Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: cybersecurity, email, Middle-Age, relationships, sex, spam, technology, Viagra
One of the things I do every day that brings me great joy is to look at the spam that comes into my email. According to the non-retail emails that get filtered (thank you, awesome security keep-that-crap-off-my-computer software) I am a middle-aged man who:
- is very helpful and willing to take lots of sketchy, unidentified meetings;
- is very, very lonely;
- is very, very horny;
- is bisexual;
- but can’t get it up;
- has hard muscles;
- is confident (according to my eyes);
- likes red wine; and,
- is dumb enough to go meet someone randomly with the promise of “good sex now.”
My favorites are the ones where the English is a bit…iffy:
“One doze is enough even for 60-years-old…”
“Your girl will really need a lotion!”
“With our pilules (that’s how it was spelled) you will have more energy”
“Perhaps you will come into a rage, but…”
And my personal fave: “Oh, it seems I’m ready to be yours today.”
Really? It seems you’re ready? That just sounds like you’re surprised that you would be attracted to me. You also don’t seem to be in control of your body, as if your body has just let you in on a little secret. I can’t imagine going up to some guy in a bar and whispering in his ear, “It seems I’m ready to be yours today,” like I was hanging about, preparing myself for the day I’d finally meet him. (Oh, I’d still get laid, because it would be said to a guy, but the slightly puzzled, matter-of-fact delivery just makes me giggle.)
Listen spammers, if you really want a middle-aged mom to open your emails, use phrases like this:
“I’ll just lay here and let you read until you fall asleep.”
“I’m the guy who’ll load the dishwasher.”
“Teenagers – WTF?”
“Mom, I’m sorry but they made me do it…”
“Cute dog pictures.”
“Free coffee.”
“Free wine.”
“You’re right – I’m sorry.”
“Outlander is coming to [YOUR TOWN HERE].”
“Huge Costco sale is on!”
I’m in the middle of a break-up. But, like a lot of my break-ups in the past, the guy has no idea we’re calling it quits. But I’m not telling him until I get my stuff back.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Why am I breaking up with him? First, he’s always late.
Always.
I get the late thing once in a while, but every…single…time? The last time we were supposed to see each other, I waited for over an hour. I finally left.
“I really don’t need the two of you in my life – you and your drama.”
Second, he’s pretty bad at communicating. Even the people he hangs out with have a hard time letting people know what’s going on. That’s fine for them, but when it starts affecting my relationship, that’s a problem. Before I left the last time, one of his “friends” told me I wasn’t a good listener.
“You need to be a better one before you can be a two.”
Third, we don’t talk anymore. When we’re together, he spends most of his time staring at his computer. I try to tell him how I feel, but he never seems to have time to listen to it all.
Don’t worry – I’m not breaking up my 25-year marriage. I’m breaking up with my doctor.
I waited too long for too many appointments in a room filled with a blaring TV and geriatrics talking at full volume. The last time I was there, after I’d waited 45 minutes, the receptionist informed me I’d been called ten minutes before, implying I wasn’t listening. She also said there was an emergency, and they had know idea how long I would have to wait. Um, yeah…I left.
“You only love me for my body.”
As for looking at the computer most of the time, that’s fine. Even waiters have iPads now. I’ve got WebMD and I only go into the office when I need a physical or a real diagnosis. What bothers me is that when I get my blood tested for my physical after the meeting with the doctor, I don’t talk to the doctor afterward. I am sent a piece of paper with my blood test results. There are columns with the numerical results of each test, which are meaningless to me because I’M NOT A ADOCTOR; there is also column that has recommendations based on the numbers, but unless I make (and pay for) another appointment, I don’t get to talk in person with my doctor about the results or the recommendations. How do I know he’s looking at everything as a whole, or that he looked at it at all?
So we’re breaking up. My time is just as important as his, and I am more than just an amazing body. I need someone who can meet my physical and emotional needs. If he can’t understand that, well, he’ll never get it.
“Maybe we should take a break.”
