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Showing posts with label Tips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tips. Show all posts

Thursday, July 7, 2016

~ Dry Brushing

If you're not familiar with dry brushing, you're about to be...

I discovered the practice in this Buzzfeed story I stumbled on and read for, well, no real reason.  Now two things you should know;  1)  I have a terrible lotion ethic (how much so?  Enough that I wrote a post about it.  Lamenting Lotioning 5/15) and I probably only tried this because I already had the only item required.  Basically, if the effort level to try something is zero and it could produce an tangible goodness in my life, I'm willing to give it a whirl.

Now I'm the kid of two police officers;  I'm somewhat skeptical of pretty much everything I'm being led to believe.  While I don't live in Missouri I need to be shown, ya know?  Admittedly my expectation was low on this endeavor.  (...I'm sure this won't make any sorta reeeeeeal difference...)

I was promised soft skin. 

What I got?

Well.  The day after my second episode of dry brushin' I'd already recommended it to a friend.  (If you didn't check the link that I learned from) Here's the drill:
  • Get a brush like this:













  • Brush your limbs (apparently it's important to go from feet/hands up towards your heart.  Reason?  No fuckin' clue, I just followed the directions as they were laid out.)
  • Lotion post shower
  • Live your life and prepare to be consistently shocked by how impressive your epidermis feels

Fact:  Last night I woke up several times during the night.  Each time before getting back to sleep I found myself Jimminie Cricketing my legs together because the level of smoothness was that incredible. 

My friend, LEM's experience/feedback? 










If your skin is of the sensitive variety I wouldn't engage in dry brushing daily.  (I'm a 3x a week-er.) 

Soft 'n smooth skin (better circulation, blah, blah, blah) isn't the only benefit.  I'm one of those sticklers for stubble free gams.  It seems like I'm getting an extra day out of my leg shaving.  Even those last few shaves before it's about time to switch to a fresh blade. 

Dry Brushing:  Do.  It.
_________________

Dear Next Week You,
You're welcome.
Love,
~ BBG



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Thursday, December 19, 2013

~ Gift Ideas (aka: These Exist III)

My last position when I worked at a hotel (a million years ago) was as concierge.  It was a perfect fit for someone who knows shit.  Notice that I didn't say I know useful shit.  In fact, it's fair to say that most of the details being housed in my gray matter fall into the realm of random.  Perfectly useless.  ...Ya know, until some situation pops up that makes a weird lil' (useless) tidbit I've had tucked away something that could help you out.   And lets face it, who couldn't use a some gift help this time of year?  (No tip necessary) 

I'm a big fan of a multi-taskin' tool which is exxxxactly what caught my fancy with this man gift.  A collar stay that allows a guy to fix a lil' sumthin'-sumthin', open my beer perhaps pop a adversary's eye out if necessary and keeps him lookin' classy.  Seriously?  What's not to like?  Titanium Collar Stays



If you're searching for the perfect gift that says, 'I'm a narcissistic asshole', then kidz, I gotcha alllll taken care of.  I'm not sure a present to another person is supposed to imply that you think somehow their life can be improved by having a you doll?  With that said?  And in, what may indicate I'm a bad person I am fucking obsessed with having a lil' BBG doll.  A tiara?  A dumbass smile?  Big hooters?  ...Oh, hellz yes.  I feel like Uncle John (my cute ass dog) would immediately plunder for stuffing and gnaw off my appendages like to be in charge of me for a change.  Build Your Own Doll


In celebration of several states going all weed legal 'n all, and for those of you still scratchin' your head for a gift for your favorite pothead I'm pleased to present Cannabis Scented Incense 

I'm hopeful that next year the inventors of that ubiquitous (if you've been on YouTube recently) poo spray (in case you haven't seen it) will be marketing poo spray that smells like a roadside portapotty! 

In other, I'm-amused-by-things-that-are-what-they-are-items news.  Or as I like to think of 'em as-- fantastic clusterfucks of irony, is a gift that is mind-blowingly spectacular.  Nay.  Boobtacular.  While I've never owned a pastie, I can't conceive of a better pasties than an actual nip pastie.   And I can't imagine what girl wouldn't love the ability to hide her nipples by displaying anatomically correct fake felt nips?   Nipple Nipple Pasties 


For the glug-glug-ers on your list I like a gift that monitors and alerts the recipient that they are taking too long to get tipsy.  A great gift for anyone on your list that makes you think, 'ya know, I like (insert name here) better when s/he's got a lil' booze on board'.  Problem solved.  You're welcome.  Wine Glasses w/ 10 Minute Stem Timer  


 
 
Another alcoholcentric gift that caught my attention is a new incarnation of something I highlighted way back in the 2011 Gif Ideas (aka: These Exist II) when I included the big ass flask.  At the time it was the most fantastic flask I'd ever laid eyes on, with it's 64 oz. holdin' stainless steel confines.  But this year I discovered a bigger ass'd flask.  This 128 oz. giant ass flask is an item any drinker and ol' school Honey I Shrunk the Kids-er would certainly love to glug.  Giant Ass Flask 


 
  
It used to be there were boat people and non-boat people.  But now there's a third option.  A killer option.  Behold the Killer Wale Submarine for only $90,000 you could give someone the gift of free range poseidon-ing. 
 

