Gotta Love our Troops for this Spoof on the "Lady"!

Video your friends will thank you for

My last post drew so much attention, as does Lady Gaga. See this amazingly hilarious and exquisitely performed musical spoof done by our men on the front lines in Afghanistan. Gotta love all of them for this, especially the two main "dancers."

Have a great weekend! xo

Friday Quote, Happy Friday Follow

The more things change, the more they stay insane! ~ Robyn

Woman vs. Woman (for mature audiences and then some)

continued from Drawer to Drawer Revelations.

Suppose, I don’t know, just for fun, the two women duke it out.

In this corner: Mrs. Mary Duh. She’s practiced and experienced. She knows how to pull the punches and dodge the blows. She’s overcome the worst of it. Though a bit haggard, Mary Duh is wise from the wear. She’s got it all down, or so she has convinced the audience.

In the other corner: Miss Sin Gal. She’s younger, more ambitious, sexy, and determined to take the title. In truth, a bit desperate and insecure, Sin Gal hides it well. Straight from the dating scene, she’s primed with fighter’s instincts. She’s ready to knock the Mrs. dead.

Enraged, jealous, and sexually repressed, Mary Duh thrusts the initial blow. Sick of all the dating bullshit, Sin Gal reflexively pounds back. She hammers at Mary Duh, unleashing her pent up fears of STDs and unplanned pregnancies. Her routine fight for personal integrity and safety unfolds.Bonked by her kids countless times, Mary Duh retaliates in style. She goes in with a left hook, fuming with desire to turn back time.

The crowd gasps in horror as Sin Gal lay flat on her back mid-ring. Everyone in the stands had a lonely cousin, a brother’s marginally alcoholic but handsome buddy, and/or a wealthy widowed neighbor to fix her up with. So she can’t be dead! Each of them had a story to tell her, something like, “I met my husband on a 7-1/2 day cruise to Oahu. Take the same cruise, on the same cruise line, during the same time of year.” "Look how happy we are. See us smile." "Honey, smile now."

Suddenly, Sin Gal’s body jolts. She isn’t dead. The crowd sighs with relief. But her clock is ticking. “Come on,” they shout, “Hurry up and get married. We mean, hurry up and get Mary Duh!”“There’s always adoption. There are so many kids who need you. But watch out for the attachment stuff. Make sure they’re under 2 and perfectly healthy.”

Sin Gal pushes herself up onto her feet. Oh how she wants to get Mary Duh. The time has come. Red faced Mary Duh has just plain had it. They wrestle each other to the ground, shout rather unfavorable and non-ladylike utterances, and finally collapse in parallel fashion with exhaustion.

It’s a tie.

They thrust themselves up with renewed fervor. They glare at each other and shake hands. Their fingers dangle a bit but the tips naturally stay connected, bonded by sweat. With pep and giddiness, they leave the ring together. In unison, the audience exclaims, “Ooh, -pause- aah.” The women saunter off, sharing fantasies about getting into each other’s drawers. The lights go off.

Drawer to Drawer Revelations, Part I (for mature audiences only)

Oops, the call for mature audiences only might have sent some folks away. Sorry. I probably blew it. I'm just shooting for more comments than when I initially posted this in 6/09. Back then, I ALMOST got 1 comment. It was truly exhiliarating. Then, I opted to work on another piece instead of commenting on my own post. Oh well. Happy reading (and - hint,hint: commenting)!

The flimsy azure blue carton container is aged at the corners; crumbled from having been squished into the drawer beneath the under-wires of various shades and designs; the cotton panties, some flowered, some plain; and funky leopard spotted attempts, perhaps, at sexy lingerie.

The box resided beneath a reliable, battery operated, slick and thin, friend - the friend to the woman who dared make the purchase. She slipped it into the basket beneath a more pristine item, body lotion. That’s it, a large container of lavender body lotion. She didn’t need it, but she had to take at least one other item to the cashier. As far as innocent yet appealing, commonplace yet feminine possessions go, lavender body lotion tops the charts. A quick take to the left and to the right, and there was definitely no one around in close proximity. She checked out as quickly as possible, gripping the bag tightly, strolling ever so gracefully and nervously to her car.

Back to the box: in spite of its age, the bold, white font informs all that’s relevant: Distributed by Church & Dwight; Inc. Princeton, New Jersey, 08542. Made in USA. America’s #1 Choice, Trusted for over 80 years. This begs the question: was it produced 90 years ago but simply not trusted? Wherein lay the root of such trust issues? Be it the consumer or the product? As a clinician, I can’t help but push further: Was therapy sought for these trust issues? Sorry. Back to the matter at hand: what’s in her drawers. As I was saying, or attempting to articulate with prime elegance, a woman’s dresser drawers convey her wants and needs, pleasures and repulsions. Her drawers reveal it all.

