Pet Peeves

Pet Peeves.  We've all got em.  

For some people it's the toilet seat left up. For others it's drivers that don't use their turn signals. My ex used to hate the water I'd leave behind around the kitchen and bathroom sinks. I never understood it but it would annoy him so much that he'd wipe up the leftover water remarking "it's like you were taking a bath in there." Dude, it's a fucking SINK! A siiiiiiiink! Water goes in and inevitably around it. In addition to being a water fairy, I have the very special talent of being able to do one of those nasty old guy throat clears - you know, the real guttural kind. My Mom can't stand it.

It drives me crazy when people don't take their God damn right of way, which is funny because I'm basically hating on someone for being nice. The problem is it creates so much confusion; do I go...? do you go...? then ultimately we both try to go and then end up staring at one another to see who's going to be rude first. It annoys the absolute shit out of me.

Another pet peeve of mine is the direction people face their toilet paper. Those of you that get it are nodding your head right now saying out loud "yep". The proper way is the top side or "over" roll, where the length of toilet paper runs from the top of the roll out. If the toilet paper is clipped in with the underside or "under" roll, where the length of toilet paper runs from the bottom of the roll out, you can't use the dispenser nor the roll itself to get enough leverage to easily tear it off. I think men are more at fault for this one than women, as we seem to be more conscientious of such a simple thing throwing someone into a fit of rage. I've been asked "what does it matter?" and the simple truth is that it doesn't matter. Unless you're an animal, live in prehistoric times or want someone to bitch at you for such dumb bullshit.

When you're ready to wipe your sweet underside, the last thing you want to do is fiddle around with the damn toilet paper. If you're faced with the under roll, you're left trying to reach over with the other hand or attempting to one hand tear that shit. It's annoying. Though just leaving a roll completely off the dispenser is the ultimate fuck you or I don't care enough to spare the two seconds to handle this thing properly. My ex loved doing that one.

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") has interesting pet peeves. The first one I wouldn't call so much of a pet peeve as an absolute vehement hate or gut wrenching disdain. And what is it he can't stand? Tattoos. I don't have any and while MSMF has said that that wouldn't be a deal breaker, if he had saw a tattoo in any of my online photos, he probably wouldn't be dating me right now. When tattoos got randomly brought up one afternoon MSMF lit up! I've never seen him more agitated and opinionated. I oddly kind of liked it, in comparison to his typical more chill bro demeanor. What I find even more interesting about MSMF's dislike of tattoos is that he just hates the one off here, the tramp stamp there. If you have a full sleeve or massive chest/back tattoo, he's cool with it. Any time I mention getting a tattoo, which in truth I have thought about doing, I get a very stern no joking around low tone "Baby".

MSMF also isn't a big fan of certain words. I'm sure there are more but I found out that he has a massive bugbear for the word "mulch". You know how some people don't like the word "moist" or its connotations? Well MSMF doesn't like mulch. I remember my best friend's sister in high school hated the word "penis", so we started calling her penis. The nickname stuck. I found an old curry recipe with shrimp and noodles that I thought we should try. Oddly you have to grind up the shrimp so I said to MSMF, "hey do you want to do some mulched shrimp and noodles?" My question did not go over well. It got to the point that he refused to have the dish if I insisted on using the word mulch. I promised I wouldn't say mulch anymore and then proceeded to say it at least 10 times last night over the course of cooking and then eating our curry mulched shrimp and noodles.

And guess what he took for lunch today at work - mulched shrimp. Love you babe.

Bond-(d)ays

To keep from going completely insane during quarantine My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I do special things to entertain ourselves throughout the week.

We usually try to order in from a local favorite one night. On Thursday we have our 80's movie night, "Trash Bin Titty Thursdays" - more on that here!
https://thesillyshitwesay.blogspot.com/2020/04/trash-bin-titty-thursdays-tbtt.html
On Sunday we dress up nice and go on a coffee date or "rabbit" as we like to call it - more on that here!
https://thesillyshitwesay.blogspot.com/2020/05/sushi-rabbit.html

Sunday is extra special because in addition to coffee it's also our James Bond movie day or "Bondays". MSMF is a movie buff and knowing that we'd need long haul entertainment we thought it would be cool to see ALL of the Bond films. MSMF has seen more of them than I have but we both have gaps in the Bond canon. So we wrote them all down, threw them in a glass bowl, and pick a new Bond or two to watch each Sunday. Fun facts - There are 27 total if you count No Time To Die which hasn't come out yet, the duplicate Casino Royale from 67' that MSMF described more as a comedy, and Never Say Never Again from 83'. There were two Bond films in 83', Never Say Never Again and Octopussy.

