When Things Pile Up

Things are going marginally crazy at work. So, sorry to say, all you loyal readers that visit every day, but I'm going to have to slow up on the postings (like I've had diarrhea of the Blog Posting lately anyway, right?) somewhat. I'll still be visiting all of your blogs on a semi-regular basis, but I've just got to take care of some crap. So, until I get some time - I'll be lurking. I know, ease off on the collective sigh of disappointment, all fourteen of you. Feel free to contact me by email. Take Care, and Dream True.

Michael

Messages From Mars

As of Post Time, we’re missing a panelist. So we’re going to run with it. I was conflicted as to how to put everything together. One post per question, one post per panelist, but I finally decided on One Question with Everyone’s answers. To make this easier on the reader, I’ve color coded the answers as follows:

Michael

Q

Bice

Briliant Donkey

That way, if you have a favorite, you can skim their answers first. This will also help if you want to print it out for posterity, toilet paper, etc. So, without further adieu, and for your reading pleasure, I bring you the 8 Commandments from Mars:

Q - *Special Thanks to Dagromm, he and I conferred on several of these questions to come up with answers.

BD - About a week ago I was recruited to the male panel to answer women's questions that they wanted to pose to us guys and get real answers to. I don't know how much 'help' my answers will provide since I don't tend to think like a 'typical guy' but for what it is worth here is my opinion on them. Feel free to agree. Feel free to whole heartedly DISagree. I just hope if worse comes to worse you(like me) are willing agree to disagree.

X O X O X O X O

1) Why do men say they want a confident, assertive, independent woman, then tuck tail and run when they discover I AM a confident, assertive, and independent woman?

Sorry, but I'll have to just say that that is just your impressions of what we want. To actually say that would be saying we want an in house Dominatrix. Guys want a Dom; a Sex Slave that cooks, cleans, and fulfills all of their fantasies; or a woman that isn't an airhead, that can stand up for herself, and that isn't completely high maintenance. No guy wants someone too assertive – it challenges our ego, authority, and sense of superiority.

We want one that is confident and independent but not one that is assertive unless we are in the bedroom, and trying to get kinky. Plus there is such a thing as overly confident, assertive and independent and that is not what we are looking for when we say that.

I would say this is a simple case of 'grass is always greener' type of thing. I don't think it is all that different(if at all) from women saying they want a 'sensitive,caring, loving man with a sense of humor' only to find one and dump him for the first 'bad boy' that comes around the corner because he is 'just a bit tooooo wimpy or clingy' or the other miriad of excuses. Why do we all do that? If it isn't 'the grass is always greener' thing I can only guess it is because God has a sense of humor, we are his personal sitcom and he made us all this way.

Because men will say anything hoping to get laid. Some times it works. Some times it doesn't.

X O X O X O X O

2) What's the deal with guys saying they want a relationship when what they're actually looking for is only a steady, no-strings-attached lay?

I'll step out on a limb and say that the majority of men aren't good at what you view as a relationship. Guys interact on a whole different level. So we'd rather you be one of the guys, with fringe benefits. (We'll accept Fringes Benefits) We'd much rather you come down off that high intimate relationship level and interact on our guy-guy simple level. We like it because it's simple. To us, you make coexistence far too complicated. And a no-strings-attached lay is our fantasy girlfriend. It isn't your fantasy boyfriend because only a very small percentage of you are capable of having friendly sex without attaching emotional attachments, stigma, and other complicated strings. Fems have way too much automatic baggage attached to sex. We prefer ours baggage free, and don't enjoy overthinking it so much.

Guys do want a relationship. It's just not the relationship that women want. Guys want the relationship where you take care of all the menial chores and give us sex on demand. On top of that if you could not interrupt the ball game and like action movies and video games then you're a great find.

I am personally of the opinion, that women are just as bad(if not worse) about this than men are. I am not sure if this has always been the case or if it is something recent that I am noticing more the older I get. Perhaps it is only noticable to me because I am a 'nice guy' and wind up with the short end of the stick too often I do not know. Maybe women are finally giving in to the 'if you can't beat em join em' mentality and giving guys back thier own medicine. Again I don't know for sure. I DO know that in my field, I work with 90% women and a bigger group of 'players' I have never met. The only difference is when a man does it women consider him a 'player' which is said with the same disdain as 'slut' would be for women . When THEY do it it is called 'keeping my options open.' Conversely from a typical male point of view when a man does it he is considered a stud for some reason while women are considered sluts. I suppose it all comes down to your own personal point of view.

