I got bitten by a Møøse

Beseiged like a pair of spider monkeys picking fleas off each other, I often find myself in the disgusting quandary of not being able to reach some parts of my back very well along the utter disgust of a husband that can (and often does). It starts out innocently enough. He'll might start rubbing my shoulders or scratching my back while I'm brushing my teeth, and before I know it, I'm showered in blinding white waves of pain signifying that he noticed a pimple or an ingrown hair on my back. Disgusting? Oh hell yes, and yet at the same time I know that its unlikely I could pop that bra strap offender all by myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to yelp like a mistreated puppy and shoot him a nasty look for his unwarranted stealthy back attack, but deep down I suppose its only slightly less annoying than getting felt up by a nearsighted gynecologist.

"Stop it!"
"But you've got this huge white-head on your back."
"Leave it alone!"
"...but its colossal!"

Naturally the hubster doesn't listen well, leaving my stoic cool to exit stage left whenever I realize he's no longer rubbing and has begun farming my back. Its like he has a point to prove, and damn it, no blemishes are going to remain on his woman's back on his watch. Even though I'm still trying to dissuade him, mentally I begin to prepare myself just in case I can't weasel out of the bathroom door before he goes all pinchy-fingers. I'd have escaped too were he not so tenacious, but he has a grudge against my backside and methodically combs over it like a lion waiting for the opportunity to pounce. My hubby the headhunter, its hard enough to avoid these disgusting habits of his under normal circumstances, but plop a toothbrush in your mouth and suddenly I find myself doing the samba to avoid the pinch of death while maintaining good dental hygene.

"Come on, honey, you can't just leave it back there."
"Watch me."
"Oh whatever, come on, It'll be quick and painless."

I could swear he had made the exact same claim on our way to pop out our first child, although copious amounts of mind-numbing drugs along with at least half of the hospital staff seeing my kibbles-n-bits has benevolently removed much of those pre-anklebiter memories, so I pushed by and sprinted for the relative safety of my covers. Unfortunately lobsterboy and his pinch of doom can be somewhat relentless, and within minutes, he's got me wrapped up in my covers burrito style while my hair follicles are screaming in agony. No matter how hard I bucked, circled, and grunted; somehow he managed to stay on for the full 8 seconds while gouging the hell out of my back. I cried. I swore. I got sore butt cheeks from clenching them so hard. By the time it was all said and done, it looks like a møøse bit me (mind you, møøse bites can be quite nasty).

The husband responsible for pinching has been sacked.

Today's Positive: Had a real handful last night. I took my kids along with a friends twins (thats four kids in case you lost count) to get some haircuts last night. Why is this positive? Wanting a minimum of fuss, I signed the decree for all four to get the same haircut, which is fine for the girls, but it left the sole boy with a mullet. Hey, its business in the front and party in the back!

Today's Negative: We volunteer at church on Wednesday nights. Its more or less a chaperone position to make sure the kids don't kill each other or the natives don't get unnecessarily frisky with each other. Anyway I'm watching them and this 6th grade boy walks up and asks me what a term he overheard the older boys using. The term? Cameltoe. Um...yeah. I totally pretended not to know.

Currently Listening Red Carpet Massacre By Duran Duran see related

Don't wanna

                                                 
                                                             "Ugh uh, don't wanna."

You know that feeling somewhere inbetween awake and alseep where, quite technically your out of bed and among the living, but your not quite "there". Yeah. I'm there, and the worst part about it is this wonderfully cheerful guy who hasn't got the brain-processing power to realize that he is annoying as shit and that I'm wearing a ring. Can I kill just one asshat today? Just one insignifigant person? Pretty please...I promise it'll make my day so much better. You all won't tell, will you?

Today's Positive: Had the perverse pleasure of watching my neighbors fighting on the porch at 4am this morning in their bathrobes. If only I had a nightvision camcorder, we all could have been entertained as they threw things at one another and hopped up and down like crazed chimps.