 
Check again.  That's a submarine.
If your sense of adventure runs a lil' more land based, or your bank account isn't gonna cover a $90k nut gotcha covered on that one too.  Next time you tell someone you 'love them to the moon and back', you could literally show them the exact spot.  For under $30 you can get in on a piece of moon, baby.  (Please note;  'Getting' in on a piece of moon' is not a euphemism, nor is it the same as mooning, which we all know is a gift you can give for free.).   Lunar Land
 

While I can't fathom when a bubble wrap suit would actually be necessary?  I can't exactly say I think it's a bad idea either.  Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, POP, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, POP, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop...  Bubble Wrap Suit
Wanna bring a lil' culture to the person on your list who has the crafting skills of a 7 year old?   The Latch Hook Rug Mona Lisa Kit is your gift-y problem solver.  In fact, I just solved the what is the BBG winter project is gonna be, problem.
 
Yarn Mona Lisa?  Hellz yeah!
 
I feel like when the apes take over it will be with the help of man's best friend.  (It's entirely possible I dug the Planet of the Apes a lil' too much as a kid.)  Why will our closest animal friends turn on us?  Two words:  Dog Bikini  I know this will not keep some people from thinking aaaaafuckingdorable and making a purchase, so thank you in advance for letting me know that you are that crazy dog person, and that you are in collusion with the apes. 
 
I hope your gift giving just got a lil' weirder easier.
 
 
Related Odd Gift-y Posts:
 
 
 
 
 




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Tuesday, December 3, 2013

~ What You Might Not Know About Driving Behind An SUV

Dear People Who Drive Cars,

Some of you apparently do not realize how you appear to us high riders (SUV's/pickup trucks/vans).  In a car you know someone is tailgating you if, lets say, you can't see the bumper of the car behind you in your rearview mirror.  Unless you are driving a sponsored and logo'd car in a left-er-ly fashion, whilst wearin' a flame retardant suit,  a la NASCAR, drafting tailgating is generally considered a universal no - no, I think we can all agree, no?

And I think everyone is aware of the accommodations they should make around semi's:


Stay out of the shaded areas or things could get shady for you real quick.

But I'm not sure as several times weekly I'm forced to break check some of you bastards that some of you are aware that at a similar distance behind those of us in high riding vehicles that you look even closer because we sit so high that we are looking down at ya from our mirror vantage point.  How close?  I generally don't think twice about you if I can see the tip to the middle of your hood.  Unfortunately, I find all too often that I glance back and find that maaaaaybe I can see where your hood and windshield meet.  That my friends is too damn close.  If all I can see is your steering wheel?  You'd better hope three things:

1)  That you have good breaks on your car.
B)  That you have the reaction time of Flash Gordon.
III)  That your insurance is up to date (and that you aren't getting too close to your point allotment on your drivers license because anytime you hit someone from the rear you are at fault for not keeping a lil' thing called assured clear distance [Ohio Revised Code: Assured Clear Distance]). 

What you look like in the rearview of a car


What you look like in the rearview of an SUV/pickup truck


Tip:   The higher the back window of the vehicle in front of you the farther you need to hang back to avoid making an abrupt acquaintance with my back bumper, higher insurance rates, points deducted from your license, and those pesky, 'it's gonna cost how much to fix my front end?!?' conversations.  True story.
 
 
Listen, I completely understand that it's not your fault that my tailgate height, and trajectory of sight means you need to adjust your driving style behind me.  But in fairness, it's not my fault that you can't see around my ride from your 5" off the pavement view, but I consciously make accommodations to be thoughtful of your perception each time I drift a lil' right in my lane in traffic so that you can have an opportunity to see what's going on in front of me.  See.  It's called bein' courteous.  Which is all I'm askin' from ya.  Be courteous and get the fuck off my ass. 

Love,
~BBG 


Related Posts:

It's Official Dumbass Season Is Upon Us

Dear Dumbass Driver

Driving: My Pet Peeves


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Thursday, December 8, 2011

~O Christmas Tree

...It's a CHRISTMAS tree.  A fuckin' CHRISTMAS TREE!  Not a 'holiday' tree.  Mainly, because there is no such thing.

Yes, Virginia, there is no 'holiday tree'. 

