All this gay talk in DC with SCOTUS debating same sex marriage and POTUS calling for a ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy because well, that’s just freakishly barbaric. Whose idea was it anyway to convert those who are gay, lesbian, transgender and/or not-white-upper-country-club-class-heterosexual-congressmen type men into white-upper-country-club-class-heterosexual-congressmen type men? Why this barbaric practice exists in the first place is disgusting and shameful, clearly invented by white-upper-country-club-class-heterosexual-congressmen type men really, really afraid of something. Conversion
I have a Costco-sized box of condoms in our hall closet, opened, right up in front, with a handful removed so nobody’s counting or keeping track if any go missing. Easy access, no questions asked. Like mints, take one. Take two. Just take. I’d prefer these horny teenagers save it for someone who matters, someone who will love them inside and out, to their very core and soul, and not
Today would have been my father’s 75th birthday. To honor him, I present here a partial list of Mike Mayer-isms, and encourage you to stick a finger in the cake at your next party. Colder than a witch’s tit in July. “Get your foot off the clutch!” Jesus H. Christ You’re a wart on the ass of progress. TURN. OFF. THE. LIGHTS. Humpin’ Jesus. Pay cash. Drive that car like it was made to
Looks like Idaho Rep. Vito Barbieri might be in need of my most infamous mom services. In particular, my sex-talk, this is how it works, here is the science and biology of the birds and the bees and everything in between. Because Representative Barbieri asked at a public hearing about telemedicine and specifically how it affects women’s reproductive healthcare. He asked a Dr. Julie Madsen, who was testifying in support
At a meeting of the female minds, (a smartypants book club of wickedly smart women … and me) it was with great apprehension, but not much delay, that I broke my own personal protocol of fake-it-until-I-make-it, when someone kindly asked about my darling teenage daughter. A bit too quickly, I revealed with much enthusiasm, how much I wanted to stab the little bitch with a fork. “She’s such a brat! All the
Way back when Kid1 was a itty bitty middle schooler, blow-jobs were the talk of (sub)urban (mom) tales. Everyone, it seemed, was either giving or getting blow-jobs. Everyone. (disclaimer: not rather attractive husband, for that I can vouch.) Mostly it was big gossip out and about at the middle school. Blow-jobs seemed epidemic, if you believed the moms in the grocery stores, and everyone was getting blow-jobs. Or at least everyone with
My kid, the Boy, is a jock. He may be a nerdy, mathlete jock with an affinity for yo-yos, rubik’s cubes, MasterChef and Project Runway, but he’s every bit an athlete. You can smell it on him. These days, about to go to high school, you can LITERALLY smell it on him. When people ask what’s his favorite sport, we tell them he’s a dog. Just throw him a ball,
So today my family waited in line for hours and hours to pay our respects to a young boy who died too soon. Again. We went went to the calling hours with hundreds and hundreds of Newtown friends, students, teachers, families, coaches and neighbors for a 13 year old boy from my kid’s 7th grade class who died “unexpectedly” at home. 13. Just 13. Thirteen. 7th grade. Pollywogs and skateboards.