Monday, June 27, 2011

Cookie Monster is Not to Blame

My child is currently watching 'Super Why'.  This is a relatively new children's show as far as I'm aware and he likes it.  I am bitchy already and when I overheard some character on the show had lots their red basket with "lots of healthy snacks in it" I became irritated.

When I was a child, Cookie Monster ate cookies and I turned out fine.  I was not an obese child.  I'm a little bit of a chubby bunny now but this has nothing to do with Cookie Monster binging on cookies as it has to do with my sugar/carb/vodka/TV addictions.  None of which were fostered by Cookie Monster.  I was a skinny child.  My parents did not allow us Oreos, Kraft Dinner, any cereal except for Cornflakes, Rice Krispies, Cheerios, Puffed Wheat and once in awhile we had Alpha-Bits.

They were not mean. We didn't have Oreos because my mom baked her ass off all of the time.  If I was eating cookies they were homemade.  And believe me, I ate cookies.  I snuck cookies like a motherf*cker.  I became the queen of stealth.  Macaroni & Cheese was also a homemade affair.  As was bread. Pancakes and french toast made from scratch.

Chips and pop were a treat once in awhile.  Not an everyday staple.

My point is, my parents made these decisions for us.  So even though Cookie Monster was on his way to Type 2 Diabetes my parents had the forethought not to let us eat only cookies.  I know, I'm as blown away as you are.

The kids watching Super Why or watching the new and improved Cookie Monster enjoy cookies as a "sometimes snack" have little choice as to what they are being fed.  What four year old is going to say: "No Thanks Mom, I'll pass on the cookies and enjoy some baby carrots instead.  The weird big headed kids on Super Why only eat healthy snacks and I want to be just like them." ?  This does not happen.

The kids who this kind of propaganda is geared towards have no choice in the matter.  They don't go grocery shopping.  It's not their choice to have juice in their bottle but they'll drink it.  And if you gave your child juice in a bottle, yes I'm judging you.  Just as your small child will be judged by every adult that gets a look at their rotted out front teeth.  Pop is even better.

Where has all the common sense gone?  I admit I lost a little of it myself.  My children seem to require more entertaining then I'm prepared to engage in.  Then I flashed back to my own childhood and being told, under no uncertain terms, to play outside.  And so I did, probably after whining, but I usually enjoyed myself.  It dawned on me, then, that I can make my kids go outside and play and not feel guilty about it.  Seems pretty simple but apparently I get caught up in more parental guilt than I'm aware.  Which is scary because I don't want to raise any assholes and that what happens when the Juniors of the world are entirely catered to and never made to do anything they don't want to do.

Yes, my children are allowed Oreos, on occasion (to be honest this is largely due to the fact that if we kept them in the house all of the time I would easily weigh 200 pounds).  Kraft Dinner on many occasions.  Chips and pop remain a sometimes treat.  I try to ensure vegetables are a part of their day, even if it's just some cut up cucumbers at supper.  I make some stuff from scratch but am nowhere the baker or cook my mother is.  We could do better, as a family, with our eating and continually try to do just that.  And not because Cookie Monster no longer eats cookies all of the time or because the weird big-headed kids on Super Why eat healthy snacks and the Wonder Pets prefer celery after saving the day. 

All of this wisdom shared it should be noted that the fair was in town this weekend and by the time we got home, I was the one with a stomachache after molesting a bag of cotton candy, enjoying a soft pretzel, a large lemonade, a medium Iced Tea, one dry rib (they were burnt) and a couple of mini donuts.

Those Super Why kids would be really disappointed but given my head is pretty much in proportion to my body (I have a big head, literally, hats are an issue) and theirs are not, I still win.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Shave My Back, Ferris

I must first apologize at my lack of posting this week.  I have been in a foul mood since Monday.  Today I am better.  Why?  Maybe it's the second day of sunshine in a row.  Maybe it's having the time to drink two cups of coffee this morning and reading the papers.  Maybe it's because last night was a good night work-wise.  I'm not sure but I am sure I like not being miserable.

One of the highlights of my week:  My four year old came downstairs, butt naked and paraded a little in front of my husband and I.  He loves his naked body and his penis.  So I said something to the effect of:  "That's right Baby, love that body."  That's not as creepy as it sounds.  I was making a joke.  His response? "Show me your body and I'll shave your back!"  This was said with perfect timing and directly to me.