Take the married woman. She got rid of her friend before shacking up with the dude, I mean the loving, doting husband. God, she misses her friend. Deep within her drawers can be found dust-laced lingerie from the honeymoon, untouched since. Atop this are worn white cotton panties, knee high blue striped sports socks, and a copy of Dr. Phil’s Finding the Love You Want, Fixing the One You Have.

Next: the single woman. She’s grateful the cartons’ expiration dates are so far into the future. She buys them with hope and promise, courage and confidence. You never know, she fathoms with a smile. She’s prepared. As far as the garments, she’s got so many cute and sexy options. She will have use for each and every one. The next date will be attractive, virile, and worthy. She persists with pep and optimism, at times slipping silently into exhaustion and despair - date after date, year after year.

Suppose, I don’t know, just for fun, the two women duke it out. - To be continued..

Monday Minute

With thanks to Ian for making Sunday night/Monday posting so easy, here are my answers to the Monday Minute questions:

1 - What drugs have you done in your life? Cocoa Powder [via mouth, intravenous injection, and intranasal snorting] and Extra Strength Tylenol [Note: orally only].

2 - A/S/L? Age - 43, though I can't believe it. You can't either, right? I don't act - I mean look -it. Do I? Good answer. I knew I liked you for good reason./ Sex - whenever it's available; approximately once every 8 years / Locale - wherever I am when it's available approximately once every 8 years.

3. Do you pick your nose? No, picking my nose is not one of my gross habits.

4 - What's your favorite childhood cartoon? Speed Racer. I guess I've always had a thing for androgynous guys who drive fast.

5 - List the URL of what you believe to be the best blog post you've ever done. http://www.Rawknrobynsgoneblogwild.blogspot.com/2010/02/california-dreamin.html

Happy Monday!

Mystery Student Revealed, Your Forgiveness Sought

I didn't plan to stoop to this low, yet there is something rather victorious about exposing America's - I mean the world's- most pathetic woman.

Yes, Kate Gosselin was the mystery student featured in the Extra Credit question of this weekend's Choco-Quiz. Kudos to 3 brave students who took a stab at this one. Powdered Toast Man guessed it was Sandra Bullock (I can see that), Copyboy guessed Jane Fonda (perhaps, especially since I noted that she has nothing to do with anything sweet), and TSHendrik had the closest guess with "C." Nice try, TS. Had you guessed "F," you would've been even closer. Yes, Kate it is. Shocking of all is the fact that Ms. Gosselin attended school at some point.

My deepest apologies for reminding you that Kate Gosselin exists and exists on this very planet. I do hope it's redeeming to know that this now ugly person -- who can't get enough of herself and generally forgets that she has 8, much less any, children to take care of -- was an awkward looking kid with big ass glasses, a greasy geekified hairdo, and a face longer than her glasses were wide. {This is not to mention that ugly striped shirt she sported.}

CHOCO-IQ TEST SCORES AND ANSWERS POSTED HERE!!

1) How many different colors of regular M&M’s are there?
6 (Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Brown) Kudos to Powdered Toast Man for knowing his M&M colors. The red ones taste the best. Don’t they?
2) The double chocolate hot fudge cake that my nephew and I love to inhale (and ravage) is really the only item worth ordering at what U.S. eatery? (3 words)
Bob’s Big Boy. I mentioned this in a recent post. I see how well you pay attention in class!
3) Finish this lyric: The world looks mighty good to me (7 words)
Cause Tootsie Rolls are all I see. TS & Copyboy can sing this tune for you.4) Which of the following is NOT a Hershey’s kiss flavor:
A) Candy corn
B) New York Cheesecake
C) Camouflage Colored
D) Pink Lemonade – Great guess, TS. I mean, you sure know your kisses!
5) Finish this slogan: Hungry? Grab a Snickers. You all got this one right! Except Uber.
6) Which of the following is not an actual M&M flavor:
A) Nut What You Think
B) A Day at the Peach
C) Gone Bananas – Powdered Toast and Sarah,Writer got it! Uber didn't.D) Orange You Glad

7) True or false: Chocolate and cocaine are derived from the same plant species. False!
Thank goodness TS and Sarah salvaged my reputation as a teacher by getting this one right. I see the rest of you need some education, less I’ll be fired within minutes. Pay attention please: Cocaine is derived from the coca tree. Coca cola also includes ingredients from the coca tree. Chocolate is derived from a different tree that has an extra “o”, the cocoa tree. All the more reason to go for the “O” factor.

8) Which company was the first to include a guide to the chocolates contained in a box?
A) Whitman’s – You all got this one too! Good job! Except Uber.B) Ghirardelli
C) Cadbury
D) Cailler

9) The word mocha is originally:
A) French
B) Arabic - You impressed me again. You all got this right. Except Uber.