Today's Negative: It was soooo not worth it. I convinced the cable guy to leave the old DVR so I could finish watching a few shows I'd recorded, and I would just bring it back today. Unfortunately I was up until 2am catching up on a few shows. Its safe to say I am completely worthless today.

Currently Listening The Sweet Escape By Gwen Stefani see related

25 perverted musings of the moment

1). I'm drowning in testosterone...thankfully I'm equipped with floatation devices.
2). Grimace from McDonalds is awefully phallic.
3). If I wiggle my chair fast enough and stop, my boobs continue to shake for a full 3 seconds.
4). If men's underwear have no Y-shaped pee-pee flap, does that mean their wearing panties?
5). Even when I'm alone, I lick envelopes like a pornstar (just for giggles).
6). Why is it that flipping the bird never means what your implying?
7). Corndogs are the most deviant of meats one can eat off a stick.
8). If you give a paraplegic a viagra, would it work?
9). Strip Poker seems like a great way to get paper cuts in all the wrong areas.
10). Is the sound a fart makes the air itself or the sound of your butt cheeks clapping together?
11). Donald Duck is such a pervert, he talks with a lisp and doesn't wear any pants.
12). Is it possible to give myself a lap dance...and if so, how much should I tip myself?
13). My 3am revelation: A vagina is basically a buttcrack that wrapped around to the front.
14). Do you have to do it in a Fedex box in order to consummate a mail order bride marriage?
15). You get very interesting looks when you act like your peeing when holding the gas pump.
16). Why is there no nutritional information supplied with edible underwear?
17). Doing it in the backseat is no longer possible, we have carseats back there.
18). Duct tape is only fun in bed until it occurs that its going to hurt like hell coming off.
19). If sending soiled undergarments is big business online, why is nobody selling used diapers?
20). I've always thought In-n-Out Burger and the Subway were euphemisms for something.
21). Who started calling genitals "junk", and what exactly does that imply a junkyard is?
22). Vibrating phones + very loose pants = never a good combination.
23). Question of the ages; exactly how do men avoid sitting on their balls?
24). Good bathroom timing, specifically at 4am, means never peeing on your hands.
25). Exactly how do they "electronically test" condoms? I simply must see that machine.

Whats on your mind? Inquiring Rebekah's want to know...

Today's Positive: It took some doing and convincing, but my cable company is sending someone out tonight to replace my DVR, and they'll be hooking everything up for free as well. Boo-ya!

Today's Negative: I totally laughed at Steph yesterday for doing it, and karma totally bit me in the ass for doing it...or rather in the front. Yep, I somehow managed to put my undies on backwards this morning, but was so sleepy, I didn't notice until I went to the bathroom just a little bit ago.

Currently Listening 12 Inches of Snow By Snow see related

An unexpected shrimp boating

Aside from the occasional balding man in his tighty whiteys wanting to turn on his naughty cam for "emotional support", making him of course about as menacing as the ice cube-making feature in my refrigerator, I generally don't make it a habit to pay attention to the kind of emotional support that would seperate me from my panties; and yet there he was. Three hundred (ish) pounds of Jello pudding pops, pizza slices, and butter creamed in between his rolls somehow shoehorned into and violating the most tiny of office chairs more than that Victoria's Secret catalong you've been hiding underneath your desk, and I laughed...I laughed my ass right off. I couldn't help it! Its usually delectable - flirting online can be a beautiful and elegant slice of class mentally smothered between two heaving, sweaty high school freshmen...minus the frantic cries of "wrong hole" of course. 

Unfortunately when this former friend sent up the invite for his webcam, I honestly thought he wanted to talk about something that was troubling him, given his sudden and hurried instant message to discuss some "matter at hand" (in a manner of saying of course), instead I was accosted by a mountain of a man holding up his massive gut so he could wag his gummi worm at the camera. Laughing is, of course, a natural response to seeing a whale of a man flapping what could be easily mistaken as a five-year old's package over the internet like a stubborn ketchup packet. There was only one little problem, well two actually, as disgusted as I was...I couldn't come up with a whitty retort. I'm usually wonderful at this sort of thing, but when confronted with a surprise mayonnaise cannon in my face and on my screen, I blinked. I had...notta. Zip. Zilch.