We saw Octopussy last Sunday and I have to say it wasn't that bad. For Bond being played by Roger Moore. He and Pierce Brosnan are definitely my least favorite Bonds. Maybe it has to do with the eras, 70's to early 20's, but Jesus these guys just don't do it for me. The crass innuendos don't get me excited in the least and evoke either a laugh or ugh from MSMF and I. I mean come on, Octopussy? "Forgive my curiosity but what is that? That's just my little octopussy." Yeah. Ok. So many terrible one liners come or should I say cum out of the Bond films. At least Roger Moore had the comedic flair occasionally to raise his eyebrows or hang his mouth open on particularly bad zingers. Here are a few of my favorite doozies:

You Only Live Twice (Sean Connery) - Bond is laying in bed with a Chinese woman.
"Why do Chinese girls taste different from all other girls?"
"You think we better, huh?"
"No, just different. Like Peking Duck is different from Russian Caviar."
"Darling, I give you very best duck."

Live And Let Die (Roger Moore) - Bond has just explained the first two lessons of a lover.
"Is there time before we leave, for lesson number three?"
"Of course. There's no sense going out half-cocked."

The World Is Not Enough (Roger Moore) - Bond is in bed with Christmas Jones.
"I was wrong about you."
"Yeah, how so?"
"I thought Christmas only comes once a year."

I think MSMF and I agree that Live and Let Die, of course a 73' Roger Moore film, is the worst Bond so far. Besides the 20 minute boat chase where the boats spend half of the time on land, the wheels completely fall off the film when George Clifton James, as Sheriff J.W. Pepper, shows up for "comedic relief" tossing his Louisiana accent around calling everyone "boy" and acting like a complete idiot.

I'm partial to Daniel Craig as my favorite Bond and feel that overall his films are the best. Contradicting that statement, as much as I hate to admit it, my favorite Bond is Roger Moore's The Man with the Golden Gun in 74'. I really have no idea why I'm so partial to this film aside from the cool gold gun and Scaramanga's funhouse. We still haven't plucked it from the glass bowl and it's killing me. So in the meantime I've been amusing myself by telling MSMF that I'll give him good duck.

Dirty Little Secrets

Why do we all keep socks and underwear well past their life expectancy?

What is it about that favorite pair? With holes, failing elastic and barely any meat left on the bone our brain says "I must keep you." It's weird, right? I think it's weird but we all do it. And if you don't do it, well, you should feel better about your life choices and probably skip to the next post. Most everyone else has some ratty little secrets hiding in their drawers or on their ass or on their feet that they don't want anyone to see.

Or do they?

Relationships are funny when it comes to stuff like this. In a new relationship you walk a little taller, you put makeup on or splash on that cologne your Mom gave you five years ago at Christmas, and you certainly don't wear your slightly there underwear that you can see straight through when held up to the light. Even though you KNOW they are comfortable as fuck you better not put them on because it surely means you're going to be caught with them on later in the night. Nothing will suck the romance out of the room faster than your underwear tearing to shreds in someone else's fingers because they had one too many holes and are thinner than a rice paper door in a kung fu film.

This goes for socks too. It's not the sexy relationship equivalent to chonies but it's still a statement piece. I used to hang onto socks way too long. About a year ago I was getting ready to hit the gym and pulled out one of the last pairs of clean socks I had and thought to myself - these things suck. For as much as I would spend on a cocktail or four at some overpriced nightclub why, WHY wouldn't I spend $12 on 3 or 4 pairs of new socks? I went on a sock drawer purge. Anything without padding in the heel, gone. Lone sock I kept thinking would find its mate a year later, gone. It feels so damn good to put on decent socks! The same should be true for underwear but for some reason it isn't. Some of my most uncomfortable panties are my newest and of course the sexiest but that goes without saying.

In a relationship where you're starting to get comfortable or you've been together for years, the oldies but goodies come out. It's inevitable. Mismatched socks, who gives a shit. Underwear falling half off your ass because the elastic is so blown, meh they're still comfortable. My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I make the usual efforts to self primp and such but a recent load of laundry revealed that MSMF had a dirty little secret... and I had found it out.

