Oh yeah, she said it! This week, women were tweeting about soccer, mermaids and female friendships.
What do you get the person who already has everything?
We’re talking hospital visits, broken bones and a whole lotta vom.
Please stop spraying me with your bacteria.
Like, how to fake your own death.
Gouging my eyes out with ice picks is more appealing than another minute of this Powerpoint.
ALL BOW DOWN TO THE CHOCOLATEY GOODNESS.
Everyone needs to take a break from the election
Imitation is the finest form of flattery.
“If people make you laugh, you like them, even if they’re being fairly awful!”
It’s never as good as you dreamed it’d be.
For the last time, there’s no more out back.
Is penis size a myth? Hmm, it depends which side of the equation you sit on this. Some say yes it is a myth and others say absolutely not! Penis size does matter, in fact it matters a heck of a lot.
I’d like to say for argument sake and to make men out there feel better by saying that penis size is a big fat urban myth. Just because a man is well endowed it doesn’t automatically qualify said man as being an incredible lover. I know some women out there will be jumping up and down right now, but wait ladies. If you think I’m wrong let me take you for a bit of a journey and provide some proof. Yes there is actual proof!
Being a tremendous lover is like any other skill that’s acquired. It’s not something men put on their resume or display on their LinkedIn account for all the world to see, but we can agree it’s a skill nonetheless. Tradies also have skills, yeah?
Now, when women hire tradies to fix their cars or something around their homes, they don’t base their selection on the size of the tradies tools now do they? Do they choose a mechanic by the size of the money wrench? Carpenter by the size of the hammer or plumber by the size of a plunger? No they don’t. How bloody bizarre would that be?
Instead they might chat to a few, get a couple of quotes and base their decision on the best quote or the tradie they feel most confident with. See where I’m heading with this? Tool size and skill have no connection people. None. Unless a tradie skillfully knows how to operate their tools, they won’t get the job done properly at all. A man with a hammer does not a carpenter make. Understand?
Now if penis size was a defining factor to get women off why are there vibrators the size of an index finger? Also, why is this size one of the best selling vibrators and why do manufactorors continue to come up with more colours, designs and so forth? Plus, why wouldn’t the sex toy industry just make all vibrators and dildos the size of a well endowed man or larger, if all that mattered was penis size? Why?
Well I’ll tell you why. Size does not matter. Simple. Plus how on earth would a woman manage to keep a vibrator hidden in her handbag if they were all made based on the myth that bigger is better?
Image for a second a woman rummaging through her handbag as most women are known to do. She’s right in the middle of her favorite busy cafe about to pay for her morning latte. As she’s pulling out her purse out flies one of those extra large vibrators with a strong resemblance to a gigantic penis. OMG can you imagine! Is bigger better now ladies?
These women know that a small discrete bullet sized vibrator will do the job. Plus if the above fore-mentioned scenario did happen most people would think she’s just dropped her lipstick, not her favorite sex toy. She can calmly pick it up, pop it back in her handbag and no-one would be the wiser. I don’t think she could do that with something bigger, do you?
It’s what’s attached that counts
Most women would have to agree that what’s attached to the penis far outweighs penis size. If penis size was the only thing that mattered men wouldn’t be covering up. They’d be heading to the nearest plastic surgeon, getting massive implants and parading around their most prized possession.
Much like those women with ridiculously large boob jobs who are known to parade around rich old men like Geoffrey Edelsten, for them to make their breast selection. Oh sorry their wife selection. Clearly these men believe the bigger the better. Hmm, I wonder if that applies to them? OMG what am I saying? Sorry I really don’t wonder. Particularly in these cases I’m very glad men aren’t parading around, penis out!
Lastly, I’m pulling out the big guns and offering scientific proof! If women preferred well endowed men why are there so many men walking around with small penises? Wouldn’t the evolutionary process of natural selection have snuffed them out by now? Think about that one.
