The Next Big Social Networking Site

I'd like to give a big shout out to the Connecticut Judicial System for creating this helpful new tool that tracks criminals just by typing in a bit of personal information. If someone's committed a crime in the past 10 years, they pop up with a cute little description of their offense and sentence.

Thanks to this ingenious invention, I can now keep up with the lives and times of all my old boyfriends. It's like Facebook but better.

In the name of full disclosure, I will admit that I've found 3 exes so far (and I've only just begun!). I'm sure there are a few guys from that hazy period in 1999 that would also be there if I could just remember their names. Or faces. Or anything other than the fact that there was one who had a penis the size and shape of a giant salmon. And finding that out was the end of the relationship because there was NO WAY I was letting something that big getting anywhere near my girl parts. And that, sadly enough, is all I can recall of my entire 16th year.

But now for the inspirational message:

May this story be a lesson to all of the stupid girls everywhere who date a whole bunch of losers in their teen years. Because if you wish hard enough for your prince charming, young lady, if you beg and pray and promise to revoke all your moronic ways, if you can prove to cupid that you've changed your mind about 'saving' every idiot pothead you meet, well then, YOU TOO can grow up and find the perfect ex-boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend who puts all the rest to shame, the ex-boyfriend you'll want to spend your whole life being broken up with.

A Very Important Matter Indeed

Dear Man With Whom I Have A Sexual Relationship,

We need to talk.

I know, I know, those are the four most disturbing words a woman can utter to a man and why didn't I warn you before I said that?! I can see that glazed, unfocused look starting to shadow your eyes and am well aware that you've already begun blocking the sounds coming from my mouth and are searching desperately for your happy place (Baseball, beer, Halle Berry. Baseball, beer, Halle Berry) but snap out of it bitch! This is important.

To get straight to the point, we need to talk about foreplay. Or more accurately, the complete lack of foreplay in our relationship that has made me want to tear out my hair, wear sweatpants to bed every night, and refuse to have sex with you again until you learn the importance of a good make-out session.

I know that men don't need much to be turned on. I'm well aware that all I have to do is casually touch your hand or maybe say 'sex' out loud and you're on top of me like a cheetah on a dead antelope. But you've got to understand that I, on the other hand, need a little more than you sticking your hand down my pants to be in the mood. I am a woman and I need kissing and hugging and touching and all the other crazy things that they do in that far away place called The Movies.

Now it's not that I'm opposed to the occasional quickie. But unless we only have 10 minutes until the kid wakes up and we haven't had sex in 3 weeks and my period's coming any second now, I honestly feel that a little more effort should be put into the whole mating ritual. It's not just that I want to be in the mood to have sex, I physically need to be. If I'm not turned on beforehand, then sex is like a fifteen minute fire, burning in my crotch. And I mean that in the most ladylike way possible.

Please understand that it's not that I want another reason to nag and bother you because you are really so wonderful in every other way. And when you do things like change the roll of toilet paper or make breakfast, my mind wants to have sex with you, it's just that my body hasn't sat down all day and isn't quite convinced that this is the most productive use of my already limited energy levels. My body forgets very quickly how good sex can be, and it's your job to convince it.

In order to be of assistance, I've made these helpful charts to demonstrate my point.

So, let's assume this detailed and accurate medical illustration is me:

Then this would be an example of proper foreplay:

And this would not:

In case you need a little more explanation, I have outlined a few important rules:

1. Crawling in bed behind me and poking around the back door for twenty minutes until you find a hole is a waste of time and there's a 50% chance you'll find the wrong one. It would have taken half the time to just kiss my neck first and let me show you where to go.
2. If you decide in the middle of the night while I'm fast asleep that you want to have sex, understand you'll have to work twice as hard to wake me up and turn me on and you might get punched in the face in the process. It might be worth going back to sleep and waiting until the morning.
3. Grabbing a bottle of lubricant does NOT constitute proper foreplay. Other things that don't constitute proper foreplay are farting, leaving your dirty socks on the floor, not putting your dishes in the dishwasher, suggesting that I go down on you, and turning on Sports Center.
4. You naked laying in my bed, not a turn on. Put on some shorts man and leave a little room for the imagination! Penises are ugly... and finally...
5. When in doubt, think about what turns you on, and then do the opposite.
   
