You Know You Need A Woman When : Part Three

I apologize for tonight’s post being so late. Largely due to the fact, that I had to stuff my face. Mind you, I did not do any of the cooking. Unless of course you count pre-heating an oven, which incidentally I am fairly certain I still failed to do correctly. In all fairness however, our oven has issues. Bad wiring or some such I’m sure. None the less, the pizza was still a success. Despite being premature by three or four minutes. And the fact that I didn’t actually put it together. Anyway…

Tonight’s “You Know You Need A Woman When” has to do with style. Fashion. Or whatever you need call it…

  • You can never have enough t-shirts.
  • T-shirts are not limited to the function of under-garments.
  • Socks are worn inside of shoes. Hence, they needn’t match.
  • It should be punishable by law to have socks with holes in them. They are not stylish nor functional anymore.
  • People rarely look at my feet. Thus only a few pair are “needed”.
    • Casual
    • Formal
    • Sports
  • Keeping in mind, if the shoes you wear day to day, double or triple in purpose, superfluous shoes may be discarded.
  • Long sleeves are to be worn rolled back to the elbow.
  • The purpose of long sleeved shirts were to bunch when worn with a jacket. This encouraged consumers to buy larger more expensive jackets (it’s a trap!).
  • Pants follow the same guidelines as shoes.
  • Pants were also made to be worn several days in a row to maximize comfort. By several days, I mean weeks (see previous post about laundry)
  • Your belt should match your shoes. I’m not a heathen.
  • Ties were originally invented in medieval times, and were devices of torture not fashion.
  • The purpose of the tie, has not changed at any point since created.
  • Collars on shirts are to be worn in the down position.
  • Hats are encouraged, and are the only piece of clothing you cannot have too many of.
  • If you have glasses. They should have lenses in them.
  • If you wear glasses without lenses in them, you should stop.
  • No one has glasses size envy. If you do. You probably are part of the previous group, and should behave accordingly.
  • “Dressing down” is agreeable, and let’s face it, its whats underneath that matters.
  • “Dressing up” should be directly proportionate to the situation and necessity. You cannot spell “fun” with the letters from “dress up”.
  • Clothing should also be bought out of necessity.
  • Purchasing clothing with holes already in them (see glasses without lenses).
  • Jeans and a t-shirt has worked for me for at least fifteen years and I know nothing about fashion or style. And that’s okay.
  • If your girlfriend tries to dress you. Let her. She might not know what looks good. But she likes the way it not looking good, looks on you.
  • If your parents try to dress you…Chances are you’re not old enough to vote, and should let it happen. Free clothing is nice.
  • If you can’t dress yourself, that’s fine too. Just remember, clothing should be optional…but isn’t.

I never have found fashion nor style to be important in a relationship. And as far as I’m concerned, my girlfriend always looks gorgeous. Always deserves to be admired, desired, appreciated, and reminded everyday.

I also fully accept the fact that she soon will be choosing my clothing, and if luck will have it, will be dressing me when I am old, feeble, and have as much fashion sense as I do now. And I am lucky that she accepts that I am a mess.

You Know You Need A Woman When : Part Two

I am going to begin this post with a thought about grocery store pre-cooked “Turkey Breast”.

Don’t do it!

Now that I have quite possibly spared your life, or at the very least your internal bodily functions…I’m going to go ahead and spare you the usual ranting, and dive right into today’s “You Know You Need A Woman When”.

Tonight, I write about consumption.

  • I did it. I ate it. All of it.
  • I am a human garbage machine. I can eat anything.
  • I not only can, but do eat everything. And anything.
  • While you’re away, I will make questionable decisions regarding my diet.
  • Food that comes from boxes, bags, or plastic containers, will not be discriminated against.
  • Expiration dates are more like…guidelines.
  • Food and beverage items of question are subject to the same rigorous testing methods, and follow the same guidelines as laundry.
  • A “meal” can be composed of what typically might be considered an ingredient or side-dish.
  • If I don’t know how to cook it. It’s still fair game to eat.
  • There is food in beer, but not beer in food.
  • I make a mean breakfast, which can and will be encouraged as an option at times other than breakfast.
  • Leftovers as a whole are better served and eaten cold.
  • Yes I will have more. Always.
  • My self-control is limited to letting you have the last bite (should I feel generous…or want something in return).
  • I reserve the right to not share, trade, or substitute.
  • There are no hours at which eating is not an option. Regardless of the pain and suffering that most likely will follow.
  • I am an indiscriminate food lover and appreciator. Everything has it’s time and place.

I am what I eat. Never truer words spoken. Take me or leave me. Just a few more things to love about me, that you might not have already known.

Tune in tomorrow for another set of “You Know You Need A Woman When”!

A Weeks Worth of Whens

I have been left all by my lonesome…for a week. Though reluctant to leave me behind, my girlfriend has traveled far and wide to be with her family this coming holiday. As I have obligations to work, I could not join her, nor my own family for this week, and thus I am left to my own devices. To fend for myself. Alone. In this darkest place where despair lurks, and the sadness of a million lifetimes creeps eerily toward me and..and..and…well…okay. It’s one week.

I can do this!

I remember those years twixt eighteen and twenty-eight when there was no hope. No future. Only suffering, and pain. A place where…the darkness consumed me. The demons provoked me. Where the mailman gave me dirty looks, and my meals of microwaved dinners were always missing the dessert…

But I survived. I made it…And I can do it again. I guess. If I have to. I just..don’t know if I can..take another day..without…If only I knew the answers…to these…questions echoing in my relentless mind, driving me to…madness. One Step Beyond! (I’ll draw you a tragically lovely picture if you get the obviously unrelated reference I’ve just made)

At some point…We have to live with ourselves. And accept it (a tall order for most). One of the best ways we can do such, is learning to laugh at ourselves. So for the week my dear love is gone…I present you with :

“You Know You Need A Woman When…”

A daily collection of the things…That I have come to realize I do. And what she will have to live with and consider…for many years to come. Whenever she leaves home without me. Today’s theme is…Laundry.