I, for the record, do not need my back shaved.  I'm a hairy gal, for sure, but the hair is where it's supposed to be.  Legs, underarms, etc.  I look after all of that on my own.  Why he chose that particular response, I'll never know.  My husband doesn't even have a hairy back.  He doesn't even have a hairy front.  He has about 23 chest hairs in total.

Anyway, I enjoyed it but worried and wondered at the same time.  Why would I worry?  I can handle this kid at four.  I love him immensely and he provides me with constant entertainment.  At 14, I think it will have turned to worry.  17?  I don't even want to think about it.  I don't think he's going to be bad in a criminal sense but I do believe he's going to give me a run for my money.  His personality combined with his looks (he's cute, I'm not biased, other people say it too-ask 'Stacey' and Sinatra), combined with the fact that he's my 'baby' and may or may not (yes he does) have me wrapped around his little finger?

I think I'm raising Ferris Bueller.

Who doesn't love Ferris Bueller?  Except for his sister, Jeannie but that bitch was seriously uptight and it wasn't until she went on vacation with her other family and gave it up to Patrick Swayze (RIP) that she loosened up a little.  Rhett, my Ferris, has a sister too.  She's 14 so will be on her own by the time things are really getting out of control here.  Not that she won't be angry about it and chide me about it.  That being said, I know she'll have the presence of mind not to make out with Charlie Sheen.  If he's still alive in ten years...


Sorry.  Anyway, school is very nearly out, summer is trying to be here and I got a little of my tan on yesterday so as soon as I hit the gym and do some laundry I'll be ready.  Not necessarily DTF but I'm not a grenade, even for a 34 year old baseball, soccer, football, hockey mom.


Friday, June 17, 2011

Cherry Pie Worship

I don't really know where to start.  It's raining, so that might be as good as place as any.  Not really newsworthy but for the love of God, when will this sucktastic weather end? Right now, in the glorious city of Moose Jaw, Sidewalk Days are taking place.  Basically they block off downtown and all the businesses set up outside and there is entertainment, stuff for the kids to do, etc.  And given that most of the time the highlight of any given week is the outdoor Polka concert put on in the park for seniors?  I kind of look forward to Sidewalk Days.  There is shopping.  There are mini donuts.  Cherry flavoured lemonade. Mini Donuts.  Face painting for the kids; those death trap bouncy castle things and MINI DONUTS.  Today the rain is keeping us from all of these things.

Now yes I could go anyway and we could don festive ponchos and take umbrellas if for nothing else than a shot at the donuts but it's just not the same.  If this rain doesn't let up I'll have to wait another WHOLE WEEK before I can get mini donuts.  That's then the fair comes to town.

Moose Jaw really likes to do it up at the end of June/early July and then call 'er a year.

Speaking of the fair, in the next closest city, beautiful Regina (some people say it's the "City that Rhymes with Fun"), their annual fair will be happening in early August.  I was reading the paper this morning and noticed that one of the performers will be none other than WARRANT!  When I was 13/14, I worshipped Warrant.  I was in love with Jani Lane and longed to swept into his 'Heaven' singing arms while his long blond hair flowed in the wind.  Have I mentioned my predilection for boys with long hair?  It started a young age.

Here they are in all their 90s 'Metal' glory:

Yes people, take it all in.  The love of my life is the one almost dead center.  And frighteningly enough if he had short hair and a perm(I'm not kidding, but in his defense, he stopped perming his hair about 17 years ago), this almost resembles my yeah, that's super.  Anyway, my friend Brigette loved the dark haired one in the lower right hand corner.  She & I devoted a great deal of time to the worship of Warrant and practised our head banging to such hits as 'Cherry Pie' and whatever other songs we liked of theirs.  To be honest, right now I can only think of Cherry Pie, Heaven, Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich (I think) and I Saw Red.  Jani (pronounced Johnny but spelled cool like that because that's how he rolls) nearly broke my adolescent heart when he sang I Saw Red about whatever groupie slut it was that cheated on him and broke his sensitive rocker heart.

I saw Warrant ten years ago at Minnedosa.  An outdoor rock concert event.  Jani had gained a few pounds and had a thinning bob.   I'm concerned what ten more years may have done to my young love crush.  Will that stop me from going?  I don't think so.  Why not cling to my youth?  It just dawned on me that it was 20 years ago when posters of these guys adorned my bedroom wall.  And yes, I had an entire wall devoted to Warrant.

