint John would have to offer.Ten Dollar Speed Dating with a bottomless cup o draft? ewwwww

I enjoy coming up with tag lines and stuff for the profiles. My personal favorite was " Going out with me is like dating your best friend. Minus all the awkward extra penis." oh, little did they know...

I also enjoy passing time by drinking gin & tonics and making profiles for other people, setting the most permissive email notification settings possible and immediately forgetting the user name and password. Yet, at the time, I had perfect recall of their email addresses height weight and eye colour. Its almost as if I thought it would be funny to see how much dirty email they would get and just mashed the keyboard with my palm hit tab then mashed again to confirm. Almost.

I am considering an application process.

I will give a bunch of Boyfriend application forms to people I think have decent enough judgment. All forms must be received by a certain date. Then they will be copied and packages with the forms, photocopies of valid photo ID along with two personal references will be forwarded to a jury of my peers.

These learned men and women of the jury will carefully consider each application and present me with their top selections. We will then sit down over food and wine and creep on the candidates' Facebook profiles. The ones who get friended go to round 2.

Round 2 will most likely consist of more forms and copies of eHarmony questionnaires who's results will be determined using no scientific process what so ever. Mostly more drinking creeping, laughing and possible impersonations. This exercise would allow me to indulge my passion for asking awkward questions demanding a response then showing that response to all my friends and mocking it for hours.
I am not optimistic anyone would survive round 2 but the finalists would continue to round 3. I'm not sure what this round would entail, possibly an essay and sex. I haven't thought that far. I keep getting stuck on round 2. It interests me more.

Incomplete or spoiled forms will not be accepted.

I also can't accept any offers from guys claiming to read this blog. I appreciate that you read it absolutely. Its that you  read it and want to fuck me that freaks me out. Like, Really? MY blog. You're sure? Which one, the one about the magazine or the one about how I have a dick? What about that did you find attractive, and please sir, be specific. Come again? What sort of fucked up man purse of psychosis are you prancing around with?

For some reason I assume a dude who's attracted to me knowing Brent is waiting in the wings would be prone to prancing.

Hey, You Can Smell It!

I almost licked the neck of strange man yesterday. I didn't. But I really really wanted to.

Not counting coffee, beef & booze, I'm not really one for primal urges. But this guy? Oh my Jesus He smelled so good I wanted to lick his neck.

It was not cologne, after shave or stupid Axe. This was no scent purchased by some chick or put in a Christmas stocking by his mom. This scent was pure unadulterated end of a long day MAN SMELL. It was sooooooooo gooooooooooood.

It was the smell of a guy who was clean then got dirty doing an honest days work. That smell that says Babe, you will never have to call an outside guy to fix anything ever again. The beer will always be cold and the days of pumping your own gas are over.

It was the kind of smell that makes your panties pointless.

That is the smell I want to come home to me at the end of the day. I would have supper ready for that smell. I would roll socks and wordlessly wipe pee from the toilet seat for it.

I want to know what that smell turns into when its fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. After a night outside around a fire whats it like to have it carry my drunk ass up to bed?

If I can find that smell again I will marry it. No frigging around, marrying it. I want to bury my face in that spot between neck and shoulder and go to sleep. I want to wake up spooned in that smell and I would so deal with that morning wood.

I want to slow dance with that smell and have it sneak up behind me while I am doing the dishes and grab my boobs.

A guy that smells like that can wag his dick at me anytime.

Tick Tock

I was watching the show about the bitchy matchmaker lady on that channel for female cliches and decided to think about some of the stuff she was saying. Just for fun.

One thing was to work out my own "issues" prior to going out looking for love. This is new. I have always hoped that I would meet and fall in love with someone who would wave his wand (tee hee) solve all my problems and if not fix my flaws, love me in spite of them. 

I don't have time for that. Issue free or not I do not think an emotionally healthy octogenarian will be as sexually appealing as a fucked up thirty ish. I am going to skip this one.

She also says I should not limit myself to a certain type or age. Okay, I can deal with this one. Within reason. I have ventured 10 years my junior and 13 years my senior. I feel that a few more years on either end and I would be either predator or prey.
As for type... Well, if under employed yet somewhat handsome is a type that would be it. Like real estate I seem to be drawn to fixer uppers. But can never flip them at the end. Not for a profit. Can't even give them away. I`ve tried.

Turd of wisdom the next, act your age and don't be judgemental.

