Posts Tagged: toilet


23
Sep 10

SSDP

i’m developing a new line of washing machines for single women: it will have a sperm setting.

i’m starring in a new reality show called, “revolving door.” guest stars are only on for one episode.

i’m done having babies – i’ve become claustrofetus.

when considering potential dates, i really try not to be shallow, but i’m just not deep enough…

remember the almond joy/mounds commercial? well, i have a similar jingle: “sometimes, i wanna be a slut, sometimes i don’t…”

women truly want to stop fucking assholes, but ask any woman why she does and she will tell you that it’s so hard to let a good penis walk out of your life.

i should have slept my way up while i had the body for it. i would definitely be running something by now.

i can’t decide which was worse: my last hangover or the last dude i slept with, but i can always take aspirin to get rid of the headache.

the amount of patience i have for my kids is directly proportional to my BAC.

saw a police officer forget her car keys at the bank counter. apparently “to serve & protect” does not require a short term memory.

it occurs to me that i am literally being paid to give a shit when i crap at work.

since i moved to the kitchen & bath department, there has been a marked increase in massage shower head sales.

frequently, i am asked which shower head i recommend. this advice obviously differs on the gender of the individual and the intended use…

the cruel irony of the bath aisle, is that i once had to hold my pee for 40 minutes while discussing the features of different toilets.

some guys are just not worth the good lingerie.

my newest bumper sticker:  stop me before i sleep with another loser.

do any of those “club” stores sell condoms in bulk? and if so, does anyone want to go halvsies on a membership?

bedtime is when i am pointing my cell phone at the tv to change channels and getting really pissed off that the remote is not working.

i always thought “scifi” was cool, but “syfy” is just douchey.

not only is it hard to find good help, but it’s almost impossible to find a steady lay.

i just don’t trust people who don’t drink. what do they have to hide?

gentlemen: when in a bar and you feel strange boobs in your back, in most cases it translates to, “i think you’re hot.”

if i wanted to date a guy that ignores me, i would have stayed married.

i told a friend the scent of lavender helps me fall asleep (you know – on the nights when i have run out of vodka). she said that it’s also supposed to be an aphrodisiac for men. i said, i thought that was called sex. i have a hard time imagining men need something to lure them into the sack.

sometimes i will sleep with a dude in whom i  have no interest in ever seeing again just because i already shaved my legs.

some foods are just naughty: mounds, lays, hohos, ding dongs, snoballs, nutter butters. i love them all.

i once starred in a limited engagement off off off off off breoadway of a modern version of an old classic: goldilocks and the three penises. except i don’t have golden locks and i never did find one that was just right.

greatest compliment i ever received from another woman about my hair: “it’s like porn star hair.”

let me sum up online dating for you: SSDP: same shit different penis.

it’s not even a muffin top anymore – it’s more like a pound cake.

my sister was holding a 1/2 full wine bottle when i was driving us home from dinner one night (yes, even i have to take at turn at being designated). her worry that we could be pulled over was compounded by the knowledge of how vindictive my ex asshat is. i tried to soothe her by saying, “i’ve been taken to court for less.”

it’s official, i am a “cougar.” but, i think the next time i want attention from something needy, i’ll just get a puppy.

one day while unconsciously following a cheesy man around the store, because i tracked his scent like a horny teenage bloodhound, i realized i am still a whore for drakkar noir. i am truly ashamed but i accept there is just nothing i can do change that – i got my chops on it when i came up through the ranks.

i am so thrilled! my sister has asked me to be The Cougar of Honor at her wedding when she gets married.

yes, it is different than the other 20 i already have. so, never come between a woman and her shoes. or her purses. in fact, stay the fuck out of her closet entirely.

i’m sure this has been said numerous times, but i would like to reiterate: a good man is so hard to find, but a hard man is so goooooood to find.

only when i find the man that can make me want to throw away my vibrator and retire the showerhead, will i even begin to consider a second marriage.

i’ve tried several times to quit drinking and men. damed, if i can quit the drinking.

i’m looking for a new couch: i want a fabric that is durable, comfortable, & spooge-resistant.

it turns out i’m a racist – i just won’t date certain ethnicities based on penis size.

fried calamari and sangria: bad idea. fried calamari and sangria before sex: worse idea.

i am not big on fad diets but i found one that really works: The SWV Diet: you supplement all of your carbs with massive quantities of coffee, wine, & vodka.  you won’t lose a damn thing, but you won’t give a shit.

qvc has a “purses & shoe” channel. add cats and you have cornered the lonely single woman with considerable disposable income market.

i no longer have rolls. i have loaves.

keep in mind with online dating: the more expensive the site, the higher the grade of asshole.

you know what would really make chicks dig giving blowjobs? magic shell for penises.