One for Warrant, one for Poison, one for Bon Jovi and one for Skid Row.  I think a few Motley Crue posters may have made their way into the mix as well.  No New Kids on the Block for this girl!  I was far too cool, edgy and 'raw' for that boy (man?) band.  Mariah Carey?  No thank you.  Milli Vanilli?  Yes, they snuck in their too.  For shame, I know.

So today on this rainy day ruining yet another day of supposed summer? Maybe I will Google Warrant.  Try to find some videos on You Tube and maybe talk my husband into donning a long blond wig and lip syncing to Cherry Pie and see where the day takes us...

Or not because the children do not have school today.  So they are here.  In the house.  Because it's raining.  Maybe I'll just start drinking instead....

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Wet Dreams & Dead Cats, Oh My

I've always been a vivid dreamer.  I dream in color and remember the majority of what I dream about and it's like watching a movie most of the time.  My children appeared to have inherited this trait and I'm becoming concerned.

I am concerned based on the following:  My testosterone-ly advanced four year old.  He shyly shared with me yesterday morning the dream he had about "girls!"  He whispered most of this: He dreamt about girls and about their boobs.  One of the boobs apparently had a face on it.  Then to top it all off, another girl in the dream kissed him.  He was unusually shy in relaying this information and his voice became high pitched a time or two.  Does anyone know what it means if your four year old may be on the verge of wet dreams?  At four?  He's four.  What the fuck?

Then my seven year old, the same day, told me he'd had a dream too.  A dream that we went to the movies but that when the movie was over, it was time to "kill the cats".  We have two cats.  He dreamt about killing them.




Could it be that I have potentially raised a both a budding sex addict and socio/psychopath?  Which one is it that hurts animals as a child?  To be clear he doesn't hurt animals.  He merely dreamt about hurting animals.

Maybe it's time I return to the workforce because being a stay at home mom appears to be having a negative effect on my children.  My oldest child began daycare at the tender age of two weeks because high school stops for nothing.  Not even birth.  My daughter began daycare at six months of age because after taking two semesters of university off to have her, it was time to get back to school, again.  Reese & Rhett, my special little "dreamers" have had the most time at home with me and look where it's gotten them! 

The two who began daycare at arguably the most formative of ages?  Well one is currently on an Outdoor Education trip where he was chosen as one of the navigators because his teacher has great faith in him.  He's also going to be one of the Captains of his school's football team this coming season.  The other one is on the Principal's List  and a member of the Junior SGA (Junior Student Government Assembly or something like that).  She's also on her school's soccer team and acted in every play/musical the school put on this year.

Dreamers?  One sleeps with his eyes open and has a serious obsession with Justin Bieber.  The other?  Gets a little better every day at not having his hands in his pants and talks incessantly and if the opportunity arises, he cops a feel of my boobs and then announces "I touched your boob."

I guess two out of four isn't bad...


Monday, June 13, 2011

Bouncy Balls are the Devil's Work

Today it is nice out.  I've Facebooked this, I've Twittered this and now I'm posting about it.  I used to mock those affected by the weather.  I thought they were weak and just looking for another excuse to be miserable.  But after the Spring we've had?  I'm right there with them. I should be outside right now.  It's sunshine-y and warm.  People have already cut their grass so there is that good freshly cut grass smell happening.  Yet instead, I'm sitting in front of my computer trapped in the Internet.

My four year old is re-energized and recharged by the sun as well, apparently.  There is a lot of talking this morning.  Chants of "Come & Find Me!"  while his little pajama clad butt is in plain site under a chair.  The bouncy ball is bouncing.  Literally.  My 7 year old went to a birthday party yesterday and in the treat bag was one of those godforsaken little rubber bouncy balls.  My stomach is clenching at the thought of it.  Who the fuck invented those things?  And am I the only mother who wishes they would cease all production?  I must be because those stupid little things are a regular treat bag item.  I've been guilty of it myself in the past but after four kids, I've finally caught on.  It's not nice to give those to other people's children.  I hate them so there has to be another parent or two who wishes for a sweet shot of heroin or momentarily turns into Mommy Dearest when one of those little demons starts bouncing.

