This week, a high school in Texas, Richardson High School, finally took the bull by the horns and decided to take a break from worthless bullshit like English and Math and focus on teaching a lesson with some actual value, courtesy of a man by the name of Justin Lookadoo. Many may call him just a motivational speaker, but one look at his hair and you can just tell he is selling himself short, and once you hear his message to today’s youth, you know that he is so much more. Justin Lookadoo has the answers to the problems that plague our society. If you’ve ever looked around and thought the world was going to hell in a handbasket and asked yourself, “why”, look no further. Justin here knows that if there is going to be any change in the world, you gotta start with the kids and that is where he has, smartly, chosen to focus his energy and his wisdom. I’m so tired of everyone asking my kids about how they like school or their favorite subject. I don’t want my kids concerning themselves with trivial horseshit like grammar or scientific theory; intellectual pursuits are just pretentious. There I said it. When all is said and done and the shit really hits the fan, fuck intelligence. What really matters is their relationship potential. I want them to ask themselves Justin’s question, “Are you DATEABLE“. Thankfully for our kids, especially our daughters, Justin has outlined some basic rules in his books and WEBSITE, which explain how “dateable” girls and boys act and interact.
DATEABLE GIRLS RULES:
Accept your girly-ness. You’re a girl. Be proud of all that means. You are soft, you are gentle, you are a woman. Don’t try to be a guy. Guys like you because you are different from them. So let your girly-ness soar.
I’m just glad someone finally said it. I, for one, am sick and fucking tired of girls trying to be guys by doing shit like wearing blue or pants or using hammers and screwdrivers, changing tires and excelling at math and science. When a girl doesn’t like pink or wants to talk about politics, rather than how she likes to wear her hair, I want to reach down and do a dick check. Start making a list of names for your future cats.
Girls don’t fight girls, ever. Revenge belongs to God. Dateable girls know that when they fight other girls they look stupid and catty, and guys don’t like it any more than God does.
It’s seems more and more that girls are less and less concerned about what everyone else thinks, and, especially, how guys are perceiving their behavior. It’s appalling. I have even heard parents telling their daughters the reasons to avoid fights is shit like, “there are better ways to solve a problem” or “it could lead to some pretty major, long-term, consequences like suspension or even jail” but, WHO THE FUCK CARES?!? If the possibility of fucking up their dateablility won’t keep them on the straight and narrow, you might as well let go of any hope for future grandchildren right now.
Be mysterious. Dateable girls know how to shut up. They don’t monopolize the conversation. They don’t tell everyone everything about themselves. They save some for later. They listen more than they gab.
I’d just like to know when girls started thinking that boys wanted them to participate in a conversation? Who started this rumor? It’s almost like girls these days view themselves as persons and think that an interested boy will find any intrinsic value in intelligence or personality, as if they believe they hold any personal value, much less have anything relevant she could possibly have to contribute within a conversation with one equipped with a penis. It’s just ree-fucking-diculous that this even has to be explained. You’ve got a vagina and a mouth. The boys are interested in one of your holes, but it won’t last long if you can’t keep the other hole closed, Chatty Cathy.
Let him lead. God made guys as leaders. Dateable girls get that and let him do guy things, get a door, open a ketchup bottle. They relax and let guys be guys. Which means they don’t ask him out!!!
God MADE guys leaders. Leadership is divinely built into them. Women are not. We weren’t provided the characteristics of leadership. God wanted men to lead and women to follow. Which is why girls must learn to ALLOW guys to do all the important, leadery things. Dateable girls don’t try to do manly, leader things like opening doors or condiments. Oh, you can open your own ketchup? So, are you just a regular bitch or a lesbian bitch? Either way, you are undateable but if you are the latter, Justin has some summer camp suggestions for your parents to look into.
I admit, I ‘ve faltered on this one. I have a jar opener thingamajiggy doohickey mounted under one of my cabinets but I am uninstalling it immediately after this reminder. I’m riddled with guilt just thinking of all these years that I’ve inadvertently emasculated my husband one screw lid at a time. I only hope he can find it in his heart to forgive me.
Obviously, it goes without saying that only sluts and whores ask a guy out. First, it involves talking and second it is acting like a leader and if don’t have a hog in your pants, you can’t lead. Stand back and look like a quiet, weak girl who hates homosexuals and ketchup and loves Jesus and fornication.
Need him. Dateable girls know that guys need to be needed. A Dateable girl isn’t Miss Independent. She knows we are made for community. Needing each other is part of faith. She allows him to be needed at times, knowing he was called to serve just as much as she was.
I can only hope that my daughter is lucky enough to attract the attention of boys that are insecure, weak, and self-centered, requiring her to stifle her own personality, silence her voice, allowing herself to be subjugated to appease and coddle his fragile ego.
DATEABLE GUY RULES:
Being a guy is good. Dateable guys know they aren’t as sensitive as girls and that’s okay. They know they are stronger, more dangerous, and more adventurous and that’s okay. Dateable guys are real men who aren’t afraid to be guys.
Dateable guys are manly men. They don’t do girly things like giving a fuck about shit, except danger and adventure or dangerous adventures. They’re only good at two things: fucking bitches and fucking shit up.
Control your mind. Dateable guys know that God demands self-control. They learn ways to control their minds so they can control their bodies.
In other words, don’t masturbate. Dateable guys don’t have vaginas, and that includes hand-ginas.
