Bing Bang Boom

And just like that, it’s over.

I didn’t realize quite how big of a commitment it was, but I was able to push through and make it happen.

NaBloPoMo? You are my biatch. 30 days, 30 posts.

In fact, I’ve actually posted 52 of the last 53 days.

Do you know what that means?

Yes, I’ve had way too much free time on my hands (and work has been really really really boring. Did I mention it’s been a bit boring lately?  If not, it has.   Been boring that is.   Get the point yet?)

And you know what?  It’s been pretty fun too.

I was going to write a big long post about my reunion today, but I think I’m going to put that on hold until tomorrow. I’ve been gone for the past 5 days, and I’ve been missed.

It’s nice being missed. And I’ve been doing some missing too.

I’m looking forward to softness and cuddlyness and warmth.

Know what I’m looking forward to?

Taking a nice long nap on my couch!! I’ve missed you honey, I’ll be home soon!!

(Yes, I’ve missed you too GF!)

See y’all tomorrow.

I love you couchie-poo!

High School Reunion Reviewed

Going to a high school reunion is kind of like going to an ex-girlfriend’s wedding.  Since you’ve already slept with the bride, it can’t be anything but a little bit awkward.

My reunion was no different.

It was fun, it was exciting, it was so much more than a little bit awkward. 

I will definitely say this though, you can not underestimate the importance of the word “girth” when describing a 15 year high school reunion.

The drawing above is a good descriptor for how to measure girth, but isn’t really representative of what I experienced.  I think this picture might give you a better idea:

 

Of course, that picture brings up another point that “Male Pattern Baldness” would be an appropriate descriptor to use as well:

Baldness Patterns Observed (circled)

Though really, this picture would be more accurate:

If this is all I had to say about my reunion, I would be fairly happy that I portrayed it in an accurate manner.

But I wouldn’t do that to you.  I know you want more.  I know you want the fun stories.  I know you want to hear who was embarrassed.  I know that you want to hear what happened when the hottest chick in the entire high school walked up to me to say hello.  I know you want to hear who I accidentally spit food on.

And you’ll get it, starting tomorrow.  In a series I’ve entitled:

Bowling for Baldness, the ToBlogOr Reunion Story.

The Thanksgiving Paradox

Thanksgiving is the yummiest holiday ever.  I think it was designed to get us fat.  It’s not that there’s too much food at the holiday festival, it’s that there is too much YUMMY food at this festival of giving. (Giving what? Giving calories? Sheesh!)  And it always gets me in the end.  Why?  Because this is the holiday that we celebrate saying “Thanks,” it would just be grinch-like for me to say “No Thanks.”  So I always end up piling way too much food on my plate.  But that isn’t the problem…..

You see, as I mentioned in my post yesterday, my buddy’s mom who hosts our Thanksgiving dinner is a fabulous chef.  She creates a whole assortment of Thanksgiving delicacies that would delight just about any person.  This, however, creates a paradox.  The paradox is, where do you spend your Thanksgiving Dinner Fund?

You see, we all have a physical limit to how much food we can put into our stomachs at one time.  Some of us have more room than others, but still, you can only put so much in at one time.  This causes a problem during Thanksgiving…. because there are so many different options.

Here are some of the pre-dinner options:

 

An actual picture of my pre-dinner choices

 

There’s a lot going on here, all of which is homemade, and quite tasty.  And when I say tasty, I really mean, really f’n super tasty.  As in, I-really-want-to-not-stop-eating-this-tasty-stuff-but-I-know-I-should-stop-now-or-I-won’t-have-any-room-deep breath-for-the-turkey-when-it-comes-out-oh-shit-I-think-I’m-full-already-fuck.

And that’s the paradox.

Because once the Turkey comes out:

The actual Turkey, pre-guest carnage

I want to eat this, along with the stuffing and sweet potato pie, etc. 

That’s where the Thanksgiving Fund comes into play.  It’s like creating a budget for a shopping trip.  I know I can only physically shove so much food down the gullet, before I’m done.  The problem is, that it’s an undefined amount.  Some days I feel like I can eat forever, while other days I’m not as hungry.  So I budget myself.  But the question is, what makes up my budget?