C) Italian
D) Spanish

10) At about what temperature does chocolate melt?
A) 75 degrees Fahrenheit
B) 90 degrees Fahrenheit – Good Work, Sarah, Powdered Toast, and Tom! Not Uber.C) 100 degrees Fahrenheit
D) 110 degrees Fahrenheit

THE WINNERS OF THE HIGHEST CHOCO-IQ ARE POWDERED TOAST MAN AT JUST THE CHEESE AND TS HENDRICK AT THE NONREVIEW!! NOT UBER. CONGRATULATIONS, GUYS! PLEASE ACCEPT A BIG KISS FROM OUR FINE (with emphasis on fine) PRESIDENT!
Here’s the break-down, with thanks to those of you who were bold enough to take the test.
Except Uber:
A’s: Powdered Toast Man and TS Hendrik
A-: Sarah Landry,Writer
B+’s: Tgoette and CopyBoy
D: Uber Grumpy. You did give it a most creative effort, sweetie. Tell your mommy I said so.
F’s: All of the rest of you who sat in class giggling, passing notes, and pointing at Cheeseboy for having to take the short bus home. Sorry Cheeseboy. I’ll make sure you’re not alone on the bus, honey.
Nobody got the extra credit question right. I will post that mystery student, who has nothing to do with chocolate or anything sweet, soon!

In the meantime, have fun in Phys . Ed., and quit drinking Coke!

Plain chocolate kisses,

Teacher Robyn

TEST YOUR CHOCO-SMARTS!

Settle down, boys and girls. It's time for a Choco-Quiz. The last one was in February, and the Superintendent told me I need to significantly improve performance. {Between you and me, he didn't do it for me either, but that's not important right now.} Rachel, Kristy, and LifeBeginsat30ty had the highest choco-IQ's last time. Let's see who gets that title and a very special award this time! I have installed hidden cameras on your desktops to deter you from cheating. I know you can't see them. DUH! That's because they are "hidden." Can you say "special"? I knew you could! Now, sharpen those #2 pencils for ole times sake. Keep rotating the sharpener handle over and over again, nervously trying to get your pencil just sharp enough but not so sharp that you crack the pencil tip and have to start all over. And over and over again. Hurry up, though. There's a line of students behind you waiting to sharpen their pencils too. Now, put it behind your right ear or between two left toes (for ole times sake). You can email me your answers (through my profile page), or you can list them in the comments section and take a chance that your classmates will copy your guesses. It's your choice. Have fun!

1) How many different colors of regular M&M’s are there?

2) The double chocolate hot fudge cake that my nephew and I love to inhale (and ravage) is really the only item worth ordering (and eating) at what U.S. eatery? (3 words)

3) Finish this choco-lyric: The world looks mighty good to me (7 words)

4) Which of the following is NOT a Hershey’s kiss flavor:
A) Candy corn
B) New York Cheesecake
C) Camouflage Colored
D) Pink Lemonade

5) Finish this choco-slogan: Hungry? Grab a _________.

6) Which of the following is NOT an actual M&M flavor:
A) Nut What You Think
B) A Day at the Peach
C) Gone Bananas
D) Orange You Glad

7) True or false: Chocolate and cocaine are derived from the same plant species.

8) Which company was the first to include a guide to the chocolates contained in a box?
A) Whitman’s
B) Ghirardelli
C) Cadbury
D) Cailler

9) The word mocha is originally:
A) French
B) Arabic
C) Italian
D) Spanish

10) At about what temperature does chocolate melt?
A) 75 degrees Fahrenheit
B) 90 degrees Fahrenheit
C) 100 degrees Fahrenheit
D) 110 degrees Fahrenheit

11) EXTRA CREDIT QUESTION: Name the now famous person pictured above.
Hint #1: Photo taken in 1990.
Hint #2: She has nothing to do with chocolate or sweet things.
**********************Test Ends Here! Go to recess!********************************

How Much Tonnage Makes for a Few Extra Pounds?

Since the double-chinner fiasco (see pre-BDFH Hell), I just have one large report for you, dear reader. It goes like this: a guy sent me an "I'm interested" message. This is usually not a big deal, but in this case, it's rather massive. See, the dude describes his body type as "a few extra pounds." We all know what that means. Right ladies?

I'm not trying to be mean. It just comes naturally. I do have a few extra pounds myself -- in my belly. And under each arm. And another few are doing just fine hanging out on each upper leg. Plus, I'm the first to admit I have issues. Oh, stop nodding your heads in agreement and scanning through your memory banks to recall the names of all those mental health disorders you learned about in Psych. class. I'm merely talking about my chocolate addiction!