Don’t just want a win, want an adventure. Dateable guys know life is about danger. You might not win, but that’s not the point, doing it is. Dateable guys risk failure to live the adventure of life.
Dateable guys know that dateable girls love, love, love guys that are unpredictable, reckless, irresponsible, fly by the seat of the pants, kind of guys. Live on the edge. Jump out of planes, play Russian roulette and don’t balance your checkbook. Bitches will be lining up.
Men of God are wild, not domesticated. Dateable guys aren’t tamed. They don’t live by the rules of the opposite sex. They fight battles, conquer lands, and stand up for the oppressed.
Real men don’t follow rules. As a matter of fact, any guy that even bothers to read his list of rules should turn off the Cher album and just go sign themselves up for straight camp because you just failed the REAL MAN test you didn’t even know you were taking.
Keep it covered up. Dateable guys know that porn is bad for the spirit and the mind. They keep women covered up.
If a girl won’t cover up, dateable guys call her a “slut” or “whore”, in hopes of shaming her into their standard of modesty. It’s important for girls to know that they are responsible for keeping guys’ thoughts and acts pure and to ensure that they do nothing that could cause a guy to give her a starring role in a mental porn scene.
If you want to find out about your own dateability, boys and girls, Justin has provided a quiz: SPOILER ALERT, LADIES: If you answer “yes” to any of your questions, you can start your cat collection now. Now, for those of you looking at the guys’ quiz, you might think those last few questions would be correctly answered by saying you HAVE both agreed to physical limits and that he DOESN’T push the physical boundaries and absolve himself of responsibility or self-control, and disagreed with the “if she loved me, she will” ideology, but you’d be wrong. The only people who wouldn’t get that are whiny, weak, ketchup craving lady babies. Guys have dicks, man. That is what makes guys better. We girls are made to be like an otterbox for a dick. A cock cozy, essentially. Dudes are always down to fuck. They want to—nay, NEED to dip their wicks. Luckily, girls don’t have any sexual urges or desires, so it is up to us to try to keep ourselves and boys virtuous, both in thought and action, but also remain dateable by letting them do stuff like rub your boobs or, if you really love him or he is super popular or really hot, at least finger bang you. Guys won’t go to hell for fornicating, only masturbating, so they can get in where they fit in and be fine.
Girls need guys and guys want girls, but not for conversation or companionship. Mostly for a place to stick their dicks. It just is what it is, so accept it. Be girly and stop trying to be guys by opening shit. You stand at the door and wait for a man to come open it. You eat your goddamn burger dry or wait for a fucking guy to come open that bottle. Put on some lip gloss and shut your fucking mouth. Your interests, your opinions, even any life threatening allergy is of no interest to real men. At least none that you should be willing to date. When you can make a helicopter with your lady clam, maybe then you’ll understand the special level of wisdom and strength exclusive to guys.
Guys, be strong and tell her whose boss. Girls love it when you tell them to “shut the fuck up” or cancel plans at the last-minute or hit on other girls when you are out with them. It shows you are a dangerous, desirable man and drives girls wild. If a girl won’t put out, tell her that if she loves you, she would and make her realize how lucky she is to have you by cheating on her, so she knows that if she won’t give it up, you’ll find a girl who will. And, of course, first and foremost, treat girls with respect.
RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU ARE CONTACTING YOUR PTA TO DEMAND THEY BRING JUSTIN TO MOTIVATE YOUR KIDS!
I’ve decided that my true calling in life is to be some kind of life coach; a guru, if you will. I didn’t come to this conclusion overnight, though. I have spent a lifetime studying this craft, without even realizing it, devouring knowledge as I poured through the pages of important and informative literature, like Cosmopolitan, and Seventeen. I’ve always felt I had a higher purpose, to help people and truly make a difference in the lives of others, and it finally hit me that this was the path I was being shown to fulfill that purpose. At this point, I feel that my point of view and life experience gives me an insight to advise the general public on the personal issues that plague them in a manner far superior than anyone currently taking up space in this profession. I know that you can’t just take me at my word, so I’ve decided that this will be my “audition piece”, if you’d be so kind to indulge me.
I’ve taken questions from other columns and will answer them correctly. I’m going to change lives.
ADVICE COLUMN SUBMISSION:
I’ve been engaged for two years and can’t figure out whether I should marry this guy. When we moved in together six months ago, he called the police when he feared my cat—who is fully declawed—was going to attack him. Recently, I came home from work to find he had thrown my computer into a Dumpster. “It crashed” was his excuse. He’s also impossible to get along with and has lied about his age, his previous marriages (two, not one), and the paternity of his only son.
His good qualities: He pays the rent and is adventurous, polite, and good in bed. I have an insane attraction to him, but why do I have so many doubts? I wonder if there is a man alive who wouldn’t piss me off on a regular basis.
I’m sure a lot of people will tell you that a guy who tries to file attempted assault charges against cats is overly dramatic, at best, or, at worst, possibly delusional, bordering on bat shit crazy. You say the cat is declawed, but unless you say that the cat is de-toothed, a threat existed. I hope that your cat was arrested and prosecuted because I, for one, am sick and tired of cats getting away with shit like that.
