Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Here Cum The Worms

I am so very grateful for the food in this farm belt I live in. Neighbors share apples, raspberries, mulberries, sweet corn, tomatoes, and squash. I share onions, peppers, herbs, and not much else because I eat it. This year I didn't grow pumpkins because last year they turned into gourds and so I thought I would skip that this year. Don't ask. Ok. I threw out pumpkins and gourds in the compost pile and they came up in the spring. They were so huge, I thought they were pumpkins. Come fall, they were gourds. Bastards changed on me.

However, I am missing the mystery of the corner garden. Anyway, I have plenty of options. If that isn't the bomb diggety, I live close to an orchard where I can get Honey Crisp apples, big as melon peaches, and cherries. Oh, and we have Amish farms and farmer's markets. Fresh food galore!

And so today, I was eating my fresh raspberries and I was immediately grossed out at the bottom when something did not look like the others. There was a white dude in the middle of my black dudes. It was like he missed his bus. He was horrifying. I'm pretty sure he was some type of fruit worm or fly maggot, but not exactly, because he was longer and skinnier with a mustache. Maybe he was a raspberry worm.
Nice fresh black raspberries with one oogly worm


Now when they say "don't let one bad apple ruin the whole bushel", they are full of shit. Throw that whole batch away. It is no good.

I don't know if the worm was planted there so I would scream or just hatched from a speck of fly semen. Regardless, it was a dirty joke played by Mother Nature. She sure is a bitch. 

In today's day and age, I can now definitely see why we blame one bad white cop for the whole bunch. This is a perfect example of how that works. Now, I could have thrown the worm out and went on my eating way, but the thoughts of worm poop all over my berries made me want to throw up. Plus, I would have had to touch the thing. If I used a utensil, I would smash berries making them mush and they taste different. If you don't believe me, try it. Smashed berries are gross. It's like sloppy seconds. Sure, I could have thrown the worm out and washed the berries, thus, getting rid of the worm poop, but what if one speck was left over. N'ah. Ain't gonna happen. Little bastard. 

And then I thought....what if I already ate all the pooped on raspberries?

After I sat at my desk thinking about it for a while, I decided before I threw up, I should wash that shit down with some chocolate. Yes, I know. I am not supposed to have sugar. However, if sugar kills humans, just think of what it will do to worms and any berries in my stomach laced with worm poop. Never mind that stomach acid, sugar is better. 

I feel much better now. 

I do realize I have just thrown my frugal nature right out the door. I do know how to stretch a dollar and being middle to upper poor, I can't afford to buy raspberries unless they are on sale or go pick them at the farms. Now, yes, I could buy them, but then I have to eliminate something else like toilet paper and I couldn't wipe my butt. See how it works with being poor? Therefore, raspberries are a treat and are cherished. 

This wasteful solution today is an exception to my own rules. 

I just hope the little bastard didn't masturbate on my berries, but then again, I don't know what worms do and I think they are asexual. I'm not sure if asexual creatures masturbate. 

Consequently, I guess I could understand how one would get aroused over raspberries. They are my favorite fruit. It's food porn.

Why yes! I did Google it. Asexual masturabation, not food porn. Actually, I Googled: "do asexual creatures or worms masturbate?" It took me directly to the most credible site: Wikipedia. 

I think Google was confused, because this is what Wiki said about being asexual: "Asexuality (or nonsexuality)[1][2][3] is the lack of sexual attraction to anyone, or low or absent interest in sexual activity." 

I was not interested in asexual humans and never knew we had such a thing.

Continuing down the information: Asexual people, though lacking sexual attraction to any gender, might engage in purely romantic relationships, while others might not.[9][18][19] There are asexual-identified individuals who report that they feel sexual attraction but not the inclination to act on it because they have no true desire or need to engage in sexual or non-sexual activity (cuddling, hand-holding, etc.), while other asexuals engage in cuddling or other non-sexual physical activity.[6][11][12][17] Some asexuals participate in sexual activity out of curiosity. 

I am so glad the worm did not cuddle with me. 

More Wiki knowledge: "The suggestion that asexuality is a sexual dysfunction is controversial among the asexual community." 

How did they question all those worms? Did they hook them up to electrodes to figure out what they were thinking? They don't even speak English. 

So I finally scrolled to the part about masturbation: "While some asexuals masturbate as a solitary form of release or have sex for the benefit of a romantic partner, others do not." 