I told him as much via text late one afternoon about an hour or so before he got home. It was cruel of me because I knew he would sweat and also wonder what the secret was. We both needed laundry done and I was working from home, so I said screw it and did both our loads together. While sitting on the couch folding I discovered that this man only has about 3 pairs of socks that match. And about 97 other loan rangers that don't. Also, I'm using the term "socks" here loosely. They're more like bits of fabric that have been sent through a mulcher. I can't say the underwear department was any better and that goes for both of us. I'm embarrassed to say I have a few pairs that have no right leaving the undie drawer but wear them again I will.

MSMF once likened a pair of his underwear to a car with an elastic seat belt and the top down; there was a cling left but not much to keep them from sliding off and letting his ass peek out as he "drove" or walked by. Those got trash binned shortly after. While discussing his mismatched sock secret I couldn't help but tease him about owning a few pairs of Body Glove boxer briefs. Wasn't Body Glove a thing we grew up with in the 80's? Were these pairs really around that long? And if not, how the hell and where the hell are they making Body Glove for men? I was too curious and had to do a Google search. The official Body Glove site only has surf wear, so I have to assume these are knockoffs from Burlington Coat Factory.

And yeah, you read that right - Burlington Coat Factory. Did you know you can buy underwear at Burlington Coat Factory? Don't know why you would, because it's a COAT FACTORY, but apparently you can buy underwear there. Not going to tell you how I know that (cough cough MSMF cough cough) but I also found an article (below) that may explain where all our mismatched socks might be going...

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3500962/New-Zealand-cat-exclusively-steals-underwear-socks-neighbours.html

Carts & Horses

I think the first major purchase in any relationship is important. It's a meaningful stepping stone which I think My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I have hit out of the park.

So what did we buy?

A BBQ.

Hell yeah, a BBQ! It showed up early the other morning via Amazon. Random question - is there anything you can't fucking buy from Amazon these days and have show up two days later? It's brilliant and also the devil's bidding. I'm hooked, just going to put that out there. I feel shame about it and yes, I buy local whenever possible, but Amazon has a direct credit line to my bank account. Why would I want to buy the same priced BBQ from Lowe's, wait in line, and then have to drag the thing out to my car blah blah blah when I can have it shipped to my backyard for free? I forgot we'd have to build the damn thing ourselves since it didn't come assembled but whatever.

Anyway, back to the BBQ. MSMF and I didn't think we'd see the BBQ until late in the evening as it had an expected delivery time of 9pm. This got MSMF thinking about what we were going to do for dinner if the BBQ didn't show up early.

MSMF: "So what are our dinner plans for tomorrow?"
Me: "I haven't really thought about it. Our grill might get in early but it's scheduled to show up by 9pm."
MSMF: "So what is our BBQ contingency?"
Me: "We can do pasta and a salad or something from the freezer.. Wait. What's a BBQ contingency?"
MSMF: "You know...we don't want to hook all our carriages to one horse."
Me: "Carriages to one horse? We have multiple carriages?"
MSMF: "No, you know...all our horses to one carriage."
Me: *laughing* "Now we've got multiple horses...to one carriage?" 
MSMF: "Ok, that makes no sense. It must be that we don't want multiple carriages to one horse."
Me: *laughing even harder* "Babe, I think you mean is cart before the horse. You don't want to put the cart before the horse."
MSMF: "No...wait. Yeah. It's got to be multiple carriages and the horse would drag that shit fifty yards or so..."
Me: *laughing so hard I can barely talk* "You mean you don't want to put all our eggs in one basket?"
MSMF: "And then lead the horse to water..."
Me: *crying now* "Ok, now you're just being silly. You meant to say we don't want to put the cart before the horse or that we don't want to put all our eggs in one basket by relying on the BBQ showing up for our dinner plans. That's what you meant, I think, to say...?"
MSMF: "Sure. Maybe."
Me: *laughing again* "Ok babe. I think our multiple carts hooked to one horse will be fine."

As it turns out we were fine. Hooking all our carts to one horse paid off - the BBQ showed up well before grilling time. And though MSMF's use of idioms needs some work, the burgers turned out awesome.

If You Could Be Fried Chicken...

"If you could be fried chicken, what type would you be?"

These kinds of pressing questions are the things My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I ask each other.  

When MSMF asked me this one morning in bed I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Me: "Fried chicken!? What type of fried chicken would I be!?"

MSMF: "Yeah... Original recipe? Nashville hot?"

Me: *having never thought about being fried chicken before I needed to think about this*

Me: "I'd be extra crispy with lots of seasoning. Like spicy but not saucy. You know I can't stand stuff all over my fingers..."

MSMF: *silently considering my fried chicken selection*

Me: "And I'd want to be a chicken breast. I hate skin or funky pieces of gristle-y meat. What about you?"