Images: huffingtonpost.com, groupon.ca, reddit.com, pintrest.com
Ever had the break-up blues? You might wonder why on earth we’d make light of that but, when you think about it, it really is one of life’s most pathetic moments. It’s not a memory you want to savour, take photos and stick up on your Facebook page, now is it?
Then again some people put everything on social media. He’s dumped me. I’m crying. I’m listening to sad songs and crying. Oh, the pain! Seriously, no one wants to see that crap. Imagine your next job interview? They do ask for your social media links, these days. You didn’t know that? Well, you do now!
Having seen your last 50 Facebook statuses or hearing it via the gossip vine, friends and family may try to console and comfort you. What’s with that? You are miserable. It’s no secret. You certainly won’t be the best company. Why would anyone in their right mind want to spend time with someone who is miserable?
Bottom line: It makes them uncomfortable. They need you to feel good, so they can feel good. Basic social psychology, folks. You thought it was your selfish stage to mourn and grieve, right? No. It’s your friends and relatives selfish stage. They have the best of intentions, but they are usually blissfully unaware of what they are doing or why.
That won’t last long though. Miserable people repel others. You’ve been whinging, whining and totally obsessed with your broken heart and your ex. Ever time they try to change the subject, because you’ve driven them crazy, you change it right back. They need to get as far away from you as possible. NOW – before they crack!
This is when you’ve learned break-ups are best handled alone. You can begin to grieve without distraction. Instead of hiding tears when your friends suggest watching a comedy and something reminds you of your ex, you can ball your damn eyes out. You can avoid showering, eating right, maybe drink too much, avoid sunlight, ditch work, and generally make a complete and utter mess of yourself. Now, this here is your selfish stage!
Maybe this is what your well meaning friends and relies were trying to save you from. Yeah? No. Be 100 per cent, research assured, it was their needs they were tying to meet, but weren’t they useful while they were doing it? At least you didn’t smell bad.
This period of chaos only ceases when you’ve hit rock bottom and you are faced with two very distinct options. The first is to pick yourself up, right here and now and get on with living.
Then there’s option two. Your job will go if you neglect going to work, that’s a given. Then, you’ll have no money. Makes sense doesn’t it? Homelessness will then become a very real probability. That is, unless you can manage to convince one of those well meaning friends or relies to take you in so you can “lounge surf” until you’re ok.
The only thing is the stress of having no fixed address, no job, no money and, of course, no partner will be considered stressors, in psych terms, and provide ideal conditions to bring on an episode of mental illness. What? You don’t think this happens? You clearly haven’t spoken to any homeless men!
Yes, folks. This is the grim reality of the break up blues. Next time those “helpful” friends and relies come to the rescue; think back to option number two. Welcome them in. Thank all that is good and holy that they are selfish enough to want to come and save you!
Image via pad3.whstatic.com
The dreaded walk of shame. This person has just snuck out of someone’s home, at 6 am, riddled with self doubt, confusion; possibly a snippet of self loathing. They have a chronic hangover and have little recollection of the previous night. All they know is, when they awoke, they felt a sickening shock at realising they weren’t alone. Who the hell is that? Where did they meet? OMG, what’s their name?
Their only tangible thought is to get the hell out of wherever they are right that second. They would make a dash for the door if they weren’t completely naked. There’s a high possibility they’re about to take an underwear-free walk. What they really need is their phone. Like many humans, life without their phone is an existence just not worth considering.
There’s no way they want to interact with this nameless stranger. Maybe if they leave quick enough, the stranger won’t even recall they were there. Yes, sounds like a plan. They begin creeping around the house, trying to be as quite as taking a poop in a public toilet; but, of course, the quieter they try to be, the louder they are and cringe each time they make a sound.
Heading back to the bedroom, they discover both of their phones sticking out from under the stranger’s pillow. WTF? Oh, no. Is there a recording of this experience? Instantaneously, a whole new level of shame is realised. Contemplating how to retain their dignity, they stand over the stranger and gently attempt to pry the phones from under the pillow. Bit by bit, they get closer to their claim and, after a good five minutes, they finally have both. Phew!