Now I will never know if I had a masturbating worm or not. 

I sure hope the university doesn't eyeball my browsing history. It might throw up red flags. How am I going to explain I had a worm in my raspberries and I had to Google to see if I ate sperms? 

That's going to be interesting. 

Monday, June 22, 2015

Infusion Confusion

The Harry Potter House has been pretty sullen lately. My AC went out in my hoopty plus the wheel bearings or something in the front end are popping. I know I am driving on borrowed wheels. Then, I ate some fish that made me sick. Lovely. There is nothing worse to be sick on than fish. It's like your mouth tastes and smells like the worst odoriferous vagina on the block. At least I assume that because I have never tasted vagina but I've smelled a few. Don't ask. It was while I was in a previous profession.

If it weren't for the poochies, I think I would have guessed that Draco Malfoy had taken up residence in the house. After realizing this weekend that I am depressing myself, I made a list of things to take action on and get done post haste.



It started with a much needed attitude adjustment. Plus, I recognized that I had not pooped in quite some time (two days) so that meant my shit was backed up. Such discomforts and irregular body activity really puts a damper on your mood and digestion.

If you ever wanted a poop pillow, you can find that here...


I'm pretty sure every household should have one proudly displayed on the sofa. At least he is a happy poop. 

I decided to up the ante on the poop factory dealio and entice it to exit my body by cooking and consuming Thai chicken with vegetables. The smell alone should have caused massive diarrhea. It makes a body poop good. I followed it up by picking some raspberries and mulberries for the week. I should be good to go. Maybe I should write a cookbook entitled: Poop Infusions. Think of how many people I could help. 

Now, since my boss said I was making authentic Thai recipes out of my head and this was just amazing, I can really identify with my Thai ancestry. I must have been Thai in a former life or some line of heritage someone somewhere leaped over to the Asian continents and did some diddling. 

It's an inherent talent. My cooking. Not diddling. 

On an equally amazing feat, I have been identifying with my Native American ancestry by association. I think that is possible. It's like Rachel Dolezal was a genius and started this new psychological phenomenon. 

When I was a kid, our ranch foreman's wife was of Native American descent and I really enjoyed being educated on the culture. I am pretty sure she and her husband smoked a little whacky tobaccy a few times. Nonetheless, they taught me a lot about native culture and horses. So, I have found some herbal infusions I need to try for heeling runners injuries, inflammation, and preventing arthritis and cancer. 
herbal tea infusions: chestnutherbs.com

Maybe it will even taste good. I will certainly post pics and let you know if it is just great sun tea or nature's miracle. Just so you know, tumeric is a wonder drug. 

My tea infusion is going to look like this pile of crap because that's how I roll...

caldronsandcrockpots.com


This is also looks amazingly fun...
Making infused honey. 
The only problem with infused honey, is the green shit might get stuck between your teeth. Flowers are great to wear, but not hanging off your incisors. That is not appealing at all.  Also, something to take into consideration is what good is honey if it is just pretty to look at? Oh, well, it's worth a try. But not too much of a try because honey is expensive and if you don't like it, too bad. Eat it anyway. The bees are precious and so is their work. It's not fair you ruined it.






Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Scratches Damage Your Hard Wood Floors




I am full. Me tummah is fool of too much goudaness. I have no idea what happened today. I et a babeh. Like toof of em. At least it feels that way.

Earlier, I couldn't get full no matter how many apples I ate and then I shat them all out, so I was empty again. Apparently, apples and coffee are a hands free enema.

What's going on? Feeding the hangry. It's not even that time of the month.

 
 
Add in rainy and very muggy weather and I'm dead sexay. I walked next to two old sweatballs in the historic district on my lunch. Then it was a Zumba class with Beyonce. At least she moved as fast and as rhythmic as she does. I was jealous. It was not pretty but I kept moving. I tried to do that Rachel Dolezal identify with thingy and it didn't work. I was not Beyoncé even though I identified with the fact I was a great dancer.
 
My favorite thing of the day was I wore some nice somewhat sexy undies under my business clothes today because they make my ass pretty. This is all fine and well except I didn't pack any workout skivvies. What do you get when you put lace in a workout? You get a chafed crease. That sucks dragon balls. You hobble a little bit trying to comfort yourself while yanking it out of your crotch. People think you got a problem with your vagina, but alls it is is the fact that lace is the enemy and should be banned from clothing products which are made for your bottom privates. Seriously. Do you ever see men wearing lace in their creases of their BVDs? Boxers? Uh no. Why? Because it chafes the balls. Just because a woman's vagina can take a pounding, doesn't mean you have to brutalize it with bedazzled underwear. There are other things you can stick in there.