Being a 40-something'er American (i.e., food-obsessed) woman, a few body parts started drooping 1/2 inch toward the earth's center at 12:01am the morning of my 40th birthday. These parts drop again 1/3 inch (this time, toward China) at 6 month intervals thereafter. Sorry to warn you younger gals out there, but it's best to emotionally prepare for the trauma. Guys, we all know that once you hit 30, the fat cells gravitate to (1) your gut and (2) your gut. Right? Let's keep it real and restrained by a belt fastened on the last notch. Please!

So this is all to say that I'm no more shallow than the next Beauty Pageant Winner. I'm also a very small person, and thus not interested in a man who defines himself on-line as having "a few extra pounds." A review of his pictures indicates that he has a rather broad, shall we say, definition of "a few."

And so I became horrified upon envisioning our dating life. I could see us taking a leisurely walk along the main drag of this neighborhood, passing your standard cafes, eateries, and gift shops. I would, however, be 3 yards ahead of him, wearing a big whistle around my neck and carrying a bullhorn. When we'd come close to any pedestrians, I'd whistle 3 times, then shout into the blowhorn: "Make way, everybody! Wide load coming through! Wide load coming through!" Women, children, and poodles would throw up their arms, screech, and flee the scene. It's just not a very romantic vision. You know?

So I've fat out, I mean flat out, decided to avoid the ones who claim to have a few extra pounds. That fat lie tips the scales for this gal.

100 THANKS, and Girls Rule and Boys Drool!

Having done it this weekend [See former post for explicit details], I'm a bit sore. Ever try doing the Happy Dance in heels? Gentlemen, be honest now! Oh, and excuse these people. They insisted on returning for this post.

When I started Life by Chocolate in 3/09, it was both the worst and the lousiest of times. Facing the shock and despair of marital breakdown just weeks after celebrating our first anniversary, followed by a job layoff to further intensify my choco-needs, it was clearly time for some blogging. After all, I had no idea what blogging really meant or how to do it, and my computer skills leave much to be desired. Plus, blogging sounds kind of grotesque. Doesn't it? You'd think they could come up with a more pleasant word. Anyway, the vote was unanimous. Time to blog.

For the first 5 months or so, I was stuck at 7 followers. [Those 7 still have bruised arms from all the twisting.] I stared at the comments sections waiting, just waiting..Suddenly, there was a comment from someone without a bruised arm. Best yet, it was Blase at My Game It's Your Move. New to it all, I didn't even know how to follow him how he found me. I was shy with Blase for months before he gave me a shirtless hug today when I drove out to Raleigh to track him down.

Suddenly #2, as per so many of life's greatest moments, a nice Jewish man entered the scene. He took the time to read my earliest Yiddisha pieces, and did some shout-outs on his blog. My following crept into the double-digits. I'm naturally referring to Ian at Daily Dose of Reality. Then Tina gave me my first award. She is the most gifted of the bazillion bloggers out there (I say this without having read the bazillion blogs AND without doubt). She's also very sweet, especially considering her stories are scary as hell. I was also published along the way, with a featured picture in Being Single Magazine. This was a boost, especially since I got a rejection from another publisher this weekend. It was also a boost because I'm smoking hot in the picture. [Hint: it's not me in the photo.]

Now the thank you speech really begins. Sorry, but I did put 100 in the title. I'll try not to go over. These great bloggers have become friends, and you can find their links on my page: Aion/IBlogYourProfile, Jesse-CopyBoy, Seductress, SarahWriter, Michael/AsBlackAsObama, Tom/Tgoette, Tina, Blase, and Ian. Ally and Lisa Marie have been supportive too. Pat is an amazingly gentle inspiration. He even took the time to send me a step-by-step email on a basic computer task.

These longtime friends have been very supportive of Life by Chocolate (the way of life and also my blog): Bert [who first encouraged me when I was pondering the concept of blogging. Your check is in the mail, Bert. I told you that several months ago, huh? Damn mail service!]; Joanne; Jody; Rachel; Carol and Randy; Jason and Becca; and Donna.

Of course, I also thank my family and Jeremy for being so darn adorable and enjoying chocolate.


A few random plugs:
Dr. Heckle is hilarious, takes no time out of your day, and needs some loving.
TSHendrick and Reputation@Stake create my #1 favorite, the Non-Review. These men's brain cells go where no other human or cockroach's brain cells have gone before or ever will again. E.g., the battle of the Hexagon vs. the Septa-whatever. My life with never be the same since that defeat! Reputation needs some lovin' too at his new site, thestupidbet.