You Know You Need A Woman When…

  • Laundry day! Is acceptable as a calendar event, and equally as singular as a holiday.
  • Sorting clothes into “whites” and “darks” is punishable and frowned upon.
  • Clothing does not have a black and white definition of cleanliness. But many subtle shades of grey.
  • Smell, not sight, is the determining factor of the aforementioned.
  • Matching socks does not necessarily mean both socks belong to me.
  • All of my clothes can fit into an economy washing machine.
  • Garments will be discarded and disposed of at my discretion. I will notice if they are missing.
  • If my clothes can stand on their own. I have conditioned them that way, and they must be applauded.
  • If I must conduct Laundry Day! by myself, and the clothing is not only mine, but yours as well…I will not be held responsible for shrinkage, discoloration, stains, or stress from conforming to someone else’s body.
  • I will actually be responsible for all but one of the previous occurrences in the above entry.
  • Any mysterious stains, tears, or “marks” will not be questioned.
  • Folding clothing is an art form and encouraged. Wrinkles are not allowed nor welcome.

Check back tomorrow for another list of things that make me especially “special” (at least my momma loves me)!

My Life in a Box

“You know, there’s a lot of pressure to writing these things. Initially, I wrote something I thought women would want to read. Then I decided, I should really write something heartfelt and thoughtful. Now I’m thinking, I should really just write what comes to mind in the order it comes, and hope the person reading it can decipher, or at least make some kind of sense out of it. So here goes nothing…

I make quick gut-based decisions. Make a fool of myself frequently. Talk first, think later. Find trouble. Make trouble but generally only for myself. I’m rambunctious, outspoken, and infectiously energetic. Quick witted, often throwing the the first verbal punch in hopes someone will challenge me and return it. People tend to gravitate toward my energy, whether its from making a scene, or genuinely hoping they’ve found someone unafraid of putting themselves out there so they can too.

Life to me, has always been about finding extremes, and then balancing them out. I work hard to support my love of the arts, and hopefully in time will transition into a full time illustrator. I love to meet new people, as well as am comfortable being a homebody, but ultimately know life is better shared with someone. And that’s what I’m here for. I’m always looking to make new friends, but in the search for something long lasting.

That being said, don’t waste my time if you don’t intend on pursuing a relationship be it friends or dating. I value my time, and that of people I care for. I am more than willing to go out of my way for a good friend, so I don’t appreciate people who can’t at the very least be courteous and respectful in return.”

The problem with writing about yourself, is that the idea of oneself versus the idea someone else has about you, is entirely different. Every. Single. Time. Everything is relative. As such the case, we’re forced to generalize, and depreciate the many quirks, obsessions, and eccentricities that make us…human.

 

Then the Aftermath

Then the aftermath. Johnny becomes a meathead, knocks up a teacher, and not coincidentally fails to pass Algebra…for the second time. Susie starts to sound a little too like Miley Cyrus, crying out she’s misunderstood, gets hooked on methamphetamines she learned about in an extra credit assignment and spends her junior year…exercising demons. In which capacity, no one is really sure. And let’s not forget the doting trophy wife with her tragic story. Luckily she was able to move on, after practicing a few self-esteem boosting exercises or “procedures” as they’re more commonly known. Her psychiatrist recommends getting out more, enjoying the fresh air, absorbing copious amounts of Vitamin D from the sun. All the more reason to purchase a convertible. I mean, it was doctor prescribed and everything. Even though she may have taken a liberty with his exact words.

But I digress… If you’re looking for the fantasy, there’s other ways of obtaining it for free. And the mess is only in your hands.

The World of Internet Dating

I fantasize from time to time. You know…about who could be out there. She could be smart…and funny. I dare ask good looking. And even now I laugh at the thought of it. That woman…she’s married, with kids, the husband, the dog and the shiny new house on the corner of Whippoorwill drive. Secretly I suspect, she is involved in some kind of covenant. Sacrificing stray cats that roam the otherwise perfect Leave it to Beaver neighborhood (they win the community-to-live-in awards every year). Empowering and encouraging her husband to work endless hours, always reminding him to make sure the family is taken care of… in his insurance forms. She’s responsible like that. And it’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going on… There are plenty of examples of creatures in this world that are willingly devoured by their mate. In the animal kingdom too. Who needs that kind of stress?

The Introduction

Well go figure. Who knew, that this of all things would tip the scale from hot…to not. You walk into this scenario thinking of all the possible outcomes, standfast to err on the side of caution, preparing for the worst. One must remember this is a war zone. This is not a date. It’s not personal, it’s business. Take it to the mattresses.

The worst mistake you can make is romanticizing the idea of unknown star-crossed lovers of whom’s fate has been thrust ever together through…the internet. Which incidentally is where I found this…woman. Moreover, if I had actually taken the time to read the profile, it would have told me, it’s not that we’re incompatible, she just doesn’t like The Godfather. The word “picky” may come to mind for some of you readers, but let’s face it.

Internet dating is about as humane as having a smorgasbord of your favorite food, each laced with varying levels of toxin, being told you can have as much or as little as you want, but there’s only one that won’t make you sick. And I’m hypoglycemic.