To ease my tummay issue, I thought I would clean the house when I got home and exercise the dogs but that just made me sick and my vagina more sore. I wonder if it would be weird to put a sack of peas in my crotch. Surely you could still use them. They are guarded by plastic.

So sits the laundry. I need to vacuum. I don't want to. My crotch hurts. Can I whine enough? I feel I could file assault charges on the lace industry.

I want to go to sleep because my bellah is too full.

Lesson learned. No need for me to be a glutton. It's really miserable. And so is the humidity. I don't even do my hair anymore. Now I understand why the Mid-West has hair issues and lazy fashion and trend misstatements.

Egads. It's a good thing I have a Brazilian or otherwise I would have a growler and all that up in there poking through your clothes singing soprano is not attractive. God bless hard wood floors.

Wait. A growler would have protected my vagina from chafing lace.

Nah.

It's not going to happen. I'm going to change me undies.

Right now, I'm pretty sure my vagina had sex with Chuck Norris.

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Pondering Life's Silly Questions and Answers

You have to become lost before you can find yourself. How lost do you have to be? Like pond scum lost, floating on the surface lost,  or all the way to China lost? I really don't know.

I'm in love with cities I have never been to and intrigued by people I have never met. I long for a place where I am grounded, yet try to ground myself in every place.

Sometimes the way you think of a person isn't really actually how they are. Scary, isn't? I hope some of those people whom I think how they are, are not clowns, or serial killers. I could deal with anything else. Well, not just anything. But close.

Did you know the best way to end a friendship is to find out your friend is a child molester.

Some people are superficial or only talk to you when you are skinny, but distance themselves from you when you are fat.

Maybe your personality or quirks are off-putting to some people. Then you are called, "different." Only dead fish go with the flow.

Why are we so hung up on physical appearance? I've been both skinny or fat...many times. Not at the same time. That would be weird.   I know what it is like to be ignored and have too much attention. I do know I am happy with myself when I am healthy, fit, and average weight for my frame. I don't have to be a size 2. I don't know how I look, but I do know how I feel. I mean, what do you see? No matter how many times we look at ourselves in the mirror, do we see ourselves as we really are, how we want to be, or size justified? I think mirrors lie. Bastards.

I know pounds have appeared-just like that- at different times in my life which just sneak up unannounced. How did they get there? Beats me. To get rid of them, you might think of them as Cousin Nerman. You can't get rid of them. You have to be rude about it.

We elevate people up and put them on a pedestal, when in reality they are just a person. Wouldn't it be fun to take one of those giant soft hammer things and knock the queens off their perches just once? It's like that came of Whammit with the moles.

Wouldn't you like one person to swoon over you? Just once? It's not a graceful bird. It's fainting. Really? We want someone to faint when they see us? How would you ever get through a first date? Sex might be difficult. You would be like...:yes, yes, yes....and then...oh, no, no, no...wake up!" If they could make it three minutes maybe. Nah. It wouldn't work.

Wouldn't you like your intelligence to be awed? Just once?

What would your most memorable photograph be and why? Have you ever shared it?

Was it on a porn site? In the news? On the mug shots?

Have you ever taken nude pics of yourself? Looked at them? Sent them? Quit gasping and giggling. You know it.

Do you show off your boobs in selfies? On purpose? Just a little? On accident? Like...whooo...they just popped out of there. How did that happen? Bra malfunction! Whoopsy! Didn't see it!

BTW...it's OK to show the girls. You are only sexy at those times you feel sexy. Then you will be happy you did it. Because one day, people will be like, "What are those grape things down by your feet? Cute pedicure!"

Pets are put on this earth for a short time. It is our privilege to be a guardian to them, give them love, care, food, water, and love and kisses and love.  And for that, in return, we have joy they bring to our lives.



Did you know that everything is survivable except the last thing? It really should be a statement and not a question. I hope my last thing is epic like saving a baby and that I don't die taking a poop. Please, God, don't let me die taking a poop.

Or with a vibrator. Could you imagine? Is that a natural death or accidental? Your epitaph might read, "She went out with a bang." Those people died with dildos.