Now for the GIRLS RULE AND BOYS DROOL part~

Guys, I adore all of you, and I'd clone you for myself and straight, single blogger girlfriends if I could. But let's face it, none of you did it for me this weekend! My sister bloggers did! Heck, I didn't even need to switch teams [not that there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I've been trying to get drafted since my last blind date from hell. It's just that I'm also contemplating starting a Jewish convent. It might perhaps serve me better.] Anyway, my point is that it takes a woman to get the job done!

I made my needs known, you boys jumped into your cold showers or whatever, and the girls jumped into action. BossyBetty voluntarily stared at the number of my following with me, and we did the potty dance together. (Did you dance with us, boys? I think not!) Rapunzel shared in my desperation and cheered me on. (Did you boys? I think not!) Alice set out to send someone over. (Did you boys? I think not!)

ALAS, IT WAS THE AMAZING BUMPKIN who jumped off her swing to save my weekend by sending the EQUALLY AMAZING TRISH on over to do it for me! Both of these women's blogs are fabulous. They get me literally dancing cheerfully, with their upbeat stories, pictures, music, information on fashion (Lord knows I need it!) and bursts of happy energy. They are both feisty divas who helped me (a feisty non-diva) do it this weekend!

I'm getting signaled that my time was up 55 minutes ago, so I'll close by thanking all of you boys and girls. It has been a uniquely special experience doing it with you. I'm not even going to try to downplay it; it meant so much. I hope we'll do it again sometime in the future. Chocolate kisses and grateful hugs, Robyn

Doing It This Weekend

To be blunt, I'm obsessed with the prospect of doing it this weekend. Actually, right now! I want it right now! No, I truly need it right now! Despite the image I project of, um, a saintly, timid, calm woman, I'm not altogether patient. I'll speak for all women, or perhaps even for all warm blooded beings, and say we've got our needs. It's been a long haul for me, and I haven't thought it would even be possible for quite a while. The prospects are hopeful right now, though. Thus, I'm trying to just keep putting out. I mean, keep putting myself out there. I think it will be fully satisfying to do it, but I'm not thinking beyond the actual experience. I just need it so desperately now. The last one was a cute, single man. He gave me added faith. When the next one comes along, I will be, shall we say, very very grateful! I'm on a mission. I'm obsessed. I've gone through all my chocolate, and I'm still in dire need. If you can't or don't want to do it for me, darling reader, I'll try not to feel rejected. But perhaps you have a friend to send over here? I'm just one away from 100 followers! I want to do it! I need to do it! I need to get to 100 already! Excuse me while I take a cold shower. I trust you'll help me do it in the meantime. xo

This is Not A Sappy "That's my Boy" Post, Don't Worry!

Dear world, meet Jeremy Engel at 3 years young. He has a fabulous, sweet, adorable, talented auntie -who's single too, guys! (Hey sis, I'm giving you a plug here! I'll forward any responses from handsome single men after I screen them). 


Jeremy is just as feisty and smart as he is beautiful. Here's a quick scenario of his recent annual Pediatric visit:

Dr. Idiot, Jeremy, and Mommy enter examining room.

Dr. Idiot questions Mommy about Jeremy's "resistance," being as he is not fully toilet trained at 36 months.

Mommy - a wonderful mom and school teacher well versed in child development - points to the fact that even their office literature indicates that this is entirely normal for boys his age.

Dr. Idiot has no response, so the Doc decides to test Jeremy's compliance.

Dr. Idiot to Jeremy: Raise your arm.

Jeremy smiles at her and does not budge.

Dr. Idiot: Bring your legs up.

Jeremy smiles at her and does not budge.

Dr. Idiot to Jeremy: Lay down.

Jeremy smiles at her and does not budge.

Dr Idiot to Mommy: Does he normally follow directions at home?

Jeremy (before Mommy has a chance to respond): Yes! I don't want to lay down!

Note that I have never been more proud of Jeremy, except when he finished a double chocolate hot fudge cake at Bob's Big Boy. That's our boy!

The US Censlus Bureau

Imagine having a job once every 10 years. That’s quite a hefty vacation plan. It’s also plenty of time to come up with a phenomenal strategy for soliciting crucial information from the U.S. populace. In order to encourage the rich melting pot of Americans to send back their censlus reports, the brilliant minds hired folks like Karl Rove. If you don’t know him, that’s good. He’s Bush’s bud, a right man with great expertise in scandal. When Rove recently visited a bookstore in conservative Beverly Hills to promote his new book, he was forced to flee for his life as a woman shouted, “You lied to take us to war ... totally ruining the country." Another remarked, “The only comfort I take is that ... you're going to rot in hell." You get the idea; he's not popular.

Here’s Rove encouraging us to send in our Censlus report:
http://www.freedomslighthouse.com/2010/04/karl-rove-does-ad-for-us-census-bureau.html

Note that I had to watch it a few times to determine if the person in the middle is an old White man with white hair or an old White woman with white hair. I wonder what box this person checked for Gender.