Because 'relationship' is male code for 'sex'

X O X O X O X O

3) Why is there ~still~ a double standard regarding past sexual partners. If guys sleep with 6 girls a year they are considered studs. If a girl sleeps with 6 guys a year, they are considered sluts.

I read Q's answer first. It has to be the most fascinating and accurate analogy ever. If you had a choice, would you be France or the US? But still, you all are just as responsible for creating and maintaining the double standard as we are. Here's another analogy. A hunter gets credit every time he bags a deer. He bags 6 deer a year, he's an f-ing stud hunter. None of those deer get credit for taking a bullet, rolling over, and dying. And no one considers it a good hunt if the deer walks up to the truck, hauls itself up the tree with a rope, and drops dead. You want to break the double standard, BECOME THE HUNTERS instead of the hunted. No one will EVER get respect for being easy game.

Because women have standards, or should. I don't think it should be very challenging for any half decent looking woman to get laid six times a year. Men have to do a much better sell job or have a good ability to seperate the weak ones from the herd.

On top of that, it's a matter of penetrating versus being penetrated. It is much more glorious to have invaded six countries and expanded your empire then it is to have been overrun six times.

See above question. Other than that I would tend to agree that this is indeed the general perception and indeed a double standard. I personally don't agree with it, but I have often wondered if that makes me 'broken' somehow. Anyways, through time I think the playing field has evened out quite a bit more than most people would realize. Unfortunately, instead of women rubbing off on men to 'do the right thing' and be less slutty, it seems men rubbed off on women making them more willing to take a 'well men can be dogs why can't I' mentality. Whether you hike your leg on the fire hydrant, or squat next to the nearest tree, a dog is a dog in my book.

Because men don't like being beat by women at anything, especially at sex.

X O X O X O X O

4) Why is it that putting the seat and lid down on the toilet is so friggin impossible? All I'm asking is that you leave it as you found it. I gave up on asking you to actually aim for the bowl, but please, put the seat and lid down!

Here we go. You want fair? You only have to put the seat down to go. So I should only have to pick the seat up to go. Problem solved.

Oh, yeah, and forget the seat cover. It was needed back when water was harder to get, and to save it, you had to leave the #1 in there for a few times before flushing. That situation doesn't exist anymore. You flush each time and have clean water and no smell. You want a pretty little toilet seat cover to match all of your other quaint little bathroom decorations? Put it on backwards and leave the seat up. It will be more comfortable to lean against that way anyway.

I don't have a problem with this so I tend to agree. If you want me to make an argument then I would argue that it shouldn't be that hard to look before you sit. I look before I sit on any seat, toilet or not.

I did a post on this very subject a long time ago. Rather than answer the whole thing again I will just point you here to read it. My opinion on the matter has not changed one bit since then. In fact, in your question you kind of make one of my points for me. As you said
"All I'm asking is that you leave it as you found it."

Good for the goose, good for the gander. By that logic shouldn't YOU be doing the same thing? Shouldn't YOU be leaving it in an upright position?

If anything I feel even more strongly about it. For the record, I still DO put the seat down but only for reasons of 'if it is THAT big a hassle to you, and no skin off my nose to do so' I might as well do so. That said, I still won't pretend to understand it. If you have ever sat your ass in a toilet once it was a mistake. If however, you have done so more than once, I won't say you are an idiot but I WILL say you DEFINITELY had a moment of stupidity. End of story.

Because it a phallic symbol of our virility. We leave it up as a visual reminder that we are always ready for sex.

X O X O X O X O

5) Why are fart jokes so predominant in male humor? Is it partly wanting to remain 12 years old? Do you ~have~ to pass it on to your kids?

I could answer this flippantly, but I won't. I was raised in a more uptight atmosphere where it wasn't real funny, etc. It lightened up a little as we were older, but still. I married (my second time) into a family that's laid back about everything, and it's no big deal. Farts are funny. People have too much shit to deal with today to be worried about something minor like that. And not dogging you, but you were probably raised in a situation where "girls don't fart". My ex wife was raised like that. The first time she farted with me around, she busted out with tears when I threatened to go call my brother to congratulate her for being human. Bodily functions are just that, bodily functions. We can choose to ignore them, make light of them, or vainly attempt to suppress them completely as if they didn't exist. Making too big an issue out of things that are natural and happen tends to screw up kids heads more than anything, and cause permanent neurosis'.

Once again, I'm not real big on this either. Except that farts make funny sounds, but they tend to have a bad smell and I am not into that.