We should think of everything as an adventure, but not people. They are not conquests. They are part of the journey. People are gifts. Sometimes they are the elephant prize. Other times, they are like Cadbury Crème eggs or divine wine.

Isn't it funny how characters in books say the most amazing things, but in reality you never hear it uttered? I thank Jesus, no man ever told me he was going to put his sword in my shaft. What about when you read "he heaved next to her naked glistening body"? Did he puke or was he aroused? I'm not sure.  For these reasons, I find romance novels corny.

Nothing every happens like we imagine it or dream it. That one thing that tugs at your heart. One thing you really, really, really want. What if once, just once, it did?

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Honey Doo Doo Lists Are #SOFUNICOULDSH*TMYSELF

Calling out all single parents!

Yeah.

The magic question: do you like the summer break from your kiddos or does it woe you? 


Photobombed my barn!
#Listofthingsyoudowhenyourkiddoisonvisitationwiththeotherparent.


I made that question really small because we aren't supposed to even ask those questions nor discuss the issue. Why? So soccer moms don't hate on us, you don't feel guilty for thinking one way, nor feel sad and start drinking your sorrows away thinking the other. Yep. Shh. Damned if you do. Damned if you don't.

So I'm not going to answer it. But I will flood you with the bounty of what I do during that time of teenager silence.

1) I pack my schedule with house repairs and honey-do lists. I'm the honey. I do this and I do that. Honey is a bossy bitch. I do it ALL by myself. Why? Because I am ALONE. Duh.

2) I run naked in the house.

3) I work out extra times. Why? I have no idea.

Me yesterday...trying to look Olympian.
Just survived a snapping turtle attack on the Greenway.
Humidity hair. It's bootiful.
Pale face. Turtles are scary. They are big and snappy. And I didn't have my gun.

4) I cook what I WANT. Maybe my dinner is a fucking beer. I am the boss of my own dinner.

5) I might get spontaneous and go hiking, fishing, canoeing, or site seeing. Site seeing might be the inside of my eyelids because I take a nap.

6) I save a lot of money on utilities and food. Where does it go? Bills. Why? Because BILL is a bitch. So demanding. If I don't pay BILL, I lose my shit.

7) I practice search warrant raids on Bug's room and usually end up throwing away garbage bags of trash and donate clothes to charity. Then her room looks so great, I have to match mine. It's a sickness.

8) I reorganize closets. Why? Because it is so much fun I could just shit myself.

9) I garden vegetables and edibles and weeds. I actually destroy weeds in the garden. They grow here like weeds. I'm going to do that this weekend. It needs it. I try to be an urban farmer but last year my tomatoes burned up, the dogs ate my strawberries, and I thought I planted pumpkins but they were gourds. I ended up having to go to the farmer's markets to get fresh tomatoes and pumpkins. I cut the part of the strawberries off where the dog had chewed them and put them in a salad.  The rest of the garden goodies turned out super. I make a mean herb garden. I also pick the neighbor's apples and go to the local orchard. I would like my own fruit trees, but that comes in time. I moved my urban garden location this time to avoid last year's disasters. I have to keep up the Eat Lean Poop Green lifestyle.

10) The dogs get special attention and we cuddle a lot. This year I am installing a pool. I think this year I might spend $6.99 for a kiddie pool. It's hot. It's for me, not them. OK. I might share.

11) I clean out the garage/barn. It gets it once a year if it needs it or not. I keep adding to the list of garage sale items but forget to have a garage sale. I might try that this year. If I don't get to the garage sale stage, I just have a big pile of shit.

12) I garden flowers. My friends are in the stages of sharing and thinning their gardens, so I get free plants. It's the only way to go. Someday I will do the same. I think it is being a good steward and upcycling.

13) My compost pile gets worked. Whodathunk it is so much fun stirring worm poop?

14) I sit around and twiddle a lot.

15) I catch up on my shows because I am not stuck watching Dance Moms or some dumb other reality show. What is it with kids and reality shows? I mean...why don't they know the difference between good TV and junque? They irritate the crap out of me.

16) Lucky you I blog a lot.

17) I volunteer at Vacation Bible School. Why? Because God makes me. I get to be in charge of the hoodlum kids. It's so much fun it's like work. I wish they would let me use my handcuffs and maybe some OC spray. Just a little. Like warning squirts. Perhaps I will eat a lot of beans each day before sessions.

18) Celebrating Father's Day because I'm the best dad Bug ever had.