Is the turkey really the best part of the meal?  I’m not so sure.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love turkey as much as the next guy.  I’m a dark meat man myself.  But I also love the stuffing.  Ohhhhh the stuffing.  I also love the baked brie, and the shrimp, and the different homemade dips, and this and that and a whole bunch of the other. 

Oh hell, I don’t know what I’m even saying here.  I think I’m calorically intoxicated from all the food I’ve been eating over the last 24 hours.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, bitching about getting fat from yummy food. 

So, anyway, I’ve learned that I have to pace myself, which is really a bitch.  It’s a bitch because I love the pre-dinner food just as much as the actual dinner food.  And since the meal isn’t cooked in my own house, I don’t get the benefit of leftovers.  This causes me stress.  Why?  Because I’ll be sitting at the hors d’oeuvres table and be thinking to myself:

Hmmmm, can I eat another shrimp? Yeah, I can have another, I haven’t had TOO many yet.  Hmmm how many of those shrimp butts are mine… 4? 5? hmmm maybe 6.  No wait, that one has lipstick.  Ok so I’ve had 5 already, would 1 more really matter?  No, ok I can do it… but I also want more of that brie, which means I need at least 1 more cracker.  That’s a pretty big commitment there… hmmm shit what do I do? Shrimp or brie? SHRIMP OR BRIE? AAAAARGH!

I sound like a woman.

And that’s the Thanksgiving Paradox.  Next year, I think I’m going to actually show up with a plan.  5 shrimp, 3 servings of brie and whole wheat crackers, 2 servings of the cheese/bacon type dip thing with 2 wheat thins, 2 servings of the prosciutto wrapped mozzarella, 3 stuffed mushrooms, and then…… ahhhh screw it.

I’m just going to stuff myself silly like I do every year.  It’s worth the stress.

TMI Thursday: Thanksgiving Edition

“I dare you to do it”

6 of the worst words I’ll ever hear.

Why?  Because I don’t like people questioning my manhood. 

Of fucking course I’ll do it.  You dare me, and I’m going to prove you wrong.  Not only prove you wrong, but I’m gonna make you look bad when I do it. 

It was Thanksgiving 1995.  I was over at my buddy J’s house, as usual.  I’ve been going to his house for Thanksgiving dinner for 20 years now.  Why?  Because his mom is a freaking amazing gourmet chef.  Going to their house for Thanksgiving is 1 of my 2 favorite days of the year.  The other is the $35 all-you-can-eat sushi gluttony-fest during the Cherry Blossom Festival at Sushi Taro.

So what I’m saying here is that I spend weeks preparing myself so that I could gorge myself with as much food as possible, during the 2 or 3 hours over dinner.

But I digress… Where was I?

Oh yes, 1995.  I had a fro.  I’m pretty sure I was wearing an untucked plaid flannel shirt and acid washed jeans.  Of course, that in itself should qualify for TMI Thursday.

I tried to find an appropriate picture to post to give you a better idea of how badly dressed I was, but apparently google images burned all fashion pictures from 1995.  It’s probably for the best.

Anyway, me and my badly dressed self were sitting at the table with 25 other ravenous people, tearing at the turkey like lions on a wildebeest.

I was thirsty, after piling forkful after forkful of tasty cooked muscle and flesh down my throat.

Luckily, my buddy J had just brought a large pitcher of water to the table, much like the one below:

 

Sort of off handedly I sad something like, “I’m so thirsty, I could chug that entire pitcher.”

His response was swift, “No you can’t.  Not without puking.”

Are you saying that this pitcher of water is better than me?  Are you questioning my testicular fortitude?  Are you calling me a girly-man? 

ARE YOU????

“Oh yeah I can, no doubt about it.” I replied confidently.

We went back and forth about the pitcher for a couple of moments, and suddenly we had an audience.  People I knew and didn’t know started making side bets about whether I could do it.

