Thursday Humor

My husband emailed this joke.  If I'd had it prior to today, I'd have included in yesterday's post. As it is, you should go back and read that one after reading this because this joke goes with yesterday's joke(s).

Choosing a wife

A man wanted to get married. He was having trouble choosing among three likely candidates. He gives each woman a present

of $5,000 and watches to see what they do with the money.

The first does a total makeover. She goes to a fancy beauty salon, gets her hair done, new makeup; buys several new outfits and dresses up very nicely for the man. She tells him that she has done this to be more attractive for him because she loves him so much.The man was impressed.

The second goes shopping to buy the man gifts. She gets him a new set of golf clubs, some new gizmos for his computer, and some expensive clothes. As she presents these gifts, she tells him that she has spent all the money on him because she loves him so much.  Again, the man is impressed.

The third invests the money in the stock market She earns several times the $5,000. She gives him back his $5,000 and reinvests the remainder in a joint account. She tells him that she wants to save for their future because she loves him so much.  Obviously, the man was impressed.

The man thought for a long time about what each woman had done with the money he'd given her.  

Then he married the one with the biggest boobs.

As Seen on the Internet Today

This was under the post title "If Women Were Men in the Gym".  Boy, is it true!

 

Who's Sorry Now?

What can you say about these idiots that hasn't been printed or is about to be?  Let's begin with the absolutely hilarious headline by Andy Borowitz,

Schwarznegger:

'I am the Sperminator'

Short article follows. 

Then there's this rich fascisti who happens to own the majority of the Italian television :

Inside Berlusconi's 

'Bunga Bunga' parties: 

Explosive Details of Italian PM's Sex Scandal

Whatever a "bunga bunga" party may be, the UK's Guardian has it covered and so does Huff Post.  Of course, this is a drop in the bucket of accusations against this Italian PM.  He is a dear friend of Muammar Gadaffi; his media empire influences approximately 90% of the Italian population, according to some.  He is 79 years old, likes big breasted, underage women whom he "allegedly" pays to have sex. 

A more disturbing accusation in which details are so graphic and terrible one reporter on MSNBC this morning said they could not be revealed, IMF head Dominique Strauss-Kahn has been arrested for sexually assaulting a maid in his New York hotel.  His attempt to flee the country before apprehension resulted in a multitude of headlines and angled stories.  HuffPost  focused on the limited facts:   

  

IMF Chief Held Without Bail in Hotel Sex Case



The Washington Post took an interesting approach focusing on "messy marital histories" of politicians and the NYTimes explore the "code of silence" in France about the secret lives of politicians.

The material is endless:  Newt, Edwards, Ensign, Clinton...and these are just the offending heterosexuals who come to mind. 

Sex and politics.  It never gets old. 

Tuesday Amusement

WOMAN'S BRAIN ACCORDING TO SCIENTISTS

For a woman, everyone of those little blue balls is a thought about something that needs to be done, a decision or problem that needs to be solved.

A man has only 2 balls and they take up all his thoughts.


MAN'S BRAIN

Dating the 7 Dwarfs (a real conversation)

Received a couple of emails from a good friend yesterday.  She was complaining about her latest boyfriend.

"Had to have another come to Jesus talk with the new guy.  Clingy/Needy/Mopey isn’t going to work with 80 miles between us and my work schedule. "

"Sounds like you're dating 3 of the 7 dwarfs." was my reply.

Her response, "Better than the other 4 dwarves I've dated, Drunken, Stupid, Vacant and Angry."

Ex-Boyfriends

High School boyfriend & I Grad Night 1969

I married him... not once,TWICE!! 

Thanks to a new blog I'm reading, The Alchemist's Pillow, I found the following poem which goes perfectly with my last post, "Notes on a Former Lover".

Ex-Boyfriends

by Kim Addonizio

They hang around, hitting on your friends
or else you never hear from them again.
They call when they're drunk, or finally get sober,

they're passing through town and want dinner,
they take your hand across the table, kiss you
when you come back from the bathroom.

They were your loves, your victims,
your good dogs or bad boys, and they're over
you now. one writes a book in which a woman

who sounds suspiciously like you
is the first to be sadistically dismembered
by a serial killer. They're getting married

and want you to be the first to know,
or they've been fired and need a loan,
their new girlfriend hates you,

they say they don't miss you but show up
in your dreams, calling to you from the shoeboxes
where they're buried in rows in your basement.

Some nights you find one floating into bed with you,
propped on an elbow, giving you a look
of fascination, a look that says I can't believe

I've found you. It's the same way
your current boyfriend gazed at you last night,
before he pulled the plug on the tiny white lights

above the bed, and moved against you in the dark
broken occasionally by the faint restless arcs
of headlights from the freeway's passing trucks,

the big rigs that travel and travel,
hauling their loads between cities, warehouses,
following the familiar routes of their loneliness.

"Ex-Boyfriends" by Kim Addonizio, from What Is This Thing Called Love. © W.W. Norton, 2004

Notes on a Former Lover

Last night I received an email from a guy I dated in my late twenties.  We renewed our friendship last year when  I wrote him after seeing his address in a mass email to members of our media circle about a well liked friend who died prematurely.  This guy was, as Meg Ryan put it in "When Harry Met Sally", my transition guy; the first man I became attached to after my separation and divorce from my husband.  At the time, he was a national radio rep, running the LA office of a prominent national firm.  Basically, these guys represented radio stations throughout the US, calling on LA agencies for the placement of  national business.  I was a national media buyer, working in-house for the largest photo finishing company in the U.S.  I purchased radio & newspaper advertising in 40 out of 80 markets.