The only thing it is, is another example of a case of;  just because ya say sumthin' doesn't make it true.  (<-- I know.  I say a lotta shit.  A disproportionately small percentage is ever true.)  People also say:  Irregardless, that the amboolance is coming when they call 911, and that people's impact on climate change is as fictitious as The Grinch's escapades in Whoville, yet, also zero of those things is true.
 

(Yes kidz, you've joined my annual rant
about the holidays already in progress.)

Recently the Governor of Rhode Island, Lincoln Chafee, decided to call the tree erected in his statehouse a "holiday tree".  His misguided reasoning being that it "is inclusive and reflects Rhode Island's origins as a haven for religious diversity.", which only holds H20 if Hanukkah or Kwanzaa, et al, symbols traditionally include a big fat Christmas tree all tricked decked out.  ...But that's not the case.  So let's stop fuckin' fibbin'. 

A tree put up this time of year, regardless of how non-Jesus-y it's decorated, or how non-religious the tree putting up entity (business, government, individual) is, by function of being put up, is a nod, a keeping of custom of a Christian based holiday (Christmas).  Just like putting up a Menorah, is a acknowledgement, a celebration of a Jewish based holiday (the Festival of Light).  Calling it sumthin' different doesn't, in fact, make it sumthin' different.  If a non-Jewish household puts up a Menorah, that doesn't make it a candle stick, ya know?  It's still a Menorah.  So in my opinion, calling a Christmas tree a 'holiday tree' is equally as disingenuous.  It's not a sign of inclusiveness.  Being inclusive is a sign of inclusiveness.  Acknowledging basic printed on calendar events is just a truth. 


(It is.   Christmas. )


My argument is less about religion, as it is accuracy.

Because regardless of one's religious, or non-religious inclinations, it's not the Spring bunny.  It's the Easter Bunny.  It.  Just.  Is.  That's the reality.  Sometimes you can spin shit, position it, frame it, but sometimes the truth is just the truth.  There's a reason this blog isn't called Curvy Brown Girl World, ya know? 

There's not another holiday we can't seem to call by it's name, so why is 'Christmas' too troubling of a term to use?  I'm not sayin' you've got to celebrate it, but ya can't just put blinders on, rename it and pretend that it doesn't exist if you don't speak it's name.

Here in the good ol' U.S. of A., many people would argue that it's a separation of church and state issue.  Funny, to me at least, nobody ever gets their panties in a bunch when they're at the local government office and see hearts plastered everyfuckingwhere for Valentines Day, or shamrocks abound for the festive mid-March day.  Ya know the one-  SAINT Patrick's Day.  (And for the official record, that's SAINT Valentine's Day.)  Hummmmm..."saint"?  Seems religious-y?  Oh, right.  That's because their origins are Catholic.  How, exactly, is Christmas any different?  It has (like the others) in large part morphed into a very secular and revenue generating (think:  presents, drinks, greeting cards, big box stores, chocolates, travel, etc.) celebration, than its original inception as a faith based celebration.  But somehow we're sooooo offended by it's (Christmas-y) religious nature that we shall not speak it's name?  
 
What's next?  Once everyone puts that whole saint/religious thing together, are we gonna have to start calling February 14th Make A Grand Display Of Your Love Day or something equally as dismissive of the history of it's existence? ...Although, honestly, I could get behind a, Hey Ya'll, Let's Get Lit Day held March 17th.  Maybe we'll start a Potato Day, later in the year to make it up to the Irish.  (<-- See.  THAT'S offensive!  "Christmas"?  Not so much.)

For the record, not only do I call bullshit on using 'holiday' instead of Christmas, when Christmas is appropriate.  I also call backwards bullshit on things that say 'holiday', but instead of meaning ALL of the yuletide holidays, really still only mean C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s. 

Or as I call 'em, Haaaaappy Hypocritical Holidays!

Exhibit A:  

(Says Happy Holidays, but that bearded fat man says CHRISTMAS)
 
(Says Happy Holidays, but Christmas tree denotes, um, CHRISTMAS.)

(Says Happy Holidays, but guess what?  Christmas bulbs mean CHRISTMAS.)


(Says Happy Holidays, without Christmas festive icons means HOLIDAYS. 
...Congratulations!  BBG Approved.)