And then the coup de grâce:

“I dare you to do it.”

I heard it over my shoulder, and I knew I was in trouble.  It was my Dad.

Who wants to let their dad down…. so there was no backing down now.  And suddenly I was the main attraction of the evening.

Sleeves got rolled up.  My belt loosened. 

I lifted the glass pitcher to my lips, and the chugging commenced – and just like at a college frat party, I had people chanting “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Down the water went, coursing down my esophagus just about as fast as I could pour it.

I could feel my stomach expanding….. bigger…… and bigger……. bigger than I had ever felt it before.

As I finished the last few drops of the pitcher, I had a weird feeling.  A really weird feeling.  It was sort of a combination between pain and extreme fullness.  Like I had reached the point that my stomach would burst at its seams.

And then I realized I was in trouble.  On a normal day, I would have been able to chug that pitcher no problem (living in a Frat with lots of football players provided a fabulous education about how to chug beer out of a pitcher properly, so water was easy).  But today was not a normal day.  It was Thanksgiving.  This meant that, along with the water, my stomach was already filled to the brim with a super yummy Thanksgiving dinner.

Uh oh.

I excused myself from the table, and said I had to go to the walk outside.  Get some air.

Out I went into the brisk evening air.  I paced.  With each step, my body sloshing audibly. 

I couldn’t decide if I felt like I was going to burst like a water balloon, or maybe I just had to pee…. or perhaps this is what the onset of water poisoning feels like.

I swallowed, trying to help calm things down.

Have you ever seen an avalanche?  It always starts with a single rock falling…. and then it picks up steam and more and more and MORE AND MORE AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIGGGHHH AAAAAVVVAAAAALLLLLAAAAAANNNNNCCCCCCHHHHHEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This would be an accurate description of the next 3 to 5 minutes of my life.

Yes, I lost the bet.  My pride took a pretty big hit, and I still hear about it to this day. 

But all was not lost.

I cleared enough room to have Thanksgiving dinner all over again!

—————————————————-

Happy Thanksgiving!

Breaking Up

“I’m just not comfortable in this relationship anymore,” She told me.

I was only a little bit surprised, I could see it coming down the road. It was inevitable.

You see, when you are in a new relationship, everything is shiny and exciting. The question is, though, will it bear out over time?

In great relationships, things always seem exciting and new, no matter how long you’ve been in it. You enjoy doing things together. It seems like there’s never a dull moment. In fact, it’s almost like the concept of a relationship disappears and it just becomes a true partnership…. like you were born to be together…. at least in that moment.

I could see that wasn’t happening in this case. Things were slowly dying. Frustrations coming out.

“Well, what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I think I need to put together a pro’s and con’s list. In something this important, sometimes its hard to remember all the good things, along with the bad. There’s been a lot of bad.”

I sighed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

We continued walking together quietly down N Street, holding hands.

It’s in these times that you reflect. You look back on the relationship and wonder where things went wrong. It seemed so right at the beginning, how could it have changed that quickly? I swear it was only just last week she was raving about how great things were going.

Maybe it was my fault. I sort of talked her into the whole thing. Maybe she just got caught up in the excitement of everything. Maybe we should have thought things out a little bit more.

And this, my friends, is how the break-up occurred last night.

We’re sad, but I think we’re both ok with it.

We’re going to take some time over Thanksgiving and wrap up some loose ends, but then that should be that.

It’ll be nice to be with family and friends over the holidays, to help console us over the loss.

It just won’t be the same anymore, but life goes on.

The night after GF decided to break-up with her cell phone.

