Subourbon Mom


If You Must Beard, Beardazzle It!
August 26, 2019, 6:01 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , , , ,

(Before I go on, full disclosure: I don’t like beards.  On anyone. If someone wants to kiss me and their face feels like a dog, I’d rather have the dog. They always smell like the last food that passed through them, even if the guy says he cleans it all the time.  And I don’t care if you’re the hottest guy in town with a beard – all I see is a rat poking its head through a bush. I know lots of girls find them sexy – just not me.)

I don’t know about your town, but mine has a lot of bearded men walking around, and it’s not even No-Shave-November. I don’t mean men with the closely-trimmed beards that are meant to accentuate the jawline or the 5-day stubble that looks rugged, even on your office IT guy. I’m talking about those squirrelly, nasty Duck Dynasty beards.

First, why is it always the guys who can’t grow a decent beard that always want to try this particular fashion?  Seriously, play to your strengths – you look like you walked through a dark spider web. Just shave it and try something else.

For those who actually can produce a full Moses, we know that it’s probably false advertising.

I wouldn’t care about beards if there wasn’t so much hypocrisy around them. Men often have criticized women for wearing makeup (“What do you really look like under all that?” or “Why are you spackling your face?”), but beards are the male equivalent of concealer.  Excessive beards hide a lot of flaws like acne, a weak chin, or Nixon jowels.  ZZ Top beards can even hide the shape of a man’s face.  You might think you’re getting a Brad Pitt jawline, when in fact there’s an Adrian Brody lurking beneath.

BM-GANDALF-2Another misleading face bush is the long, Gandalf chin beard – you know, the one that points like an arrow to the guy’s crotch (or beer belly).  That thing is no different than dramatic eyeliner and lipstick that says “Look over here, and not at the zits on my forehead.”

rubeus-hagrid

 

And guys, we know it’s not because “it’s cold.” Judging by your prison pallor and baby soft hands, it appears many of you Hagrid wanna-bees work in offices, which means in climate-controlled environments. Unless you are an avid hunter, you can’t claim to need it to keep your face warm.  Even if you live in Minnesota, the sprint from the car to your office does not warrant growing an entire sheep on your face. If you do, chances are your just going to have snotsicles hanging from it anyway, and that’s just gross.

And finally, as one of my girlfriends pointed out to me recently, kissing somebody with an untrimmed beard is like kissing a Wookie.   Girls (or guys) if you’re a Star Wars fan with a Wookie fetish, put on your Princess Leia headphones and  go for it.

So, bottom line is, if you’re going to clothe your face, go all the way.  Do some beardazzling and make it fun.  Throw some glitter in it, or some of those fancy beads middle-aged women love to wear.  Go Viking and braid it, and add some silver and gold for interest. aM3uinz

Just don’t grow a herpe curtain and think we’re not on to you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



I am NOT a Survivor – Sorry, Jeff

I don’t know what it is about Americans in particular, but we seem to like watching TV shows that make sporting events out of activities other people do in their daily life.  Off the top of my head, Survivor and American Ninja Warrior come to mind. American Ninja Warrior takes the obstacle courses military organizations used to use for training and makes it into a giant, high-tech jungle gym for middle-class gym rats.  Americans play Survivor on islands where people actually scratch out a living every day – not just for 40 days and then are flown back to their AC and Netflix.survivor

And I love both of those shows.

We still watch Survivor. I hate the people, and it makes me mad, but it’s a train wreck each season, and there’s been 38 seasons.  It seems I’m compelled to watch adults relive 8th grade by lying, backstabbing, deciding as a group who’s undesirable, and seeking revenge later on as an outsider.

I like Survivor because it has contestants that can do all the things I can’t in prolonged, difficult social situations. Here are 9 reasons why I would never win survivor:  

  1. Starting Fires: If I don’t have Fatwood from Plow and Hearth or a stack of old newspapers, I’m pretty useless.  (Voted Off – Day 2)
  2. Food-shut downs, or “The Hangry’s:” Based on people’s reactions to my food shut-downs, I’m pretty sure I would be voted off in the first three days. Apparently, I become unreasonable and just a bit bitchy. They would probably require my one item I could bring to be a Snickers. There is no way I would voluntarily eat sugar-free food (i.e. rice) for 40 days straight without being one of those contestants that gets all listless and weepy (Voted Off – Day 3).funfetti
  3. Hot flashes in the Jungle: I always feel superior as I watch these skeletal twenty-somethings running around wearing teeny-weeny bikinis in the heat and humidity of whatever island they’re dropped on. I dare them to try that with a muffin top while having hot flashes. (Voted Off – Day 4)
  4. Compete without injury: I’ve got bad shoulders, bad hips and I throw like a chimp. Not exactly your desired anchor man in most competitions. That said, you need some swimming done?  I’m your girl. (Voted Off – Day 6)
  5. Solve puzzles: Can’t. Never could. See this? slide puzzle I’ve never been able to do it.  Or this? Rubiks cubeI took those apart or smashed them, depending on my mood. I could proibably hide that deficit for a few days, but not the whole time. (Voted Off – Week 2)
  6. Sunburn: I have an appointment this month to get more pieces of my face taken off (again). I’m pretty sure living on an island for month without sunscreen would hammer that last nail in my peaches-and-cream coffin. (Voted Off – Week 2)
  7. Think logically when tired: Let me put it this way – people at work know not toracerback give me anything after 3:00pm because my brain is tired. I’m pretty sure logical, chess-like thinking is not going to be my strong-suit after being sleep and sugar deprived.  Also, I still can’t figure out how to put on one of those bra things that makes your straps into a racerback. (Voted Off – Week 3)
  8. Maintaining the Lies: One time in the airport I was looking disapprovingly at a girl with a tramp stamp and a thong hanging way above her pants as she tied her shoe; two men were staring at me and laughing at my expression, not even paying attention to the thong. Apparently, my face does not hide my feelings as well as I thought. (Voted Off – Pick Any Day I Look At People)
  9. Razors:  Seriously, people and after 40 days, people would run away from the Sasquatch that I have become.  And the guys who wax their chests on the show?  One of my favorite things ever is to watch it slowly grow back in on each episode. (Voted Off – Day 39)island hair