MSMF: "Extra crispy spicy."

Like two peas in a pod, we're two similar pieces of fried chicken in a bucket.

Following this exchange, I looked into fried chicken and how many different styles there are. There are A LOT! Japanese Karaage. Maryland fried with gravy. I'm just sad I missed the opportunity to be my fried chicken spirit animal - Popcorn! Anything with the name popcorn in it, including popcorn itself, I'm probably going to be a fan of.

Who's hungry!?

https://www.thrillist.com/eat/nation/all-the-different-styles-of-fried-chicken-thrillist-nation

Peak Sax

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") has a playlist in his music library called "Peak Sax 1983", a grouping of early 80's songs with massive amounts of saxophone.

I haven't heard the playlist yet and didn't realize MSMF had such a huge playlist library until I saw a screenshot of it. I'd like to think that one day I'm going to sit down and catalog my music and create awesomely titled playlists but honestly who has time for that shit? The only time I get remotely close to doing this is for Burning Man every year, where in the wee hours of the night the day before I leave I desperately throw a playlist together for the trip to the burn hoping when I hit play it isn't Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" 140 times.

It looks like MSMF is in charge of music at work because the other day he texted me this funny verbal exchange with his co-worker, all through facial masks. Keep that in mind.

*Peak Sax 1983 playing in the warehouse*

G-$: "What are we listening to?"
MSMF: "My Peak Sax mix."
G-$: "OH... How long does it play?"
MSMF: "It's short. Six or seven songs...?"

G-$: *staring* 

G-$: "That's not exactly peak sex then."

Noting like a little saxy time at work.

Merkins

I'm in the market for a merkin.

Well, not really but I've threatened to get one. I've threatened My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") with a merkin.

The reason requires a little TMI but the truth of it is that I got laser happy a little over a year ago. I was sick and tired of spending a shit ton of money to get waxed just to have painful ingrowns and to go through the whole process again in a month or two. I also couldn't get a fun lightning bolt shape which is fucking lame and I feel like a flat out lie. My "waxologist" would only offer me a triangle or a strip, both of which would come in and out of vogue depending on the season. Who knew pubic hair had trends? With my Harry Potter lightning bolt dreams dashed I said enough was enough.

What I didn't know, stepping into the world of lasers, is that is takes FOREVER to get rid of hair. You wait at least a month or more between sessions, meaning you'll still have a funky beav well after summer came and went. I decided to go full monty with the lasering; why go half assed or should I say partially pubed? Sadly, what I ended up with is a version of Salt Bae for the nether region - a little here, a little sprinkled over there. Patchy, with a chance of small hairs. That is the second thing I didn't know about lasers. I was imagining smooth as a baby's butt but what I got was a defuncted chia pet.

I have to admit the lack of hair does elicit a certain, shall we say, prepubescence that frankly even creeps me out. Sometimes I feel like a Mrs. Potato Head of body parts - early to mid 30's looking face, perky 20 year old tits, 70-something year old spotted skin, teenage looking lady bits...  I'm not sure if I'm aging up, down or sideways.

I don't know if MSMF has encountered a slightly balded beav before or just finds my lack of coverage...different. But my penchant for baldness has been brought up a few times and this lazy wind-down evening banter in bed was no different. So, I figured it was time to find a solution.

MSMF: *another random observation about my lack of hair*

Me: "I've told you. I do have hair. It's just hard to see and also not really there."

MSMF: "You're right. It is there."

Me: "I told you." *knowing this is going to come up again so I better find a creative way to shut it down*

Me: "What do you think about a merkin?"

MSMF: "A merkin?"

Me: "Yeah. A merkin. I can pick up any manner of muff. Kind of like those mustache fun packs you get at Party City."

MSMF/Me: *both laughing*

MSMF: "Yeah, no."

Me: "No? No big bush? No mini-fro?"

MSMF: "No."

Me: "Okayyy. What about a strip?
MSMF: "No."

Me: "Or a handlebar 70's porno stache like the one you're rocking?"

MSMF: "Nooo."

Me: "Maybe a mini-Hitler stache?"

MSMF: "Baby! No. No merkin."

And just like that, no merkin. Any style merkin was off the table. I just enjoyed entertaining one. For some reason I find even the existence of a merkin to be amusing, let alone the fact that they are used hilarious. The options and reasons, once you start looking into it, are endless! Check out the article I linked to read about the "murky" history of merkins.