when engaging in naughty texts prior to sleeping with someone, remember this law: the sexting is inversely proportional to the actual sex.

when it comes to phone/e-sex, most dudes can talk a great game but can’t deliver on the court. and you can forget overtime.

the problem with discovering a small penis is that it’s just too late when you do.

i’ve fallen and i can’t get off.

why do the guys with the smallest wangs think they are huge? it’s like a penile napolean complex.

before the cleaning service comes, i like to tidy up a bit – lest they find my bra in the couch cushions.

before e-dating, the only impersonal, non confrontational way to dump & humiliate someone was by leaving a message on the ol’ answering machine. now we have texting, voicemails, emails, IMs, facebook, and the logical companion to all of those which is my personal favorite: The Complete Lack Of Response. technology is so life enhancing.

has anyone seen the new “pro-glide” shaving cream commercial for men? it advertises “less tug & pull” and comes with a cream to use for “pre-shaving.” sounds like shaving just got a lot more fun..

if you can’t shake a creepy guy at the bar, tell him you’d love to go home with him now that the valtrex is finally working and you haven’t had an outbreak in months.

the toilet was not working, so i decided to try to fix it myself before calling in for professional reinforcements. i removed the wrong part, caused a geyser, and not only became covered in toilet water, but was in it up to my ankles. after wondering if 911 covers toilet emergencies, i worried that since i had been contaminated by toilet water, only  a plumber could now love me.

i wish i had GPS in college – that walk of shame home would have been so much easier to navigate.

i think fantasy sports leagues are just ridiculous. now, a fantasy penis league i could support.

or how about a fantasy shoe league? i’ll trade you the manolos for the vuittons.

in instructing a newbie in proper shower head use, i warned her to start out slow so as not to blow her bean off. it’s my most valuable advice.

fuck me once, shame on you. fuck me twice, now that’s more like it.

what is it about the makeup chick’s brush holster that screams power? she’s like a superhero of makeup sales. she can whip out just the right brush for a blush emergency. i am handy with the beauty implements, but i am sure her powder skills are clearly superior to my technique while wearing that tool belt. or maybe, she’s really a villain, because i end up buying tons of extra shit i never even wanted.

aren’t we all porn stars of our own sex life?

in observing so many out of state & canadian license plates, it occurred to me that the drive-thru line at mcd’s is the UN of fast food.

it’s a penis buffet out there when you’re single: so much to sample, you can go back as many times as you want, it takes a lot to get full, there is always dessert, but you rarely get your money’s worth.

men are like bottles of vodka: it’s always good to keep a few extra in reserve in case of a dry spell.

sex is like pizza: even when it’s not that great, it’s still pretty good and it’s always perfect for breakfast.

all i want is to find is the gomez to my morticia.

so i gave in and got a kitten for the girls. i named her Divorce Guilt, D.G. for short, but the kids call her Peanut. i like my name better.

isn’t it unnerving to know that at any given moment, tons of women are walking around bleeding heavily and some of them just tried on that same pair of jeans?

i told my friend that she should come stay with me on my free nights so i wouldn’t be tempted to go out & carouse. she said she didn’t realize it was that bad. i told her, that at the rate i’m going, i’m going to end up pregnant or in a clinical trial…

i am out of vodka and i can’t go out. where is that damn st. bernard when you need it?

if you want to know exactly what my marriage was like,  when you have some free time, watch the my morning straightjacket episode of american dad.

brilliant things my friends have said that i seriously considered passing off as my own:

“you know it’s an affair gone wrong when your bikini wax cost more than the motel room.”

“i speak guido.”

“say hello to my little bean.”

“important ratios: tooth to gum, tit to ass, dick to ball.”

“monogamy = monotony.”

“the one night stand exists because women allow it to.”

“the bigger the diamond, the more doomed the marriage.”

“tampons & chocolate should be sold in a combo pack.”

“the only thing a second marriage has going for it, is a second divorce.”

“i finally realized why i love my car lease. unlike my 3 year marriage, i will return it with no hassle, never have to see it again, and can upgrade to a better model.”

amen sistas.