BBG Rules On "Christmas" Usage:

  • Starting with Thanksgiving I say, Happy Holidays, because I'm wishing you a good everything between now and the first of the year.  Coverin' all the bases.
  • If I know you're Jewish I say Happy Hanukkah, and ensure I know when it's observed.   (I also make it a habit to know when Ramadan starts for my Muslim peeps, Stonewall Day for my gay peeps, and Pi Day for my geeky peeps.  I am an equal opportunity celebrator.  It's how I roll.)
  • If it's after Hanukkah and before Christmas, I just say Merry Christmas, because Christmas is the next big celebration in line, whether you celebrate or not is up to you.  (This is not the case this year.  Hanukkah begins sunset 12/20 and culminates 12/28.)  Everyone should be happy if someone wishes you a good any Day.  (...Have a Haaaaapy Nipple day?  Well, yes.  Yes, I will.  Thank you, you too!)  
  • If it's in reference to something specifically Christmas-y, I say Christmas.  For instance; "this is my Christmas tree".  Fine.  "This is my fuckin' Christmas tree..." 
I'm not trying to be disrespectful of anyone's beliefs (or non-beliefs).  I just don't think that telling fibs and spinning things to seem like you're being inclusive and respectful is the answer.  It seems like we can be straight forward, accurate and sensitive to others who may not hold my/your traditions of the season, without ignoring what is.  Anything less makes me rant-y.   Obviously.


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Friday, December 2, 2011

~Gift Ideas (aka:These Exist II)

T'is the season for the (drum roll) 2nd annual BBG Gift Ideas post (aka: Things you probably didn't know existed).  If anything strikes your fancy you'll find a link (= "click") accompanying each cracked out, fuck'd up or 'hummmm' inducing item you see, because yes, these exist.   And you can have 'em.  For the official record, no, I have noooo affiliation with any of these products/companies, other than the misfortune of randomly discovering them on the interweb.  Hence, I cannot vouch for the veracity of any of the following products and/or companies.   

With that said~    
Enfuckin'joy!!




For the man who has everything except a date, and because I guess ya can never be too prepared fit for whackin' off:


The Free Flexor (click)



My Pet Fat (click)


For $59.95 you can give the gift of a 1lb. "anatomically correct replica of body fat."  Of course for those of you on a limited budget this holiday season a $10.00 Krispy Kreme gift card can probably achieve the same, without the pesky nuisance of having to carry your fat in your hand.


Personally, I think they're limiting themselves by marketing only to Spock devotees.  Why alienate the 'talk to the hand' contingent?  (Details - click)




Party all night and sleep all day (without being noticed)! 


No more bullshit trying to stay awake while sitting in some boring ass conference in Vegas after an all nighter of free booze at the slots studying pertinent materials, noooooo Eyelid Stickers (click) will allow your favorite recipient to be hungover and sleep in creepy peace. 



I don't know what I could possibly say that would be better than just getting to the fact that this exists (click), so I won't.  That's right kidz.  Pussy in a can.

(Special thanks to MOK who discovered this while on vacation.)



When squatting is too much trouble...


The Off Road Commode (click) provides jusssssst the ticket when your favorite outdoorsman needs to answer natures call.  Speaking of tickets, indecent exposure, anyone?




A perfect disguise gift for any crime committin' livin' in cold climate friend on your list.  [Beardheads (click)Or perhaps a great way to tell that special someone, 'I think you're so unattractive you should probably cover that up at least half the year'.  They also offer a more ZZ Top version, vikings and a Santa dome/face warmer.  


I question exactly how much time you actually have to spend lookin' at your dogs asshole before this becomes a thing. 



You've named her Cinnamon.  Perhaps purchased her some baby high heels or the pole dancin' doll, (<-- yes, those exist too, Google it.  I'll wait...)  but if you reeeeeally want to secure her spot in the champagne room as a 'featured' dancer you'll wanna give her a (ahem) head start with this super classy (and instructional) t.  (Available in 0-6mos and up)  Tassles for tots t-shirt (click)



Please keep in mind, I'm in no way suggesting that this is a good idea.  But, I am saying it is an awesome idea!  Serious biz, what could possibly go hinky from carrying around a big ass flask filled 64 fluid ozs. full o' your favorite hooch?   Giant Ass Flask (click)



...Of course, that probably means you'll need to get one of these (click) too:





I find it distressing on numerous faux phallus levels.  But it claims to have helped "thousands of women's sleep".   I suspect if they added a battery it would help more women sleep, but the Kush people (click) didn't ask me how to best market their product.  Whateves.



Lastly, to leave on a classy note;  Bald is beautiful on a grown ass man.  However, no so much for a tot.  And I ought to know.  I was bald until I was 2.  Spare the newborn on your list the shame of baby baldness with the Baby Toupee (click)

(This is 'The Donald')


If this page didn't supply you with everything you need for your Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, St. Stephen's or National Bouillabaisse Day (<-- yep.  That exists too. 12/14) gift giving needs, please refer to last years list (<-- click), chocked full of other equally weird quality suggestions.

(Indulge an Aunt BBG)

Haaaaaappy Birthday to Godkid Mini Me!!
 
 
 
Related Gift Idea Posts:
 
 
 



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Monday, November 21, 2011

~I Am Woman: Hear Me Roar (& Flush)

Know what's never a good sign?

