In order to help my boss maintain domestic bliss I promised to eat his salad. In fact I announced it in a clear voice over the phone. I’m going to eat his salad.
I hope he appreciates what I do for him.
The problem with making a concerted effort to not write about mundane crap is that I can’t tell you how I got new car insurance last night and how the little Geico Gecko promises so much in terms of savings but mostly just lies. Don’t trust geckos on the tv is the lesson here.
Went with Progressive, way cheaper.
And in happy news, Anna came back! Anna graduated in December and we figured she’d go off and find her way then. But she stayed on a bit to help with extra projects in the department. Then she decided to get a ‘real’ job at a music box store.
ha. real.
Hell, there wasn’t even a bump in our friday lunch schedule. She was back today and we were off eating cheap Asian food just like we were a week ago.
Welcome back, Anna. I hope now you have a better understanding of just how trapped you are.
and, projects for this summer…1) perfect my jam making 2) perfect my bread making 3) learn to make cheese (book is in the mail!) 4) join a CSA and eat more vegetables.
Next year buy a hobby farm with 6 chickens, 4 goats and 3 dogs.

No, this isn’t about anal sex, Brock
twice in one week I found myself in the same exact conversation and both times I wanted to smack sense into heads.
But I’ve come to realize that no amount of smacking will add sense to some heads.
Let’s discuss bisexuality for a minute, let’s talk about because I have had to talk about it so damned much lately.
I am a bisexual female. In its barest terms this means that I am attracted to people of both genders. Or to put it another way, I am attracted to people regardless of their gender.
What is does NOT mean is that I am unhappy committing to one gender or another, any commitment issues I may or may not have are not related to the gender of the person I am dating.
It does not mean that I am untrustworthy or unable to control my urges. My trustworthiness and ability to be faithful have nothing to do with who I am attracted to. One’s propensity to stray does not increase with the number of genders one is attracted to. I know too many people who can be supportive of my bisexuality and yet minutes later comment that they couldn’t not date a bisexual because they could not trust them not to cheat. HEY! People fucking cheat, it has nothing to do with their sexuality.
It does not mean that must engage in a multi-gendered Isosceles Lock every night in order to find fulfillment.
And is certainly does not mean that I am only bisexual if I am dating a woman. The fact that David is a guy doesn’t make me less bisexual and it doesn’t make me straight and it wasn’t just a phase that I went through and now I am over it.
I am attracted to a sense of humor, I am attracted to people who are warm and kind, I am attracted to intelligence. When I find those attributes in a person I am unable to say, “I like this person but their genitals are the wrong shape. Too bad.”
Obviously, there’s more to it than that, it’s a very simplistic way to look at it. I view relationships with men and women differently quite simply because men and women are different beasts. I’ve learned something, however, during my relationship with David. I’d not been in a serious, meaningful relationship with a guy before. I’d always assumed that though I was attracted to them I would probably not be in a long term relationship with a guy as I would have trouble managing parity and equality.
I should have known I was wrong. Finding parity in a relationship doesn’t have anything to do with the gender fo the person but with their personality which is the essence of my argument. And so here I am.
I am really tired of explaining this to people. I mean, hell, i know this guy, he’s not had sex with a woman in ages. AGES. and he’s still straight, so I think it stands to reason that I can still be bisexual even if I never sleep with another woman again.
I’ll always be a jackass regardless.