Have you ever fallen for a joke? No matter how bad, inappropriate, or even dangerous the joke may have been what is the VERY first thing you do? You go and pull that joke on someone else of course so you won't be the only victim. As for the 'passing it on to your kids' part,,,,,pun intended? If not it very well should have been.

Because a steady diet of boob and penis jokes gets old, even for us. As to 'must we pass it on to our kids.' Yes.

X O X O X O X O

6) He rarely asks me to come down to his house. If I don't come down, though, he complains and gets all put out. If he wants me around, why doesn't he just ask?

You must be looking for that written invitation. You're his girlfriend, not a boss, coworker, or male friend. The girlfriend gets the open door policy. Some male friends might, too. But definitely you. He has to invite a boss or coworker and probably some of his friends. If you have an open door policy, why should he repetitively invite you? You have a permanent invite. I'd worry more about it if he started making you call before you came over or only invited you when he wanted you there. Right now, other than being efficient and not wasting time on a lot of bullshit, he's also subconsciously saying that you can come over any time without notice, and he's not worried about it because he has nothing to hide. That's his hidden message, and he probably gets annoyed because your aren't reading the message.

Guys get tired of doing all the pursuing. If you've been invited to the house more than once, then there is probably a standing invitation until indicated otherwise.

Good question. The cynic and smart ass in me wants to answer "call it getting in touch with his feminine side'. Another part of me wonders, If he asks you to come down to his house are you going to hear "lets get together and have sex" and then bash him about the head repeatedly with 'all you ever want is sex' comments? In all seriousness, he is probably just second guessing himself at times. Wondering if asking you to come down will be taken the wrong way or perhaps worrying that you will get a 'he never wants to go out and do anything' idea in your head. Sounds like communication would be a good idea here.

Because he's a dick. (see how I manage to get a sexual reference into every answer)

X O X O X O X O

7) Why does he consider rinsing dishes and leaving them on the counter "cleaning the kitchen"?

Is his normal chore doing the dishes? If not, then he probably a) needs a place to put more dirty dishes, and the sink was full, or b) you've probably griped at one time or another when he put a dish or pan away in the wrong place. You KNOW how you all can be about YOUR kitchens. He's probably trying to help out without risking the Wrath of Misplacement. Catch him on a good day, show him where everything goes in general, and then make sure not to rag when he misplaces something. He probably won't leave them on the counter again.

Because it is. If it is evident that there are chores that need to get done we just go ahead and do them, and if he has to remind you that there are dishes in the sink then he feels like a total jerk. Plus, that's how we wash our hands.

a number of possible answers to this one:

1)It's not?
2)If you are asking him to do so in the middle of a football game that counts as cleaning the kitchen.
3)If he DOES clean the kitchen do you go behind him every single time and 'do it right' in your mind? Be honest. If so and he knows you are never going to be happy with the way he does it anyways, he probably gave up doing it to your standards a long time ago. His fault, or your fault? Who knows, but likely a combination of the two.

4)The same reason you think changing the oil in the car is only necessary AFTER the oil pressure light comes on.

Because, as in sex, we don't know how to properly finish the job we started.

X O X O X O X O

8) Why is it men get so offended if I insist I can do something myself? Is it that they don't get the idea of a woman that won't break or something?

There are some things that "guys" should do. You may feel free and advanced enough to do them yourself. Doesn't mean we've broken our own stereotypical chains. To paraphrase Heinlein , why be equal when you get all sorts of privileges in NOT being equal? Come on! We're willing to open a door, take out the trash, do the heavy lifting, etc. Why not let us do it? It makes us feel useful. It makes us feel needed. It makes us feel manly. It gives us, in our own minds, a reason for you now to pamper us in different ways. >>Evil Grin<<

If you are trying to prove something, then you're only proving it to yourself, because typically, we're not even listening and we've definitely not caught the subtle hints.

Because you tell us that a hundred times and then we have to come in and clean up the mess, it is much easier just to do it from the beginning. Also, because we get told so often that we don't do anything for you, so when we offer and you turn us down, we feel like we can't win.

I am guilty of this a lot myself. Or at least accused of it at times. Do I think you CAN do it? Of course. However, often I don't think you should HAVE to do it. Can you carry the 40 pound bag of groceries to your car? Of course! Should you HAVE to? The gentleman in my head screams NO so I offer to do so for you and damned the feminist evil glare you give me for doing so. Can you open your own car door? Of course, but again the gentleman in my head insists I do so for you. Call me old fashioned if you like, I take it as a compliment. People say chivalry is dead. I don't agree but it DOES seem to be dying.