Next, you returned home from work to find he had thrown away your computer after it “crashed”. I’m sure some people would right away see this explanation as an obvious attempt to blow smoke up your ass, probably implying or outright suggesting that he had probably sold it for drugs or a piece of ass. I just need to know the specifics of the “crash”. For me, if the internet goes down for any reason, I throw my computer in the trash. I threw away a brand new computer once because, while in the middle of a really funny YouTube video, the computer suddenly just died. Just like that. I, of course, smashed it to a melody of curse words, some real, some made up in the heat of the moment, and then threw it directly into my neighbor’s trash can (it was trash day and ours’ was still all the way at the end of the driveway). Of course, I realized shortly after that my toddler had unplugged it from the wall but how was I supposed to know that? I’m not in the I.T. business and I’ll bet your fiance isn’t either. Think about that.
So he told a few little lies. Big deal. People are so hung up on honesty. Did he have a good reason to lie? That is what matters. Why is his age even any of your business? What are you a fucking cop or something? As far as the previous marriages: Were either or both of his ex-wives more attractive than you? It’s possible he was just trying to protect you because you are obviously crippled with insecurity and jealousy issues. Maybe you’re impossible to get along with. Maybe you have a tendency to be a bitch about these issues and don’t realize it. Some food for thought.
You answered your own question at the end there, toots. You have this man who pays rent, probably says “thank you” after spunking on your face, and gives you a good dickin and you have the audacity to reconsider marrying him because of petty shit like lying about being married and having children? To answer your final thought: Probably not. You sound suspicious and high maintenance.
What do you do if you accidentally, in the throes of passion, tell a guy you love him too soon when you totally don’t? Pretend it didn’t happen? Hahahahah.
Are you new? If you want to have a successful relationship built on trust and mutual respect, you should be hacking into his email, checking his texts and call records, and monitoring his Facebook on a regular basis. You could even get a friend that he’s never met to hit on him, maybe at a bar or club when you aren’t with him, and report back to you if they make out or have sex. Now, if you catch him snooping in your shit, drop him like a bad habit. You don’t want to waste your time on a guy that would act so jealous and possessive.
I’ve been dating two men for the past year – with their knowledge. Neither wants a full-time relationship (all three of us divorced recently, so are still bruised). I know I should feel lucky with two lovers, but I’m starting to feel torn about having sex with one man, then another, with nothing deeper developing. What should I do?
I’m going to clear out my voicemail because I know that my phone is going to be blowing up with job offers.
WHO NEEDS SOME ADVICE?
Let me preface this by saying, the only time I’ve ever wished I wasn’t married was yesterday, when I first laid eyes on a dreamboat that calls himself “Sleepless in Austin”, aka Romeo Rose. As soon as I clicked the link, the first thing to greet me on the home page was Adonis, in the flesh, I was mesmerized by his soulful eyes. I didn’t even realize I had been tracing the outline of his teeth with my fingernail for who-knows-how-many minutes, until a Twitter alert snapped me out of my daze.
First off, ladies, wouldn’t it be awesome to be able to brag to your friends that your boyfriend paid $1500 for you? That’s high society status shit, right there.
When I came across a picture of him with a guitar and realized he was a fucking rock star too, my loins quivered. I cried out for more. MORE! MORE! YES! MORE! My lust for Romeo turned into full-blown love when I read his lovelorn plea for help. It was like that shit you see in movies falling in love, His words brought tears to my eyes. He doesn’t want to be Forever Alone. He is looking for the love of his life; someone he can fall in love with and, hopefully, spend the rest of his life with. Showing that he is so much more than just hot bod and pretty face, his describes to any potential matchmakers the characteristics he searches for in a woman. With this poetry, he showed his ability to step out of that “masculine” comfort zone, and be sensitive and vulnerable, while holding to a respectable and reasonable level of standards, making him the total package.
I’d divorce my husband, and point my car to Austin with only the clothes on my back, if I thought he would have me but, sadly, I’m not worthy. I’m going to share this with you, my readers, in hopes that my loss if your gain; that the lucky lady might be amongst all of you. All I’d ask in return is to live vicariously through your stories and anecdotes. Oh, and the $1500.
Once you read his words, you will know his heart. You will fall in love, as I did. You may also, like me, find yourself opening his picture to full screen view, and rubbing your computer screen all over your writhing, naked body; demurely explaining to the picture on the screen that you’ve never done anything like this before, as you shove his frozen image down and over your breasts, then sliding it down between your thighs, unable to stifle the moans of lust and desire. You’ll say, “No one has ever made me feel like this before”, and, “MORE TEETH. PLEASE, GOD, MORE TEETH”. then, as you lay there trembling, curled into a quivering ball of satisfied ecstasy, you rub your fingertip up and down the screen, along the front of his pants, warming him up for round 2.
Okay, where was I? Is it hot in here to anyone else? No? Okay, let’s just move on. So, here goes, ladies: Could YOU be the woman of his dreams?
First and foremost, his dream girl is attractive, which I’d assume is a high ranking bullet point on most people’s “wish list”. He is too sensible to be so vague, though. He prefers a certain aesthetic.
I like girls that are thin, or with a toned or athletic build. A average build is fine too, just as long as you are not over weight. I will not date a overweight or fat girl.
I realize that the average person will read this and think, “what an ass”. Romeo, though, isn’t your average guy. He is a genetic fucking masterpiece. LOOK AT HIM! He wasn’t conceived with sperm and an egg. He was created from angel tears and unicorn piss. You don’t just jiggle up to a man like this. You get your ass to the gym if you want a piece of that!
I like girls that are 130 pounds or less. Of course weight needs to be in proportion to their height, as long as they aren’t considred overweight, they should be fine. Being overweight is a total dealbreaker with me.
