Here’s a repost from August 2018 as I wait for my stomach to settle.
Today, I think I’ll write something silly as opposed to something depressing or controversial. It may not seem like it in most of my posts, but I actually have a pretty great sense of humor. When I was younger, I had a male friend in college with whom I used to spend a lot of time. His name is Chris.
I’m still friends with this guy, by the way. I just don’t get to see him anymore because he’s in Virginia and I’m in Germany. When we were in college, though, we were kind of inseparable. We spent hours hanging out and, when he was a drinker, we often got drunk together. He quit drinking when we were juniors in college.
Anyway… located right next to our campus was a McDonald’s. I didn’t eat there very often because I never had any money. But one night, my friend went there with some of his buddies. I believe they were all inebriated and likely pretty obnoxious, too.
Chris went up to the counter and ordered a cheeseburger. The guy who took his order apparently got an attitude and said, “You want a bun with that?”
Chris, who was likely feeling no pain, said, “What kind of a question is THAT? Of course I want a BUN with that! Who the hell orders a burger without a bun?”
The guys who were with Chris were gently trying to extricate him from the situation, but he was still cussing as the dude handed him his order.
Actually, I can think of a few funny situations involving Chris and fast food. One of his favorite things to do when we were in college was act like he was going to throw up. He’d make a fist and sort of hesitantly place it to his mouth, then start fake hurling. He said he’d always wanted to try that at a fast food restaurant. He wanted to go up to the counter and act like he was going to puke, then sort of settle down and say, “Can I have another burger, please?”
The funny part of this scenario is that he’d then revert to acting like the no nonsense female worker behind the counter. Her eyebrows would be raised, unbelieving, and her eyes would be downcast. And she’d say, her voice laced with attitude, “Do you know how to work a mop?”
Then Chris would revert back to his fake puking self and say, “I just want another burger, please.”
Chris, acting as the female worker, would say, “Do you see anyone else standing back here? Who you think gonna clean up the mess if you toss your cookies all over my clean floor?” With a wag of her head, she’d continue, “Now, you know how to work a mop, I’ll give you another burger.”
The little scenario would usually kind of end at that point. Sometimes, I’d join in and play the fast food worker.
Chris also told me once about how he and his mom went to a McDonald’s once and saw some woman cleaning with a toothbrush. Chris’s mom, who died in 2009, said, “Chris, I think that woman is a halfwit. Why is she cleaning like that?”
This isn’t to say, by the way, that I think people who work in fast food are halfwits. I don’t think that at all. There is no such thing as truly unskilled labor. I just laugh when I remember the way my old friend would do these imitations and act out these scenarios, especially in places like McDonald’s, where you’re liable to run into anyone…
This topic comes up thanks to the hamburger meat in our refrigerator that needs to be consumed. I probably ought to go vegan, but I don’t see it happening at this point in my life.
Yes, kids, this is what we did in the 1990s, when Internet for everyone was still just a pipe dream. I kind of miss those days.
Here’s another reposted book review for those who need a laugh. Actually, the funniest thing about this book is the title… but I’m gonna share it as/is anyway. I went through a phase in which I reviewed a lot of books about “inappropriate” topics. Maybe someone on your Christmas list will enjoy it. This review was originally posted on Epinions.com October 23, 2011.
Hey guys! Do you suffer from Oversized Male Genitalia (OMG)? In other words, is your penis HUGE? Does it rival the size of a Pringles can or a shampoo bottle? Does it cause you pain or embarrassment? Have you been the subject of ridicule, violence, or discrimination because of your large member? Are you afraid for the future because of the size of your penis? Have I got a self-help book for you! Dr. Richard Jacob and Reverend Owen Thomas are the authors of the 2009 book, How to Live with a Huge Penis. It’s a book especially for men who suffer from OMG and the people who love them.
I suppose you’re wondering how in the world a genteel lady like myself would ever deign to read a book entitled How to Live with a Huge Penis. After all, I don’t have a penis. Well, the truth is, I found this book while looking at a hilarious site called UHpinions.com. UHpinions is basically a site that showcases funny reviews that have been posted on Amazon, Yelp!, and though I have yet to find one, Epinions. Quite a few people had reviewed this particular book and one person left a real humdinger of a review. I was so intrigued that I just had to read this book for myself.
In all seriousness, what is this book all about?