His interest became evident when he heard I was separated.  He approached my boss to see if it was appropriate to ask me out.  They had a good relationship;  she liked him and she liked me so she was all for it.  I'd had dinner with him many times on a business level and we got along great.  Dating was about to change the whole picture.  First of all, he invited me to accompany him to Kyoto.  His San Diego station had an annual client trip to which he was always invited with a "guest" and he invited me.  It was a week long excursion.  We'd never even kissed.  I called my mother and asked her what to do.

 "Go."  she said.

But my father got into the act.  He had been a national rep too.  He'd had his own business for thirty plus years before retiring.  He was bat shit.  The phrases "Not proper" and "conflict of interest" were applied liberally.

All my co-workers wanted me to go.  It was the trip of a life time and I was separated and my husband, soon-to-be-ex, was on the east coast.

"Go!" they urged.

I didn't go.  I couldn't reconcile any of it:  the conflict, the feelings I had for my husband and the fear I felt about being with the new guy.  Turns out, I'd have had my own rooms and needn't have worried but I was too inexperienced to ask.  He was very disappointed but when he returned we began to date and years later I realized I might as well have made the trip because, in the eyes of his competitors, I did compromise myself by dating him.  He always claimed I was much harder on him when it came to negotiations than I was on his competition and he was right.  But only he and I knew that.  It was doomed from the beginning but we became very good friends.

So last night he dropped me a note and it was sweet. He was bringing me up to date on his grand kids, his life.  He is still single having married and divorced twice, once before I'd met him and once after.  He ended the email referring to himself as an "elderly gentleman".    He just turned 67 which kinda blows me away as I remember his 40th and 50th birthdays.  We lost touch after that.

As my transition guy, we were better friends than anything else.  He was somewhat of a mentor, usually a good sounding board and very helpful through much of my career.  I was never in love.  I just had a serious crush.

What are the ramifications of looking up an old love?  Are they sweet?  bittersweet?  sad?  Do we only want to see the ones that ended not too badly?   How many of us know where our ex loves are?  How many of us care?  Food for thought.

The Return of Chest Hair

msn.com has a headline with Hugh Jackman's photo touting "The Return of Chest Hair" with a question mark. I don't think it's much of a question. You either like it or you don't...at least, that's what I thought when I was young.

My boyfriends, for the most part, were always smooth-chested. No, they weren't shaving. I mean, this was the late sixties-mid seventies for God's sake! HAIR was in! I just found I always preferred the non-hairy chest. I remember one guy we knew who was the hairiest guy on the beach. He had hair on his chest, his back, his shoulders...everywhere! He was truly hirsute and I didn't even know what that word meant. We, my closest girlfriends & I, thought it was gross. He couldn't help it, of course. He may have even thought it manly because he was a popular guy. And, he had gorgeous eyelashes.

Anyway, I really didn't get into hairy chests until my twenties. Robert Reford showed the world the most beautiful blonde-haired chest in "The Way We Were". Woo Hoo!!!! I started dating a guy with a hairy chest and it was not a buzz kill by any means. Tom Selleck was on the air doing "Magnum", Ted Danson was doing "Cheers" and they both had hairy chests. I switched priorities and became a lover of hairy chested men.

So, nowadays, what do I prefer? Well, I guess I'll take a nice chest any way I can get it...hairy, smooth or otherwise! I mean, REALLY!!!!

I Wish Tina Fey Was the Vice Presidential Pick

Tina Fey & John McCain
cover of Life Magazine September 2004
uploaded from thinkprogress

thinkprogress.org/2008/09/04/mccain-fey-life/

Best of Both Worlds or Too Much of a Good Thing?

I have a very close friend who has a sister with two lovers...and she lives with them both...at the same time. They've been successfully thus involved for several years now. When first told about the relationship, I was shocked (Baptist upbringing) but also intrigued (60's sensibilities). I did not want to be judgmental, tho' I initially was, and I couldn't help but think, "Wow. Best of both worlds." I mean, she's livin' the dream, right? Well, possibly.

I suppose if this were a Danielle Steele novel, it would be great fodder for the storyline: gorgeous, ambitious woman in her mid-forties has a successful business with one lover running a high end fishing camp on a remote Canadian island, summers only, returning to civilization with Lover #1 to live with Lover #2 in a wealthy suburb in Arizona. According to my girlfriend, her sister sleeps with which ever one she wants, when she wants. She calls the shots. As for menage a trois, I don't ask and she doesn't offer.

I like men...up to a point. I absolutely love my husband and I've loved a few others in my youth. Not sure what the prospect of two at once would do to me. I mean, it's been a challenge living with one Alpha Male and raising two alphas-in-waiting. I think men have their place...lifting heavy objects and taking out the garbage. Scratching, roaring, having sex and feeding seem to be the other traits in which they strive to excel.

Could I do what she's doing? Maybe in my dreams. You know, George Clooney one night, Richard Gere the next. Yeah, I could handle that...for a while. But, I like my solitude and I like peace and quiet. And I like things simple. So, while I admire her iconoclasm, I'll have to admire it from my quiet, predictable and boring perch.

But, it does sound fun.