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I have a huge and life effecting announcement to make today. My better-half has renewed her gym membership and is again on the road to physical improvement. Poor Planet Fitness may never be the same again. I especially love her analysis of their programs when she returns home after each visit. Her fashion review and critique of all the new outfits being worn by her peers is always soooooo exciting.
I’ve noticed over the years that we humans are a strange and peculiar bunch. Not only do we need to have a modicum of physical exercise to stay healthy but we’ve got to look good doing it. You see it in the groups of early morning mall walkers. Huge numbers of senior, prego’s, and misfits arrive at the mall in their power walking uniforms. They’ve created their own little subculture of weirdly dressed individuals marching in unison around malls all across the country. Most seem more interested in the socializing aspect than the walking.
The same phenomenon is happening in gyms around the country. Cutesy little outfits being worn by what for the most part are folks with issues of weight and bad taste. I decided long ago that to do Pilates properly I’d need to spend a few hundred dollars on wildly colored outfits and OMG, special exercising sneakers, just to fit in. Why is it that we need a uniform for any and all activities we participate in. It’s imperative that we look better than all of the other masochists because weight loss all of a sudden becomes the secondary goal.
Our society has slowly but surely become infatuated with weight loss, exercising, and various forms of meditation techniques. I agree that something is necessary to fight this epidemic of obesity but we’re bombarded with a constant stream of programs like the Biggest Loser along with dozens of early morning hour long commercials for exercise techniques like Zumba and Insanity. It really is insane.
I recently considered giving Yoga a try but after pricing a new outfit, new sneakers, and a rather expensive Yoga mat, I had to let it go. Not only was I expected to deal with pulled muscles and many stiff and sore body parts but I had to invest a substantial sum to do it. I was forced by circumstance to develop my own meditation technique which I’ll explain in detail momentarily.
My technique is simple to do and requires much less actual physical activity. You won’t need any special equipment of any kind and if done properly you’ll have no additional costs. It can be done in any living room or bedroom in less that a half hour and clothing is optional. Let me take you through the process.
Step 1
Remove as much clothing as you’re comfortable with and stand in the middle of the room. Close your eyes and stand erect thinking only of your "happy place". Once you’ve arrived there you can begin to breath deeply and slowly.
Step 2
Take any old blanket or afghan and lay it across the divan, sofa, bed, or floor where you’ll be most comfortable. All the while maintaining your trance-like state in your "happy place".
Step 3
Assume a prone position on that covering with your legs straight out and your arms at your side. Very quietly hum to yourself the song "Desperado".
Step 4
Maintaining your trance-like state is crucial at this point. Slowly take an alarm clock and set the alarm for twenty minutes and set it aside.
Step 5
Very slowly pull a second cover over yourself. Breath deeply and slowly for 1 minute and then TAKE A FREAKING NAP.
Follow the instructions closely and complete them at least four times a week. I guarantee you’ll feel better about yourself and others almost immediately. You can also play background music of your choice but not very loudly.
I explained my meditation system to my better-half but she was no help. She thought it was stupid and ridiculed me a little longer than I thought was necessary. She stated emphatically that having sex until you drop was a much better way to go than my plan.
We agreed to disagree.
I’ve arrived at this point in my life where TV is becoming more of an irritant than entertainment. Between the endless commercials, drug ads, biased politicians, and government propaganda, I’m reading to scream. Recently I listened to three of those infamous talking heads on the tube telling me that video gaming is responsible for all the ills of the world. As Don Imus would say, “that’s a pant load”.
In past years I’ve posted long lists of things I love and things I hate. They’re always fun to do and also a great mental exercise. I find that as I’ve aged my mind is slowly folding in on itself and beginning to stagnate. Old memories can easily take over and consume my thoughts which while fun at times is ultimately destructive. Keeping mentally alert and mentally active is the secret to living a longer life that is actually worth living.