FUN FACT - MSMF shaved off his porno handlebar stach the next day. I have no idea why.

https://grantland.com/hollywood-prospectus/merkin-pubic-wig-hollywood-rooney-mara-patricia-arquette-evan-rachel-wood-kate-winslet-heidi-klum/

Circus Sounds

My office cube mate and I are fans of circus sounds, clown jingles and slide whistles to be precise.

You'd be surprised how these two simple images... metaphors... sounds... shit whatever you want to make of them, come in handy.

I work for a big insurance company, living the corporate American dream of not being able to afford rent in Los Angeles without a roommate. For those of you that haven't had a taste of corporate life you're not missing much. In fact, I'm sure it's much the same on the 16th floor of a downtown high rise as it is working for a small Mom and Pop place.  Okay, there's probably less red tape and stuffiness but the propensity for stupid shit to be said and done by the people around you is likely the same.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, works better to laugh than making the "duh duh duhdul duh duh duh duh duhdul" clown/circus anthem sound when you get off a conference call that went nowhere. Or an email that keeps circulating around with the same question that no one knows the fucking answer to. We laugh even harder when one of us turns around in their chair, mimicking riding a small bicycle, while making the sound. We often follow this up post-laughter with a hearty, "Idiots." Knowing damn well that we're probably the ones that look like fucking morons riding fake mini-bikes and making circus sounds in our office chairs.

The slide whistle is more useful and flexible when something idiotic is said or you yourself don't know what the fuck is going on. It has to come with the hand gestures though, imaginary whistle to face with the other hand pulling the slider in and out, otherwise it's just not as legit. Or funny. My cubie has the slide whistle down, both the high up as well as the low down sounds. Whistling isn't really my thing, so I can barely do the up and spit on myself doing the down. If I send something repeatedly to the printer, not realizing corporate changed our systems back to the default settings the night before which then sends our print jobs to a black hole, I get the slide whistle. If we get off a conference call and lament that we didn't understand one damn thing that was said or why we were even on it, one of us is giving the other the slide whistle.  More than likely though one of us will just naturally go with the whistle while the other starts riding and spinning in their chair.

Duh duh duhdul duh duh duh duhdul.

Makes you wonder who the real idiots are, doesn't it?

Fornication, Beavers & Stripper Vendettas

If you have read any of my prior posts you have probably gathered by now that My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I say some pretty silly shit.  I honestly have never been happier nor laughed harder with a person. I think he feels like the one that says all the silly, stupid shit in our relationship but truth be told I'm sure I wear the crown. If it's not my Vestibular Migraines wrecking havoc on my brain, like my ability to remember the word for vacuum - "you know the sucky floor thing" or whole wheat tortillas - "round rice tortillas but not rice", it's just me being me. My special language, my isms. MSMF also has his isms, his special language. And it cracks me the fuck up.

We headed up to bed earlier than normal on our day off yesterday. Sometimes it's just nice to take a random day off and catch up on random shit in life or in our case spend the day riding bikes and making homemade hummus and calzones (not to be eaten together). I had lost interest in whatever terrible 80's flick MSMF put onto the TV and rolled over to face him in bed. Thinking I wanted to tuck in, he asked if I wanted him to turn it off. Thinking it couldn't be that late to myself I said, "I don't think it's that late. We don't have to go to bed."  Eyes slightly protruding from my response MSMF excitedly says,"OH...you want to fornicate?" I laughed so hard for about the next 5 minutes that my eyes watered and my abs burned.  Who uses the word "fornicate" anymore?  It certainly isn't the sexiest of sexy time words. But where do you get the intention to bone down from your partner saying it's not late and that we don't need to go to bed?  It's there, loosely I guess.  With a very heavy hand of inference.

MSMF's patience for my laughing didn't last the 5 minutes it took me to get my composure back, so he started up some other terrible 80's movie he could stream for free on Amazon Prime. These selections are always real winners. Frankly, I don't even know how these movies are made let alone why, WHY they would even be made available to people to watch?  Nobody wants to watch these trash bin movies!  Stripped to Kill owned up to its name and only lasted about 10 minutes. Between the violence and constant stripping (4 pairs of tits and counting) I was over it.  MSMF turned the movie off but I could tell my hearty laughing earlier had made him feel bad; the shitty movie was just a distraction. I encouraged him to turn the movie back on but he rolled over instead.