Dating Advice Answered

Dear ToBlogOr,

I have a relationship problem that I’m hoping you can help me with.   I’ve been dating a guy for the past 6 months, and I’m at a bit of a crossroads.  We’re getting closer to making a serious commitment, and I’m not sure how I really feel about him.  I took your advice and did an inventory on our relationship, and here are some of the pro’s and con’s that I identified:

Pro’s:

• He gives me really nice backrubs
• He brings me flowers at least once a week, with a very nice card
• He’s really sensitive and is willing to talk about his feelings in an open and honest manner.  I think he really gets me.
• He has a great job and makes a good living for himself
• We have a great sex life
• He’s really smart and makes great conversations.  I feel like we can talk all night.
• He packs my lunch for me when I stay over at his place, and he always leaves a little cute note written on a napkin in the lunch bag.
• My dog adores him, and Schmoopie-Poo doesn’t like ANYONE
• He likes to travel, go to the theater, enjoys the opera, and thinks that Hall & Oates is the greatest rock duo of all time.

 Cons:

• He likes to scratch his crotch and then sniff his fingers
• He’s only 5′7
• He talks in his sleep.  Not your normal 1 or 2 liner, no, he recites his favorite literature.  This primarily includes the “Dear Editor” section from Penthouse.
• He has a snaggle tooth that I swear waves hello at me every time he smiles.
• He has hair like the Geico Caveman.  I can deal with the back hair, ear hair, nose hair, uni-brow hair, ass hair, and neck-beard hair.  It’s the hair the grows on his toes that really bothers me.
• In order to look smarter, he wears glasses without any lenses. 
• He wears black shoes with a brown belt.
• He likes to wear red tightie whities that make his butt look saggy.  I don’t even know what to call them.  Tightie reddies?
• When we sleep at his place, the sheets on his bed always pull up revealing his mattress pad.
• He’ll run the disposal without turning on the water
• I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure he gave me herpes, genital warts, crabs, 3 different strains of syphilis, and a really bad nose cold last Thursday.  Yes, all of them on the same day.

ToBlogOr, I’m really confused.  Sometime it feels like I’ve met my soul-mate, and other times it feels like I’m dating a neanderthal.  What gives?  What should I do?

Sincerely,

Hopelessly Confused

Dear HC,

Thank you for writing.  It sounds like you have some real issues here, and I think I can help you out. 

Let me start by breaking it down.

You are dating a guy who looks like this:

Dresses like this:

But acts like Jude Law in “The Holiday” - 

Lemme see if I can get this straight – is this what you are working with?

If so, I have the answer for you.

Let’s start with the obvious:

 

The Obvious

 

You are dating a Jew. 

Let’s call him Jewde Law(yer), or JL for short.

It all adds up: the egregious amount of hair and gross lack of style coupled with a high-paying job and the sensitivity of a gay man.

Trust me, I’m a Jew and am very familiar with many of these attributes in my fellow Tribesmen.  BUT WAIT! Do not despair, there is hope for you.

 

Hope

 

Dating a Jew isn’t like contracting a fatal disease.   Yes, you have some legitimate concerns in this relationship, but it also sounds like JL has a lot of positives as well. 

Chemistry is one of the fundamental keys to the success of a relationship, and it sounds like you are doing ok in this department.  Let’s investigate this further:

There are 3 types of chemistry:  physical, emotional, and high school.

 

High School Chemistry

 

I was fantastic at chemistry in High School.  Fucking brilliant in fact.  I got an A in just about every quarter throughout high school, and many people thought I should go onto major in Chemistry in college.  This was an incorrect assessment, as I sucked major hairy moose balls at college chemistry.  How does this apply to your relationship issues?  It doesn’t, but I just had to get that off my chest. 

 

Emotional Chemistry

 

Emotional Chemistry revolves around how compatible your interests, values, and temperament are.  Do you communicate well?  Do you enjoy doing similar things?  Do you want similar things in a relationship and a family?  Did you cry during the same parts in “The Bridges of Madison County?”

In a relationship, it is important that you match up in these areas.  It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it should be close.  I don’t agree with the whole Jerry Maguire philosophy of “You Complete Me.”  To me, that implies that each of us are incomplete in some way, and I don’t think that’s correct.  I feel that a good mate is one that you feel complements you.  Singularly you are great, but together?  Well together, you are an unstoppable force of nature.  Kinda like how LiLu and her man are the Disgusting Twins.

You can’t fake Emotional Chemistry.  If you have it, you have it.  If you don’t, you don’t.  It’s not something you can learn or change.