Fuck you lady you're not the boss of me you low class new money cow!!!  scans ass and emails it to network..pours age appropriate gin & tonic.

Believe me, the very last thing I need to do right now with regards to the opposite sex is NOT be judgemental. I think I need to use ALL my judgement, my friends' judgement and the Catholic church may have some spare judgement laying around I can borrow. I'm waiting on a call back from the Vatican now.

Lets put it this way, if we gathered up my exes in a room and asked them to produce more than one tax return each for say 2005-2011 most would flee the rest would look confused and have a nap.

As for the acting my age part I don't know what that means. I am going to skip it.

I am no closer to finding someone to date than I was three months ago. I know that it is all my own fault. I am also violating another of her rules on a near constant basis, I don't make time for dating.

I can make time for just about anything. I justify validate and make appear normal, the most outrageous pass times. Dating is not one of those. Dating is a job interview. Job interviews suck. I ALWAYS get the job. I always hate my job. Therefore a successful date will result in an annoying partnership. I may have a weekend of of drunk closet purging planned but yes that is far too busy to meet you for sushi. And anyway, you invited me for sushi, now I have to explain why I don't like the trendiest food to hit Saint John in years. See, pain in my ass. I don't have time for this crap.

See, I am not one of those women who is all giddy at the thought of a phone call Wednesday for a date Saturday with Mr. Suitable. Maybe a movie through the week if you're really goal oriented. 

The thought of two Mr. Suitables a week every week until I find the most suitable of them all is exhausting. Because you know I would have sex with them.

What happens if I spend all this time that I MADE just for dating and he's a big dumb dud where I need him most? Even 10 years or more younger than me there is no excuse. Step by step instructions are available free online, there is no excuse for that kind of nonsense in this day and age. Sorry Fumbles go home. 
I am not going to sit and listen to some dudes blah blah blah for an average of 3 hours a date over 3 dates and not see what he really has to offer. I can pay for my own dinner, after 9 hours of time lost I would like my reward please. If not satisfying sex, then the satisfaction of judging the sex. On my mark, GO.

How much time do you spend with a new car before you buy it? You might ask your friends what they know about, get their man's opinion on it. You might even call your parents, its a big decision. Years of your life committed to one vehicle, possibly tens of thousands of dollars. You put a LOT of thought into buying a new car. Maybe even more than 9 hours. I am damn sure of one thing that no matter who you are, you most certainly did not buy your car without taking it for a test drive first. 

Winks Nudges & Horny Jews

I am not a good candidate for internet dating.

I have a good time answering the personality profile, always informative.

I enjoy coming up with filler for the “About Me” and “What I am looking for” boxes over a bottle of wine, makes for an entertaining evening.

My Plenty of Fish profile once included a 40 question application that I nearly burst a blood vessel in my face laughing over.

My vetting process automatically excluded anyone who answered it as being prone to answer anything sent from Facebook thereby filling up MY inbox with dumb shit they forward. What are you a teenage girl?

Match.com seems to think I will absolutely adore a guy I’ve know for years to be a giant douche.

LavaLife keeps matching me up with women and I can’t make it stop. I think it is in cahoots with my Mother, who, trying to be supportive one day threw in that she would be happy with anyone I chose to settle down with, even a woman.

I think she is secretly hoping to increase her progressive parenting credibility by raising a lesbian single parent. She lives in British Columbia. I think you get a tax rebate for sexually-hybrid children. Or is it cars? Whatever.

eHarmony describes me as a near saint-like sex kitten. (I don’t think I filled that one out right.)

There is a couple from a Jewish site who seem interested as well but that sounds like more work than I could handle. Also, not sure if what they have in mind is strictly Kosher. I don’t want to be responsible for frigging up there chances with the after life.

Who Would You Rather? Canadian Edition

Canadian "Entertainment". I love it. All of it. The sad sad game shows. The French children's shows that scare the crap out of children. The boring dramas. The ugly fashion.The Hinterland Who's Who. I love to be embarrassed by it. I love to hate it. I love to see it live. I love to touch it and hear it. I love to hate the CBC and the National Film Board and the National Gallery. I love to support it and I love to trash it.

I can't help myself. There is just so much to make fun of. The Canadian arts and entertainment industry is such a mish mash of weirdness and meat dresses and some truly great stuff that I actually don't even know where to start or go or end with the topic now that I've started.