See! He isn’t looking for perfection! He just isn’t into fatties. It’s not personal, people! He is looking for someone to possibly spend his life with here. He is obviously concerned about long-term health outcomes and knows that morbid obesity is a life threatening risk factor. I know that a lot of people are saying that 130 lbs doesn’t make one overweight, much less obese, but you’re obviously in denial. Look, the long and short of it is, If your ass is fat, you ain’t getting with that.
I also like girls with long hair. I like a girl to look like a girl, not a man, I like a feminine, pretty girl. I like hair down to the shoulders at least. Sometimes I can make exceptions if it is shorter depending on how it looks on the girl. But for the most part, I love long hair.
He wants a lady looking lady, so hair MUST be long, like lady hair. He’s a rock star, man. Don’t you understand that? His hair is a bit long, sort of like a lady’s short cut, so when he is out with you, he wants to make sure everyone can tell that he is THE MAN in a heterosexual couple, rather than mistake him for the lady or, worse, have people peg y’all for a lesbian couple.
Redheads are my favorite, next is Brunettes, and next is Blondes, in that order. I like all 3, but I’m just saying if I had to choose, that’s my order of preference.
Congratulations, gingers. You win this round. Well, only if you’re skinny with long ginger locks. If you’re fat with a bob cut, the skinny, long-haired, blond is gonna win.
I will not date a Black girl. I don’t care if she looks like Halle Berry, I will not ever date a Black girl.
Uhhhhh-wow, okay——hmmmmmm…Well, I mean, are you going to let a little blatant racism stand in the way of love?
However, I will date any other race, Hispanic, Mexican, Spanish, Russian, Italian, French, European, White, whatever, anything except Black.
See! He isn’t racist! It’s just black women that he finds offensive and repellant! Wait, what…
I do not like glasses on a girl. Although, it’s not a dealbreaker, as long as she can wear contacts at least most of the time.
Who isn’t turned off by a “four eyes”? You can’t be attractive WHILE wearing glasses. Facts are facts.
I do not ever want to have kids, so if a girl is wanting to have babies, I am not her man.
His sperm is sacred. Mere humans are unworthy and incapable of spawning with his seed.
I do not like tattoos on a woman. If a woman already has tattoos, it may not be a deal breaker unless she plans to get more in the future. If a woman has something small and feminine like a butterfly or rose already on her ankle or something then it may not necessacerily (sic) be a dealbreaker. And it would also help if she would consider having them laser removed, something I might would even pay to have done for her.
Nothing says ROMANCE AHEAD like a Groupon for tattoo removal.
To me, tattoos just represent white trash or somone that’s been in prison. I do not care for following trends like mindless sheep and getting tats just because what ever Star on TV got them, they will always be a symbol of White Trash. The Female human body is the most beautiful work of Art God ever created, to tattoo it with ink is the same as vandalising a famous Monet painting with a can of spray paint!
No offense. Like he said, it may NOT be a deal breaker. He may be willing to slum it if you’re white trash with a BMI considered “underweight”, you have long red hair, are any color but black, and your trash tags are dainty symbols of femininity.
I do not like strippers! I will not date any girl that has ever been a stripper. I believe that the only person that should ever see a womans naked body is only her boyfriend or husband.
It says right there in the Bible, “Thou shalt only show your boobs and squish mitten to your husband or boyfriend or really hot guys when you’re drunk”.
I will not date any girl that has ever had a threesome, or a large number of past sexual partners. I do not want a promiscuous slut, I want a normal, decent, good hearted girlfriend.
I’m glad to see he opposes crazy, evil, sluts. Everyone knows that only heartless psycho women exhibit any degree of autonomous sexual agency.
I prefer a girl that does not smoke, but as long as she does not smoke in my house or around me, if she can go outside and smoke, then I can live with that. I lived with my ex girlfriend for Eleven years, and she was a smoker.
It is NOT weird that a fat ass and black skin are deal breakers but smoking is fine. You’re just jealous.
I will not date any girl if she is still friends with any men that she has been intimate with in the past, I believe once a relationship with someone is over, it’s OVER.
It is a scientific fact that once a guy has touched your boobs or his erection has been in or near your vagina, friendship is an impossibility. Even if it was years and years ago, and you’ve never reconsidered your romantic compatibility, your vagina has dick memory and if you hang out with any guy(s) who imprinted on your cock pocket , the vagina has the ability to take control of your mind and, next thing you know, you realize you just cheated on your man. /scienced
I do not like sarcastic or cynical people, I do not like people that always think negatively either, so that type of girl would also not be a good match for me.
Hating fat people and black people is NOT cynical, nor negative. It’s just not.
I do not expect a girl to agree with all of my beliefs or opinions etc, but I do not like to argue, and it’s very important that we can live in peace together if at some point the girl & I live together. I like to live in a quiet & peaceful environment. That is extremely important to me.
A lady knows that a good man doesn’t need nor want to hear about her opinions, especially if they are of the dissenting kind. Even if you agree, even slightly, a simple head nod or a, “you’re right about that” will suffice. A doctor once told me that women who think too much may get fat and/or lose their hair. Think about that.
I like a girl that dresses on the conservative side. Not like a slut, and not anything weird. Just normal is fine. T-Shirt & Jeans are OK. But a girl in a dress really gets my heart racing! I also love it when a girl wears a mini skirt with boots, not cowboy boots, but sexy boots. Or high heels, I love spiked high heels!