First thing’s first. This book was published by an outfit called Quirk Books (www.quirkbooks.com). Despite the handsome red cover with fancy gold lettering, this book is not really intended to be taken seriously. This slim volume is more of a satire of self-help than anything else. I will admit, however, to finding the handy Length Gauge on the front cover very useful as I determined whether or not my dear husband, Bill, suffers from OMG or is just well-endowed. Flip to the back of the book and you’ll find a Girth Gauge, which again, helps readers of the male persuasion figure out if their penis size is cause for personal problems.
This book is written a lot like your garden variety self-help book is, albeit with larger lettering. The font size used in How to Live with a Huge Penis is huge, which ought to make people who prefer larger print happy. The authors begin by reassuring readers with OMG that they are not alone. Indeed, they include witty little anecdotes of certain famous men in history who also reportedly had huge penises. These little anecdotes, while probably not altogether true, are somewhat entertaining.
Next, the authors address how guys with OMG can deal with negative situations arising from their condition. These situations are brought up through italicized stories written by anonymous males who have suffered with reassuring answers offered by the authors who no doubt are experts on the subject of OMG. Toward the middle of the book, men with OMG can learn how they can “unzip” their condition, coming out to friends and family. There are also handy tips on the care and maintenance of a huge penis and the best ways to enjoy sexual intercourse with loved ones.
Introspective readers will certainly appreciate the daily affirmation journal at the end of the book, just pulsating with anticipation for its first entry. And the authors have also thoughtfully provided a helpful chapter about the positive aspects of owning an enormous schlong.
Honestly, I think this book could be much better than it is. It’s meant to be funny and it sort of is, but there’s not that much to it. The book is written in large print and contains pictures… not the detailed, interesting ones, mind you, but more like the stick figures that are used to determine which restroom one should use. Some of the writing is mildly entertaining and even giggle worthy, but with a title like How to Live with a Huge Penis, I was expecting something much more exciting. This book is a little like a cock tease in that respect. Also, there is a Web site on the back cover, but I tried going there and got the front page for GoDaddy. Talk about false hopes dashed.
This book might make a funny gag gift for a man in your life. Of course, it might also be quite offensive to some readers. If you’re the slightest bit intrigued by this review, I recommend checking out UHpinions.com and reading about it there, first. You might actually laugh harder for free.
You know what I hate? I hate it when someone presumes to ask me to “refrain” from doing something. When someone says, “Please refrain” to me, I really want to kick them hard in the crotch and watch them double over in pain. But I don’t, of course, because that would be a criminal act. Usually, when people ask me to “refrain”, it’s because I’m doing something that they find annoying, not something criminal. So I do mostly refrain from smacking, kicking, spitting, or even cursing, even though the urge is there. Instead, I usually smile, appear to refrain, and then go back to whatever it was I was doing before I was requested to “refrain”. However, the gif below pretty much sums up what I’m thinking whenever someone says “Please refrain…” to me. In other words, kindly fuck off and die.
I’m in a silly mood this morning, hence today’s lighthearted blog topic– which, for the dense among you, is a JOKE. Of course I’m not going to start (or go back to) kicking people in the crotch. For one thing, people who ask me to “refrain” are usually online, and thus are not in the strike zone. For another, I may have a temper at times, but I’m not a violent person and no one is worth being arrested for, no matter how irritating they are. And for another, if I don’t manage to drop the other person like a sack of potatoes, they may try to kick me in the crotch. Luckily, I have a substantial beer gut to protect my minge, but I’m not a fan of public humiliation, especially when I’m the one experiencing it. So instead of acting physically, I simply think to myself… man, would I like to see this idiot get hit by a runaway puppet stage or bowling ball…
For some reason, this morning I was reminded of the word “refrain” used as a directive and why I find it so annoying when people direct that particular request to me. I think it’s because people who ask me to “refrain” presume that they have the right to, and that I will respond in a meek, compliant manner. It’s supposed to be a polite request, but in order to make that particular request, you kind of have to have some nerve and no fear that the person will ask you to take a long walk off a short pier. I generally don’t mind responding to polite requests, but if your request involves the word “refrain”, just know that I probably think you’re a major asshole… not that I expect you to care. People who ask me to refrain are usually right down there with strangers who call me “sweetie” or “hon”, especially when they’re younger than I am. I mean, seriously… fuck off with your requests to refrain. Please refrain from telling me what to do. I’ll grant you the same consideration.