(A:  This)

Don't get me wrong, I love Lowes.  The people are always very helpful as I wander in with my bewildered look and cracked out line of there are no stupid questions.  I suppose people go to Lowes for good reasons, but I'm not one of 'em.  If I'm at Lowes sumthin' wrong.  (Maaaaaybe I'm workin' on some project, but odds are something is askew at BBG HQ.)

Wrong du jour?

(Whilst on a middle of the night tinkling field trip
I went to use the handle to flush when nuthin'.)

The plastic doohicky that makes a flush happen broke.  Snapped clean the fuck off.  Reminding me of two things:  A)  It sucks not to have a guy around.  II) I can do anything.  (...or so HGTV leads me to believe.)

Calling myself crafty, I snapped a few pictures of my drama trauma and headed to Lowes.  Reminding me of one other thing;  I have boobs. 

...Now boobs are not the answer to all of lifes problems, but they sure as shit help.  I found the plumbing section, a worker and a random shopping man who as soon as I turned the corner looking completely outta my depth stopped their conversation and started helping me with my project.


Are you there God?  It's me, BBG~

Thanks for boobs.

Love,
Me

The gents looked at my photos, found the proper piece and gave me salient details such as;  "these come in different lengths, but this is the most common" and "these turn the opposite direction" (which is when one of them had to dumb-girl break it down with, "you know left-y loose-y, right-y tighty?  Go the other way.").  The kindness of strangers got me all set.

I smoked watched a YouTube on fixing my toydee issue.  Gathered a few tools (an ultimately unrequired wrench, a twos-y screwdriver and a fours-y screwdriver [because I'm too lazy to make a return trip for the other screwdriver.  Some call it lazy, I call it coverin' the bases.]) and other items I thought I might need (my ever helpful and super stained 'project towel' and latex gloves).   This is where people tend to mock me.  With me it's always about the latex gloves.  I keep them tucked away everywhere (car, kitchen, gardening kit, bathrooms, first aid kit, etc.).  Whenever people see them they always ask why I have 'em.  Fine.  Technically it's usually, "why the fuck do you have latex gloves?".  I usually don't have a better answer than that "I might need 'em someday."  Today my answer would be 'so that I don't have to reach into the toilet bowl to retrieve the plastic nut that fell into it'.  ...Because, yes.  That happened.  And yesssss, I did have the lid down at the time.  I'm only 1/2 a dumbass.  Suck it.

(Old ass broken piece)


(New thingamabob.)


The video told me to allow about an hour to fix it.  I was done in less than 10, much to my complete and utter surprise.  Possibly even more surprising is that it was super easy and worked perfectly.

Tafuckin'Da:


Project Lessons Learned:
  • Measure shit before setting off to Lowes.  I was lucky my piece fit and that I didn't have to make a return trip. 
  • Immediately ask for help.  Don't waste time trying to figure it out, or find it yourself, it's a suckers mistake.  Consider your dumbassidness your part in the stimulus package.  Take pride in knowing that you offer job security for that worker.   
  • Never fear asking a stranger/customer for help.  Many, many home improvement store shoppers are guys, and even a guy who wouldn't necessarily hold a door for you is eager to show off share his handy knowledge.
  • Have boobs.  (Sorry guys.  Life ain't fair.  On the bright side, you do still have writing your name in the snow, higher incomes and the ability to procreate indefinitely.)
  • Take photos.  They say 10,000 words.  And I don't know about you, but for me that's 9,999 fewer possibilities I'm gonna say sumthin' stoopid.  Score!
  • Watch a video.  For clarification;  In this case I don't mean porn, I mean take your ass to YouTube and type in your project.  It only seems like the bad stuff only happens to you.  Rest assured someone else has already had your bad day and is offering somewhat clunkily produced advise via 'da web (DIY.com and HGTV.com are also handy).
  • ALWAYS have latex gloves.


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Monday, November 14, 2011

~Size Matters (Yes. A Penis Post)

Granted, there are a lot of things I don't understand in life.  The sheer volume of things I am completely ignorant about is substantial, including, but not limited to:
  • How metrics work.
  • Why people like soccer.
  • If Pi Day should accurately be celebrated on March 14th, or June the 28th.
  • How people can eat carrot cake. 
  • Why I can't get a moonburn.
  • How we have culturally gotten to a place where "reality star" is an actual thing.
  • How jake brakes really function.
  • Why guys always have to inquire about penis size.
It's framed in different ways.  All ways I hate.  From "I hope I'm big enough for you", to its sad sack kissin' cousin (generally proceeded by some self effacing statement) "...blah, blah, fuckidy, blah, I know I'm not the world's biggest guy".   As soon as I hear those words starting to tumble outta his mouth, well, in truthiness, first I get all 'don't say sumthin' stupid' and quickly work my way to, 'oh Lord, what kinda words am I gonna have to string together that sound large positive but that aren't actual lies'. 