No one likes or respects girls dressed up like sluts. Men like it when women leave something to the imagination, such as a tight mini skirt paired with thigh high stiletto boots. It’s all about mystery and Dream Boat here is no different.
I love it when a girl wears sexy lingerie in the bedroom! Especially thigh highs!
Just as long as it isn’t slutty! Consider a long-sleeved, full length, cotton nightgown with thigh-high compression socks underneath
Kissing is one of my most favorite things to do with a girl, it’s very important. I also love to hold a girls hand when I am walking with her. And I love sleeping beside a girl and holding her close to me, and spooning with her. In fact THAT is the reason I named this website “Sleepless In Austin” because I haven’t had a single good nights sleep in years, ever since my relationship ended with my ex-girlfriend.
Don’t take this as him saying that women are more like sleeping aids than actual people. I’m sure he’ll treat his woman with respect and love, as long as you go to bed when he wants to go to bed and sleep in a position that provides him the utmost level of comfort, to ensure a good night’s sleep for him. I’m sure it’s understandable if you are tired because you didn’t have a restful night, but just keep it to yourself. Remember: No one likes a Negative Nelly.
And yes, I also liked the movie Sleepless in Seattle, haha
See! Only the most romantic men would like such a love story.
It dosen’t matter at all to me how big or small a girls breasts are. I prefer them to be real & natural though. I am against breast implants, I see that as unnecessery self mutilation, and I would not want a girlfriend that has breast implants.
But, if you’re over 130 lbs, gastric bypass may put you back in the running for Romeo’s love!
I prefer a woman that has never had children, because having kids does ruin a womans body often times. They end up with stretch marks. And also sometimes it makes their vagina looser, and I don’t care how many kegel exercises a woman does, after she has 2 or 3 eight to ten pound babies, you can’t tell me it’s going to be 100% as tight as it ever was! Plus, what’s even worse than all of that, is sometimes during childbirth the lips/vulva of a woman get torn and they never look the same as the did originally even after they heal, that’s why some women even get cosmetic reconstructive surgery to their vulvas after childbirth to try and regain their original appearance.
Romeo is a rock star; a sensitive, worldly man. If you’re fine with being hideously deformed, and don’t care enough about yourself to not ruin your body by shitting out a couple of fuck trophies, good for you! And, hey! If you aren’t worried about the whistling sound that could be caused by a gust of wind under your dress or your stretched out, saggy, vagina skin flapping when you walk, no one is judging you. You’re probably a nice person. Gross to look at or think about, with a huge hallway vagina, don’t get me wrong, but probably really nice.
Now I’m not saying having had a kid or two is a for sure dealbreaker for me, but it’s a case by case basis, and I prefer a woman that’s never had kids if possible. My ex-girlfriend that I was with for Eleven years never had kids, she couldn’t because of a hysterectomy at a young age.
Complete uterine removal is a bonus. (For thin, long haired red heads, with limited melanin levels, and no tats, or stretch marks and a tight vadge.)
I also have a very high sex drive.
Computer screen Romeo sure backs up this claim. WHEW!
Romeo answered questions on Reddit in an AMA and here are a few of his responses, if you need any further proof that he is NOT racist:
I am NOT a racist. But I will say this, Blacks do make up the majority of the inmates in the prisons in the country.
And I think it’s White people that make up the majority of white collar executive types of positions in America. Probably more Whites are 1 percenters than there are blacks.
When I think of all of the classical composers like Mozart etc that were pure genius, I don’t recall many of them being Black.
So in the grand scheme of things, it appears the scales are tilted in favor of Whites being the superior race, after all we weren’t the ones that were enslaved workinf cotton fields for 40o years..
My best friends are black and I have no hatred for them.
See! The first few may have been making lean towards labeling him as a racist but, just as I thought, he put it all to bed at the end, revealing that he is friends with black people.
THIS BLOG POST was shared by a few people on my Facebook and I felt compelled to respond.
Another Facebook Friday just came and went, in which we, as a family, gather round and stalk teenage girls’ profiles to weed out the harlots bent on tainting the thoughts and hearts of our special snowflake sons. Wow! Your selfie in the PJs, or maybe it was yoga pants and a tank, was shocking. Then one of my special snowflakes pointed out that you were in your bedroom and I lost it. POSTING PICTURES TAKEN IN YOUR BEDROOM?!?! Why don’t you just post a list of your rates in the pic description?! My husband and sons examined the picture pretty thoroughly and, SURVEY SAYS: You aren’t wearing a bra. It’s hard to tell just from looking but if you take the picture, upload it to picmonkey and blow it up 250X, focus the view on your breast area, pinpoint where the nipple should be anatomically, note fullness, shape and drop, THEN, upload another picture from school, any other place you would definitely be wearing a bra, repeat the above steps, compare fullness, shape and drop and BAM! We know immediately, or within a half hour, 45 minutes tops, which of you are using social media to titmatize our son. The caption says, “heading to bed, GN”, so why are you posing in such a way, with your back arched oh-so-slightly, making your buttocks pop up, seeming to say, “hellooo, there”, and your perfect, perky, upturned, breasts protruding forward saying, “haaaaaaaaaay”? Your head is cocked to the side at a 45 degree angle, which really highlights your cheekbones, and your full lips are pushed out into a very sultry pout, like a bad, bad girl who needs a spanking. What? Where was I? Oh, that’s right! When I put on my bedtime bra and PJs, that’s not a position I assume in my bedroom before heading to sleep!