Me: "Babe, what's wrong?"
MSMF: "Nothing."
Me: "Honey?"
MSMF: *pause* "I just feel silly sometimes. Like I say stupid shit."
Me: "We both say stupid shit. Come on."
MSMF: *rolls over to face me* "No you don't. Not as often as I do."
Me: "It probably just feels that way because I write about it. I'm not picking on you, I promise. I say stupid shit all the time and I've posted about it."
MSMF: "Mmmhhh."
Me: "You're amazing. You make me so happy. I love that we laugh and say silly shit!"
MSMF: *staring at me, looking unconvinced*
Me: "Babe, we can put the movie back on. I don't mind."
MSMF: "Mmmhhh."
Me: *frustrated I switch back to my trusted bone to pick; for another post, trust me* 
"Well at least I haven't threatened to leave you." 
MSMF: "Baby. I'm never leaving you. You're the best girlfriend ever."
Me: "Mmmhhh. That's not saying much."
MSMF: "I don't think any of those other beavers want to watch stripper vendetta movies."
Me: "Beavers? Stripper vendetta movies?" *dying uncontrollably of laughter again*

Even now I'm dying laughing.

We all say silly shit. Some days one person says more ridiculous things than the other. Just when I thought the evening couldn't get any silly-er with the fornication bit, MSMF goes and pulls the beaver/stripper vendetta one liner. He says silly shit that can be considered either grammatically hipster or downright vintage...or dinosaur.  MSMF has his own unique way of expressing himself and being who he is. He says silly shit, like I do.

And I love him for it.

"I Don't F*ck"

To quote myself - "I don't fuck."  How do I explain this.

There are so many ways you can say "I don't want to be involved" or "I'm not down with that" or laugh something off with a "No thanks."  On occasion rather than using my words I'll just say "I don't fuck."  What I think I'm saying is I don't fuck with that or I don't fuck with you, like Tyga's catchy 2011 song "Fuck With You".  Though saying I don't fuck is just simpler.  As well as completely confusing to pretty much everyone that has heard me say it. It can be used in situations of humor but typically I've used it in times of frustration, anger or in moments of laughing something off as I walk away.

The last time I really used I don't fuck, multiple times, was with two friends from Oregon that flew down for a two day music festival in San Diego.  After the first day/night of doing all the things we went back to the hotel to unwind and eat some Top Ramen, the after party snack of champions. God knows why but my friends figured it must be a great time to start asking me about my ex, who we all last attended the festival with, because they went in hard with the questions. Mostly they went in on their observations about me not being happy and some of my ex's odd behaviors that weekend, like being jealous that my girlfriend and I went to get a photo with John Digweed, her DJ man-crush.

Frustrated with the conversation, but more so by the years of how I was treated, I simply stated, "Man, I don't fuck." Seeing their puzzled faces I went on to explain that yeah, it wasn't the best of times the last time we hung out and that I felt judged any time I wanted to let loose and be happy. Not to mention the fact that I shit myself that weekend... that's another story altogether. When they again brought up his odd behaviors and jealousy I couldn't help but laugh and say "I don't fuck." I literally don't fuck; we're not together anymore and I don't need to deal with the bullshit or reliving it.  I don't fuck, in all kinds of ways on this topic. It got easier as the conversation went on because they slowly grasped the meaning in different instances and tones of I don't fuck.

Like using tits as an expression (see my post "Tits, an Expression") saying I don't fuck is addictive once people have heard it. Ok, maybe not addictive. I wouldn't say it has caught on for individual use per se.  Mostly people just end up quoting me as saying it to express their own use of the phrase and that's ok. It makes me sound like the cussing, non-sensical weirdo instead of them.

I don't mind not making sense. I don't mind sounding completely belligerent or insanely brilliant because - I don't fuck.

Sushi & The Rabbit

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") has two roommates, a married couple and longtime friends of his, that have the most amazingly sweet and docile grey cat named Sushi.  She's the cutest elderly lady that, when not sleeping, is engaging and has the saddest lamenting and pathetic little meow I've ever heard.  When MSMF and I started dated I noticed she was pretty wobbly on her little cat legs, so we started her on kitty glucosamine.  I'm telling you all of this to paint a pretty clear picture of Sushi; slightly feeble, talkative lap lover.

All of that changed when rabbit was introduced into her diet.

As we all know grocery shopping during the pandemic is stressful and annoying at best.  Most stores don't have the most common staples, including cat food.  Apparently all the crazy cat ladies went on an early buying frenzy for their Fancy Feast, similar to what we saw happen with Charmin and Cottonelle toilet paper.  You just can't get the good shit.  You're either relegated to the cheap stuff or the overly priced stuff.  This was the dilemma Sushi's human Mom and Dad ("the dealers") faced.  They decided to go with the expensive, exotic wet food. Rabbit.