I guess, ultimately I don't fundamentally understand two things about the big (sorry, no pun intended) deal of the subject.  I)  The seemingly compulsive need to get a status update from everyone who sees it on their feelings of its size, or Dos) how, even at middle age, it's still somehow a subject you still haven't come to terms with worthy of some kinda uncomfortable discussion. 

I guess I can't speak for all girls, but I'm equally as confident that I do not just speak for myself here;  Penis' unless they are crazy ass small or crazy ass big, just are.  Don't get me wrong, we heart them, we just aren't obsessed about matters of length and girth.

We're girls for fucks sake.  If we can't hold our own hand out and guesstimate with any sort of accuracy of how many inches it is, then what makes a guy think that our vagina has the magical properties to discern the difference between 6.75" vs 7.25"?

Like I say, we're gonna notice a micro-cock.  And for some this will mean that they will immediately disengage themselves from the discovery moment situation, go directly to the bathroom and return with a Meryl Steepesque deliverance of the following line;  "Drats!  I've started my period."  (Apologies to a blond, blue eyed, dreadlocked, ska band dude from a million years ago.)  Perhaps it makes me a bad person, but a lie period fakery seemed like a far better option than any kindly delivered version of the truth I could come up with at the time, and while I didn't know what to say, I knew where it was time to be.  A:  Somewherefuckingelse.  Far, far away from the land of Ohhellzno... 


Conversely, we're gonna worship notice a monster cock.  (tee hee hee...Monster cock.  All of the sudden I think I should alert the Monster drink people that I think I can be a verrrry helpful addition to their marketing team.  Feel free to email me to discuss my salary requirements:  thebigbrowngirl@hotmail.com)

A monster johnson is indeed a special kinda blessing.  But it's like gossamer, the Loch Ness monster and Arsenio Hall.  Hardly seen.  Well, I guess maybe I shouldn't say "hardly seen" when referencing Biggie Smalls.  (BBG code named due to his 5' 7"ishness stature, yet schlong of an NBA-er.  And not Spud  [the notably tiny, dunkin' b-baller].  We're talkin' full on Shaq territory here.)  Everyone with good reason has seen his cock.  I've been seeing that cock for 20+ years.  I've seen it because we used to get it on back in the day.  (Fine.  And more recently, so what's that make it, back in the hour?)  And when I say everyone, I mean e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e: 
 
...LB2'd has seen it.
...I've seen him drop trow more times in public than my abacus will allow me to figure.
...Once a coworker who had a part time job at a concert venue who I told Biggie Smalls to find and say hello to as he saw the whatever show, returned to work the following morning to report that she'd seen his junk.

Biggie Smalls is fully aware that he has nothing to worry about size wise.  The only thing he has to worry about is how he's gonna explain the public indecency charge he's bound to rack up some day, but whateves.

Most guys aren't as unfortunate as ska dude, nor as fortunate as Biggie Smalls. 

Most guys are The Other 69%:  


(The Penis Spectrum)

As you can see, most guys fall within the parameters of perfectly acceptable.  (Also known as "regular", "fuckable", "normal" and "you are here".)  Study thisKnow this.  Accept this.

There is no shame being in The Other 69%. 

It's the sweet spot.  You can get laid, but you nobody's bothering you with pesky plaster casting sessions, or giving you nicknames like 'The Hedgehog' (unfamiliar? - click here)

So men, here's the deal.  This is what you need to know about penis size~

Asking us about your penis offers up waaaaay too many opportunities for your girl to hurt your feelings.  Or lie.  How are either of those good for you?  The truth is that if we've been with more than two guys, we've probably seen bigger.  Now, you don't reeeally want us to say that, do ya?  On the other hand, do you want to be with a fibber who tells you that you're walkin' around with God's gift between your inseams?  It puts us between a rock and (clears throat) a hard place.

Realize that "bigger" might keep us there and happy until breakfast, but "regular" combined with other factors (personality, compatibility, etc.) can keep us happy for life.  And I don't know a girl who wouldn't trade great until breakfast, for good for life.  Every.  Fucking.  Time.

Accept this as a read between the lines thing.  Q:  Do you know when I have a, 'so you're ok with me being a big, brown girl' chat with a guy?  A:  Never.  Why?  'Cause if they're calling me, kissin' me, or roundin' third and headin' for home (Apologies, Joe Nuxhall for involving you in naughtiness.) I can read between the lines enough to know that he at least likes this big, brown girl.  Good enough.  (Check.)  No awkward conversation needed.  Listen, if we've spied it and didn't flee the scene, what you're packin' is workin' for us.  Can't that be good enough?

The size convo never comes off as confident.  At best it's needy.  At worst it's compliment fishing.  It's the 'does this make my ass look fat' of men.

Confidence adds an inch.