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16
Feb 10

skip to my loo, my darlin’

so i just spent 2 days curled up in bed with a nasty stomach bug. and i wonder not from where i contracted the pest, but more so why it always strikes after i have eaten an unusually large 12 course meal mere hours before. it was sunday pig out day and i take that very seriously. my only saving grace was that the wee ones and i happened to be sleeping at my mom’s the night the virus attacked, which meant i had my mommy to take care of me. it was almost worth being sick, because during the marriage (a term which i use loosely), the hat normally left me for dead when i got sick. he was most likely too busy allegedly jacking off or allegedly toking up and lost track of time in a drug haze like those parents of the infant in trainspotters. but, i digress…

i find the suspense of the crippling nausea to be worse than the actual up-chucking, for awhile i beg my stomach to hold steady and then i do a 180 and beg to just get it over with because you really do feel better after the ol’ heave ho. it’s all about facing the fear for me. but then the suspense starts all over again for round 2. i always find an hour to be the magic amount of time. if i can just get  past an hour i will be fine. if i can just sleep. and why is it always in the middle of the night when these things happen? i always think, if i can make it through the night i will be fine. it will all be over when the sun shines. and it just blows my mind if i barf during the day.

so, while my partially digested meal proceeded to exit six times using all possible means of egress, and i was laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, i was thinking, “at least i’m losing weight.” never mind, the broken blood vessels all around my eyes, the dehydration, sallow skin, and relentless physical torture. naturally, i couldn’t wait to get on that scale when i was finally able to rise above a crawl position. and then the cruelest of all jokes: not one ounce lost. how is that possible? isn’t there an entire eating disorder based on this premise? what was i doing wrong?

but it was so nice to have mommy there to take care of me. she brought me water, flat coke, hot tea, held my hair back, & cleaned up after me like she used to when i was a kid. which means bad news for us mothers: it turns out no matter how old our kids get, we are never ever done cleaning up vomit & poo. well, you’re the best mom. and uh, thanks for the loaner undies, the reason which necessitated such, we have agreed never to speak of again…

on the second eve of the aftermath, i am still wiped out and i am finally just able to keep down water. my stomach is still gurgling incessantly and i am in fear of a full relapse. then there is also the worry about the rest of the household being struck down with the same merciless ailment. how many days is it until you can be sure it’s icy grip has passed like the angel of death on pessach? is there some pagan offering to be left for it to skip your children? can i smear lamb’s blood on my door?

i have a friend who lives in fear of stomach viruses and will quarantine you at the mere mention of “throw-up.” her children are interrogated every day after they get home, with, “did anyone throw up at school today? did anyone say they were nauseous? did anyone mention being around anybody who was sick? did anyone go to the nurse? was any sawdust spread on the floor of any room by yours? no? fine. go wash your hands before you touch anything!” her mother once sent back 52 bags of groceries because the cashier mentioned she felt nauseous at the end of the transaction. so, it would seem my pal does come by it honestly, and in following parental suit, she has a complicated formula by which she figures out the square root of the hypotenuse of how many days from initial exposure until infectious danger has passed and she will agree to meet you out in public. the time frame for when you are allowed back into her home or vice verse is an entirely other much longer formula which is proprietary and usually works out to be a minimum of 6 weeks. mind you she is no math whiz, but she has a ph.d in barf. she claims it’s because she can’t stand to see her children suffer. i say it’s more to do with cleaning the carpet. oh, wait, that’s me.

please, don’t get me wrong, i hate to ever see my girls in any discomfort, but i was quite thrilled when they learned how to make it to the bathroom on time or at least aim successfully into the bedside bucket. i have a weak stomach & overactive gag reflex which makes cleaning up vomit more difficult for me than your average bear. i once came very close to barfing on my own baby at the sight of a diarrhea explosion up to her armpits. i had to strap her to the changing table & run to the toilet. so, it’s no surprise i have to talk myself down when i have to deal with puke. i repeat a mantra of, “grow up. deal. you are NOT going to throw up. keep it together, dammit.” only thing hat was ever minimally useful for was that particular clean-up detail. and when kids get sick, they always manage to sprinkle every piece of linen on the bed and projectile within a 5 mile radius. baby spit-up was bad enough & was generally controllable with my babies. but when they got bigger and  it turned into real vomit, i was done for. and don’t get me started on barfing in a moving vehicle. that strikes terror into my heart like nothing else. that is one scenario for which i am rarely prepared. the clean-up is monumental. you might as well total the car at that point. is there a vomit clause in auto insurance? there should be if not. i must ask that progressive chick.

then there is nothing quite like the test of a relationship when barf is introduced. does he run screaming or does he hold your hair back? does he barf along side you at the sight of vomit or does he want to rub your back and sleep next to you on the floor of the bathroom even though you protest pitifully? does he bring blankets into the bathroom for you while breaking & entering even though you tried to lock him out because it’s just too soon for him to see you this way & you are really embarrassed? cute bf saw me at my worst fairly early on and i knew if he didn’t bail then, there may be no getting rid of this guy! ;-)

anyway, that concludes my dissertation on vomtiology.  now, here i sit, sipping flat bourbonless coke, patiently waiting for a complete recovery. hoping i will be ready to face the world in 24 hours knowing the world has no idea what i just faced a mere 24 hours earlier. if i am lucky i will be able to have a cup of coffee with my friend in 8 weeks or so when she agrees to see me to celebrate the spring thaw…

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