When it comes to the mall, leave the man at home.

OK, so someone needs to help me understand why women feel the need to drag their men to the mall. I know they’re being forced by the obvious look in their eye of sheer annoyance, boredom, and confusion. Men do not want to walk into ladies clothing stores while you browse the sale racks and pick through panties at Victorias Secret while they lay a guilty gaze on the mannequin flaunting the newest magic bra and bright lacy thong going up a hard beige painted concrete rump. Ok, well maybe they like that for a millisecond. After all, the gigantic images of models in VS are pretty amazing....

But as I was saying. The men just look all uncomfortable and awkward. They aren’t sure where to look or what to do. They may pretend to glance at their phone on occasion (yup, still no text messages there), or fiddle with their hair or look at the floor. But really? It’s uncomfortable for us fellow shoppers as well. While his chic is trying on bras in the stall he’s left to sort of “hang out” by the dressing room and pretend he’s texting or something while trying to not get caught ogling the images of Adriana Lima giving him the “let’s f--k” look from the wall hanging.

And then we have the shoe section. Ladies: Men do not want to follow you around like a puppy dog while you try on multiple pairs of Jessica Simpson heels and ask “Are these too tall?” “Do these make my ankles look fat?” Because really? Men could give a shit what kind of shoes you’re walking in unless they make him a foot shorter than you. And quite frankly, the man tailing behind you is taking up a lot of space in the sales rack aisle. Capiche?

Basically, I shop alone. I love shopping alone, it is time for ME and I don’t need anyone to tell me what looks good or what isn’t too tight in the butt. I have an eye for my own fashion thank you very much and I would never wear something unless “I” loved it.

If I did have the man along, I’d tell him to go to some electronic store or sports bar while I shop, so I can browse in peace. So ladies? Be a big girl and shop without your second half for a change. The end.

Money can buy you Viagara, but Viagara cannot buy you love.... (A short little tale of love, money, and ancient wieners)

Money can buy you things. Money can buy you big beautiful expensive things if you have enough of it. Those extravagant things may attract women. Big beautiful full lipped and round assed women. Those beautiful women will see that big wad of money and will somehow manipulate their personalities into being a fun and adoring playful girl in order to use your money to enjoy having the things they want and lavishing in your big beautiful mansion of luxury. The more money you spend on them and the more gifts you give them will easily add fuel to their affectionate engine and they will continue to rev it for you in order to get more and more of what you’re giving. They will think they have a big beautiful life ahead of them and thanks to Viagara they can also have a big beautiful cock to somehow light their fire, well, that is if they have a dark enough blind fold on and they dash enough ecstasy into their motor... (oh and they can pretend really really hard)

But after time, they realize that even though they have beautiful clothes, new cars, fresh manicures and big beautiful boobies, they may not want to waste it on a wrinkled old prune that wears a silk bathrobe to disguise his flat grandpa ass and only let’s you stay out til 10:00 on the weekdays. Not to mention those old movies he makes you watch every Sunday night that were made before you were born and you have to pretend to like them, and understand them...
They may not want to have to close their eyes every time they suck the saggy boner-wanna-be noodle that’s bounced in and out of thousands of women for the passed 80 years, trying to pretend it still has some life left. Mr. Winkie is tired of getting up and you’re tired of going down. You can only be so superficial, and after all, you have probably faked more orgasms in your 25 years than someone should in an entire lifetime. So you wake up and move on. You still got what you came for and you’re leaving the old man to wallow in his pornographic empire while you walk away with jewels on your fingers, bells on your toes, and a craptastic load of fame to roll off into the sunset with.

Crystal Harris, you may not be as dumb as people thought. And Hef? Perhaps you need to realize you aren’t the pimp playboy you once were. Perhaps ask your secretary Mary on a date? You know she’s not out for your money, and I’m sure she’ll still let you buy her some boobies :)

My silly mistake of the day :)

So I did something silly today (actually, a tad dumb) and feel obligated to share the humor...

So as I’m leaving the shopping mall with my jolly little kid in the back seat chanting “I’m hung-wee, I’m hung-wee, I’m hung-wee” (translation: “I’m hungry”), I ask him what he wants. “I want a hang-a-ber, and french fries, and lots and lots of ice cream!” Typical response here.

Cruising along the road, I try to find the nearest drive-thru. I pull in and land in this long line while some lady in a mini-van takes like 10 minutes to place her order (she has the proud mom bumper stickers at all angles on the rear window...and you know there’s like 6 kids in the back). I’m thinking “Gaahh, can’t people just figure out what the hell they’re going to order ahead of time?!” Anyone who knows me, knows that I was born without patience. I FINALLY get up to the damn speaker and chant out as quickly as possible, proud that I know what the hell I want “I’ll have a kid’s cheeseburger meal with fries and sprite, a large fry with lots of mayo packets, and 2 small chocolate frostys with whip cream.” I got my money in hand because I’m all organized like that....Suddenly the girl says through the speaker, in the most duh-like tone eVer, “Umm, we don’t have any of those things. This is Taco John’s.” I can sense the cocky expression on her face.
I look up, and sure shit, I am at Taco John’s.

I thought I was at Wendy’s.

I simply reply “Ooopsy...I think I have the wrong place.” I drive 10 feet, hang a right and pull into the “correct” drive-thru for Wendy’s.

Lesson learned: Think before you speak, don’t judge others because nobody is perfect, and perhaps a little patience wouldn’t kill me.

So that was my dumb moment of the day! I think I even blushed a little, so obviously I had to get a LARGE frosty after that ordeal.