Because we fear that once you do something yourself you will discover you can do something else yourself (i.e., sex)

X O X O X O X O

The Questions for the Fem Panel

Here they are, ladies. Honest answers, now.

Preference - little foreplay with long period of intercourse, or foreplay to orgasm with shorter period of intercourse following?

Unless you actually like to fight, why is it that you all will keep doing a thing again and again, knowing that it has provoked a fight every single time in the past, and therefore knowing full well that it's going to cause a fight again?

Most of you seem to want to go out with nice guys. Why do you then so often end up with the A$$holes? And when you find a nice one, you end up taking advantage and taking them for granted because they're not A$$holes and you know you can get away with it. What is up with that?

Why can't yall just say what you mean? For example:
me: whats wrong?
her: A)nothing, B)I don't want to talk about it
me: okay.
(a week, two, or 12 passes)
during a totally completely unrelated minor argument....
her: "well you COULD have found out what was bothering me that time 6 weeks ago but you took my 'nothing' and 'I don't want to talk about it' as meaning nothing and I don't want to talk about it. Now you must die you insensitive prick!"

When something is clearly bothering us, and you ask what is wrong, and we tell you "I don't wanna talk about it. It isn't you. " then why do you all hear "I wanna tell you all about it. It must be all about you. Now ask me a million questions and REALLY get me pissed off."

How do we open the subject of a threesome without getting killed? Guys all dig this scene. You all will never bring it up even if you're curious and/or interested. So how do we do it respectfully without dodging shoes, coke bottles, and the family cat?

My wife will not let me go to a Strip Club unless she goes. Then she’ll help pick the girls for the table dances, have a couples table dance, and even help the dancer with the “arousing” bits. Why is that? Is it a control thing, or does she just not trust me alone?

My girlfriend asks me what I want for dinner. I tell her anything will be fun, whatever she feels like cooking. Then, whatever she cooks, I’ll happily eat. Yet this annoys her, why?

Men are more visually stimulated than women. If we’re at a mall, I’ll see a hot chick and look. Its my girlfriend I’m going home to, it’s my girlfriend that I’m holding hands with at the time, it’s a natural reaction, so WHY does that piss her off so bad? Is SHE insecure?

Night of the Living Dead I

Fade in: Dark rainy night, a couple driving home, woman at the wheel. Two children are sound asleep in the middle seat. The back of the SUV full with two bowling bags, several coats, a blanket. The man presses two fingers to his right temple, a pained look on his face.

“What’s the matter now?” she asks, glancing over at him with a cross expression on her face.

“You are sucking the life out of me, Tia. Does that classify as something being wrong?” He shakes his head, peering intently at something beyond the rain streaked windows. His hopes and dreams moving slowly away over the horizon, perhaps. He’s been drinking. It’s bowling night. They are one and the same. Drink on bowling night, or bowl on drinking night. The line between the two blurs. “This isn’t enough. I want more out of life. I can’t be so apathetic about life that I shuffle through each day like some mummy with a bad bandage job. I can’t just sit back and be content with where we’re at, what we’re doing, who we are right now.”

Her only answer is a deep sigh. Christ, she thinks, He’s getting some now, and now that’s not even enough. What the fuck else does he want now? I’ve got my own problems. I take care of the kids practically without his help. I may as well be a single mom. How am I supposed to do anything BUT muddle through my life. It’s get up, make the kids breakfast, take them to daycare, off to work, pick them up, feed them dinner, and he might help put them to bed. Then I finally get to eat, watch TV for an hour, and off to bed to do it all again. Looking forward to the weekend so I can do another eight loads of laundry. And I’m supposed to have something left for him? Who the fuck is he kidding, the asshole. She says nothing. She always says nothing. It is pointless. He’ll try and listen. He’s the one that always wants to talk things through. Try to make things better. Eight years later and he still thinks talking will change things. She knows better. The last person she tried to open up to – well, there’s just uglier things than physical abuse, sometimes. He always wants to get a promise from her, that she’ll change something. He won’t say what, won’t tell her what he wants her to commit to. He keeps telling her – Commit to something. Anything. No more empty promises. Pick something and commit to it. So we can set some goals. Reach them item by item. Who the fuck are you kidding, asshole? You want me to commit to something so you can hang it over my head when I don’t do it. Something else to slap me in the face with. You’ll never get a commitment from me, you shit. Because If I commit once, and do it, then it will be another, and another, and another. You say it will make things better with us. I know better. I’ve been there. The last guy said the same thing. I nearly committed myself to a mental hospital. You could be him. I don’t care if we’re married. You could be him. I won’t go through that again. Besides, you don’t have the fucking balls to do anything about it anyway. What are you going to do? Leave me? I’ve got the kids. You’ll never leave. Why should anything change. I’m as content as I’m going to be. Why work to make it better for you, when you won’t appreciate it, and you won’t leave me if I don’t do anything about it. Oh, you’ll threaten it. So did he. It worked for him. It won’t work for you. I’ve got you by the balls. I don’t have to talk to you, I don’t have to open myself to you to be hurt again. And if you do ever get the balls to leave me, I’ll have the kids, I’ll be a single mom, which I might as well be anyway, and we couldn’t be any worse off for the money either way.