Oh no! Did I just say something about me being in a bedroom? Why? Why, oh why? If any men or boys read that, they are going to picture me in my bedroom and have impure, lustful thoughts. CRAP! I just mentioned me in a bedroom again! I’m just another of Satan’s tools, put here to incite lust into the minds and hearts of pure, pious, good men, leading them into temptation. Please forgive me for any impure thoughts or impulses I may have caused anyone, even though I don’t know that I can forgive myself for leading you from the path of righteousness.
Back to my point, we aren’t saying that you girls are worthless whores. We don’t know you! That would be a ridiculous generalization! We’re just saying that any girl who takes pictures of herself in her bedroom is MOST LIKELY a worthless whore. Do you see the distinction? Point being, and this is a bummer, we are going to have to block you. I’m doing this because I care about my sons and I know, as males, they are incapable of separating their thoughts from their actions and controlling their urges. It is our job as women to avoid acting or dressing in such a way that could cause a man to sin, against themselves or against us. Men are just a slave to their urges. They can’t help it. Boys will be boys, you know. Did you know that once a man sees you in any state of undress that he can’t un-see it? It makes me weep for my husband who has the images of countless young girls and their bare shoulders, and legs, and midriffs, all trapped inside his head to suffer him for an eternity. You, you girls with your camera phones and mirrors and pajamas and come hither looks have put those images there but he is the one who will have to suffer and sacrifice. You don’t want my sons having sexual thoughts about you, do you? I hope not because there is no telling what they may do if you spark their sexual interest. They’re just boys. You are in control. Not them.
I know that sounds old school but that is just the way it is under this roof. We hope to raise men with a strong moral compass and, in this house, we know that men of integrity view women as objects; almost like an actual person but not worthy of any notable level of respect or dignity. We don’t trust our sons’ judgment in any sense of the word when it comes to the female persuasion. Girls will only cloud and impair their instincts, one selfie at a time, leading them down a wayward path of immorality that they have no ability or recourse to resist.
Here are a few pictures of our sons. I guess you can tell by the tan and the swimsuits that they were taken at the beach. The one with my husband, where they are all shirtless and flexing is my favorite. Here is another one of one of my sons, wearing only his swim shorts, looking off at the horizon. It is fine for me to post these pictures because girls aren’t actually capable of lust or sexual desire. Our sexuality is just a put on to make men feel good. Pictures of half-dressed boys, striking poses, are just good clean family fun. Boys being boys! It’s not like these pictures are taken in their bedrooms but, even if they were it would be different because boys’ rooms stink like cheese, so it cancels out any “sexy” that could be inferred otherwise.
Girls! If you act now, you may be able to fool some people into thinking that you aren’t a Jezebel temptress. Not me, but some people! I know better. It would be far too difficult to double back and teach my sons that women are people and, as such, are worthy of respect; respect that is not contingent just on their potential future benefit to my sons’ existence. It would be confusing for me to explain to them that modesty and self-respect work both ways and that if you are going to scrutinize girls for sharing pictures that show skin, they should practice what they preach. When it comes to the influence of peers on our sons’ lives, we know that the girls are the paramount threat. It’s the very reason that we only screen and filter out our sons’ female friends. Boys are just boys and are going to do silly stuff and post inappropriate pictures and YouTube videos but, hey! What are ya’ gonna do, ya know? Even when we are going through these girls’ pictures, we will see our sons or their guy friends in these pics, doing the same thing, flipping the bird, using vulgar language, or drinking but we know that they can’t help themselves. It’s the testosterone.
What I’m trying to say is that I don’t respect nor trust my sons, or men in general. For that matter, I don’t trust females either. I think that men are mindless slaves to their genitals, incapable of compassion, or reasoned decision-making. I think, and pass on to my sons, that if they falter, it is partly their fault, but mostly the fault of women (or a woman), guilty of infecting them with lust. I am teaching them to not trust their own instincts or emotions, in the way that I distrust them, because even if they think they’re thinking with their heart, they can rest assured that it is their penis, unless told otherwise. I want them to see women as objects, save their future wives, of whom I’ve set an almost impossible standard of beauty, piety, and influence over my sons’ happiness, satisfaction and overall quality of life that will only be achieved through a relationship with this one, special, specific person, that meets said criteria.
You’re really beautiful but I don’t see a bra strap in that picture.
I’m not saying you’re a slut, I’m just saying you look slutty.
Sorry I’m not sorry.
Queen of the Couch
(Here is my previous review of the books)
I wasn’t prepared for the reaction but I laughed when people lost their fucking minds when the announcement was made that Dakota Johnson and Charlie Hunnum would play Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey, respectively. When the “official” announcement was made, disappointment, indignation, and outrage ensued because of these two people:
Evidently, these two people are not up to par. They are not aesthetically capable of pulling off these roles. I mean, Charlie Hunnum is “scruffy”. In almost all the pictures I’ve seen of him, he has a beard and is wearing jeans or biker gear. Christian Grey is clean-cut and wears a suit! How the hell are they going to reconcile those differences? Dakota Johnson is too old, for starters. Ana is 21 years old, NOT 23!! Who is in charge of this? NOT TO MENTION, who the hell are they? No one has ever even heard of them! “Sons of Anarchy“? “Queer as Folk”? “The Social Network”? Never heard of them! Are they going to be able to handle bringing these characters to life? Are they seasoned enough to carry off this advanced of a story line, or the complexity and intimacy between these lovers, the likes of which can only be compared to a penile enhancement drug commercial? Many people were under the impression that these roles would be filled by higher caliber actors, like Academy Award winners. Or, at least nominees. There were also a lot of people with lower, but still higher, expectations.