Walking into another room, attempting the password on the stranger’s phone, they think to themselves ‘this could take forever’. Should they steal the stranger’s phone, just in case? Maybe they could take it, have it wiped it clean and mail it back. Oh decisions, decisions!
Determined to sustain at least some level of their previous self respect, they decide to leave the phone and make the getaway. Hopefully, there’s another reason why the phones were under the pillow.
Semi-dressed, they make their way to the door. As anticipated, it will be an underwear-free walk. Opening the door as quietly as possible, they step out and just as they begin to close it gently behind them, a gust of wind comes past and slams it shut, like a nail being belted into a coffin. BANG! Run is their first instinctive thought.
So, rapidly, the underwear-free walk of shame becomes a sprint, which carries on for a block. By then they are totally spent because of all the alcohol they consumed the night before. Additionally, they receive a text. It’s 6 am, who’s texting at this time of the morning? This can’t be good.
Looking down at the name of the sender, they think for themselves ‘I don’t know anyone named…’ Oh, yes, they do. Yep, just as they suspected, it’s not good. That’s why the phones were under the pillow. They’d swapped numbers. The now-named stranger sent a text: “You left your keys”.
Image via http://www.writtalin.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/one_night_stand.jpg
To get 5 minutes to herself, the modern day woman gets up at 5.30am. She just wants to sip that first cup of coffee, before the rest of the household wakes up. At 5.35, bubs starts crying, so yep; 5 minutes of peace is literally 5 minutes of peace.
She does the whole 5.30am mum routine; feeding, changing and expressing for the rest of the day. Heaven forbid, she could have her baby on formula to make life easier. By then, an hour has passed and it’s time to wake the rest of the family.
After entering each bedroom, at least a dozen times, it’s around 7.30. In the meantime, she’s managed to prepare lunches and has breakfast under-way. Hubby strolls in, yawning and looking for his freshly made coffee. The kids are yelling and arguing in the hallway and finally make it to the table. At least they’ve managed to get half dressed for school. Now, it’s mum’s turn for a shower and get ready for “work”. Mind you, what the heck has she been doing since 5.30. It doesn’t sound like play, so it must be… Work! Not that anyone actually notices.
After her 2-minute shower, in which she washed her hair and entire body, shaved her underarms and legs and brushed her teeth; she takes another 2 minutes to get dressed and ready. Thank goodness, she went for that no-fuss hair do. She piles the kids and their gear into the car, including bubs, who has the latest in confusing car seats.
She drops the kids to school and bubs at daycare. As she turns the corner, there’s that familiar early morning workers traffic, and that’s where she does her makeup. The modern day woman has amazing multitasking skills. After taking half an hour to move 5 blocks, she reaches her workplace.
She works through lunch and opts for an extra cup of coffee instead. By 3pm, her day isn’t anywhere near done and she’s exhausted. She struggles through another couple of hours and knocks off at 5pm; only to hit the workers traffic as she drives back to the daycare. When she gets there, she’s informed bubs has been asleep since after lunch and they didn’t want to wake her. Oh joy. That’s totally worth the $150 a day, she’s paying in childcare fees! She picks up bubs and she opens her eyes like it’s 5.35am and ready for a new day.
Next stop is after-school care, where her other kids are waiting impatiently. Once again, they are the last to be picked up. The staff gives the modern day woman an unpleasant glare and she piles her crew in the car once again. As the kids bicker on the way home, hubby, who is already there, texts the eldest child that there is no milk or bread left. Of course there isn’t, she thinks to herself. So, she makes a detour to the supermarket, with the 2.4 kids she has with her and manages to snag a check out which doesn’t cost her an extra $20 in treats.