He is distracted by the Wii now.  I need to get him outside as well.  I still need to shower.  Do the dishes.  Do some yard work. Do some actual work.  We are currently looking for a new trailer so am supposed to making a trip into Regina this afternoon to look at a couple with my husband. 

The rest of the week is going to be partly cloudy and raining off and on.  So why aren't I outside yet?  Meh.  I'm enjoying the semi-quiet.  There is only one child here right now.  The dogs are partaking of their morning nap.  Even the cat is quiet.  I'm mostly undisturbed now that the bouncy ball has been laid to rest.
How did I manage that?

Went on a small tirade about how said 4 year old was driving me nuts with the bouncy ball.  I used a funny voice to not frighten him or make him feel bad.  He giggled.  Then my husband called and when he asked me what I was doing I made some comments about trying not to jump off the deep end and explained this was partly due to the bouncing ball.

After I hung up the phone?  Rhett said: "I'm sorry I was driving you nuts with the bouncy ball." And I?  Felt like an asshole.  I told him it was okay and we both carried on.

I wrote a post about PMS at least a week ago but I don't know how long I can blame my current mostly agitated state on it.  I became incredibly annoyed at a couple in Wal-Mart yesterday.  At the McDonald's located in the Wal-Mart.  So why I was expecting anything less than inane behaviour or below average intelligence is beyond me.  And yes, I realize I was right there with them so that doesn't say a lot about me either.  Whatever.  We had half an hour to kill until the 'salon' (First Choice Haircutters likely does not qualify as a salon but it's not a barber shop either...) opened so my 7 year old could get a hair cut.  He was beginning to look suspiciously like an orphan out of a Dickens' novel but I fear he felt it was something more akin to Justin Bieber.  How do I know this?  He tossed his hair the other day and wanted me to see how his bangs 'moved'.

The child has the straightest hair in the free world. No body, no movement but he clearly longs for Bieber-like locks.  So sad.

Anyway, the big dumb ass in front of me, at McDonald's, accompanied by his wife with her hair in a beige 'scrunchie' were ordering drinks.  They had quite the discussion about how many drinks they would get, if the youngest child (I presume) should get a drink and so on.  This was done loudly and the man laughed after everything he said.  He also knew one of the employees there so I think was feeling pretty good about this as well.  Lots of "witty" banter was exchanged between he and the fry cook.  She left to tend to the young'uns, where ever they were, and he ordered "One large Coke, two regular Cokes & a small Coke."  Okay, easy enough.  Then as the girl began filling the drinks, he said the following: "The large Coke is a Sprite".  Alright-y then.  She didn't bat an eye and proceeded to get the man his large Coke/Sprite.

I wanted to push his face in.

Perhaps a strong reaction?  In my defence, it was about a half an hour after this that my day fell apart and I struggled with light-headed-ness and nausea for the rest of the day so maybe the misdirected rage was an early symptom?  Is intolerance of stupidity a symptom of anything but PMS?  In my world it is.  Actually, I think it may be a character trait.  Until I do or say something stupid and then it's very funny.

I'm nothing if not balanced.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

I'm Not Your Bitch

I overreact.  I'm much like Chevy Chase's character from all of those Vacation movies.  My favourite is Christmas Vacation and I'm him.  I build things up in my mind and get all excited at how truly AWESOME and AMAZING whatever event, Christmas included, and then become increasingly distraught (read: bitchy) when it doesn't go as planned or anticipated.

I overreact on a daily basis.  If I were to frame this positively, I would say I am a passionate person.  This is true, I suppose but passion has it's time and place.  Like say when enjoying chocolate covered pretzels and milk, grape vodka and Sprite, and Jax from Sons of Anarchy.

Tonight, passion arrived when I was asking my son, who is 17, why he felt it was okay to leave the remnants of every snack he's eaten tonight on the counter.  His response, whilst lying in a prone position on the couch: "Oh, what, do you want me to run out to the recycling bin right away?"  This was said with more than a touch of sarcasm.  Sarcasm has it's time and place.  Like when I speak.  I prefer not to be spoken to in that manner though and least of all by my children.  Double standard or not, that's how I roll.  I advised him that at the very least he could throw out the plastic bag inside the box and then flatten it and leave it on the counter.  Here is how the rest of the conversation played out:

Him: "I'm not the only one who does it!!"
Me:  "Did I say you were the only one?  I know you're not the only one!  Did you want me to wait until I could get you all together and we'll have a family meeting about it?!"
Him: "Well you make it sound like it's only me."
Me:  "No, it's all of you because I'm all of yours [sic] bitch.  I'm work's bitch, I'm your bitch!"