These last few years convinced me of those facts as I watched my mother and aunt slowly fade away and die. My mother lasted a bit longer mentally than her sister but died sooner. My aunt was suffering from an affliction which may have been Alzheimer’s where she mentally faded away quickly but her body just kept on going. I realize that there are some things we can’t combat and I am realistic enough to accept that and move on. I also believe there are things we can do to fight off the effects of mental aging with a regimen of mental and physical exercises. It will help greatly to keep you mentally in the present for a much longer period of time.
I’ve been a game player, both computer and other types, for all of my life. With the advent of video games and HD I was in heaven. I know there are a lot of people in this country and elsewhere who would like nothing better than to control gaming and through the games control us. I’ve never believed that violent games lead to violent behavior. It’s easy to do the math and realize that millions of people play these games everyday but aren’t the least bit violent. Unfortunately there are unstable people in this world who choose to do violence to others. It’s not the games or guns that are the problem but mental instability. Take all of the guns away then they’ll try and kill people with whatever else is at hand.
I’m getting off message here a bit and ranting about gun control is not what I’m posting about. Video games provide me with improved hand-eye coordination, problem solving capabilities, and the ability to focus that if not maintained can fade with age.
I get strange looks from people my own age when I excitedly tell them of a new video game I’m involved with. I get those looks that say, “grow up, that stuff is for kids not someone your age”. It’s that kind of backward thinking that tends to piss me off and makes me a little crazy. Maintaining a full physical program in a gym is fine for some people but not to everyone. As you age your body isn’t always able to perform like it did when you were twenty, no matter how hard you try to push it. I’ve resigned myself to doing as much physical training as I’m able but even more important to me is exercising my mind.
To those folks out there who insist they have all the answers I can only say this. You don’t! We each grow up, age, and die at our own pace so just stay out of my life and let me handle it. I never thought I would get to be this age and would have so many know-it-all politicians and religious groups interested in baby-sitting me and second guessing my every move. I guess it will finally stop when someone slams my coffin lid shut. Here are my words of wisdom for today and I’m sure they would certainly help our country return to it’s former greatness.
STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS
Forgive the profanity but there are times when something this important can only be expressed bluntly.
Don’t you just love the month of February? We get to celebrate Ground Hog Day, Lincoln’s Birthday, Valentines Day, and of course this year, Super Bowl Sunday. I wish I had all of the money spent preparing for and the celebration of a stupid football game. Do I sound like a sports hater? I’m not exactly sure but I think I just may be one.
I played a great deal of sports in my life and thoroughly enjoyed all of those activities. I had a great deal of success in my endeavors with Little League Baseball, Pony League Baseball, High School Baseball, Basketball and Football, American Legion Baseball, Semi-Pro Baseball, Racquetball, Bowling, and others I’ve probably forgotten. I’m not bragging but trying to show many of the reasons why I should be a screaming and hollering fanatic for all sports. Why is it that that watching sports except for possibly Little League Baseball is like getting my teeth drilled without Novocain.
As a younger man I often got caught up in following the Pittsburgh Pirates and Steelers and considered myself a loyal fan. That being said, I hate watching their games even when they’re winning. I’ve never been able to admit my dislike of watching sports because my father would have disowned me. He was an avid fan of most sports and was quite the accomplished athlete in his own right.
So why? I’ve only mentioned football because of all the Super Bowl hoop-la over the last week or so. My better-half who in truth is a fan, a fan of the parties and get-togethers, and interaction with her friends but only a so-so fan of the sport. I think the great majority of fans are just like her.
I’m reminded of our addiction as a society to sports every time I watch an episode of Spartacus. I suppose the human race has advanced from the Roman’s version of the Super Bowl held at the Coliseum where gladiators killed Christians, animals, and themselves in great numbers. With crowds of thousands cheering, betting, and orgying their hearts out. They called it then “bread and circuses” which allowed the political caste to maintain control over the great unwashed.