When they get home, they pile into the house and the modern day woman is carrying bubs, the shopping, school bags and her oversized handbag. Luckily, she has developed the upper body strength of an Olympic ultra-heavyweight lifter. She spots hubby sitting on the lounge, feet up, watching TV. How nice for him, she thinks to herself sarcastically. He couldn’t have ducked out and bought the milk and bread from the supermarket? She gives him a quick peck on the cheek, whilst hiding her disapproval and puts bubs on his lap, so she can head to the kitchen.
After chopping up 10 different types of veggies, because she needs to keep her family healthy, dinner is made. Luckily, hubby knows how to load the dishwasher and do a half-arsed kitchen clean-up. She runs a bath for bubs, who seems to have gained even more energy and she splashes water over most of the bathroom. The kids are next. They complete bubs work, plus find several bottles of shampoo and conditioner to make bubbles. Great. She makes a mental note to buy more on her imaginary shopping list.
When bedtime comes around, the kids get a story and bubs gives modern day woman grief. She tries the controlled crying thing, which lasts about 2 minutes. That’s when hubby finally steps in. Ahhh, relief! It seems though, that he may have an ulterior motive. As modern day woman finally crawls into bed at 11pm, hubby wants to play. Seriously! She gives him 2 minutes of pleasure and he rolls over and starts snoring.
Finally, she thinks. She shuts her eyes and before she knows it, the alarm is going off and it’s 5.30am the next day. At least bubs slept through the night. She sneaks downstairs for her first cup of coffee and her literal 5 minutes of peace.
Image via cfile29.uf.tistory.com/image/155E274A4E5E9D281C65A9
Life is full of those moments that make you cringe. Here’s a one of those “oh heck no” situations, which some of us have experienced along this magical journey we call life!
Online shopping is a marvellous invention, isn’t it? You can shop from the comfort of literally anywhere with your smartphone, tablet or laptop. I recently had an online shopping experience, I’d love to share with you.
It started when I got a re-gifted, store gift voucher, from the sister-in-law. Mmm, I thought, gotta remember that one, when her birthday comes around. So, I jump online in my pj’s, ready for a bit or R&R retail-style. I only have 3 months to use it, so may as well use it now.
I head to the ladies clothing section, select my size and start browsing. Low and behold, it’s a one day sale. Great, I think. I can get more for my money. The only thing is I’m totally naive; everyone else must be thinking the exact same thing. Being pretty new to online shopping, I take my time. It’s the weekend, there’s no rush.
Over the course of an hour, I check the cart and I’ve piled in 3 times as many items as I could actually afford. Hmmm, time to downsize. I notice that the items I initially selected display “out of stock”. Oh buggar! That was the stuff I really wanted. So, I try to get them in a different size or, better still, quickly steal the items from others. Certain that they too have piled in more items than they want to purchase and are going to steadily put them back. That’s exactly what happens, but that takes another hour. I remind you this was supposed to be a relaxing exercise. I felt like I was amidst the Boxing Day sales!
By the time I’m ready to check out it’s two hours later. I have everything I chose initially in the correct size. I’m a persistent women (for want of another word) and never give up! Three hours of pure relaxation – NOT! Of course, once I’m at the checkout, I don’t have an account, so I sign up. I’ve forgotten my store rewards card password and wait another 10 minutes for an email to arrive.
Ok, I’m reaching the finish line. My items should be here in a few days. I’ve filled out all the requirements and get right down to the bottom of the page. “Store gift cards are ineligible to be used for online purchases.” WTF! You’d think that would be one of the first things which should flash up on the screen, not something you read, right as you reach the very last step.
Totally piqued, I replace the re-gifted card back into my purse and shut down my laptop in disgust. No wonder my sister-in-law had taken so long to use it and finally passed it my way! The nearest store being a short two-hour drive away; I’m sure I’ll get there within the next 3 months. Just in time for the damn Christmas rush. Realising I’ve just wasted 3 hours of my precious life, I think to myself, “oh well, at least it’s given me some ideas for my next article!”