HC, it sounds like you are doing pretty well in this area – in fact it sounds like you guys get along great.  This strength forms a good basis for a strong relationship. 

 

Physical Chemistry

 

No, not the god-forsaken class I took in college that talked about bullshit that no one can actually prove, but they’ll fail test me on it anyway.   No, I’m talking about physical attraction and sexual chemistry.  I’m talking about when you hang out, you have a hard time keeping your hands off each other.  I’m talking about when you see him across the room, you can’t take your eyes off of him.  I’m talking about when you get naked and roll around in bed, you don’t care that he sheds more than this guy:

 

If those things apply to you, then you have good Physical Chemistry.

From what I’m hearing, It sounds like you have some major hang-ups in this area, which leads to a bit of a paradox.  You imply that you aren’t all that attracted to him but yet your sex life is great.  I’m guessing that you are really more embarrassed by his looks than anything else.  Why?  Because you have father issues. 

Let’s call it like it is, I know you are an anglo-saxon shiksa goddess. 

This means that your dad most likely has light colored hair, and blue eyes.  It also means that you never learned as a toddler that you could get rug burn from lying on your dad’s back.  If you were Jewish, you’d be familiar with these risks. 

Whether you realize it or not, we all base our relationships on the model we are most familiar with: our parents.  You see, as we grew up, our experience with our parents filled our subconscious with all sorts of data that we don’t even realize that we know.  It drives us instinctually. 

With your father as your subconscious model for men, you feel embarrassed that you are secretly attracted to such a schlub.  You constantly berate yourself for not being attracted to the tall muscular blonde Christian.  You think there must be something wrong with you.

That’s where you start running into problems.  There is never a good reason to feel embarrassed about being attracted to anyone.  As human beings, It’s our own fear of rejection that drives this.  Fear of rejection from our parents, our friends, and from random people on the street who you swear are pointing and laughing at JL as you guys walk down the street.

The thing is, you can’t help who you are attracted to.  It is what it is, and you can’t change it.  For whatever reason, you find this guy attractive, and by denying your feelings, you are only causing yourself more stress.  Since your friends and family aren’t the ones who are having sex with him, who cares if they find him attractive? 

 

The Answer

 

Let’s revisit the concerns you brought up, which I’ve categorized. 

Physical Issues – the things you brought up can all be easily addressed.  Firstly, find him a good dentist and then go shopping with him and help him match up his clothing in the morning.  Don’t try to change his whole wardrobe immediately – slowly work your style into his.  Start by buying him a couple of pairs of boxers and a nice sweater and tell him how sexy he looks in them.  We eat that shit up. 

As for the massive amounts of hair, you can buy all sorts of heavy duty shaving products, such as the “Razorba War Hammer.” That will definitely help out. 

You can’t change his height, so you’ll have to determine if that’s a true game changer or not.  Just remember, it isn’t about what your friends think or what you think you want, it’s about what you are attracted to.  You’ll have to dig deep for the truth on that one, or just buy him height enhancing footwear.

Guy Issues:  Guys have issues because we’re guys.  It happens.  We are genetically inclined to offend women just by our mere existence. 

We don’t do it out of spite, and we don’t always do it in the same ways, but it tends to produce similar results: 

You get annoyed and nag the shit out of us.  

An example is that he scratches his crotch and sniffs it.  It’s a genetically instinctual thing that all guys do, because it’s our shower litmus test.  You’ll just need to talk with him about appropriate places to do it. 

The same goes for the sheets and the disposal thing.  He just doesn’t know any better. 

As for the sleep talking thing, there may be 2 issues coming up here.  If you have problems with the porn thing, well, you’ll need to just accept it (or he’ll need to hide it better).  All guys look at porn, it’s just a fact of life.  If you don’t care about that, then you’ll want to explore if he has some unfulfilled fantasies.  If that doesn’t work, I recommend either buying some great ear plugs for yourself, or having him see a sleep therapist. 