I’m not actually a “meek” person, although I’m also not “savage”. If you get me pissed off enough, I will definitely take action in a way that is legal, yet quite effective. However, I also know that some battles are simply not worth fighting, and sometimes it’s easier to comply than get into it with some twit who thinks they can order me around. Still, people who say, “please refrain” to me are usually people I fantasize about clocking with a bunch of ripe bananas or a tire iron. Again, since I am not a violent person and have no desire to be arrested, I refrain from actually doing so. Instead, I indulge in silly fantasies and ideas, like this one.
I have also received unexpected guests when I have actually been sick and they weren’t considerate enough to call or email first…and I think the get well cards would have been lost on them, because they lacked that much situational awareness and common courtesy.
Think about this. A friend or family member would feel comfortable enough to simply say, “Please stop that.” And because I have respect and regard for them, it won’t bother me that they made that request. I’ll probably even stop whatever it is that they want me to stop and be fine with it. But someone who says “Please refrain.” is usually a stranger who has sized me up and thinks, this person will do what I want because I used high falutin’, formal language that includes the fancy legalese word “refrain”as well as the quasi polite word “please”. And no matter what, the person making that request thinks they have the right, and are coming at me from their perceived moral high ground… and they’re usually doing it on my space– like on social media or in blog comments. Here’s a clue. If you don’t like what I say or what I write, you can “refrain” from visiting my space and interacting with me. Find another space more to your liking. Because, believe me, I will refrain from following you. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no stalker.
This topic comes up a day after I read a Facebook exchange involving the famous ex Mormon, Mike Norton, aka NewNameNoah. In recent years, Mr. Norton has become somewhat a celebrity, because he somehow managed to sneak tiny cameras into LDS temples around the United States. He filmed their religious ordinances and put them up on YouTube for the world to see, which has both pissed off and delighted people around the globe. Mike Norton also thinks Donald Trump is an “assclown”, which is another reason I like him. We agree wholeheartedly on the issue of Trump.
So yesterday, Norton posted his thoughts on Trump, and some guy wrote something along the lines of, “stick to criticizing the church instead of opining about politics”. Mike Norton, in all his awesomeness, basically told the guy to go fuck himself because he’s no one’s “dancing monkey”. He says and does what he wants. Anyone who doesn’t like it can buzz off. He’s very consistent about stating this philosophy, too. Here’s a screenshot of Mike’s general comment to the peanut gallery following him back in November 2019.
I’m mostly not a fan of telling people what they can or should be doing, writing, or saying, anyway, at least when they’re in their own space. I especially hate it when I read rants about banning words. Like, a few years ago, there was a movement to ban the “r” word– that is, “retard”. I don’t like that kind of movement, because the word “retard” has some practical usages. Yes, it’s a word that is sometimes used to insult, humiliate, and demean people, but it’s also a word found in romance languages that means “to hinder”. Why should that word be completely banned simply because some people choose to use it to hurt others? It’s ridiculous. Banning that word will not stop people from being abusive. They’ll simply come up with another word, and we’ll be back at square one, trying to ban yet another “offensive” word… and that’s if they even choose to acknowledge the so-called ban.
This morning, I ran across a rant about the word “savage”, and how it should be banned. I was interested, since I once got called a racist on my original blog for calling violent behavior “savage”. A female commenter wrote that the word “savage”, implying its use in all forms, deeply offended her because she has Apache ancestry… as if I could possibly know that about a random person who came on my space, didn’t like my opinions, and proceeded to leave me a nasty, insult filled screed in my comments section. She called me “fat-assed”, “cabbage patch ugly”, and assumed I’m “lighter skinned” because I didn’t think it was cool that her friend’s Marine Corps husband was sitting in prison for ambushing, robbing, and badly beating up a guy who was having sex with the Marine’s wife/the commenter’s “friend” while the Marine was deployed.
Why is it okay for that person to come on my space and call me filthy names because she doesn’t like my opinions, but it’s not okay for me to say that a particular behavior is “savage”– which, by the way, is not at all always a racist thing to say. I didn’t even call the person “a savage“. I described the behavior– ambushing, robbing, and beating up a man, tying him to a chair, and leaving him for dead– as “savage”– which means “uncivilized”, “ferocious”, or “cruel”. I think the violent actions I described are uncivilized, ferocious, or cruel, don’t you? Yes, I could have used those other adjectives instead of “savage” to make my point, but I don’t always think to be “politically correct” in all situations, especially since “political correctness” is a concept that is ever changing.