MSMF and I didn't realize there was a problem until we saw Sushi a few weeks after her initial rabbit feeding.  The dealers complained that she wouldn't eat anything else and therefore they were being forced to feed Sushi more rabbit.  Typically Sushi is vocal and cuddly but that sweet disposition was long gone. The life had left her eyes.  What we saw before us was a zombie, a vacant and empty shell of what Sushi once was. While we visited with her dealers, Sushi wouldn't leave her bowl and stared vacantly into nowhere.  This last for hours.  On the drive home MSMF and I shared our shocked reactions to seeing Sushi and agreed she had turned into a junky. Rabbit was Sushi's crack and she had developed a bad habit.

Though Sushi put on what we lovingly refer to as the COVID-1.5 pounds, lord knows she needed a little meat on her bones, it came with a high price.  The dealers and MSMF decided an intervention was in order after a recent cat treat incident. Since Sushi's supply of rabbit was decreased, she decided to take matters into her own kitty paws by breaking into and destroying a bag of cat treats.  She has NEVER done this before but when the ingredient list was inspected what do you think the dealers found?  Rabbit crack.  She needed a fix and she was going to get it by any means necessary.

The latest update is that Sushi's addiction is stronger than ever. She has even taken to biting her dealers. Sadly, MSMF and I share a similarly addictive personality to Sushi.  Not in the form of rabbit but in Peet's coffee.  Medium mochas are the fix of choice.  We only let ourselves go to Peet's for a mocha once a week, on Sundays. I'd like to think we have our taste for junk under control but truthfully I spend most of the week thinking about Sunday. I don't even like Sundays!  Nobody fucking likes Sunday, do they? But alas, the need for rabbit is strong.

In honor of Sushi and of our own proclivity, MSMF and I now wake up on Sunday mornings with a smile on our faces and ask one another "Are you ready to go get some rabbit?!"

Put It On The Board

At work, my cube colleague and I keep a quote board of the various silly shit we and others have said around the office over the years.  Whenever we overhear a fresh one roll off a coworkers tongue one of us will inevitably say, "Put it on the board."  A personal favorite came from one of our direct senior executives on a conference call a few years ago.  Rather than saying that our team was working really hard to another senior executive on the call, our boss' boss said "We're all humping really hard around here."  How the call didn't break into 8 year old school yard giggles is beyond me.  Because we're adults you say? Nah.  Since we couldn't announce "put it on the board", my colleague and I both texted one another to be sure we noted the new addition.

Sadly, though not surprising, I own quite a bit of real estate on the board. I take pride in it I suppose.  Means I say silly shit but shit funny enough to be remembered. Here's a good example.  One of my coworkers was whining about their new laptop and how they couldn't get used to the finger scrolling feature. Confused as to why finger scrolling would be such a challenge I simply stated, "I own a Mac. I'm used to dual-fingering."  Yeah. We could go all sorts of fun places with that one but needless to say it made the board hall of fame.

Due to last night, I now need a board for my apartment.  While discussing COVID and the general insanity of it all, My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") pauses from washing dishes for a minute and blurts out, "Uneducated people are fucking stupid."

Once we were both able to catch our breath from laughing so hard I was able to choke out, "Put it on the board!"  Yes lover, uneducated people are fucking stupid.

Tits, an Expression

I didn't realize I had a thing about tits or should I say, I didn't realize I used tits in conversation as often as I do, until recently. Sure, My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I have Trash Bin Titty Thursdays (see "TBTT" post) but that's a Thursday night 80's movie theme.  I wouldn't call that having a thing about tits.

Did you know there are tons of things that you, and others, could be doing with your tits at any given time?  Or that people could use your tits as an expression?  There are many ways to use tits as a turn of phrase that I'm sure I'm missing, like "tits up", but here are my favorite examples.

First, an oldie but goodie - "Off your tits."  I don't really remember where or how I first heard this expression but I feel like it might have come from a Guy Ritchie film like Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels...or maybe Trainspotting?  Off your tits is a good, solid tit reference to anything from being totally hammered from drinking too much to going slightly crazy at work. You know the co-worker I'm talking about; the one that finally has had enough and goes on a desk clearing rampage. You'd smile, look at your cube mate as you both watch the spectacle unfold, and then say "He's off his tits."

My second favorite tit descriptor ties neatly into the coworker example - "Calm your tits."  That guy needed to calm his tits.  Bring it down a notch.  Chill the fuck out.  Calming ones tits can be an act of bringing down the craziness or over-excitedness.  Although as we all know, no one in history has ever calmed down when being told to calm down.  Being told to calm your tits though might just pose the challenge someone needs to actually do so.