Do you see any similarities? These days we make it possible for our gladiators, the biggest and strongest of us, to be paid great sums of money to punish themselves and many times damage themselves critically. The money and glory, as in Rome, were all that ever mattered. Does that ring a bell for you? It not such an honorable profession when you see a super successful man like Mike Webster, formerly of the four time Super Bowl winning Steelers, suffering from amnesia, dementia, depression, and acute bone and muscle pain after his retirement. He lived out of his pickup truck or in train stations for years between Wisconsin and Pittsburgh. Webster’s wife finally divorced him six months before his death in 2002. He was only 50 years old.
Of course, Webster was responsible for his own decisions but in my opinion the system was responsible for the pressures of money, fame, performance enhancers, and steroid use that ultimately destroyed him. Unfortunately he’s not alone.
Maybe that’s what makes celebrating these sports so difficult for me.
And a big Happy Groundhog Day to you all. I almost decided to wear my full body gopher costume for the day but my better-half put her foot down. She refused to allow me to leave the house dressed like that. She told me in no uncertain terms that I’d just have to be happy with what I wrote yesterday. She can be such a buzz kill at times.
So instead I resumed my remodeling project and worked at it for most of the day. All of the electrical has been rerouted, installed and working as expected. The insulation has been replaced with care and repaired in certain spots as well. The new vapor barrier has been installed and finally allows me to get on with the reframing of the closet and the new opening into my bedroom. I’m still on schedule with final completion slated for sometime in late April.
My Harry Potter obsession seems to be winding down. In the the last two months I’ve read all of the books and seen all of the movies and it’s been a great undertaking. All that remains now is the two X-box LEGO Harry Potter games which are sure to be difficult and time consuming. I’ll probably be working on those two games well into the Fall but as with all obsessions I can’t wait to get started.
I surprised my better-half this afternoon with a Ground Hog Day night on the town in Portland. There’s nothing less exciting than a night on the town on a cold February night in Portland, ME. Luck was with us when surprise, surprise we found a decent parking spot almost immediately. Anyone who lives here knows what a miracle that was. We made our way down Commercial street to the Dry Dock bar, tavern, and meeting place for all those people terribly bored with the winter weather. The second surprise was an extremely nice and competent waitress which doesn’t happen all that often either. Surprise number three, the food. Without question this was the best little meal I can ever remember having. It was three plates of appetizers with each one more delicious than the last. Pork Wings followed by Crab Rangoon followed by hot and spicy Chicken Wings. Add to that a decent glass of Cabernet for me and a Shipyard beer for the better-half and you’ve got a great night going on. The place was an old building with the classic store front windows where you can sit and watch the world go by. You can bet we’ll be returning here often.
We returned home for some quiet time and if my luck holds I’ll be chasing my better-half around the house until she lets me catch her. As always it’s all about the chase.
Have a great weekend chasing whoever it is you chase.
Are you ready for the big celebration to begin? It’s Ground Hog Day eve. As I’ve mentioned many times before I was born and raised in western Pennsylvania from good sound German stock on my mother’s side of the family. February 2 was always celebrated and remains a well known and enjoyed holiday for us. I never bothered to search out the origins of the holiday because to me it didn’t really matter. So I found this little tidbit of information which is a little interesting and might tell you something you didn’t already know.
The celebration, which began as a Pennsylvania German custom in southeastern and central Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th centuries, has its origins in ancient European weather lore, wherein a badger or sacred bear is the prognosticator as opposed to a groundhog. It also bears similarities to the Pagan festival of Imbolc, the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, which is celebrated on February 1 and also involves weather prognostication and to St. Swithun’s Day in July.
I’ve written about my close association with Ground Hog Day a number of times in the past but it’s a fun story and bears repeating (in my humble opinion).
The holiday means only one thing in Pennsylvania and that is the appearance of our old friend ‘Punxatawney Phil’ on Gobbler’s Knob. He’s scheduled to show his furry little face on the second of February every year to let us know whether we’ll have six more weeks of winter.
To reminisce a bit, way too many years ago I was a rookie state police trooper in Pennsylvania. To a newbie that means getting stuck with every crappy police detail they can find for you. One of the crappier of those was being sent to Punxatawney to guard “Phil” and for crowd control in and around Gobbler’s Knob. I thought they were kidding me but they weren’t.
