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A challenge for you

Psssst, come on over here while Ben is in the corner muttering about oil and the government. I mean, yeah, sure; that stuff is important. But there’s little a person can DO about it, while sitting at their desk, pretending to work.

But do you know what you CAN do? You can give money to boobs! Yes! The boobs, they want your money!

Here’s the challenge: As those of you who’ve read over on my blog are aware, I’m in training to walk 60 miles this summer to raise money for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. There are certain milestones in both training and fundraising that the coaches ask participants to keep track of. We get a special badge with spots for little stickers for each milestone, and it’s sort of dorky, but I am just a wee bit competitive, it turns out (who knew!), and I’m a bit irked about one of my milestones.

Currently I am the top fundraiser in terms of dollars collected for the Boston walk. Woo! This means that I’ve blown through most of the fundraising milestones pretty effortlessly. But what I have not yet managed to do is get a single matching donation.

A matching donation is when you work for a big company that oozes money and matches any charitable contributions you make. I fail to believe that NO ONE out there works for one of these sorts of companies. Even if you only give $5 or $10, you fill out a form, and your company matches it and doubles your donation. It’s a beautiful thing.

It’s also the missing sticker for my badge. And I want it. So please consider donating to a great cause ESPECIALLY if your employer matches donations. My boobs will thank you. Well, sort of. Okay, I’m going to shut up now.

How sweet it is

Pssssst! Don’t tell Ben, but I think I found the perfect gift for him for Valentine’s Day.

Here it is; what do you think?

Only, I got to thinking that it was… I dunno… MISSING something. It just needs… wait… I know! Perfect!

Ben? Ben…? Crap. Anyone have any smelling salts?

Ignore this post

Hey Ben… let me just apologize in advance.

That said….

AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!*

Thanks. I almost feel better now.

*Handy household tip: If you feel the need to obsessively stalk your ex’s blog and bristle any time said ex says anything other than that you can walk on water, it helps not to leave a string of comments proving beyond any shadow of a doubt that you are a delusional freak with temper issues.

I’m a Halloweenie

Hey Ben, have you seen this?? Forget about STACKING the cats….

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Listen up, MEN

Hi there. Ben has asked me to inject a bit of the female point of view here to balance out the recent rash of beer jokes. And it just so happens that I have a wee bee in my bonnet, so the timing couldn’t be better. Yes, I know; ME with an ISSUE, it’s positively… SHOCKING. Shaddup.

Here’s the thing. Men? Single men? Are you listening? I love you, I really do. I adore men. They’re so… manly… and good with tools. And of course there’s that whole penis thing. I am a big fan of the penis. Provided it is IN THE PANTS and not BETWEEN THE EARS. Are you following me? No? Let me see if I can spell it out for you, then.

We women… well… we understand that we are enigmas to you. That’s the way we like it, generally. But every now and then we need to unravel the mystery a bit so as to educate your sorry selves. And this, my dears, is one of those times.

Let’s talk about online dating, shall we? Yes? Excellent.



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Let’s start with the photo. Gentlemen, there are only two excuses to post a picture of yourself with glowing red eyes:
1) You are too stupid to use Photoshop or a similar, handy, photo correction software package.
2) You cannot hide the forces of evil which burn within you.In the case of (1), you are far too lazy/moronic of a buttmunch for me to consider, and in the case of (2), um, no thanks.

But looks aren’t everything. In fact, to most women, they’re very little compared to who you are on the inside. Granted, most of you are a smelly hairball of testosterone lounging in front of the TV, on the inside, but it’s wise to learn to conceal this for a bit. This may take practice. And assistance. And for some of you, electro-convulsive therapy. There’s no shame in accepting help, you know.

So. Now you’re writing your description. This is what’s going to lure women into your trap, you know. What do you say? How do you entice her? A few handy tips:
1) Proofread. It doesn’t take long. Typos and wonky grammar are the enemy.
2) Leave out crap like “I’m quiet, yet talkative.” This tells me you’re full of shit, or completely unaware of yourself, or (most likely) both.
3) If you say nothing about your relationship past? KISS OF DEATH. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. May as well stamp “IN DENIAL” on your forehead, buddy.
4) Refuse to answer the “best feature” question but happily fill in your salary range? Dead giveaways to insecurity. Try it the other ‘way around next time.
5) Try to pretend you have a clue. Don’t fill in that you don’t want children, and then later say you want 2 kids and you’re definitely willing to adopt. Idiot.
6) If you simply must share the pseudo-profundity of “Relationships out here in the real world have ups and downs, and require a lot of work and dedication to make them last,” don’t forget to follow up with, “Of course, I am completely unwilling to actually DO that sort of work, which is why I’m HERE, but aren’t you impressed by my observational skills??”

By simply taking a bit of time and pride in yourself, common blunders can be avoided. Better yet: skip the online dating thing altogether. If that’s what you’ve sunken to, consider it a Darwinian favor to the rest of us to just remove yourself from the pool, okay? As it is, any woman with a brain can spot how repressed and desperate you are from several thousand miles away.

I hope that this sheds some light on this matter for some of you. I know that I, for one, am feeling MUCH better now.