Filed under: Food/Drink, Misc. Humor, shopping | Tags: advertising, commercials, marketing, poop, sales, shopping, television, toilet paper
I pity the advertising firms that have to come up with new ways to sell toilet paper and not offend anybody. Toilet paper has one specific purpose, and it’s gross. Sure, you can say it has other uses, like failing to adequately remove eye makeup, or sticking to your shoe when you leave the port-o-john, but let’s face it: we don’t buy thick, soft toilet paper because of those little perks. I buy it because I don’t like wiping my butt with the tree bark found in public restrooms.
The other day I heard a commercial for Cottonelle that asked the experts (young kids), “How clean do you feel after going to the bathroom?” And of course, the kids all had cute things to say like “I feel as clean as a white, tiny kitten.”
Kids are cute, but they are not a surefire strategy for selling your product. If you really want to know if the toilet paper is any good, ask a hairy man – he’ll tell you. Ask a woman with IBS – she’ll know. Ask a woman who’s recently given birth – there better be some soft paper in her bathroom or somebody will pay once she gets a couple of hours of sleep. Or ask someone who has dogs that poop on the carpet a lot – they can tell you how durable and flush-able it is.
But don’t ask little kids about toilet paper and how clean they are – they can’t know.
Young kids are inexperienced wipers. I know because I taught preschool for 10 years, and I can’t tell you how many times kids would try to get me to come in the stall (I didn’t – teachers aren’t allowed to) and check to see if they “wiped right” or “got all the poo off.” Thanks, pedophiles, for not only making it inappropriate for teachers to hug a crying child, but for creating a situation where children learning to use the toilet stay itchy all day and develop rashes because teachers can’t check and answer that simple question.
Charmin got it right – they used bears in their commercials. Bears are hairy (i.e. credible), but still inoffensive because everybody knows if a bear shits in the woods and nobody’s around to see it…it didn’t happen.
But the real question is, do we need commercials at all for toilet paper? I think there are two rules of thumb for this:
- If it’s the generic brand, don’t buy it unless you must choose cost over comfort.
- A commercial isn’t going to tell you that more than 5 squares clogs the toilet, or that it comes apart in your hand mid-wipe. Your friends tell you that kind of stuff, so go by word-of-moth when it comes to TP purchases. And if your friends don’t tell you this, you need better friends.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: bachelorette, Blake, emotions, friendship, Garrett, Quinn, relationships, romance, tv
I was recently invited to a friend’s house to watch the finale of The Bachelorette. Seven women of various ages and relationship stages were there, from college to middle-age, from single to married to divorced to “talking”, or whatever they call it now. I’ve never actually seen more than 5 minutes of any episode (because I think the whole show is any Saturday night at a bar but extended for 15 hour-long rides on the Drama Train). This time, I decided the girl time was much needed and maybe I could figure out why the show is so popular.
Let me just tell you, I had a GREAT time. I was yelling and groaning along with everyone as the drama unfolded. So yes, friends who are rolling their eyes, I can be open to new things.
Now keep in mind while you’re reading this that I still watch Survivorand American Ninja Warriors, and I’m aware that I’m standing in the middle of a huge glass house.
When I arrived, I was ushered into a Bachelorette wonderland:
Each guest had to pick which bachelor “team” they were on. Since I knew nothing about either of the two finalists (Garrett and Blake), I chose Blake based on the pictures stuck into the team cupcakes.
And then the drama train started huffing down the Bachelorette tracks.
Or should I say weeping down the tracks. Oh my God, I have never seen so much weeping on one show. Mostly by Garrett. And let me tell you, Team Garrett lapped it up, goofy, salty tears and all.
“He’ll make such a great dad!”
“He’s so sensitive!”
“Why can’t I get a guy like that?”
“Why can’t I get a guy at all?” (Note – these girls were all gorgeous and in their 20’s – huge eye roll)
“He just seems so genuine!”