Knowin' how to most effectively use what your maker gave ya adds 2".  ...But that's a post for a different day.

In the meantime, say it loud, say it proud:  I AM THE OTHER 69%!



UPDATE:  Here Are New Numbers On Average Penis Length (Science of Us)  3/3/15


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Sunday, August 21, 2011

~How To Survive A Breakup

All kindz folks will tell you all kindz things about breakups.  Mostly of the "in time you'll realize you're better off", variety.  Oh, folks mean well.  They really do.  But here you will find no bullshit platitudes, sage or contrite words.  No touchy feel-y, zen, conceptual things.  No, this my friends is real deal DIY gettin' through heartbreak directions. 

I often say, "you're in charge of you" and know that I shouldn't tell anyone how to live their lives, but if you don't want your head to explode from the hurt in your heart this is exactly how you should live your life...

  • Nutrition:  It is vital that a sad state is augmented with proper nutrition.  My last heartbreak brought me spending a week surviving on butter yellow cake and butter cream icing.  With a couple of Chic-O-Sticks, cobs of corn and gingersnaps thrown in for good measure.  Whatever strikes your fancy I say do it.  Some folks will go the 'I'm gettin' healthy route', (something I clearly have no working knowledge of or the blog would be named Slender Brown Girl World, but still) rock on.  Whichever way you chose, if it makes you feel better, do it.  It's not like a few days of sketchy (under or over) nutrition is gonna kill your ass.  This is about survival, people.  I've seen Bear Grylls eat coyote scat.  He's alive.  Survive by any means you feel necessary.


  • Hydration:   Even though the "bar" is stocked here at BBGW HQ, I'm not a home, or an alone imbiber (I believe alcohol is for public intoxication and tomfoolery, not to be wasted on the dog in the confines of these 4 walls, ya know?), so it took me a while for me to embrace better living through booze.   But once I did, I gotta tell ya, things started to take an upswing.  It's obviously not a good long term solution for coping, however, a couple glasses of wine, or a few pints can be a very, very good short term sanity boost.  (Disclaimer:  Booze is not a lifestyle choice, but a night or two of tipsiness will do ya good.)  I realize AA would not exactly condone my stance, but when's the last time fuckin' AA's live in beau staged a nutty, sooooo SUCK IT AA. 


  • Time: Select a specific amount of time to wallow. I mean, down and out wallow. In pj's, comfy, not talkin' to anybody, or talkin' to everybody (--whatever wheezes your gig), eating  what you want, veggin' out on the verge of catatonia or turning into a whirling dervish of activity and spring cleanin' everything, whatthefuckever constitutes "wallowing" in your world. But assign it a deadline. Then stick to it. If you allow yourself full on, hardcore wallowing, once your self imposed timeline is over it becomes pretty easy to let it all go.  You've already taken the time to process, obsess, accept and start to heal.  You've considered things from every possible angle and no matter how much you don't like it, it still it just is.  You're done.  Let.  It.  Go.  What's the alternative?  Staying in this place forever and giving your ex the power of ruining another day?  Come on now.  Let.  It.  Go.   

  • Physical Activity:  Move.  Whatever rings your bell.  Take a walk.  Learn to belly dance. (Or in my case, learn that you cannot belly dance.)  Work on your guns or get your downward dog on.  You don't have to go all Insanity on it or anything, just move.  Get your endorphins crackalackin'.

  • Music: Listen to depressing, sappy songs. I have a playlist called "breakup boogie" just for such adventures. It's chocked full of sad assed songs. Towards the end it segues into gettin' over it, moving on and strong songs.  Sing along.  Loudly.


  • TBWTGOABITGUAO:  The best way to get over a boy is to get under another one.  Really?  Does that one need elaboration?  (My apologies to my mother)

  • Top of Mind Awareness:  Remind yourself that you are fanfuckin'tabulous.  Remember that people are drawn to you, and that the opposite sex (or the same, if'n that's your gig, whatdo I care?  Answer:  I do not.) still finds a way to make sure to chat you up.  Granted, one shouldn't count their self worth by the hub and bub of others.  However, there's nuthin' better than some other guy reminding you of what a catch you are to make the cat who didn't remember that salient little detail more of a distant memory.   Wrong?  Maybe.  True?  Yes. 

  • Dead:  Once your dissection of, well, everything, has run it's course and when every minutiae as been re-re-hashed.  You've figured out what you own, what lessons you've learned and will carry with you going forward, you've accepted what is, pretend they are dead.  It's bad karma to wish ill on them, but to move on in your life like they are dead, not even breathing air on your earth is a good plan.  Because they are now dead to you NEVER call.  NEVER email.  You don't drunken dial/email/text the dead do you?  Then you don't dial/text/email/ your past love..  Not even for the "good reason" you concocted in your head that seems like a good/rational/reasonable/non crazy reason to reach out.  Just don't do it.  Period.  Not contacting them gives you 'hand'.  This is the official turn the tables of who owns space is who's mind.  Once you're done being miserable, it's time to let their mind wonder what kind of glorious stuff is going on in your world- without them.  Don't give your hand away. 