19) I will be on my hands and knees frequently and it's not even for Free Blow Job Day. (That's another time of year) I will be scrubbing floors and baseboards.

20) I spray for bugs and weeds. Not to encourage them, but to give them a slow, painful death.

21) I might clean out that one room in the barn where I believe serial killings occurred. Maybe. Maybe not. There might be clowns in there.


22) I wish I had my horses. I would ride. Poop. Shit.

24) I have to scrape and paint the outside of my house. I have to repair some stucco. I have to seal the stucco. This is all kind of yucko.

25) I will light fires in my fire pit. Why? Because fire is AWESOME! And it goes well with marshmallows and beer. I will sit there and fumigate my clothes and hair with the smell of bonfire- eat, drink, and be Mary, Frank, or whomever I wish. Then I will strip naked at the laundry room door and take a shower and do it all over again another day.

I would totally sit on my fat ass and wait for someone to take me traveling or treating me to a spa vacation. Yep. Ok. I won't hold my breath.

Friday, June 5, 2015

Theory Of Everything

The secret to shedding unwanted pounds is apples and lots of water. Zip, zip. Poot, poot. It makes for some green poop and butt explosions if you eat too many green apples. I think this is what the Queen meant to do to Snow White but fucked it all up. If she had just overfed her apples, Snow White would not have been girlfriend material for the prince because she was in the toidy all the time and wreaked. It would have totally ruined her life.



I like all apples, so I have a tendency to mix it up. Not just green ones. But they carry the most butt explosions, just so you know. And if you add in some coffee...GANGWAY!

Do not eat these all at once:



Free information. It's the Internet way. Well, only if you are surfing free Wi-Fi services like at Starbucks, otherwise, you pay for it. You're welcome.



These two items, apples and lots of water, have been keeping me honest and away from bad snacks. I don't crave sugar very often and when I do, I don't eat the whole cake. It's better to sneak just a small bite or perhaps have a Starbucks latte...small. It comes right back out if you eat an apple and thus, no calories or sugar absorbed. Win-win!

BTW...Starbucks names their drink sizes in Italian. They are called "tall" drinks, but they are really short. Those Italians have a funny way with words. Foolers. So funny.

My overuse injuries are getting better since I took 4 days off to heal. That might explain why I have had a slow start this week. Now, we are entering a contest at work and I must win. The first prize is $100. It is no easy task. We have super athletes at the college. For a short time right now, I am in the lead. This usually lasts until the middle of the month, when the marathoners get a race in. For right now, "Carlos, eat my dust." Go me!

Carlos is a maniac when it comes to steps on his Fitbit. However, I'm really worried about Joshua. He is competitive and will probably put in a few extra runs at lightning speed just to make the kill.  Plus he is getting into marathons. I'm a baby. Baby races at 10Ks. See how that works? We can't be slouchers. The system keeps us motivated and honest. Not that we wouldn't be honest without the device, but motivatage might slip a time or two. No way if it is there for all to see. It's like standing in the square naked. You had better not have a slouched on your abs or be sporting your cottage cheese legs around. I refrain from public nudity. People can thank me for that.

So what does your Fitbit say? How many steps?

I was in a funk at first and averaged about 6,000-7,000. The secret was to get my fat butt off the chair. I started walking at lunch. I later added in running after work. See, I go straight to the gym so I can't make any excuse for weather issues. At night, three times a week, I run outside as well. Whew. Gotta get race ready.

Last night the humidity was thick. The fireflies were nice, but they were flying so slow I almost swallowed a few. Perhaps they were having a hard time in the fog of condensation as I was. When they are not a blur of light, they are a strange looking bug and kind of creepy, but since they are the only being on earth I know who can light their butt on fire with fantastic flare and fly around to light up the sky, I let it slide. Well, besides a Jack Ass (the movies) cast member.


Well, and we do torture them by putting them in jars and watching them in awe. Poor things.



This summer has been the first time I have noticed the humidity being so thick and relentless. Oy. It makes for bad hair and hard running. This should not be confused with running with a hard on, but means difficult. I understand both issues would be difficult because I have heard it is hard to run with a hard on, but I wouldn't know. I've seen it before, tho. It's kind of funny... but not for the man. Sorry, mom.

Last night, my feet felt like cement blocks. I also found my shoes with 749 miles on them have broken down inside and lucky for me I have a super clearance pair (last year's last year's model)  in the closet which are new. So, my new favorite shoes are now going to be my "sneakers." That's what I call the shoes you retire and make your weekend run around town shoes or garden beauties. Sad shame. I wish they would last longer. But then the shoe companies would not make any money.