I admit, I sent mine in. I was quite disappointed that it only took me 10 seconds to complete. All the practice exams and coaching, yet I didn’t even need to cheat. The Censlus Bureau informs that if you don’t mail it back, they will send a representative to your home. I didn’t want this to happen, but I kinda like the idea of a visitor - within certain parameters. I thus devised a hand printed note on “Hello Kitty” stationery: Dear Censlus Person, Since you’ve got the time and my tax payer’s money to send workers to the doors of all the lazy ones, which – as you can see by the enclosed, neatly completed form- I am not, I ask that you kindly send me a representative anyway. I’d like him – I mean, this person – to review my answers, just in case I made any mistakes. I further request that this representative be: Gender – Male; Age- 30’s; Marital Status- Single; Ethnicity-Other, because we are all a mix (you idiots!), except Karl Rove and George W. and you Censlus folks; Appearance- Good. P.S. Please do not send Jon Gosselin.”

On second thought, I decided they might not prioritize my requests. Their priorities are quite warped, after all. So I’ve stored the letter safely for the next 10 years. Maybe by 2020, I’ll have more faith that the government will care about my personal needs.

As a social worker, I should say that the census is a good thing, if actually used for good things. The numbers are important. Second, I have no issues with Obama. I think he’s rather fine indeed. I do have problems with idiots, though. I also have problems with old White men or women with white hair who are right being paid to encourage our richly diverse people to report on its richly diverse traits. There’s gotta be a less censlus way of doing this!

Internet Hating, Pre-BDFH/Blind Date From Hell Hell

Desperate times

Wow. I owe you some cheering up, my beloved readers. Since my day job doesn't bring on the sunshine, perhaps my single life will. Given how much you relished in my painful Blind Date From Hell, I'm trying for more. I do this for YOU. Alas, times are in fact desperate, and I don't have a BDFH story for you. Amazing how much one must endure in attempting to get to the date.



Here's the build up: guy with a double chin sends me an already formatted "learn all about what a cool dude I am, and tell me if you like what you see." I decide to look around the double chin -- though this strained my neck a bit -- to read his profile. I deduce that double-chinner must have mistakenly emailed me, as we have nothing in common and he falls outside of all of my basic criteria - besides the fact that he is probably a male. Still, I send a "thanks but no thanks."

Double-chinner responds with a long ass copy-and-pasted message listing tips on Internet dating, the gist of which is: "You've gotta meet in person rather than rule someone out by e-mail."

Sweet and usually sometimes innocent me decides to fight back! [Homey don't play that!]. I respond:

Tips for you:

1) Read the profile. Had you actually read my profile, you would've read that I don't date rude men (e.g., men who don't respectfully accept a "no thanks"). I'm looking for someone under 50, I'm politically liberal and not interested in someone who isn't.

2) Send personalized messages. Women are turned off by already formatted messages that are ready for bulk mailing. It doesn't make a girl feel special.

3) Accept a 'no thanks' and move on, rather than wasting angry, ego-injured energy on emailing the rejector back a copy-and-paste article.

Good luck!

Double-chinner rushes back to the center of the ring with spite and a dissertation. Because I like you, dear reader, I'm chopping it down SIGNIFICANTLY.

Regarding the “bitter” {Dude, I did not call you bitter. You've touched your own nerve here. But that's for the best, since I won't be touching it anytime in the next two thousand years.} presumption. It is not true. Every guy that is dating is running into tons of Russian escorts who pretend to be serious but are looking for customer; goldiggers; super-models who want super-model guys who invariably cheat on them which makes them bitter; users; sport-sex one nighter seeker women; abused and intimacy broken test-the-waters women; no-shows for the first meeting; people who post skinny pictures, or only head shots, but are actually obese in person; Shell-shocked women who just got out of a huge legal battle with the ex and are not ready for any kind of relationship; people who plan their meals around which online guy will buy them for them; .. etc… {Can double-chinner say "I can rant like nobody's business!"? Hey Ian, did you see this sh*t?!}

This is the experience of EVER SINGLE GUY that is dating right now. I am just documenting the facts. I am not writing a bitter treatise. Read the hundreds of thousands of blog and article postings online from guys saying the same exact thing. {Perhaps if an "ever" single guy is as embittered as you, double-chinner, that is why said "ever" single guy is, uh, "ever" single.}
I am the same age as you. {Last I checked, I was 43. Last I checked, you were 52. Last time I input 43 into my calculator, it equated with - drum roll please - 43. Is it the male-double-chinner-embittered-desperate-math you're doing, sir? I already survived a marriage to a man 13 years my senior. I'll be damned or I'll be Demi if I'm going to have that kind of age difference again.} Besides, dear reader, I don't look a minute older than 25. Right? Right! I knew I liked you. Carry on. I mean, don't fret, I'll bring it on home shortly. Promise.
Because you look like you do you have chosen to treat yourself as a product {Ok, now I've been told I look like lots of things - ranging from repulsive (oh, that was me looking in the mirror on Monday mornings) to rather lovely - but I've never been told I look like I treat myself as a product. Hmm, What product might we be speaking of? Lady's Speed Stick Deodarant? Tylenol Multi-Symptom Relief Tablets? I'm grasping for straws here.}

