Sunday, 10 February 2013
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Friday, 8 February 2013
Thought of the Day
Crossing the farting and pooping barrier with your significant other.
When does it become okay? Does it ever?
I'm not sure if it ever becomes normal or part of every day life, but it shouldn't be entirely unacceptable. That is if my dude farts in bed by accident, sure. That's okay. But if he just lets one rip because he felt the need... then that's a little different.
Same thing with pooping. I hear of couples where one is in the shower and the other just poops right there next to them. Or one's shaving and the girl is pooping. Whatever the case may be, I believe in a little bit of mystery and privacy.
It isn't as if I don't know my man poops and farts. It happens. But I don't want it to be this deliberate thing.
More than anything, I'd like to believe we both put some effort into making ourselves desirable. Farting and pooping is not desirable. It isn't a dealbreaker if someone lets one rip, but it sure is a turn off.
I don't know. Maybe 10 years into a relationship or maybe 20, I'll just start farting and pooping and picking my nose in front of him. Maybe it'll be no big deal. But doesn't it just diminish the romance a little bit? It's as if you've become so familiar and comfortable with each other that picking your butt is okay. And it IS okay. But should being familiar and comfortable be that important?
Me getting food all over my face eating ribs, having hair stuck to my pants, toilet paper dragging on my shoe... and it being okay... That's my idea of comfortable.
Sharing bodily functions? Too comfortable.
When does it become okay? Does it ever?
I'm not sure if it ever becomes normal or part of every day life, but it shouldn't be entirely unacceptable. That is if my dude farts in bed by accident, sure. That's okay. But if he just lets one rip because he felt the need... then that's a little different.
Same thing with pooping. I hear of couples where one is in the shower and the other just poops right there next to them. Or one's shaving and the girl is pooping. Whatever the case may be, I believe in a little bit of mystery and privacy.
It isn't as if I don't know my man poops and farts. It happens. But I don't want it to be this deliberate thing.
More than anything, I'd like to believe we both put some effort into making ourselves desirable. Farting and pooping is not desirable. It isn't a dealbreaker if someone lets one rip, but it sure is a turn off.
I don't know. Maybe 10 years into a relationship or maybe 20, I'll just start farting and pooping and picking my nose in front of him. Maybe it'll be no big deal. But doesn't it just diminish the romance a little bit? It's as if you've become so familiar and comfortable with each other that picking your butt is okay. And it IS okay. But should being familiar and comfortable be that important?
Me getting food all over my face eating ribs, having hair stuck to my pants, toilet paper dragging on my shoe... and it being okay... That's my idea of comfortable.
Sharing bodily functions? Too comfortable.
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Rant of the Day
When I was growing up I walked home from school. I wasn't afraid of pervs or stalkers. It isn't because they didn't exist (let's be honest there's been creeps since the dawn of time, it's just that media coverage and exposure has made them seem more prevalent now), but instead because my parents trusted me not to be a pussy.
If some weirdo guy came up to me and offered me candy? Kick in the balls.
An unmarked van pulls up and tells me he's a friend of my mom's? I'll scream.
Dude in a trenchcoat flashes me? I'll yank it right off.
Those are things my mom taught me. Not to be afraid. Not to just stand there and take it. To always ask questions. To scream as soon as I feel that instinctual fear or uncertainty.
Didn't matter if it was a strange woman who said Mommy dearest couldn't come get me today, please come with me instead. Woman or man, I'll scream.
No, I didn't scream much as a kid. Because I can discern danger from safety. Plus kids are fast. I could run. I could flail. I'm not some useless ball of jailbait for whichever loser wants a shot.
So parents. Really. Teach your kids to defend themselves. You don't need to show up at 2:45pm every single school day and walk your kids home. Hand in hand. Checking over your shoulder. Your kid isn't defenseless. But you're encouraging them to rely and depend on you. Mommy or Daddy will always come to their rescue, right?
Teach your kids to grow up, grow a pair, and to kick ass and scream if they have to. In high school I walked 45 minutes from school to home every day. And know what? I've never been molested or kidnapped. Because I was taught not to be a victim.
Perv snatches me? I can still scream and kick.
Perv blindfolds me? I can still bite.
Covers my mouth? I'll bite harder. Don't forget my legs, those are vicious.
Shoves me into a van? I will flail and roll around and punch my fists every which way. I will not go easy. Whether I'm 5, 15, or 25.
Don't forget our natural weapons. Our voices and our hands. It isn't a leash and someone's hand to hold on the way home.
If some weirdo guy came up to me and offered me candy? Kick in the balls.
An unmarked van pulls up and tells me he's a friend of my mom's? I'll scream.
Dude in a trenchcoat flashes me? I'll yank it right off.
Those are things my mom taught me. Not to be afraid. Not to just stand there and take it. To always ask questions. To scream as soon as I feel that instinctual fear or uncertainty.
Didn't matter if it was a strange woman who said Mommy dearest couldn't come get me today, please come with me instead. Woman or man, I'll scream.
No, I didn't scream much as a kid. Because I can discern danger from safety. Plus kids are fast. I could run. I could flail. I'm not some useless ball of jailbait for whichever loser wants a shot.
So parents. Really. Teach your kids to defend themselves. You don't need to show up at 2:45pm every single school day and walk your kids home. Hand in hand. Checking over your shoulder. Your kid isn't defenseless. But you're encouraging them to rely and depend on you. Mommy or Daddy will always come to their rescue, right?
Teach your kids to grow up, grow a pair, and to kick ass and scream if they have to. In high school I walked 45 minutes from school to home every day. And know what? I've never been molested or kidnapped. Because I was taught not to be a victim.
Perv snatches me? I can still scream and kick.
Perv blindfolds me? I can still bite.
Covers my mouth? I'll bite harder. Don't forget my legs, those are vicious.
Shoves me into a van? I will flail and roll around and punch my fists every which way. I will not go easy. Whether I'm 5, 15, or 25.
Don't forget our natural weapons. Our voices and our hands. It isn't a leash and someone's hand to hold on the way home.
Wednesday, 6 February 2013
Thought of the Day
There's something about a cold floor on a winter day that makes it impossible to get out of bed.
That's my main excuse for my laziness. That and the irresistible allure of my soft and warm bed.
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