This is where you come in. I'm just conceited enough to believe that everyone wants to be me, so here's your big chance. Picture it...your me. Don't you look cute? I think that you do. You have this acquaintance online you've occasionally talked to periodically for the last couple of years and one day, and despite seeming somewhat nice to talk with online, he quite unexpectedly shows up online with a webcam requests that results in his shrimp boat being digitally shoved in your face. Do you immediately terminate the connection or do you point and laugh? That was kind of rhetorical because of course we're going to laugh like a drunken hyena, but what do you say in response? Don't hold back. Give me your best snappy one-liner. Your crushing comeback. Your bona fide banter. Your retorting repartee. You've got one shot, now make it count...what do you say?

Ready? Set. Dong.

Today's Positive: I had the best weekend imaginable...I did nothing. It felt great!  

Today's Negative: Had to go three rounds with my cable company. Our new television is fuzzy and they're saying its our cables our our television thats fuzzy. Nope. Bought new cables, twice, and it looks like pure sex while playing a video. Clearly (no pun intended), its the cable or the converter box. Hopefully they'll replace it or get some video wizard to wave his magic wand. 

Currently Listening Chronicles By Rush see related

10 reasons I'd happily trade in my vagina

Just another morning, one no more special than the last. I leapt out of bed and hurriedly made my way to the shower where I proceeded to shave no less than ten cubic feet of fuzz off my body before poking myself miserably in the mirror a few dozen times, scrub my mug down with three different cleansing products, and then apply half-a-dozen berries and bat juices on my face just to look "normal"...and I've not even left the house yet! I still had to wiggle into an impossibly tight pair of jeans thus regulated by the jean-sizing mafia, strap my girl parts down underneath my shirt, and do something with the mop on my head before I run out the door; all while the boy is practically humping my leg in the slim hope of getting himself some early-morning post-breakfast nookie. I know you love watching me get ready work, but I've got our 10th wedding anniversary to plan, my drive to work to arrange, my coworkers to murder and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped! Sadly being a woman in the modern age isn't all panties and roses, its a damn tough act to follow in fact, and some days I'd happily hand in my girl card for the carefree life of bonerdom.

                                            10 reasons I'd happily trade in my vagina

1). Lingo. I really hate the following terms: pussy, slit, cooche, cunt, snatch, bearded taco, panty hamster, cooter, beaver, hole, muff, twat, and clam. I also hate titties, boobies, funbags, melons, bazookas, garbanzos, winnebagos and any other idiotic name people come up with for our body parts. I do, however, totally get a kick out of my daughter when she tries to say that Mommy is playing with her computer but mispronounces it and says "Mommy is playing with her cooter".

2). Double standards. Men can chew with their mouths open in public, burp, fart, and generally scratch their balls until they've built up enough friction to catch their zippers on fire and nobody much thinks about it. First time I bury my hand elbow-deep in my waistband and begin scratching down there with a big toothy grin on my face, somebody is going to scream syphilis and hose me down with a fire extinguisher and a liberal amount of hand sanitizer.

3). The annual inspection. Men generally don't have to see a doctor unless something is broken, isn't working, or they're trying to screw their company out of some medical leave. We get have the necessity, dare I say the pleasure, of getting to sit on a cold table with our legs spread wide for a total stranger to poke our happy spots (without even buying us dinner I might add). True story - I realize small-talk is hard to come by when your sticking at least three fingers and an artificial duck up there, but my gyno began telling this story about trimming his bushes outside his home. I'm thinking...your talking about trimming your bush while poking mine? Oh hell no!