This was said as I stormed up the stairs.  I stormed and fumed a little about poor sentence structure and my fast loss of control of the situation.  I came downstairs a few minutes later and he and I resumed a normal conversation about football.  He and I are one and the same in that manner.  Basically we can become instantly angered but get over it almost as quickly.  It works for us so don't judge.   And besides, if you start judging us we'll become angry again and then we're both huge assholes so it's really up to you... 

To be clear, I do not feel like I am "work's bitch".  Last week was a little rough but I do believe hormones played an unfortunate role in my perception of the circumstances.  I also don't really feel like I am my family's bitch.  Most of the time anyway.  I just became instantly annoyed at his annoyance with me.

And again, for clarification, being someones bitch and being a bitch are two very different things.  I am most definitely a bitch.  A smart bitch, a funny bitch, a mean bitch; take your pick, I graciously accept any one of these roles but that's where it ends.

Bitchy lunatic?  Yes. 

'Your' bitch?  No. 

'His' bitch?  Nope. 

Anybody's bitch?  Absolutely not.

I'm just me.  An exceptionally passionate woman who angers easily and relies heavily on sarcasm to communicate any thought, feeling and emotion she possesses. I've said it before, I'll say it again, my husband is a lucky man.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Mood Swing Martha is Going to Toronto!

I am in what could very nearly be considered a good - I seriously was about to type about my good mood when my 17 year old male child phoned me from my vehicle.  He's out there looking for his new retainer.  The new retainer he needs because the dog got the other one when he left it on the arm of the couch.  We're all kinds of hygienic around here.  Anyway, my vehicle is pretty easy....Oh wait, it's in my purse.

Okay, Mood Swing Martha is back on an upswing.  Laughing at my own pseudo-psychotic episodes.  I spoke to my son like he was a blind idiot for not being able to see the RED case in the car.  Except it was in my purse.  Gosh, I'm a treat!

Anyway, I had a decent day.  This doesn't seem to happen all that often but today some good things happened.  One of them being I am off to Toronto in just a little over a month for a jewellery hawking conference!!  The farthest I ever go are the reaches of small town Saskatchewan and once in awhile I get to Regina and Saskatoon and I have been to Calgary and Edmonton but not even either of those places for about six years now. So Toronto?  Is going to be quite a thrill!

I will, however, be spending a lot of time with women.  Women I don't necessarily know that well and who will likely cringe if I speak in the manner I am accustomed too.  Like, for instance, I will try to stay away from the 'c' word and my other favourite, Motherf*cker.  See, I'm practising already by not using those actual words in this very post!  I will also try to curb my meanness and not mock every person I see who does not meet my standard of humanity.

Being that I will be in Toronto and have a new and vast population to choose from, this may prove more difficult than not swearing.  But I can do it.

I can do it because I will be by myself!!  I will not have any children with me or my husband.  Don't get me wrong, I'd love for us to be able to take a family vacation but I'm pretty excited about my own little getaway but know I will long for my family and my sweatpants by the end of my little journey.

I even wore jeans today.  Just to spice it up a little.  For about 4 hours and then it was back into the sweatpants I went.  Jeans are stupid.  At least when you have to sit down.  If you are standing and wearing heels, they are more fun.  But there is nary an occasion in my life at present that calls for heels.  Except Toronto!

And I will be dressing like a grown up every day.  Which may prove a bit of a challenge as these days I dress like a grown up about one day out of every four or five.  And for a few hours at most.  These will be full days of dressing in a semi-professional manner followed by even more dressing up for the evening.  I'm going to have to get some fucking Spanx. 

Look at me, I'm all giddy with my good mood over here.  And I haven't had a drop of alcohol.   Alcohol will hopefully be a part of next month's trip although again, I will need to be careful because my best gal pal Vodka and I become a little mouthy and mock-y.  So maybe I'll be a lady and drink a nice glass of white wine and mind my manners.

Anyone interested on making a wager as to my ability to be lady like for four days, in a row?

Monday, June 6, 2011

Detour, Again

It's that time.  Time to head over to PMS Chronicles and find out what wonderful adventure I am on this month.  Or to put it plainly, find out why I'd rather not speak to anyone and am bloated like Elvis circa 1977.