To Be Continued

Women Are From Venus II

Gentlemen. The Gauntlet has been thrown. I just received an email from a member of the Fems panel. To whit - "I thought this was supposed to be a mutual thing. This is crap. We're going to give you all these great questions, and you're going to leave us with nothing to answer. Somehow, we'll get the blame. Get your shit together, Michael"
Nuff said.
Gimme some ammo, guys.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Ladies, please grab your most somber black dress. And the hat with the little black veil. Men, your black tuxedoes, please.

I turned forty one yesterday. I’ll be climbing into the grave today. My birthday passed with nary a ripple on the surface of the pond. Like it didn’t happen. Like I didn’t even exist.

I got a happy birthday, honey from the Sigo because we went to bed after midnight on Saturday night. Along about 2 in the afternoon on Sunday, I finally had to say something to the Sigo so she could have my two kids (5yrs, 3yrs) say happy birthday to Poppa. My mom called. My in laws? – They have a custom, whenever anyone in the clan has a birthday, that it’s a race to wish the person a happy birthday. They’ll wake you up at 5 am. They’ll cheat and call back after midnight. Its fun. It makes birthdays a big deal. This is my adopted family. The people that I’d choose to hang out with over my own family. I got a text message and a phone call. The Sigo got defensive. So be it. I had to shut myself in the bedroom twice yesterday so I didn’t blow up in anger and frustration. We went to bed last night. The Sigo said sorry that she’d done so lousy for my birthday this year. I chose to keep my mouth shut. Lousy doesn’t approach the extent of the situation. I got an “apology” BJ before I went to sleep. Yeah, that’ll cover it, too. Sure. Right. It isn’t important enough to dress sexy or something and pretend we still have some fire there once a year. No, not her.

So I’m dressing in my formals. I’m checking the obituaries this morning just in case I’m dead and no one had the common courtesy to notify me. In that I’m usually the last one to know, this would not be too much of a surprise.

As we grow up, we rarely imagine ourselves as moving through life without making a difference to anyone or anything. Slipping in to death, our miserable excuse for life over, sliding beneath the water without a single ripple. Everyone wants to believe that their lives are, if not important, then at the very least meaningful to some extent. But what do you do when it’s happening, and you don’t know a way to change it?

It’s going to be a bad one when you tell your Sigo out loud “I’m an emotional train wreck today” and she acts like you didn’t say a thing. And yet, I tell that to a couple of my closer “friends” online here in the old blogosphere, and they’re immediately concerned, what’s causing it, you okay, what can I do. I’m thinking that maybe I should have emailed here. That way she could have a response without any major effort.

The last time she got this apathetic, so flaming disregarding of us as a couple, and me, I ended up finding the companionship, caring, passion, and flame of life somewhere else. But she’s winning. Slowly but surely, she’s dragging me into the vortex of apathy. It’s happening already. I’m losing my hopes, my dreams, and the spark of life I used to have. I’ll be a fucking zombie soon. We’ll have a perfect marriage then. Because neither of us will give enough of a shit about anything to actually fight over something. Don’t bother listening for the sound of my passing. When the bell tolls, it will be ringing for someone else. I’ll already be gone.

Michael

Women Are From Venus

Yesterday, Roadchick and Michael from the ER were conducting one of their standard email "conversations". These conversations cover a lot of different topics, but one thing we've discovered at the ER is that the Chick has some good insights in to translating what a fem says vs. what she means. Its like having a shortcut to the Women's Handbook.

This sparked an idea from 'chick. (She's in the creative department, I'm in Production and Marketing)

Gents, this is your chance to lay it all out.

'Chick is going to select a couple of other fems to assist her in answering your questions in a "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" type of way. Then, 'chick has already extended an invitation for the fems to ask questions and Michael and a select few rational gentlemen (I use that term loosely) will answer their questions.