A few of us rookies were ordered to make the trek to Punxatawney, PA along with a veteran sergeant who must have lost the coin toss. We arrived in our cleanest and well pressed uniforms, met with all of the local politicians, and then were introduced to ‘Phil"’. He was cordial enough for a stupid gopher but we were well advised to keep our hands away from him. He was a touch cranky and known to nip off a finger or two if provoked.
Believe it or not the crowds were huge. I’ve never understood why every local politician from miles around flocks to that ceremony. I guess they’re just hoping to get some free TV face-time or maybe even an interview with some of the local media. I met some mayors, some councilmen, and a few political hacks which unfortunately weren’t even as interesting as meeting ‘Phil’.
The only good thing I experienced that day was a rather buxom news reporter from a nearby town who took an immediate liking to my manly stature and my pretty uniform. She was much less furry than ‘Phil’ which was a plus and she also paid for my dinner. She even convinced me that dating her was the right thing to do. So I did.
It’s sad to say but we all know any relationship built upon a Groundhog Day Ceremony was doomed from the start. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t care to drive to Punxatawney (a three hour round trip) every weekend. I finally explained to her that long distance relationships just never work out no matter what. It wasn’t her, it was me. I dragged out all of the old clichés I could remember and disappeared from her life.
They tried to send me on that detail the following year but I had a court appearance and was able to dodge that bullet. I wasn’t too concerned about meeting “Phil” again but that blond had me seriously concerned. Besides, do we really need a gopher to let us know we’re going to have six more weeks of winter. We really are stupid sometimes.
How many people do you know who seem to be constantly running here and there but accomplishing very little? They can’t slow themselves down so they eventually run out of energy and crash. It takes a while for them to recuperate but once they do, off they go again at full speed. During a normal conversation they constantly talk-over the person they’re speaking to and we all know how rude and annoying that can be.
I’m sympathetic to a point because many times they really can’t control themselves. If you know someone like that have them read the following few paragraphs. That might be difficult because many of these folks hate to read. They’ll read the first line of a paragraph and skip over the rest.
I was given this “Jar of Life” essay while in college from a stuffing know-it-all professor who apparently knew more than I thought.
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes".
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty spaces between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things — your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions — things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff." If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. "Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I’m glad you asked," he said "It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."
I’ve always loved this piece because it just makes good sense. Share it with your frenzied friends who may need your help in prioritizing their life. If you have to, read it to them.
Well, we’re into February which means our winter here in Maine is a little more than half over. Now for the bad news. I’ve started receiving tax documents from here, there, and everywhere and if I’m like everyone else in this country, I hate doing my taxes. It’s like stealing from your own bank accounts and then being forced to do the paperwork too. Not only do I think were being over-taxed, I think we’re getting close to that critical tipping point where we’re paying more in collective taxes (federal tax, local tax, surcharges, fee, and fines) than we’re allowed to keep.
My first big question for the Fed is how many dependents can I actually claim. For most of my life I could answer that question without giving it too much thought. Unfortunately those days are gone forever. I’d really like to know since the IRS isn’t too understanding about errors on their tax returns and they seem to get some perverse thrill out of kicking all of us little guys around. Years ago it was just me, my wife, and child, easy right? No more.
With the advent of the Obama Nation slowly taking control of almost every facet of our lives, what do I do? This comprehensive list of my dependents is my conundrum:
12 million illegal immigrants
3 million drug addicts
42 million people on food stamps
2 million people in over 243 prisons
535 persons in the U.S. House and Senate
1 Narcissistic President
I should be getting back a freaking boatload of money if my calculations are correct but I won’t hold my breath waiting for that to happen. C’mon Barack, just give me one penny for each person listed above and I’ll be able to buy an island and establish my own country. Then I could declare war on the US and immediately surrender when their troops arrive. The surrender would be conditional with the US required to pay war reparations and an annual check of foreign aid for the rest of my life. If they can keep me funded and happy I’ll be their most loyal ally. Free money, no taxes, and no politicians to bribe or coerce. It could be the new Garden of Eden without the stupid snake and the apple tree. See, I really do have a plan if those A-holes in Congress and the White House would just cooperate.