It’s not the end of the world if someone uses a taboo word. Simply describing something as “savage” does not make someone a racist, especially when the word is not used in an insulting manner. Use your brains, people. Critical thinking is a good thing, and frankly, we all have much bigger fish to fry than policing other people’s language, anyway. Australia is literally on fire, and it looks like we could be headed into another war– this time, with Iran, and they ain’t Iraq! Who gives a fuck if I say something is “savage”?
Notice that the person who wrote the rant against “savage” also uses the words, “Please refrain.” No… I will NOT refrain from using language simply because it offends you. You’re not the language police, the boss of me, or the person who decides what is or is not acceptable for everyone to say or write. And really, presuming that you can ask people who aren’t children to “refrain” from using certain language simply because you find it offensive is pretty ballsy, isn’t it? There’s no way I can know ahead of time what will be “offensive” to another person, and I’m not about to alter my language for every single person who comes into my sphere. Don’t like what I say? Simply disassociate. It’s that easy. Again, for those who came in after the credits–please refrain from telling me what to do. I’ll grant you the same consideration.
Whew… well, I had more to say about this subject than I thought I would. It really was supposed to be a funny rant. I guess it just bugs me that I already got through childhood, during which people were always correcting me for one thing or another. Now, I’m an adult, social media is a thing, and other folks are still trying to dictate to me how I should be behaving or communicating. I really do the best I can not to deliberately be an ass to people. I don’t go out of my way to upset or annoy others. Most folks who are pissed off at me nowadays started it by knocking on my door uninvited, or hanging out on my space. I have never once handcuffed anyone and forced them to listen to me, and if someone’s “offensive” language is the worst thing you encounter in a single day, you’re damned lucky!
Now… all of this is written with the idea that you’re voluntarily in my space. If I’m in your space and you don’t like a certain word or language I’ve used, you certainly have the right to say, “please refrain.” And if you do, I’ll do my best to honor your wishes, probably by going away permanently. What can I say? Life is too short for that nonsense. The older I get, the more I appreciate the animals in my life.
On my original Overeducated Housewife blog, I once had a post called “Big Pink Dildo”. It was inspired by a minor drama that erupted in the Stuttgart Yard Sales Facebook group. As a joke, one of the “wives” decided to put her used pink dildo up for sale. She asked $5 for it, and, as the picture revealed, it came “equipped with pubes”. Naturally, a lot of people got their panties in a wad over the “joke”, and one extremely uptight group member demanded that the jokester take down her inappropriate, unprofessional post, lest someone’s child see a pink rubber replica of a man’s genitalia.
The lady who had put the sex toy up for sale had evidently long ago stopped using it for its intended purpose. It appeared to me that the toy was repurposed as a dog toy. It looked like it had teeth marks on it, as well as some kind of hair. Maybe it was pubes… but it was more likely dog hair. I have included a photo at the end of this post.
I was so tickled by this drama that I decided to write a blog post about it. I also made up a parody song set to Joni Mitchell’s hit song, “Big Yellow Taxi”. I changed the words to “Big Pink Dildo”, and even made a video. For over a year, that public post sat undisturbed on my Blogger account. But then one fateful day, I got a message from Google, telling me that my content had been “flagged” for being “inappropriate”. The person who flagged it was a Google staffer in India. I noticed he haunted my blogs for weeks after that report. It was almost as bad as when I wrote a negative post about USAA and got haunted by their PR people for weeks. I am happy to report that I’ve mostly kept my nose clean since– at least when it comes to big companies like Google and USAA.
Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a problem to write such a post and include a photo of a chewed up sex toy, but I was running ads on Blogger and lacked the technological savvy to prevent the ads from running on that post. Advertisers don’t like it when their products are advertised on posts that have anything sexually explicit or pornographic in them, even if the post is just a joke and not actually pornographic, like mine was.
For over two years, I kept that post in draft mode, thinking I might eventually repost it. But then I did a purging of some stuff and decided to toss that post along with some others that had given me trouble. Now that I have my blog on my own domain and am not running ads, I figure it’s time I shared “Big Pink Dildo”, the hit song, again for my intrepid readers. I think it’s pretty good, even if I do say so myself. I sure had fun with the lyrics. Maybe I missed my calling. Sorry about the picture, but we all have to get our thrills somewhere, right?
Anyway, that’s my outrageous and inappropriate posting for today. We also went car shopping, which I detailed on ye olde travel blog.
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