   
I hope that this letter has helped you understand the importance of the matter at hand and that you will take immediate actions to resolve the problem or I will be forced to take more dramatic measures, which I have not thought of yet, but will be HORRIBLE! Feel free to print this letter out and keep it as a reference.

Sincerely,

The Woman Who Loves You Enough To Wash Your Dirty Underwear

The Gospel, According To Jacquai

Reads: I'm messy when I eat ice cream. I'm hungry I want ice cream.
I want ice cream because it is god.

And that bald peachy person with the purple body and black nipples, eating god with him? Yup, that's me.


Disclaimer: The Kid really meant to write good, not god. It's only I who thinks that ice cream is god. Specifically chocolate ice cream with cookie dough pieces in it.

Applesauce And A Little Too Much Cinnamon

Thanks for everyone who guessed in my What The Hell Is It? Contest.

The winner was the last person who guessed, the lovely Ms. Bobbye with (the very obvious) applesauce and a little too much cinnamon.

Of course, a little bit is somewhat of an understatement, as it was about a jar of cinnamon to a bowlful of applesauce and though most people know that you only need a teeny bit of cinnamon to flavor things, my son is going through his "extra" phase. Extra syrup on his pancakes, extra bubbles in the bathtub and extra hot sauce on his taco (boy did he regret that one) because he's a red-blooded American man who knows that bigger is better and more is, well, more.

And a little while later, Man-Friend came over and saw this applesauce mess and lectured me on how I shouldn't let him do things like that, I should discourage the mixing and messes, the climbing on counters and running into things. But I refuse, because in my opinion, discouraging these things would be like killing his SOUL and I just can't bring myself to kill my son's SOUL, no matter how much very expensive cinnamon he wastes.

But before you go getting all mad at Man-Friend you need to understand that he can't help it, he's just a very sensible man who thinks things through before he does them, who believes in safety first, and who, in all his sensibleness, perfectly balances my crazy.

Oh yeah, Bobbye, your prize is going to be...um....let's see...when I finally get it up and running in a month or 6, you'll get a free card of your choice from my store.

This was fun. Maybe I'll do it again sometime. What do you think?

Some Randomness Because I've Got So Much To Say And No Brain Cells To Coordinate All My Thoughts Into Pretty Sentences

1. If Hillary Clinton becomes the Democratic nominee, I'll be voting for Ralph Nader for the third time.
2. I spent half of last week seriously contemplating why I haven't made more of an effort to find a rich husband who would be willing to let me fulfill my true calling of lying around in bed all day while he goes out and works.
3. I've been trying to eat according to the food pyramid for the past three weeks and not once have I managed to have a S-shaped poo like Dr. Oz says I should. This is very disturbing to me because really, what's the point of eating all this fiber if I can't even have an S-shaped poo?!! When I decided to try this new way of eating no one in my life was very impressed. "Oh I already eat like that," they all said. "Bullshit," I say. Eating 2.5 cups of vegetables a day is close to impossible.
4. I changed my blog address from www.theresneveraline.blogspot.com to www.theresneveraline.com. It's a really small change but it should be easier to type and I paid for the damn domain name about 4 months ago so it's about time to use it. So update your links (again) please and I promise it's the last time I'll ask you to do it.
5. Finally- a photo of what happens when you're sick with the flu and The Kid is left to make breakfast for himself. I'm not telling you what it is but I will give you a hint- it's two normal household items mixed together and no, neither of them is an S-shaped poo.

10 points to the first person who figures it out. Starting NOW!