The Ides of April are fast approaching. I hope I can find an acceptable solution to my problem by then. Have a wonderful tax season this year because next year it will be much worse.
I’m starting this day at a definite disadvantage. My mind is fully occupied with what might have been the weirdest nights sleep I’ve ever had. Do you dream on a regular basis? Do you remember your dreams? I do. I’ve always looked forward to those nights where the dreams never stop coming and one weird thing after another keeps occurring.
I’ve spent a great deal of time over the years attempting to understand my dreams and even have gone so far as waking up in the middle of the night to write down specific things that I wanted to be sure to remember. They seem to fade so quickly once we awaken which always pisses me off a little. It’s amazing to me just how much information must be retained by our subconscious. It’s said we humans only use ten percent of our brains in a normal day but I disagree with that. We may only access ten percent of the brain but I think the remaining ninety percent is just a huge storage area for all of the things we’ve ever seen, heard or thought about. During dreams the subconscious accesses those memories in bizarre and strange ways and we’re allowed to see them as dreams. It’s like our own personal weird and screwy home theatre.
Last night I was in a place where fences were everywhere and access was only permitted by the proper authorities. I was keeping company with a young women who I recognized as Kathy, my very first girlfriend from fifty years ago and also my first memorable wet and sloppy French kiss. I have to say she was looking pretty good with long slinky hair (which she never had), a pair of extremely tight Capri pants (which she never wore), and a real “come and get me attitude” (which she did have). We were trying to get out of this fenced area in which we were imprisoned and we worked hard but made no headway. We wanted very much to make our escape and get to Creighton, PA. That’s a small, dirty and disgusting little town where my father worked for forty years. In real life I wouldn’t even want to drive through the place let alone take a girl there. Oh well, it’s my dream and I’ll figure it out someday, I hope.
This was unfortunately not a sex dream. I could use a few more of those, but I digress. Kathy and I, hand in hand, were climbing fences and running and hiding through most of this dream. At one point we ran into an odd assortment of people who were also looking for a way out. The leader of that group just happened to be my former high school Art teacher who for some reason had a full head of hair. I never knew him with hair but that’s beside the point I guess.
We found our way into an abandoned building located along a stretch of railroad tracks where we stopped to rest. We were milling around so I stepped to a window to look out at the railroad tracks. This is where the dream began to slowly become a nightmare. Just outside the window sitting on a folding chair was my ex-wife, knitting a sweater. Let me try and figure this out; my first girlfriend, my high school Art teacher, and my ex-wife. The dream appeared to be going south in a hurry.
We then arrived together in a large parking lot where dozens of weird little cars were parked in long straight rows. A booth was set up where a person could get a car if they had the proper paperwork and money. Just show the your papers (which I of course couldn’t find) and pay the fee (which I didn’t have). I reached into my pocket and found a small round gold object and handed it to the guy in the booth who just happened to be someone I roomed with in college. I never liked him all that much in real life and he was about to get even. He refused to give me a car.
Kathy stepped up, took the coin, and bribed the moron and was finally given a car. Apparently my gold coin was worth a lot more than I thought because she was given three boxes filled with smaller gold coins as change from the transaction. As we prepared to leave an obvious problem had to be dealt with first. There were at least six of us and three boxes of gold and those stupid little square shaped cars only held two people each. What to do?
It was at this point that I was angrily awakened by my distended bladder who was screaming for me to find a bathroom, not Creighton, PA. So I left Kathy and the others in the parking lot with that weird little car and all that gold and returned to reality.
How can my day not get better than that?
Mother Nature just can’t or won’t leave us alone. The early part of today was clear and really cold but livable. I was able to have a few warm hours this morning after the sun came up and rapidly heated the house. I had a quick breakfast of tasty cinnamon buns homemade by my better-half which were excellent. She’s been fine tuning her recipe for a week and has finally found the magic. A good hot cup of coffee with warm buns heated for a few seconds in the microwave, Yum!