He goes on and on with all sorts of  data. Onto the second page, he abruptly ends. Could this be a workable strategy to get a date? I'm tempted to suggest the method with the cow pictured above, but my computer lacks the bandwidth to manage another response from him.

Do you think he might be a bit embittered?

P.S. Did I mention I would do almost anything for you, my friends? Would you like me to tell him, "Hey double-chinner, you are so convincing. Let's meet up for coffee"? That trick question is a test of your love for me. **Insert Jeopardy music here as million dollar question is being pondered.**

Humanity and Humility, Think Twice ~ Part II.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f7WyUnf_A8


Continued from Think Twice.

She calls out to the man on the street. He can see she's been crying. She's got blisters on the soles of her feet. Can't walk but she's trying.


She’s frozen from shock and despair. Marcus is living somewhere else. That’s all she knows. That’s all I know. “My heart is broken,” she tells me.

She’s lived through it all herself: the abuse, the abrupt moves from one foster home to another, the changes in schools, friends, everything. Once it started to feel like home, she was yanked away again.

“Given the home was sprayed by bullets, I completely respect your decision to move Marcus,” I tell the other Supervisor. “I just feel terribly about it.”

I am numbed by my own humility. I have nothing to offer.

Oh think twice...

I sit comfortably at my computer, in my rental apartment by the beach. I’m home. I telephone my brother. I have family, though one rocked by tragedy and dysfunctions; I have love.

Oh lord, is there nothing more anybody can do Oh lord, there must be something you can say

I sit in the humility of defeat. There is nothing I can do to fix it.


You can tell from the lines on her face You can see that she's been there Probably been moved on from every place 'Cuz she didn't fit in there


She plans to move again, to a safer place. She just has to find one first. That’s what she does. She keeps seeking home.

Oh think twice...

VERY FOOLISH AWARDS PRESENTATION!!

This post is continued from Vote for the 10th Biggest American Fool.
For list of the Top 10 Biggest American Fools, see Top 10.

The competition was foolish. Edging out lots of other American idiots, Sarah Palin and her Tea Party posse captured the title of the 10th BIGGEST AMERICAN FOOL (singular; they are one afterall.) OF THE DAY.

CONGRATULATIONS, TOM GOETTE !! Tom submitted this winning nomination! For fabulous politcal and other rants, I suggest you follow his blog if you aren't already.


Further enlightening information: This blogger - I mean this highly reputable reporter, photographer, and all around brilliant woman (by the way, I'm single too, guys!) - went to great lengths to obtain an authentic picture. I finally located Sarah Palin and her posse in a hotel room suite the other evening. Ms. Palin answered the door half dressed and a looking a bit disheveled. I heard male voices shouting from the bedroom, "Come back here, Sarah. We're re-loading so we can re-fire." I'm not quite sure what that was about, but I'm guessing they needed her help to practice their newest campaign slogan. Ms. Palin cheerfully told me, "I'm getting busy. I mean, I'm busy. Go away." Ever sharp on my feet, I telephoned her stunt double, Tiger's porn star mistress, Joslyn James. Joslyn was quite flexible and accommodating. She posed readily. I did need to give her a moment to put a few items of clothing on first.

Thanks to all who voted and followed this exciting moment in political foolishness!


Now back to your much more mundane activities.

VOTE FOR THE 10th BIGGEST AMERICAN FOOL!! ~ Part II.

Continued from Top 10 Fools

Oh my Lord! I mean, my goodness! How on earth did that photo get there? Damn hackers! It's in such poor taste, especially this Easter weekend. I am so sorry, dear readers. Well, since it's here, I hope it does not offend anyone except the former President George W. himself, and perhaps his reading tutor.