I am certain this is their (manufacturer's) ploy on everything. Nothing lasts like it used to so we have to buy more and support those yacht owning CEOs. What happened to the trickle down theory? I would just settle for a canoe or a kayak. Perhaps that is not what is meant by that premise. I don't know why they invent theories if we don't use them. Bastards.

My summer is about to get lonely as Bug sets off to Wyoming to visit her dad. Poop. Shit.

I guess I will build muscles while scraping siding and painting the Harry Potter House. It might take me three years to get this project done, but it will happen. It's a labor of love. Just like having a baby, but it doesn't hurt in the vagina.






Tuesday, June 2, 2015

7 Degrees of Fargo Feelosophy




Dear God,

 It's me, Fargo. Give me some brains. Not trains. Not pains. Not the plains. Not planes. 

Please. 

I love you.

Please help me with brains. 

Thank you. 

Wait. Maybe I should have said smarts. Not farts. Not parts. 

Intelligence. That's it!

Thank you, God! Don't forget. I need help. Thanks.

~Fargo

During life, philosophical things tickle our fancy or spark our giggles a time or two. Perhaps they are from lessons learned and resurface later when we are wiser, or hit us at that AHA Moment. I know all this, but I still make wrong choices. Gah.

Let me introduce you to some profound bits in my life:

1) Do not let the men fool you. Do not fool yourself. When someone tells you they like your eyes, your hair, and/or your personality...you do not meet the requirements for a girlfriend. Or how about, "You look small in my big car." Really. So I'm fat, but this car makes my butt look small? Yeah. The worst: "She has a nice personality". Blah.

Oh, it is so nice to hear sometimes any compliment when you are desperate or lonely or both.

But not those. Like ever.

Perhaps they only focus on your physical attributes. They are shallow like their gene pool. Swim in other waters.

Don't be fooled by physical attraction or seemingly physical attraction. Men can fake that.

Now a guy will bone you for no other reason than you are a hole to put the pecker in, so sex does not equal love. Pay attention to words but more importantly to actions. When the pecker is in the vagina, he is not looking at your personality, eyes, or hair. Nor does he care about what house you are going to live in together and brood of children you are going to raise.

He is looking to get off. Know the difference between a relationship and sex. Sometimes it takes practice. Not sex practice. Practice to know if they are real or playahs.

Men can resemble baboons. Go to the zoo and observe them for a while to understand what goes on in a man's head. (s).

Remember the actions!!!!! Those are most important. Words are cheap.


2) If a man says, "You complete me", he is gay. Have him decorate your house. Or be your best friend. If you feel that way about him, go put on the white jacket and check yourself in. We are complete persons all by ourselves. The best love is one that makes you a better person without changing who you are and being yourself. Sometimes it requires a dog.



3) Sexy does not have to come with the price tag of being dumb or easy. But sex is fun. Dumb is bad.



4) Wait for that moment where a person you love doesn't cross your mind, they live in it. Be attentive to him and he should be attentive to you without you giving him a list or nagging. This means you or he are not an option, but the only choice on the menu and relish eat other. It's like food. Organic. Fresh. Not a garnish. Not dessert. The main course. You could live on the main course.

In reference to the first sentence...maybe all this means is he is a stalker or you are. Know the difference. Obsession is unhealthy and should only be saved for chocolate. Or wine. Wine is good. Lots of it.

Ok. Maybe Jamie is an exception.

5) You can tell a lot about the inside of a person by the outside. If they look a slob all the time, they are a slob in the house, in life, and have a tendency to be lazy. If they look like they just got out of prison, they probably did. Or they are a cop. Figure it out. Facial tattoos are a giveaway. They both like handcuffs for different purposes. Eek. That might get creepy.

6) If they are up and down, hot and cold-they probably suffer from depression or bi-polar disorder. Be careful. Sometimes men like to whisper in your ear. Listen to the words. They might be whispering hateful messages. If they are not nice to animals, or drive a white van, live in mommy's basement-they are a serial killer. Pay fucking attention.

7) Punt.  Don't settle. Be picky. And seek advice from someone who has a loving, long-lasting, and healthy relationship. I only know what happens when shit goes wrong. I have no idea what I am doing in the love department. Don't listen to me.