  • Get back to the future.  No.  Don't rent the movie, unless for some wacky reason you find McFly and DeLorean's emotionally comforting, eh, to each their own.  I mean, get back to your future.  Unless you've always dreamed of a future of singleness and bitterness, take actions to facilitate what you want.  Yes.  Meeting new prospects.  Ya gotta get back out there.  As important as putting yourself back out there, you've got to do it with a sense of openess.  This means no holding X (whatever your situation was with your ex) over the heads of every new guy/girl you encounter.  Whoever the next person that rings your bell is, is not your ex, so don't make them pay for his/her dumbassidness.  Clean slate time.  Of course, your latest break up experience will have given you new things to add to your deal maker/breaker list, and that's fine.  But don't move forward carrying baggage of from some other person.  It's not fair to them and it's no good for you. 
After my last heartbreak a couple of people commented on my ability to move on and not be bogged down by unfortunate things.  The first time I heard it, I kinda poo poo'd it.  But after I heard it from different people I started paying attention and noticed that that's not everyones SOP.   A few people said it as if it's luck, some fluke-y personality quirk or some magical internal birthright-y power that I keep steppin' and am able to regain a positive mindset.  It's not.  It's a conscious decision.  Again, we allllll get to choose how we live our lives and certainly I'm no expert or authority of livin' a life, as these lil cyber pages are clearly a testament of.  ...Unless you're lookin' for pointers of how to live a wacky and weird life.  But I do feel qualified to tell you that how you react to situations is something you are in control of, even if you weren't in control of the situation you find yourself in.  At some point having bad days because of a past relationship is your fault and ceases to be their fault.   I know...that sounds a little harsh.  But it also sounds a lot true, no?  It ain't easy.  Neither is staying in heartbreak a moment longer than you have to.

None of this is self help-y.  I'm not that girl.  But tucking this away for your next heartbreak will allow you to help yourself.  (I hope you never need it.)


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Thursday, August 11, 2011

~The First Move: Us vs. You (GAP/Guy Assistance Program)

If you're interested, wait, if you're interested and you realistically think that we would have any interest in you--  that somewhere on the plane of "that could happen" reality that we would date you, you're going to have to make the first move.

Fair?

No.

It puts undue pressure on you and creates many more opportunities for possible rejection.  Boo hoo.  Too fucking bad.  Know what else isn't fair?  That we have to expel seven, 8, 9 pound, slippery, wiggling humans from our vagina's.  ...Oh, and after 9-10 months of having no booze.  Bras.  That we bleed 4 days a month.  Pantyhose.  'Come on now, you wanna talk fair?  Howz about earning less than your male counterparts?  Or paying more for everything from razors to clothes and car repairs, haircuts and dry cleaning.  Plueeeze. 

If you want to get into a pissing contest about fair, women are going to win every time.  So put your big boy pants on and suck it the fuck up. 

It's not to say we won't/can't make an initial contact, but the fact is we're girls and we're probably not going to do that.  We realize there are a blue bazillion arguments you can make for the case that girls should/could make a first move, no matter how persuasive or merit based those points may be, they all will ultimately leave you with a big ol' terminal case of blue balls.  This is a classic do you wanna be right, or do you wanna ultimately get laid conundrum.  If you feel we should meet, step up and hit the muther fuckin' send button, walk over and say hello and stop being so chicken shit.  Sometimes things you want simply, inexplicably fall into your lap, but most things in the world that you want require work, effort and attention (and a bit of luck).  And like with all things, sometimes your work yields bubkiss.  And sometimes, yes rejection.  But sometimes it pays off big time.  It's the the lottery rule.  You've got to play to win.  With limited exception, we aren't going chasing after a guy.   Again, not fair.  Again, suck it up.

First of all, this isn't some "rule" thing we're subscribing to.  It's an ingrained thing.  It's the natural order of courtship.  It's the guys responsibility to make an initial move.  That's why guys send a girl he fancies a drink when he sees her across a crowed bar.  You've got to capture our attention.  It's contrary to our DNA as women to make a move.  (Again, sure there are girls who are more comfortable and likely to do so, but most of us are not cut from that cloth.)

Think of the myriad of things skirts do to in order to be with you guys.  Do you really think the women you see at MMA want to be there?  Hellz no.  Basically you owe it to us, for all of the things we do after, because you to make the first move.   Consider it a pay it forward investment.  You're men; man the fuck up.


It's not fair.  But It's the truth.

Jump if you feel froggy.  (If you're not, rest assured, some other smart guy is.)


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