HC, the answer with what to do with JL lies within yourself.  Take some time to yourself over the holiday and do some thinking and writing.  If you can get clear with your own hang-ups, then you’ll be able to fully commit to the relationship.  Just remember, you can’t change anyone other than yourself. 

You might not believe it, but many women would love to swap places with you.  You have a great guy who treats you well, and that’s hard to find.

Good luck!

Oh, what?  I’m not done yet?  You think I missed something important from above?

Ok, ok fine.  I’ll address it.

Go see a dermatologist.

Why?

Because you don’t have any STD’s.

Us Jews have extra scratchy hair and all that groin-to-groin action you’ve been secretly having is just irritating your skin.

———————————

Have a dating or relationship question and want a male perspective?  Feel free to email me at toblogor (at) yahoo (dot) com

A Return to Wedgieville

My 15 year high school reunion is this coming weekend.

FUCK.  When did I suddenly get old?

I swear it was just yesterday when I was going to college and getting bombed any night of the week was ok because I didn’t wake up the next morning with a huge hangover and have to write a blog tribute to my toilet.  How did 15 years go by so fast?

Ahhh high school.  The time of my life where I was so awkward, that the word awkward even picked on me.

I used to be short and scrawny.  Quiet.  Bookish.  I was a pretty good musician so everyone knew who I was, but no one really knew me.  I was an unknown.  Nerdy and badly dressed with huge ass shiny gold rimmed glasses.  The technical term that defined me was “bully bait.”

My senior year of high school, I was about 3 votes short of winning the award for “Most Unique.”   Yeah, you know that award.  “Most Unique” really stands for “Most-Likely-to-Get-Beaten-Up-By-a-Woman-in-a-Bar-Fight” (oh, wait, I won that one in college…) 

Fortunately there was this guy named Dennis Moon who ended up edging me out, and hence is forever remembered as the weird guy in our yearbook.  My singular remembrance of him is playing together on a soccer team and he wore a lavender sweat suit and a helmet. 

I’ve grown up a bit since then. 

I’ve filled out.  I learned how to dress myself.  I gained social skills and confidence.  I’m in shape, have all of my hair, and have a really good job.  My girlfriend is both smart AND hot.  I’m also a blogger, and we all know that bloggers are the coolest people ever.

So you know what?  I am going to own this reunion.

Why?

Because time has a way of evening up the playing field. 

Those so-called popular kids are now balding and overweight.  They still look back on their high school years as the best years of their life.

Think:

or

or

Painful, isn’t it? 

When it comes right down to it, those old popular kids are no match for me now, just as back-in-the-day I was no match for them.

I’ve entertained thoughts of verbally gouging a whole long list of people who had wronged me in one way or another.  It would be like fishing in a barrel.  I could go back and make the whole school look like the idiots they are, and I would have fun doing it. 

And then I had a realization. 

If I go back to my reunion all bitter and angry with the purpose of showing people up…. I’d be no better than them, though I have a couple of pairs of vengeful underwear that would disagree.

The thing is, I don’t need to laugh at their crappyness to validate what I’ve done with my life.  I’ve grown up and become successful on my own.  I don’t need to shove their heads in a toilet and flush insult them to make myself look good. 

Just showing up is going to be victory enough.

The GPS set, the course is plotted.  Look out kids, I’ll be taking the high road in my return to Wedgieville.

An Open Letter

Dear Friend,

I know I’ve been talking about you a lot lately. I’ve been really thankful that you’ve been there for me when I needed you. That’s what friends are for, right? Yesterday was no different. I had a bit of tough time last night – GF and I had been out, and I did some things that I probably shouldn’t have done. At 3am I was still up, my mind racing. I couldn’t sleep. When I decided to get up, I knew you would be there to console me. I don’t know why, but it just felt like my life was spinning out of control. And when I just couldn’t take it any more and I spilled my guts to you, I wasn’t afraid that you would judge me. I’ve been a bit of a wreck today, and you’ve still stuck by my side, with only brief moments of rest and quiet to yourself.