Many really thought Robert Pattison should have/would have been Christian Grey. I’m assuming Kristen Stewart was the Anastasia they had in mind too. These are the diehard “Twilight” fans that feel that the only details that their favorite vampire love story was missing was fisting and anal beads.
Others were expecting Ryan Reynolds or Ian Somerhalder. The rumors and wishes for Ana have been Emma Watson to Alexis Biedel, who is not too old at 32. At the end of the day ,one thing is sure, when you picture Christian Grey bending Ana over a sink and pulling out her tampon or whipping her ass to subconsciously punish his crack whore mother, this is a love story with standards that the fans will demand be preserved!
I’ve been casting actor and actresses that I thought had the chops for these roles for a while. In my head, of course.
Of course, you’ll have to be flexible with any of these. Miley as Ana will walk into Christian’s office, slap her junk and probably twerk. With Tara, instead of “down there”, Ana will just refer to her “pussy”. I think Kim K. would really be able to bring to life Ana’s completely annoying personality and catch phrases, like “JEEEEZ”. She’s already released a sex tape, so there won’t be any concern about modesty or inhibitions. Win, win.
With Christian, Nicholas Cage could really nail the quick to anger and psychosis of Christian Grey. With Dustin Diamond, aka Screech, you have the sex tape as proof of his lack of dignity or self-respect for the role. David Caruso could really bring an extra something to the role with the sunglasses and put some zazzle into the Christian Grey one liners.
(Preface: I forgot to publish this one last week! Doh! Sorry it’s a bit outdated.)
I had set my DVR that day, excited because I heard rumors that Hannah Montana was going to perform on the VMAs. Hannah, as you may now know, did not show up. No, no, she did not. Miley Stewart was not on stage either. This Miley Cyrus that hit the stage, though, has a lot to answer for after that showing. The internetz have been swarming. Miley is a slut, tramp, skank and a whore. She also has a disgusting flabby ass, which can be verified from a number of close up shots from multiple angles. She molested a fellow performer then pretty much sexually assaulted him right on stage. From what I’ve gathered, because of her performance, thousands of people died, marriages have fallen apart, 2 more wars have broken out, the stock market collapsed, women lost the right to vote, and baby Jesus cried. Miley Cyrus, single-handedly, destroyed lives–nay, civilization!
Miley Cyrus chose her path a long, time ago. At 12 years old, when she accepted the role of Hannah Montana, she sealed her fate as a role model. If my children can’t look to television for a role model to help them develop good moral fiber and a healthy self-esteem, who the shit is going to teach them? Riddle me that! Who do these Disney stars think they are? When you go on television as a child, especially on Disney, millions of parents are depending on you to do a good job of raising their children, for fuck’s sake. Britney Spears was so cute and innocent on the Mickey Mouse club and then the VMAs turned her into a horny slut too. These girls have to understand that they can’t just turn 18 and go rogue. What, like it’s my job to keep up with what my kids are watching and what they are wearing or what they are doing all the time? Okay, sure. That’s why I bought a fucking TV! That this happened on a family friendly network like MTV blows my mind. Every year, the family and I all get in our PJs and gather round the television for the, normally, wholesome Video Music Awards show. When Lady Gaga graced the stage with a shell bra, my family and I collectively wept at the poetic beauty of her thong nestled in her ass crack. Later, when Miley emerged from a giant space teddy bear, wearing a teddy bear or mouse onesie, with her tongue hanging out, and tried to dance to her song, I was startled. Her pelvic thrusts were not artistic. There were teddy bears strapped to people dancing. TEDDY BEARS! Do you think that when I tune into MTV with my children that I expect that they will be exposed to goddamn teddy bears? Is anyone thinking of the children? When the intro to Robin Thicke’s song, “Blurred Lines” began, I breathed a sigh of relief that the program was finally returning to a family friendly program. My kids and I LOVE this song. Call me a hopeless romantic, but there is just something so pure, loving and sexy about a handsome man crooning about the grey area that we call “consent” . Sigh. Swoon. Imagine my horror when Robin is standing there singing this love ballad, telling his lady if she backs her ass up, his dick can tear it in two, and that little harlot bent over in front of him and shook her ass on on his crotch! What is this world coming to when you can’t enjoy a catchy, rapey, serenade without some tramp trying to make the whole show about sex? I covered their eyes and told my babies just to sing along and try to forget what they saw. Did I mention that Miley is 20 years old and that Robin is a married father? That’s all the information I need to know that Robin was an innocent victim to Ms. Cyrus’ drug induced sex show. Sure, his wife laughed off the outrage, saying that it was a show, there was rehearsal after rehearsal, and there were no surprises. But, come the fuck on. Miley probably threatened her or drugged her or paid her off. There is no way that Robin Thicke, a family man, would agree to that. His “Blurred Lines” video is a testament to his purity. Despite all of the topless women, wearing only nude thongs, Robin Thicke and the other men remain fully clothed the entire time. Like gentlemen. I just felt soooo sorry for him during the awards. He’s just up there singing his song, about fucking hot bitches and Miley tainted the message. That little whore needs help. Bad. It’s like that time that Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson performed at the halftime show, which ended with Justin Timberlake ripping at Janet’s top, exposing her decorated boob. Like the rest of the world, I was outraged and I knew that Janet Jackson must be punished. Sure, it was a dual performance and it was Justin that removed the material but it was Janet that had the breast and that was the part of the whole thing that offended me.