if you’d read my previous comments you’d know that it’s been decided that I’ve become entirely too boring, which is true. I have. Domesticity has that way with me. So, I was going to give some anal sex advice and maybe throw in some opinions about the president.
On the other hand I’ve had a really shitty day and I’d really like to talk about how fucking sick I am of being the magnet for needy people. This discussion would include some self pity, some ranting about people’s bad choices (no, you cannot fucking lose weight if you eat an entire pound of hamburger in one sitting or if you eat 4 krispy kremes in an evening EVEN IF YOU DID GET WHOLE WHEAT TOAST WITH YOUR BREAKFAST). After that I would conclude that these people glom onto me because I allow it and it’s really no-one’s fault but my own.
So do I talk about anal sex or do I talk about how the histrionics of people who just can’t fucking seem to grow the fuck up and stop being crazy and maybe start being thoughtful rational not-insane adults are really wearing me down?
Well, I noticed that whenever I write about the crazy people the vein in my neck hurts…so…anal sex it is!
So let’s see,
* Lubricate! Always! This is important whether you’re pitching or catching. It seems obvious and yet…well. My recommendation? Do some research on lubes. Don’t just go with the big tube of generic KY jelly from target (though I hear that the self heating KY makes a nice hair gel). Get something thick, something long lasting, go look for Maximus (my preferred lube for whatever various and sundry lube needs I have, not necessarily anal) or a silicone based lube (I like, but don’t necessarily love the silicones). Please keep in mind that any oil based lube will eat up a latex condom lickety split so don’t be stupid with your lube choices.
* Go slow, retard! Okay, I tried to think of a cute acronym like K.I.S.S. (keep it simple, stupid) but I just ended up with that. And by slow, I don’t mean 20 minutes, I mean that if this is your first time it make take a few sessions of slowly exploring and getting comfortable with the area. If you are the catcher (god, I feel so 70’s cliche gay man in the bathhouse when I say that. Maybe I should go read some Maupin and shoot myself in the face for all the trite horror of it all…She’s a man!!! OH MY GOD!!!) you have a responsibility to your own ass to communicate to your partner what you need or desire and sometimes stopping is a very valid need. If you are the pitcher (A Man and A Girl? Anna Madrigal!!! I could have slit my wrists), you will be summarily strung up by your balls and shot if you even get a little peeved for not getting to shove that cock way up in!
* Get some toys! yay toys! get things that are smaller than your parter’s unit. Get a few things. Get things that gradually increase in size. Practice makes perfect, and considerable practice is needed since, and let’s be honest here, your ass isn’t exactly a finely crafted sex organ. Besides, toys are fun and open up the floodgates for all kinds of fun, kinky experimentation. Please make sure your toys have a flanged base as the rectal cavity is not quite as finite as the vagina. Things can get lost and with insurance coverage being what it is, my very good coverage still requires a 20% or $500 deductible (whichever is lower) for emergency room visits. Oh, and it’s entirely likely that the x-ray of your anal mishaps will end up on the web for you to share with your friends and family.
* Condoms keep things clean. keep it in mind.
* Don’t use Anal-Ease or any of the other butt-numbing products. Pain is nature’s way of saying “hey, dude, something bad is happening here!”. There shouldn’t be pain, mild discomfort? oh totally, especially until you get used to it, but pain, especially butt pain, should not be covered, ignored or otherwise shot to the moon.
* Be clean you filthy perverts! I know this seems obvious, but once something goes in there, and then comes out, it should not go anywhere else. Ladies, be very very clear about this with your partners. Improper butt-rompery gladly skips hand-in-hand with bladder infections and bladder infections require antibiotics and antibiotics can occasionally lead to yeast infections. So what i’m saying is that you can draw a pretty clear line between bad analthumper hygiene and you smelling like some fucked up bread machine.
* Hey, the rectum equals poo. Deal with it. Okay, so your fecal matter rests higher up in the passageway (unless the turtle’s peeking his head out, but you really should have taken care of that before. Freak.). It’s safe to assume you are not going to run into massive amounts of crap, but as i alluded to in the point previous, particles stray. Shit happens. If you aren’t grown up enough to deal with that, you aren’t grown up enough spelunk the depths of asscrack caverns.
* If you’re a guy, please keep this in mind…enjoying having things inserted in your ass does not make you gay. Not at all. You know what makes you gay? A strong desire to fuck other men! That’s what makes you gay.
* Wine. Wine is good. Drunk is bad. You need to relax, go slow, wine (or beer) can help. Hard liquor and drugs don’t help. Getting drunk = bad. Getting a little buzz on to relax = good. Getting your partner drunk so you can play ass pirate = very very very bad. Roofies = good joke, bad time.
That’s about all I can think of. What are my qualifications you might ask? None. I have none. I’m not a certified anything, so maybe you wanna go get some real info about the subject. Just saying.
Hey, I feel better! The stress of the day melted away completely! Who cares if I have crazy people hitting me from all corners (seriously, though, why must you all gang up on me now? can’t you spread it out?). Go forth, my peeps, go forth and anally copulate!
The only person that I wish hadn’t read this is my boss. That’s all.

Yesterday, I totally parallel parked all by myself! Those who know me know of my issues with depth perception and my total retardation when it comes to spatial relationships (and spazzy relationships!) so i tend to avoid the parallel parking at all costs, I’ve even been known to stop in the middle of parallel parking, get out of the car and make the passenger finish the job.
This is how much I suck at it.
Yesterday I had to run to the grocery store to get the food to feed the burning need to cook everything in sight and when I got back I realized that someone was parked behind David, the space in front of him was open (that’s where I WAS parked when I left) and John’s car was still in the space in front. Fuck it, I decided to try.
I sat quietly, gathered my feng chi whatever, calmly thought it out and did it. and it worked.
probably because the spot was like 87 feet long, but still, I didn’t park on the other block.
Of course, if I were able to park in my garage this would be a non-issue but that’s another post for another time…
also…unrelatedly…batterfried okra is very VERY reminiscent of healthy tater tots. Just saying.