Any question is fair game - relationships, friendship, sex, gift-giving - whatever you've always wondered but never had anyone to ask.

Feel free to leave your questions in Comments -or- you can email the ER at the cardiac.fantasies(at)gmail.com - If you want to remain anonymous, just say the word and we might not mention names, though if it is hugely embarrassing, I can't make promises. No, anonymity will be maintained at the request of the questioner.

The deadline for questions is Friday, February 23rd and the answers will be posted shortly after that.

Have at it, guys. The answers will not be the typical humor filled tongue in cheek stuff we normally get. The fems have promised to do their best to provide real answers, if somewhat amusing ones.

Date a Superhero

Courtesy of Gyuss

The Flowers That Sank A Thousand Ships

This is them. These are the culprits. They are at least accessories before, during, and after the fact. The delivery person is the one that needs to be drawn and quartered. This lovely package was delivered to the SIGO’s office approximately one hour - AFTER she left for the day. It would be the first time in years that either of us has done anything for the other for Valentines. It was simply not a big deal, for all of us. Most of our memorable things – meeting, her moving across country to be with me, the proposal, the “first time”, etc. all happened in the Months of November/December, and we started talking and getting to know each other online.

I am here to tout the fact that, yes, despite our problems, we’ve been married for closing on eight years now and we met online. It wasn’t a personal service, or dating site, or such. Nine years ago, you could actually meet some real people in the “Barrooms” of the AOL chat rooms. The SIGO has, without a doubt, some of the greatest traits that any guy could want. She cooks, by choice. While she won’t sit down and watch but a few specific games, she can watch football, understand it, knows the rules, and will pull the kids upstairs when I finally get to watch an NFL game. Go out after work with the guys? I don’t ask often as its something I don’t really get in to, but she’s always adjusted her schedule to accommodate it on short notice and never once said no. Strip Clubs? No problem, as long as she gets to go to. We’ll trade lap dances. She gets to pick the ones I get. She knows my tastes. And while she’s not hardcore into it, she’ll enjoy a good lapdance as much as any guy. And the fems always seem to give the fems better ones. Here’s the bonus: There’s no hands off policy for the female customers. The Sigo takes advantage of this. And makes sure I have a good view. Anyhoo, she’ll sit down and play video games. We used to have Saturday PGP. Pizza, games, and Pussy. Every Saturday we’d grab a pizza, play on the playstation or the gamecube until 12 or 1 in the morning, and then head up to take care of business. OK, bad thing. She’s like a hoover vacuum when it comes to grabbing treasure in the video games. The crap don’t hit the ground. You can bitch all day about it. She doesn’t care. So I’ve stated this before: Online, at least the way it was a few years ago, is a good place to meet a mate. Lifetime material. Because you have to base mostly on actual conversation, rather than looks or material things.

She doesn’t like flowers as gifts. I never have to worry about that stuff. She’d rather have a new tech gadget. I lost my train of thought miles back, but watch me bring it home. Her very words are – Flowers die. So VD has never been a big day for us. I decided to try and make it something special this year. By now, the Blogosphere knows what happened. The card read – Roses die, but our love only grows. Michael. Try giving that message over the phone. The first two words brought a gasp of horror from the flower lady. The closing made her say – now that’s really nice. She took my order. She promised on the phone yesterday morning that they’d be there.They weren’t. Her flowers sunk my Valentine’s Day Love Boat.

Michael

The Mardi Gras Song (by Road Chick, Ariel, Mist, and Michael)

Twas the night before Mardi Gras

And all through the 'net

The freaks were all stirring

Not one was in bed

The whips were all hung

By the sawhorse with care

With hopes that freaks

Would soon gather there

The subbies were grouped

And decked out in latex

With hopes for new flogs

And a hot dominatrix

The girls were a'waiting

with painted on lips

to make the boys squirm

and grind their hips

The knees were sturdy

the garters snapped right

'cause the girls knew

there'd be many bj's tonight

I couldn't decide on the right flog

to go with my shoes

I need matching knee pads

I don't want to bruise

The Handcuffs were trimmed

With red satin sashes,

The subs were all kneeling

Awaiting their lashes

The sex swings were hung

From the Ceilings with Care

In hopes that their Trannies

Soon would be there

The lotions were scattered

'cross the floor with abandon

Lime Lemon and Cherry,

Orange Musk all at random

Credits to Road Chick for starting this psychobabble freakfest song in the first place.