Finally, the tit coup de gras - "High as tits."  I use this one WAY too frequently and quite often not appropriately.  Most people when I say they are high as tits actually aren't high.  Or maybe they are, who knows.  I just love the way it rolls off the tongue and from what I've gathered it's the most memorable of tit expressions when your friends and family first hear it because they will proceed to remind you that you said it and even incorporate it into their own vocabulary.  If only I had a dollar for every time I was asked "What does that even mean?" I wouldn't be rich but I would have enough to buy a medium mocha at Peet's coffee.  Aside from being high or just feeling really damn good and looking like you're feeling really damn good to others, I don't really know what else high as tits could mean.  Of course MSMF would say it isn't about being drunk, needing to calm down or being high as fuck, "It's about height or the measurement of distance."  So visual and literal.

I love my special Special human.

Positively Lesbian

At home workouts during the pandemic have been...tough.  It takes motivation and I'm not talking about getting out the pj's you and I both know you have been wearing for over a week straight. You gotta get motivated to find the time... find your workout clothes which now have cobwebs on them...

The most challenging thing for me to find is the space.  Apartment workouts are shit.  There's no AC.  The neighbor's pot that they're smoking like a chimney is wafting through the windows.  The cat gets in the way to see if you want to check out her butt hole for the hundredth time.  There's an awkward coffee table that's impossible to move.  If you haven't vacuumed that same afternoon, the constantly shedding living-room floor rug will be all over you.  Literally.

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I managed to carve out a small space in the aforementioned conditions to get a tabata style hand weight workout in.  We've done it before and it's tough; fast paced with little to no rest for close to 45+ minutes.  We both weren't feeling awesome as we finished the last weight round.  Before we started the last segment, abs, MSMF took a walk outside mumbling that he "...might throw up."  Once the torture was over, we both just laid in the nappy living room rug dander.  Neither of us were much in the mood to start heating up the Cannibal Chicken Tikka Marsala (see Cannibal Chickens & The Turkey Head post) I had defrosted, so we headed upstairs for a shower.

MSMF was already soaped up by the time I jump in.  As I started in on my pre-rinse before wash cycle, MSMF chuckles, looks over at me and says "I'm so out of it I thought that your face wash said 'positively lesbian'."  Aveeno makes a great exfoliating face wash called positively radiant.  I'm not sure how you get lesbian from radiant but it quickly signaled to me just how sick and lightheaded the poor guy was.

Now every time I wash my face I chuckle and feel a little bit more positively lesbian.

Fisting Part II

Naturally when fisting comes up in a relationship the only thing you can do, since you've now talked about it once before, is to talk about it again.

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I found ourselves talking about fisting one fine lazy morning in bed and though he'd hate that I'm saying this, I'm pretty sure he brought it up.  Again.

MSMF: "So which would be worse - fisting or anal?"
Me: "We're back on this again?"
MSMF: "I mean, which one would be worse?"
Me: "I know what you mean."
MSMF/Me: *silence*
Me: "Ok.  I'm gonna have to go with fisting.  Fisting would be worse.  I think I made that pretty clear the first time we talked about fisting and the reasons why."
MSMF: "I know, I know."
Me: "Ok. Which do you think is worse then?"
MSMF: "How big of a fist are we talking about?"
Me: "Jesus! You're STILL considering fisting?  How is that better than anal?"
MSMF: "Yeah but the real question is who's doing the fisting? A small Vietnamese woman is different than some big dude."

Me: *mouth hanging open slightly wondering how it is that he comes up with this shit; I mean, what is this guy thinking on a regular basis?*

Me: "True true. Though... ok, look.  I figure if we're able to take a shit and an average size dick is about the size of a decent duce..."
MSMF: "Ok ok geez.  I get what you mean."
Me: "Well, then, come on!  Why is there even a discussion here. I still think your ass would be able to champ up compared to the ol' va-jayjay taking a fist."
MSMF/Me: *silence*
Me: "By the way I read parts of the fisting article I posted with the first Fisting blog post, more like skimmed it.  Apparently, the joy of fisting is from the 'fullness' a person feels..."
MSMF: "Ok. Yeah. I'd have to say anal."
Me: "Glad we got that figured out."

But you, me and he all know that it's not "figured out" don't we?

Fisting is like our proverbial relationship toilet seat; it's going to be found up on occasion and it's going to have to be talked about.