It’s just after 6pm and I have to post, or else I won’t be eligible for all the stunningly cool prizes they offer for that whole NaBloPoMo thing. So, Ms. P.G., this post is a dedication to you. For sticking with me, even when times are dark.

Love,

ToBlogOr

Ps. Oh, and the next time I go out drinking with GF and come home that drunk with the spins, I promise I’ll do a better job cleaning you up after I puke. Sorry about that.

The Weekly Search Post

Ever use google to find something?  People search for all sorts of interesting things, and sometimes those searches lead them to my blog.  I can see what those search terms are, and they always amuse me.  The thing is,  I’ve always wondered…. who were the people searching, and what were the answers they were looking for?

So, just for the hell of it – here’s the complete list of this week’s search terms with my answers to those questions.

boobs – Apparently someone British was doing a search for stupid people

funny shit – My blog is full of funny posts about poop, so it’s natural that this search would lead here.

smurf porn – Oy. I knew this was coming when I posted something about the freaks of this world. Ok people, here’s your moment in the sun. Go ahead and rejoice.

phillies world series – Yeaaaah baby. Obviously someone who has great taste in sports teams.

sexy smurf - Hmmm another freak. There’s a lot of closet freaks in this country, so whatever.

worst places in dc - Someone who is in a bad relationship and looking to break it off. I can see it now, “Hey honey, you wanna go out tonight? I heard that you can see some great stars at the garbage dump in South East!”

jesus shits the bed – Ok, so say you shit the bed, and say you get razzed about it incessantly. Wouldn’t it make sense that it would make you feel better to know that Jesus also shit his bed once? I can just see it now, “He shit his bed to save all the rest of the world’s bed shitters.” Hmm I may have just offended all the Christians who read my blog. Nice.

penis poking out – hasn’t everyone gotten caught accidentally walking down the hall in the office with their penis poking out of their pants once? Errr….

best place to get laid dc – Someone who obviously hasn’t gotten laid in a while. It’s not about the place buddy, it’s about the participants…. though they might have been seeking out a hooker, in which case, I think you’re out of luck.

porn smurfs – Again? Really??? C’mon people. It’s enough already, you’re starting to gross me out.

the smurfs porn – What. The. Fuck. Are smurfs really that sexy? Really? Apparently there’s a little blue dick fetish out there that I was unfamiliar with.

smurfette porn – ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!! Are the smurfs even ON TV anymore???? How do these people find my blog? What the hell! Go away! (unless you’ve found some good smurf porn, then you should email me…)

public bathroom poop – Someone who obviously agrees with my philosophy.

guy stars that wear skinny jeans – have bad taste in fashion. like having their balls smushed. actually have no testicles. C’mon buddy…. stop trying to justify why you bought the jeans…. and go BURN THEM.

toblogor – Obviously someone searching for a stunningly handsome and gloriously funny man with a huge reproductive organ.

funny shit at the gym – I’m not sure what’s going on here, but there’s nothing funny about shitting at the gym.

best places in dc for sex in public – This person is the opposite of the one from above. Why? Because they obviously have a significant other and are looking for a fun time. I would recommend a spot in the garden at Tudor Place during the day, and in the gardens around the National Cathedral at night.

mens skinny jeans – Ok. Seriously now. Stop searching for this crap. Just Say NO.

the real reason why obama won – Someone who agrees with me that the voting process had no impact on why Obama won.

necrophiliac – Not here. Not now. Not ever.

psycho murderer – Who told you? Damnit, I’m going to have to relocate to Miami with my buddy Dexter.

horse gum – I’m not even sure what to say about this one. I didn’t know horses chewed gum. I mean, I was always told never to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I guess it could be chewing some sugar-free orbit and I’d never know.

toll booth boobs – doesn’t everyone hope the toll booth lady will flash them too?

worst whore – Madeline Albright. That’s my choice.

phillies win the world series – Yeah baby!! Suck it Met’s fans! SUCK. IT. haha

fuuny as shit – your lack of spelling skills.

finnish christmas bazaar, washington dc – What? Someone actually searched for this? Really?

what is making out – Ok Mr. Middle Schooler, I’ll tell you. it’s when you shove your tongue as far down a chick’s throat as you possibly can get it. Trust me, she’ll love it.

make secret stash – not anymore you apparently won’t.