Building Up The Walls

One of the hardest things in the world is to pace back and forth in a cage you built, opened, and locked yourself into, all by yourself. Humans really don’t deal well when they cannot blame a bad situation on someone else. Those afflicted with Depression can complicate this even further. They can see the consequences of their actions well in advance, and understand how bad it could possibly be, and still not be able to summon enough energy on a bad day to give a flying f**k at a rolling donut about what they are fixing to do to themselves.

But everyone builds their own cages. Seems like we can’t avoid it. Is it part of our nature? Are we that dependent upon boundaries that we will place them on ourselves in order to be secure?

For you weekend blog warriors – Tell us about your self imposed cages. What boundaries have you placed on yourself?

Michael

Sex and a Fortune Cookie

For those that have been living vicariously through me – I have some bad news. Things have been going so well of late that the Beast is in hiding – thus my true muse is gone – thus I have nothing to bitch about and no motivation to create. It’s a sharp razor to balance on, on occasion.

I’ll toss in a fortune cookie, as I finally have one so fitting that I MUST share.

“You have a slow and unhurried natural rhythm” and after adding the mandatory “in bed,” we now have a piece of awesome advertising for the skill in question – You have a slow and unhurried natural rhythm in bed. So yes, ladies, that’s what I call Great Marketing. I’ll be taking reservations at the side door after finishing this post.

Which brings me to one topic that I can always talk about. Sex. And, in that I have been an oh so good boy since I started this blog, and haven’t gotten really racy or out of line, I feel the burden of variety pushing me to switch things up a little – and hone that razor just a little more.

So, post whatever answers you are comfortable with in the comments, and consider this sentence a disclaimer that adult erotic material may follow, and please wait for the next post if that is something that bothers you. For those of you that intend to post – You may get as in depth and as in detail as you wish. This is one question that we want hard answers on, and one that I find hard to get offended over, period. Be yourself. Answer as detailed as possible.

Favorite position, favorite speed, best move you’ve done, best move done to you, most romantic act, most freaky act, most memorable, most forgettable, most embarrassing, most exhibitionist, wildest location, fantasy you haven’t had fulfilled, fantasy you have had fulfilled, oral, anal, missionary, or any other similar topic you wish to throw in. And remember, these comments will only be as interesting and conversation provoking as you make them. Oh yes, and guys, keep the inflated measurements and Herculean exploits to a minimum. Our rep is bad enough as it is. And ladies, while I won’t delete it, I would prefer this didn’t open a gate for male bashing, so easy on the hair grabbing and nail slashing, please.

I’ll post some of my answers in comments tomorrow. Out of time now. Thanks in advance for your responses.

Michael

Super Bowl Notes

I was rooting for the Bears, but not to the point of anxiety. Is it me, or are the Superbowls getting more boring every year for the last three years or so? That missed extra point cost me $400. FUVinateri. This is the first year that I can say that the commercials were as boring as the game. Definitely not up to the normal standards. I actually watched the halftime show for the first time in forever. Not because I like Prince, but more for the reason that people watch Nascar - like waiting for a trainwreck. I had this macabre desire to see someone light up like a floodlight when all that rain electrocuted someone. It was a Michael Jackson Hair Fire waiting to happen. I don't know if it's accurate, but I was told that the odds placed on Hester running the first kick back were 1200 to one. A hundred dollar bet would have gotten you a great down payment on a new house. The over and under on Billy Joel and the length of the National Anthem was 1 min, 44 sec. Yes, people make these bets. He must not like the rain. The anthem ended at 1 min 30 sec. Now Peyton has his ring. Can we stop hearing about it now?

This may rub some folks wrong, but have you ever seen Corporate America steal so much marketing face time over the fact that both coaches were black? I was absolutely disgusted about the three ring circus they made out of that. The commercials and commentary that wouldn’t let the subject go did more than anything to demean and diminish the actual accomplishments. Those two coaches deserved to be there. Dungy probably should have been to the Big One far earlier than this. What gives the media and corporate America the right to usurp those accomplishments and exploit the situation as a money making feel good opportunity. Sick, very sick. Dungy himself stated that while he and Lovey Smith were the first coaches to do it, that they were by far not the first ones capable of it. So the Superbowl is over. We have a full year to fill with hopes that it might actually be an interesting game next year. Or at least the commercials.

Michael

Fetish for ????

We all know her. She's in our blogoosphere. She makes the rounds and makes comments every time she can. She has a fetish. She's totally entranced. So this one is for you - speak up if you dare.

Why Do Mean Like BJ's?

100,000 Men were surveyed. The breakout follows. Results are +/- 5%
12% of men really enjoy the feeling
8 % of men enjoy the sense of domination more.
but 80% of all men................
Are just happy to shut her the hell up.