She was off to work early as I prepared to do a bit of electrical rewiring in the room I’m remodeling. I removed the existing ceiling insulation, drilled the appropriate holes in the joists, and replaced the box in the center of the ceiling with a reinforced box that will hold the weight of the fan slated to be installed there. This house in just over twenty years old and nothing is easy. As soon as you start any project it immediately turns into what can only be described as a huge pain in the ass. The builders seemed to have cut corners at every turn and now I have to try and fix things as they’re discovered.
The insulation was installed without a vapor barrier which is a no-no and it’s also so old that it’s easily torn. What a freaking nightmare. Before I can do much of anything else I’ll be forced to replace all of the insulation and then install a good vapor barrier which wasn’t included in my original budget for this project. I’ve just had my project extended by a few days and a few hundred dollars which makes me really unhappy but not at all surprised.
I also removed an electrical outlet in the wall near the door that appeared dead. Tracing the wires didn’t help much when after a half hour and fifteen feet later I discovered they weren’t attached to any thing. They’d been rolled up and shoved behind the insulation probably fifteen or twenty years ago. Another little tweak of my nose by this freaking house.
After five hours I called it quits, sat down and enjoyed a good hot cup of coffee. Then Mother Nature reared her ugly head once again and began to pour on the snow. It was a light snow but it lasted for almost six hours.
The better-half made it home safely from work, we had a quiet meal, and kicked back for a while. She’s scheduled early in the morning tomorrow so she headed off to bed early. I donned my winter outfit and headed outside to clear the driveway of snow before retiring. Thank God for that new snow thrower. I cleared the driveway in rather short order just after 8:00 pm so the better-half wouldn’t have issues in the morning.
Now that she’s in bed I have a few minutes to read a couple of chapters. I need to keep up with the adventures of Detective Eve Dallas, a NYC cop in the year 2056.
The construction weather report looks grim for tomorrow. I’m expecting a huge amount of aggravation, followed by a host of nicks and cuts, and the occasional moments of intense profanity and general yelling.
I love my life.
I’ve never been accused of being an overly happy person. I’m pretty sure I know the reasons why as do most of my closest friends and acquaintances. It wasn’t until recently that I was told in no uncertain terms that men should be a lot happier than women. You might think a statement like that was made by a man but it wasn’t.
If you think about it, we men are really simple creatures. Things are cut and dry, black or white, just simple. We apparently have so many reasons to be happy I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner:
We can never get pregnant.
We can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.
We can wear NO shirt to a water park.
We can intimidate car mechanics.
We have the world as our urinal.
We never drive to another gas station restroom because this one is too disgusting.
We have wrinkles that just add character.
We never have anyone stare at our chest when talking to us.
We favor 30 second phone conversations.
We know stuff about tanks.
We need one suitcase for a five-day vacation.
We can open all our own jars.
We pay $8.95 for a three-pack of underwear.
We need no more than 3 pairs of shoes.
We are unable to see wrinkles in our clothes.
We have the same hairstyle for years, maybe decades.
We only have to shave our face and neck.
We can wear shorts no matter what our legs look.
We can do our nails with a pocket knife.
We can Christmas shop for 25 relatives in 25 minutes.
Here are a few simple but true comparisons between men and women that are absolutely spot on.
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We will pay $2 for a $1 item we need and a a woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn’t need but is on sale.
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We have has six items in our bathroom: toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel. The average number of items in the typical woman’s bathroom is 337.
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We wake up as good-looking as when we went to bed. Women somehow deteriorate during the night.
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A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband. We never worried about the future until we got a wife.
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A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the trash, answer the phone, read a book, and get the mail. We will dress up for weddings and funerals.
How could we not be happier than women? We’ve had it made for all these years and just didn’t realize it. Thank God I have a good women who could explain it to me along with about a thousand other things that she thinks I don’t understand.
In my opinion all of the above may be true. There’s only one thing I can think of that women have that I’m really jealous of, MULTIPLE ORGASMS! I think that makes us even.
everyuselessthing.com 