4). Tinkle time. Your average male can relieve himself pretty much anywhere he wants (public toliets, the front lawn, or perhaps a flower pot in the middle of a fancy restaurant) without worry of retaliatory reprisal...but his female counterpart? She's limited to using the customary toliet, the occasional swimming pool, or window ledge assuming she enjoys that warm squishy feeling of soggy shoes and possible concussions that typically result from slipping in warm pee.

5). The archaic boob strap. While nobody appreciates their coconuts roaming all over the yard like a pair of off-the-leash Chihauhaus, it doesn't seem quite fair that we gotta hide 'em and strap 'em while men all over the place are running around with moobs as big or bigger than mine. Its not that I don't mind the support or appreciate the confidence it gives, I just think its unfair that society hasn't pressured men into the same practice. To paraphrase the Princess Bride, there is a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, it seems a shame to show only the furry ones.

6). Stereotypes. Slip on some big cowboy boots, arms surgically removed from Jean Claude Van Damme, and a stoagie big enough to give the entire lower section of Manhattan lung cancer, and any given wannabe is instantly cool. Throw on a pair of shoes while announcing that you don't want to be pregnant and someone will be offended. Thanks to the wussification of males everywhere these days, however, its only a matter of time before before they are the weaker sex...personally I just can't decide if I want sideburns or a full-on goatee.

7). Clowning around. It generally doesn't matter if a guy has spent all night in the gutter with a transvestite named Bob, threw up on himself twice, and then got ran over by a street cleaner; generallty speaking all he needs is half of a moist towelette to make himself look presentable. We wimmin'-folk, on the other hand, need no less than three drawers of cleaning products, powders and creams from the four-corners of the world, trimmers pluckers tweasers and small objects resembling piranahs, a few medieval cutting uttensils, and at least three pagan incantations to make ourselves beautiful in the morning...and you didn't even notice. You bastard.

8). Leakage. If a man had a period, it'd pretty much be that moment after a seven-trip run down at the local Golden Corral when he gingerly rolls to one side and lets fly a few juicy anal harmonica notes with high anticipation of not soiling his Dockers in the process, but with a woman...its a tiny bit different. Not only can the flood come announced by the gasp (or chuckle) of a nearby coworker, typically lasting just long enough to give us a slight bitch complex, but then comes the oxymoron of trying to look somewhat sexy while still wearing a friggin' diaper underneath our most revealing clothes. This one might actually balance out, however. People say that men don't get periods, that its just a female thing; but I say otherwise; they're just called "skidmarks".

9). Fashion. Thanks to some obscure enactment by Congress, it is quite impossible for us to maintain the same clothing for more than a few years before it doesn't fit right, is out of style, and generally makes us look like Sally Struthers in a 3rd world country trying to pander for donations while stuffing ourselves full of pastries. Men on the other hand can easily wear the same hand-me-down jeans and t-shirt from their grandfathers in the 1950's along with the same pair of tennis shoes they got their first 7th grade feel-up in and still look manage to look fabulous. It ain't fair.

10). The Discovery Channel. By and large, the general acceptance of being a "dirty old man" is almost expected in society. A man ogles a women's booty and he's just a man. He beds three girls along with the milkman and three Siberian midgets and he's just expressing himself, sowing his wild oats, and getting the lead out. A woman stares at a random crotch, smiles like a donut for a complete stranger, or plays monkey-see-monkey-do with her head on a spare tire in the back of a pickup truck at a drive-in movie theater and suddenly she's a "dirty whore". Pah-lease, it isn't my fault they had Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith in the same movie.  

Have you ever, secretly or not, wandered what its like to be the opposite sex? 

Today's Positive: Friday! Oh hell yes. Not only is it the weekend, my mother is watching the anklebiters all night. Time to break out the skimpy dresses, some Michelob, and the slip-n-slide!

Today's Negative: Evidentely I forgot that I'd authorized a payment to the electric company for this weekend, which means that we'll have just enough cashola for a movie and a can of pork-n-beans. If that doesn't say wild and sexy weekend, I suppose I just don't know what does.

Currently Listening Initiation By Course of Empire see related