Ah, the feel and sound of silence.

Michael

Making the Superbowl Moment Right - A Guide for Fems

Ladies,
You're always asking for a handbook on how to understand and act towards men with their little idiosyncrasies. Well here's a list, pulled straight out of the How to Handle Men handbook. Read it, follow it, and he'll absolutely adore you for the next full year.

1) He knows you're loyal. Be the perfect Superbowl Hostess - tight shorts, football top with halter beneath, or nothing underneath- is acceptable. He WANTS his buddies to be jealous of the fact that his wife can watch the Superbowl with the best of them, and looks f-ing hot doing it. That gives him bonus points with his buddies.

2) If you don’t do it for the rest of the year, keep him, and maybe even his buds, topped off with beer. It doesn’t mean you’re inferior, it doesn’t mean you’re his servant or slave, it merely makes his buddies go green with envy because they NEVER get that at their house.

3) If you haven’t had football knowledge prior to this, and you can’t do a little research on your own, then ASK him to explain the basics to you, because you want to look good for him in front of his friends. If you retain the info, great. It might even make the game more enjoyable for you. If you can’t, then you can’t. DON’T ask him what just happened during the game, or why they threw the yellow flag, or the red flag, or why they kick two different ways. Sit, watch. DON’T ask. If his buddies get stupid and try to test you – turn it back on them and let the flaming begin.

4) Contrary to popular opinion – guys like fems with a little sass. Talk some shit to his friends. Give them better than they give you. Even talk a little trash to your man. Once again, he gets points – cause his fem ain’t stupid like all of their girls.

5) Pick the team you want to root for. It doesn’t matter how – pick the uniform you like best, or the helmet color. If it’s your man’s team, then watch his reactions during the game. When he gets happy about a play, cheer like a madwoman. It it’s not your man’s team, then watch his reactions during the game. When he acts glum about a play, cheer like a madwoman. Done discreetly, his friends can only respect the fact that you know enough to know when to cheer and talk smack. More points

6) Sit on your man’s lap in your skimpy little football attire, and flirt with his buds, distracting them from the game. He knows what you’re doing but you’re with him, and its amusing to him to see his friends reactions. BUT NOTE – other than the lap thing – PDA’s are not allowed unless it’s a 30 second timeout or it’s halftime. Nobody wants to miss the Superbowl Commercials. It’s the only thing that keeps everyone going when the game is sloooooooooooooooooooow.

Okay, you’ve done all of these things. The Party was a success. He gained so many points with his Pals that he’s an absolute god in their eyes. And it was all you. You know it, he knows it. You’ve now got the next 365 days to extract whatever payment you like for all those points YOU gave him. Its gotta be worth at least THREE pairs of expensive shoes – and a nice leather Team jacket to keep you warm for the rest of the cold season.

Enjoy your party. Be Safe. Don’t Drink and Drive. A twenty dollar taxi fare is worth far more than the thousands you’ll pay if you get caught. And it’s worth the rest of your life if you avoid killing someone by doing it.

Happy Superbowl! Go Chicago!

Michael

Displacement - The Q Factor

Finally getting to Q’s question – sorry about the delay, bud. The question was, if I was sent back to the middle ages, what would be the first invention that I made . Unlike the others, I am answering this on more of a serious level. I’m also twisting the question somewhat, to read what technology would you first start, based on the tech level back then.

On the surface, this should be an easy question. But when you consider the actual technology level back then, it becomes just a bit harder. You can’t really invent the lightbulb, simply because they did not have the capability to create a working glass bulb that would hold a semi vacuum. So that’s down the tubes. Same with a modern day weapon to revolutionize warfare. Alloys alone would screw you on that. Running water and a flushable toilet – within the realm of possibility. You can do a lot with wood and pottery. It may be a little leaky at the flush point, but its possible. You just need a score of peasants to keep running water buckets from the well to the water storage at the top of the castle. Or a steep area of river that you could run an aqueduct from. The Romans already had aqueducts anyway, so the only thing you’d be recreating is a toilet.

As my final choice, I’d have to say that I would have to rediscover antibiotics – penicillin. It takes a dish and something to feed the fungus and mold. Even considering the unsanitary conditions, I’m quite sure I could set up something close to a low tech lab. Plenty of peasants to test it on, too. So there’s your answer, Q. Nothing exciting to write home about but I tried to give it a little thought. Thanks for the idea. Only, if we’re gonna do this temporal displacement, make sure you drop me AFTER the Black Death took its course.

Michael