“classy and naked” – well shit, I want to know the answer to this one…. though at the moment it could be the answer to the question “what is GF right now?” heh heh *smack* Ouch!

hot older lady – you better not have been searching for pictures of my mother or I’ll kick your ass. Hmm my answer would probably be….. uhh….. Miley Cyrus? What? Ok… hmmmm I’m sticking with Demi Moore for today.

huge turd – Oooh this is an easy one…. this was someone who was interested in what I’m going to do with the rest of my morning!

And that completes your ToBlogOr search terms explanation for this week. Have a great Saturday!

Scared Shitless

Public bathrooms are like Satan.  There’s nothing good about Satan, but you just have to sort of accept that he exists and get on with life. 

Well, except that I’m a Jew and we don’t believe in hell.  Let’s just forget about that for a moment and stick with my analogy.  Ok?

 

The point is, I hate public bathrooms.  Why?  For several reasons.

• They are never clean, or cleaned properly
• You have no idea who sat on the toilet last
• The cheap toilet paper could stand-in as sandpaper
• I hate having screaming kids in there while I’m trying to concentrate
• I don’t want a Senator groping me from the next stall 
• Butt germs are yucky

Yesterday, I blogged about The Poop Time Principle.  Arjewtino made a great comment about how he enjoys his post-breakfast Sunday poop, and it got me thinking.

I realized how much I enjoy the hospitality of my own bathroom. 

In my bathroom, I have a firm understanding of how much toilet paper it can handle without overflowing.  I have control over the softness of the TP (charmin ultrasoft is the only acceptable choice in a house I live in).  I control the general cleanliness of the toilet and surrounding area.  I also have access to my internet, and no one looks at me strangely if I happen to bring my laptop in with me.

I have none of these creature comforts in a public bathroom….. which is why I avoid them at all costs.

My worst nightmare is having to poop when I’m out and my only choice is a porta-potty.  I’d rather safety pin my butt closed than use one of those. 

The next worst places to go are at mall and supermarket bathrooms.  In general those stalls look like someone let off a urine bomb all over the place.  It’s always extra fun when someone leaves a piece of wet toilet paper on the seat.  Argh! Enough already! I can’t take it anymore. 

Of course, it is nearly impossible to avoid public bathrooms since I have to go to my office every day.  So how did I deal with that? 

I formally adopted a stall in my office bathroom. 

2nd from the right – you are my temporarily adopted stall.  God forbid you happen to be taken when I walk in, 1st on the right is also acceptable, but we all recognize its less formidable flushing power.

Should either of those stalls be taken, I walk directly out of the bathroom and wait a while.  The other 3 stalls are unacceptable by my standards… in fact, I have yet to explore 2 of the remaining 3.  Why?  Because I am not the Indiana Jones of public toilets.  Fuck that.  I found 1 that works, and seems to be inhabited less than the others, so I’m sticking to it.

Stall 2nd from the right? Why do I love you so? 

• I love your flushing power. 
• I love that someone routinely leaves very amusing Jesus propaganda jammed into your paper-toilet-seat-cover-receptacle. 
• I love that, after the cleaning people come, you are the last one to be used.  Why?  I don’t know… but I’m keeping your secret safe. 
• I love that you are less brightly lit than the other stalls.  You still provide enough light for me to read, but being less brightly lit makes me feel like I have a bit more privacy.  I hate it when I feel like people can see in through the door crack.  
• I love that you never have rogue pieces of toilet paper hanging around on the floor near you. 

 

Still…. nothing beats my own toilet.  It might have a jiggily seat that I can’t seem to tighten, but I still love it just the same. 

My bathroom and I?  We have a relationship.  A great relationship.

So Arjewtino?  Thanks for bringing it up.

My bathroom – this shout out goes to you.  I’ll be home soon.