I wanted to hurl myself in front of the train, if only to make Garret stop crying every time it rained (often) or when he saw Becca (also often). What sealed the deal for me and Blake was when Garrett played his trump card – he told Becca he felt like her deceased father was with them. Becca melted, he cried (again? seriously?), she cried, and I finished another glass of rosé to get the taste of throw up out of my mouth.
Now, before all you Team Garret people FTFO, you need to understand something about me – I’m not a weeper, at least not where people can see me. When our 15-year-old dog died, my kids later told me that was the first time they’d ever seen me cry – that was three years ago, and they are eighteen and twenty. The Fam constantly makes fun of me for not crying when we watch sad TV shows. Clearly, I also have issues.
Obviously, watching Garrett the Weeper made me uncomfortable. All I could think of was: She’s going to be raising man-child along with her actual kids. poor thing – she’s always going to have to be the Bad Cop because he’s too emotional to do it the other half ofthe time. Plus he smiles when he’s crying and its creepy.
AND THEN SHE PICKED HIM!
There was more weeping from Team Garrett, and gnashing of teeth from Team Blake. But the best (and most important) part of the whole night was the dialogue that emerged during the event: What makes a good marriage, or a good boyfriend? When and how often should you be crying in a relationship? What kind of man makes a good father?
The show is still ridiculous, but it sparked these cell-phone-free conversations for straight two hours, and that, my friends, almost brings tears to my eyes.
(To hear another version of this night, check out my friend Alex’s blog. )
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Sports | Tags: ambulance, cars, crime, friendship, fun, horseback riding, Horses, humor
(Names have been changed to protect…well, you be the judge.)
Recently my friend Amy’s daughter Grace was taken to the hospital after a fall from her horse during a horse show. Don’t worry – she’s fine. But what happened on the way to the hospital just shows that there’s humor even in frantic and scary situations.
As the EMTs were loading Grace into the ambulance, Amy called out to Grace’s boyfriend to take her car and follow the ambulance. Eager to help, Dominic raced across the showgrounds, found the car and was soon trailing the ambulance on the highway.
Meanwhile, in the ambulance, a clearly concussed Grace keeps squinting out the back window. Noticing her daughter starting to strain to see through the rear window she asked, “What, honey?”
“I – I think that’s Dominic behind us,” Grace mumbled.
Amy looked out the back window and, sure enough, it was Dominic following them – but in the wrong car.
Amy tried in vain to get Dominic’s attention by waving her arms, making a “cut/stop” motion with her hand across her throat and mouthing that’s not my car! Dominic had no idea what she was doing – he was busy changing the preset radio stations from gospel to country and rock.
When they got to the hospital, Dominic rushed to Grace’s side.
“You ok, babe?” he asked.
Grace chuckled softly. “Uh-huh. But You’re a criminal.”
“What?” Dominic asked.
“You’re a criminal – that’s not my mom’s car.”
Amy added, “You have to go back to the show and get my car – it has my purse and ID in it!”
Because he’s a good boy, Dominic promptly freaked out. He jumped into the borrowed car, drove back to the showgrounds and did what any red-blooded American would do – parked the car in the same spot and used his t-shirt to wipe the steering wheel, radio buttons and door handle for fingerprints. As far as we know, no one was the wiser for his mistake.
All this is funny by itself, and typical of my friends. But here’s what I still makes me laugh:
- I still wonder what the owners of the “stolen” car thought when they got back in at the end of the day – the radio stations were different and the car seat was in a different position.
- What did the other drivers behind the ambulance think when they saw Amy waving and mouthing words from the back window of the ambulance? That she was a psych patient that needed more meds? That the ambulance was secretly a rape van and she was being kidnapped? Or that she was celebrating because England beat Sweden in the World Cup?
- Grace and my daughter (D2) look out for each other at these events. One time, Grace and Dominic raced to our house to get D2’s rescue inhaler while she sucked on oxygen at the end gate. D2 has accompanied Grace to the hospital a couple of times now, and each time she takes a selfie. It’s what friends are for…keepin’ it real…
Subourbon Mom 