So sorry, Jeff Probst.  I’m only fodder for the first episode, where they winnow out the sick and old, like lions culling the weak water buffalo from the herd.  But American Ninja Warrior – that’s another story.  I’m going to get Hubby to build a Warp Wall so we can start practicing.



College Orientation – You Had the Power All Along, My Dear

We recently attended college orientation for Daughter #2 at a large university, and to be honest, I was lucky it ended up on my calendar. Not because I don’t care but because, like everything with the not-the-first-kid, you are just a little more relaxed about it. Added to that, it’s very disconcerting to suddenly not have access to every detail of your child’s schedule after being in charge of it for eighteen years. I had to text her the night before and ask if there were any parking passes we had to print out, what the address was, or if there was anything else that needed to be done ahead of time – shockingly, there wasn’t. Daughter #2, like her older sister, had it all under control.

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I like to think it was good parenting that made it happen, but I’m pretty sure it had more to do with me accidentally leaving them at restaurants or school, trying and failing to explain simple math, and letting them believe that many of the phrases I use are common phrases until their friends asked what they meant. I was clearly not to be trusted (I never understood algebra and I said “Fooped” instead of “Sharted” because I didn’t want them implying the word Shit…it sounds stupid now, but it made sense when I was tired and they were little).

The orientation started with the usual official school cheer, and we stood and made arm motions over our heads and yelled the appropriate things, like a bunch of sadly sober, not-quite-caffeinated-Village People.

At Daughter #1’s orientation, I paid close attention to Dean Somethingaboutliberalartsandgraduatinginfouryears, and Associate Dean of WhatdidshesayIhavetopee.  The second time around? Nope. I was busy feeling superior and counting blonds vs. brunettes in each row to pass the time.

And then they took our sweet babies to meet with their advisors, or hang out with the cultish, singing and dancing university groupies to get them acclimated to campus life. Some parents looked scared and bereft.

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Others looked around like plane passengers do when they’re trying to decide who would be worth having aboard if there was a crash on a tiny Pacific island. There were a few that I would not have trusted with the exit aisle…just sayin’.

The Deans of Random Departments spoke about how great the school is (yeah, the choir knows – our kids applied and we are writing a substantial check for them to go here – we get it), followed by lunch in the Dining Hall. That hasn’t changed, except that we never got to pick from a pizza bar, Mexican, a grill menu, a vegan menu, and a Chinese buffet. My school had one of those things as a theme, and God help you if you didn’t like flat burgers.  I spent many a dinner standing at the cereal bar, picking the stupid strawberry things out of Captain Crunch because…seriously, who orders Crunchberries instead of plain Captain Crunch?

The parents’ Resource Fair was okay, but the table I really wanted to see would have been called “Crap You Still Have to Buy.” Since we don’t find out until August what dorm Daughter #2 is in, I’ve already decided I’m going to buy every variety of drawers and basket in Target and start playing Tetris as soon as we get there.

And finally, there was a speech by the Mental Health Professional on how our roles as parents and children transition when they go to school, what to say and not to say, and things to watch out for. For that one, I put down my Candy Crush game (sadly, I’m on level 800-and-something) and paid attention. It never hurts to hear how this momentous change is affecting your baby, and what you need to do to make the transition easier.

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I made notes about what local delivery services were available (every college town should have Insomnia Cookies) to send things on bad days. I felt guilty about not writing more letters to Daughter #1, but realized that probably wasn’t going to get any better for Daughter #2, so then I felt extra guilty – I suck as a parent for not doing that for the first one, and suck even more for knowing I probably won’t do it this time, either.

I was nervous and scared for my baby, until I remembered that I’d already had my chance to be an attentive mom…and I was. Aside from accidentally leaving them at restaurants or sports events (I swear, it was a mis-communication…OMG let it go!) and swearing a lot, I know I must have done something right because they’re ready. They are strong, independent young women, ready to try new things, accept new challenges, and let me know, “I got this, Mom.”

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Spam for Middle-Aged Women
March 6, 2019, 6:31 pm
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , , , , ,

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!”

thewayspamthink

 

 



We’re Breaking Up
January 6, 2019, 8:40 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: , , ,

images

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.

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“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.” 

 




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