The brilliantly foolish nominations for the 10th BIGGEST AMERICAN FOOL OF THE DAY:

1. Mel Gibson for so many reasons but mainly because I can't see his smug face without wanting to punch it. x Kitty Moore

I second the nomination of Mel Gibson for calling a woman "Sugartits". Anyone who'd put sugar on a woman's boobs is a complete fool. Especially so with all the ointments and gels you can get these days. GorillaBananas

2. John Gosselin Shouldn't John be up there with Kate? He's been kind of quiet lately, but only because Kate's been hogging the limelight AsBlackAsObama





3. Vice President Joe Biden for going up to a live microphone and throwing an F bomb-- to the President!!! I am all for "being real" but,, every step we make as a country is being scrutinized,, our "second in command" should be seen with class and a strong verbal prowess. As Bugs Bunny would say "What a Maroon!" InvisibleSeductress

4. those dang "never hold the elevator door" peeps and

5. Rush Limbaugh for something bad he's going to do. CopyboyatNWM


6. Can we put Kate Gosselin on the list two times? PLEASE? Pretty Please? BossyBetty
7. The f*n b*tard in a Camry who sped past a patient line of cars waiting to turn onto the freeway onramp this morning. That was me in the silver Honda, at the front of the line, sir. That was me who you almost hit whilst simultaneously speeding AND slamming on your brakes as you cut me off in an intersection. Oh, you made it onto the freeway alright, and you didn't have to wait in that dreadful line, but I still think I'll have the last laugh. One of these days you'll be speeding along, the f*n b*tard that you are, and those brakes...well, you've read the news. (I just could not edit this one!) Tocalabocina
8. Sean Connery for endorsing the slapping of women on national television.And to later, reaffirm what he said! PatTillett
9. Sarah Palin and her Tea Party posse for her inspiring "Don't retreat, reload" advice to the right-wing extremist groups. Tgoette





10. Educated people who use apostrophe's before every 'single 's - nominated by thi's blogger a's an after thought when I came home to a memo for all Resident's.



Cast your votes now for 1 of the above 10, before I run out of "I Voted for the 10th Biggest American Fool" stickers.
Polls will close when I'm tired of the foolishnes's. (<-Note: final attempt to 'sway vote's.)
Winning nomination will be foolishly recognized.
Free parking and non-stale chocolate donuts available. (Sorry TS.)

Think Twice, Part I. ~ Dedicated to child survivors of abuse, with thanks to Phil Collins

Photo taken in the city of Paradise, CA, 1972. Hint: I'm the bigger chick.

She calls out to the man on the street "Sir, can you help me?"
Irritated by her neediness, I don’t return the call right away. Instead, I enjoy my lunch and get a few things off of my desk. “Did you hear about the shooting?” my co-worker asks. “I heard something about it, but no one was hurt. So that's good. I’ll call her in a bit,” I respond casually.

It's cold and I've nowhere to sleep, Is there somewhere you can tell me?"
“I’m sorry, I forgot your name,” the woman tells me over the phone when I decide to return the call. “But I know you’re the Supervisor, so I’m calling to tell you what happened last night. I’m trying to get out of here. I’m gonna get a new place. I really am. I saw something in downtown today. I’ve been meaning to get out since they smashed my car. But I can’t pay more than $1200. I’ll see another place across town tomorrow.”

I can’t give her a safe home. I can’t give her a home at all. I have nothing for her. Worse yet, I have nothing for Marcus. Two bullets remain lodged in the walls of his bedroom. They were meant for the neighbors in the crack house next door. She waited for years for low-cost housing, only to earn the opportunity to live in the cross fire. Literally.

I have nothing to tell her. I have nothing to tell Marcus. We were just getting to know each other. He was just starting to open up a bit.

He's so used to it. He's completely detached.

He walks on, doesn't look back. He pretends he can't hear her.

I sit on my cushioned, adjustable chair in my office at my job, fielding e-mails all the while. Her voice cracks. “There were five shots. I was so – and, I was so scared - a crash through the walls. I, I, I was so scared, Robyn.” I feel her tears streaming down her face. “Marcus was at his friend’s house down on East 14th. He’s used to shootings. There was a gang that hung out around his last foster home. But thank God he wasn’t home, and I wasn’t hurt either.”

Starts to whistle as he crosses the street Seems embarrassed to be there
Marcus lived there for just three weeks. At 16, this was his tenth “home” – a remarkably low number compared to his foster peers.

“You people don’t get it. I’m sick and tired of moving,” he told us before this last move. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Don't even ask me.”

He’s given up on the world, on himself. He hates foster care. He hates me. I can’t blame him. I’m ashamed to be a part of a system that failed him so miserably. How much easier it would be to leave this field. How much easier for Marcus and I to just pretend that none of these evils exist, that there's no child abuse, no gangs, no crack houses or shootings anywhere, especially not in his home.

Marcus has no family. He’s never had a real home. He probably never will.

They arrive with a large garbage bag, into which he throws a few items of clothing. Within five minutes, he is in transport out of West Oakland to a place in which we hope he won’t be sprayed by bullets.

Oh think twice, it's another day for You and me in paradise. Oh think twice, it's just another day for you, You and me in paradise.

To be continued in Think Twice, Part II.