PMS Chronicles

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Penis Benefits & Dinner Ideas

I learned tonight that my culinary prowess does not measure up.  At least not in the eyes of my teenagers.  They are sick of my fare.  They would like to me to jazz it up a little and make a stir-fry.  Some of you are laughing as stir-fry is pretty standard fare for most people.  I've never made it.  I don't like it so why would I make it?

So I asked them to give me ideas as to what they would like to eat.  So far I am making salmon, a pasta-vegetable salad (complete with green beans, vomit) and several desserts-they are my children after all.  Oh and ribs.  I agree with them, it's time to mix it up a little but frankly, I like cooking as much as I like being outside.  In fact, I'd rather be outside if it were left to that and having to cook supper every freaking night of the week.

I'm 34.  I moved out on my own when I was 17.  So for 17 years now I have had to come up with meals, sometimes three times a day, seven days a week.  I'm out of ideas!  'Stacey''s husband cooks.  She cleans.  I am green with envy.  I can't even fathom what it would be like to be able to carry on with one's day without really having to give a second thought to supper until it's time to eat it and then clean it up.  Bliss, as far as I'm concerned!  Except, he's uber-health conscious and they eat a lot of vegetables.  Which would probably be good for me but would take some getting used to.  I think I could do it though.

I was also told today, by teenage daughter, that we (my husband, I and our oldest son), go on a diet once and year and don't we know that is what is referred to as "yo-yo dieting".  Duh.  Yes I'm aware but reminded her it only really counts as yo yo dieting if you lose and gain back weight repeatedly.  We tend to fall off the wagon before anyone has actually lost any weight.  Except for once, three years ago.

Three years ago I lost 13 pounds and my husband lost 30 pounds.  In the exact same period of time.  Even though we worked out together and I dragged his ass to the gym where he did a leisurely work out while he watched TSN.  I worked myself into a red-faced sweating panting frenzy and carefully and painfully watched everything I ate.  I watched what he ate too.  I watched when he ate twice what I ate.  He was allowed to.  He's a great deal taller and bigger than me and basic Math meant he was "allowed" to eat more than I was.  And apparently, lose more than twice the weight.

I blame his penis.

I blame penises in general.

Having a penis means if you stop drinking pop (soda), you can drop 50 pounds.  Having a penis means if you think really hard about losing weight and perhaps fart as a result of having thought so hard, you will lose at least five pounds.  In that instant.  Having a penis, while we're at it, also thinks people will assume you know what you're talking about even if you don't.  Having a vagina means the exact opposite.  Having a vagina means knowing what you're talking about but being ignored because in addition to the vagina, you have breasts and everyone knows breasts = a lack of common sense, basic knowledge and literacy skills.

I know.  I'm taking my own food issues out on penises everywhere and they didn't do anything to me.  They can't help the fact that their mere presence also means testosterone is present and testosterone is the weight loss king.  Estrogen is the Hormone, Storing Inappropriate amounts of Fat on the Ass and Tricep Area, Queen.

Unless you're me. Then the fat is stored on your belly.  Still the arms though...Tight waves everyone, keep it tight.  Nothing worse than seeing that flap of skin/flab waggling and a wiggling in the wind.

Now I'm not all Negative Nelly around here nor do I hate myself.  I'm pretty fucking awesome.  I just have a sugar addiction and require a touch of lipo and a tummy tuck.  And a penis.  Just for weight loss purposes; aging well and respect in the workplace, bank and auto body/mechanic shop.  The rest of the time I'll keep my vagina.  It is much neater.  Nothing to adjust.  And the ability to find things.  I am convinced, through careful study of my husband and three sons, that having a penis somehow affects vision and/or fine motor skills to the point you are incapable of a) seeing something directly in front of your face and b) moving an object or objects to locate the thing you are trying to find.

So there you have it, vaginas are more compact and improve your vision.  A penis will help you lose weight and make people listen to you.  What do you want?  The ability to see or to be heard?  I for one, don't want to have to choose, so as soon as someone figures out how I can benefit from the effects of having a penis, without really having one, call me!

Oooh, and while we're at it, I need ideas for dinner.  I considered phrasing that as "send me any good recipes you may have" and then I had an overwhelming urge to put on a skirt, heels and some lipstick and fetch my husband his slippers.

I just threw up a little in my mouth.