The whole scene was awful. She grabbed her crotch. She used a foam finger and simulated masturbation for at least a second. Maybe a second and a half. She bent over and her legs were shaking a bit. I thought she might be having some sort of syncope episode or perhaps a seizure but, apparently, she was dancing, or” twerking” to be specific. I laughed. Mind you, I have no idea how to twerk, which is precisely why I don’t demonstrate the move. Something to consider, Miley. Something to consider. Like I was saying. Crotch grabbing, thrusting, revealing clothes, vulgar, sexual gestures and dancing. APPALLING!
I just want to go back to the good old days when it wasn’t about sex and skin and the VMAs was perfect family television, like Madonna simulating masturbation and sex while performing “Like a Virgin”, or Prince wearing assless pants while singing “Get off” When my children and I nestle on the couch together for some sing-along time, I don’t want them to be exposed to twerking, much less in hot pants. I want the programmers to think about the youth of this country and roll it back to the days when I could turn on the VMAs for my kids and leave the room, comforted by the fact that all they were going to see was kid friendly acts like Prince in ass-less chaps, or Madonna making out with Britney Spears and Cristina Aguilera. Or, even better, in the times when rock and roll was all about the music. Just a bunch of men, in skin-tight leather pants, simulating masturbation or sex with microphones or other objects, BUT MOSTLY SINGING!!
My main concern throughout the performance was Miley’s tongue. Has anyone suggested that she see a neurologist yet? It might be a good idea.
The champagne will be nicely chilled when the big day arrives. I am counting down the minutes. I thought this day would NEVER get here. But it is almost here. Only 6 more days. 6 MORE DAYS!?! I don’t know if I can hold out that long. I think I can. I think I can. I can. I will. The champagne reminds me that our time is near. In 6 days, Number One and Number Two will walk out the door and I will bid them adieu with ticker tape and a champagne toast to the back-end of their school buses. The first day of school is a magical day.
Yes! I do have other kids. I’m like that goddamned woman who lived in a shoe. I’ll take what I can get and you don’t have to be a statistician or a child care expert to understand that less kids=less stress. From Monday-Friday, 8AM-3PM, there won’t be any fights over what TV show to watch. I won’t be questioned every 39 seconds, “Is it MY turn to play Minecraft?” I will only have 2 kids here to tear shit up, so my house will be 50% less messy.
Of course, their teachers will provide my children with the necessary materials to piss on my parade in the form of a mountain of paperwork for me to fill out. I think this year I’m just going to send a note back with them.
To whom it may concern:
I filled out all this shit last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. We haven’t moved. We are still married. No names have changed. Those listed as emergency contacts in previous years haven’t changed, nor have their numbers or their relationship to our children. You have my permission to take all those files and forms that I filled out last year, or any year prior, and stick them into a folder with a tab displaying the current school year. You can scratch off or white out the dates on the old folder for all I care. I give you complete administrative and creative license on that decision.
Here’s to a great school year,
Queen of the Couch
P.S. Number Two is in 2nd grade, He is 7. Let’s not assign these projects that require anything more than crayons and safety scissors, mmmmkay? If you wanted to analyze and grade a solar system constructed from molding clay, model paint, wires, wood, and a suspension system, elementary school is probably not your niche. This may come as a surprise to you, but most of those projects were not done by your students, but by their parents. The ones that are really, really shitty and look like they were made by a 7-year-old with construction paper and Elmer’s glue, those were probably done by the student. I’m not saying it is out of the question that even those were done by the parents because that is what it would look like if I had to do it. Just sayin. Remember and repeat: I teach 7 year olds. I teach 7 year olds. I teach 7 year olds.
I know there are those parents out there that think I’m awful because I should be desperately trying to cram my children back into my vagina at a time like this. Look, I love my kids. A lot of times I even like them. School time is so important for our bonding. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, AMIRITE?!?!
This is going to be the LONGEST WEEK EVER. I’m going to need wine.
Like all good things, Winesday had to come to an end. My friend and Winesday guest, Tammy, along with a delicious bottle of Cabernet and a few toys strewn about my yard, inspired me to make one more video for my video-sharing friends as we neared the end of our Winesday festivities. By popular demand, I’m sharing this one with all of you as well.
Winesday Chat-After Hours:
**Disclaimer for the humor impaired: No actual driving occurred in the making of this video. The vehicle used in the making of this video is a TOY and remained stationary, in my yard, the entire time. No actual turtles were harmed during the making of this video. I do not condone drinking and driving, nor vehicular slaughter of turtles, especially ninja turtles. No children were left home alone, as I was in my own backyard, and I don’t even have Cheerios. Even if I did, the dogs would get to them before the kids.
Yesterday, in a fit of boredom, some friends and I decided to amuse ourselves and each other with funny selfie videos. Hilarity ensued, especially when several, including myself, went the extra mile with costumes and exaggerated accents. After shellacking on a couple of pounds of makeup, throwing on my party wig and drinking a couple of glasses of wine, “Winesday chat” was born. A few of my friends suggested I parlay this into a vlog so, even though my beautiful makeover had begun melting off, I hope you enjoy my debut WINESDAY vlog:
Stay tuned for the After Dark video I made later that night. COMING SOON! I’m considering a makeup tutorial but I hate to give away all of my secrets.