Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

23 March 2012

Oh, darling... you put your socks in the hamper! I've never been so turned on!

Dear Media (I'm talking to YOU, Dr. Phil),

You've created a situation in which the male of the species believes that if they wash the dishes and vacuum once in a blue moon, they'll get laid.

Clearing the table = foreplay.

They have been led to believe that the by very act of taking off their shoes when they come into the house and putting their dirty skivvies into the hamper (instead of on the floor NEAR the hamper) their female partner will be so pleased that her happiness will go straight to her vagina and she will be ready to fall into bed, so overcome with desire at the vision of her man "helping" around the house.


Here's what REALLY would happen:

She doesn't expect him to do those things to begin with, so the fact that he IS doing it this one time is probably going to go unnoticed, because she isn't looking for it.

Or if she DOES notice it, she's thinking, "Well, whadda ya know.  I've only been asking you to do this for 5 years now."

If he picks up the vacuum and starts cleaning the carpet, she'll say, "What are you doing?  I vacuumed earlier.  I'm trying to watch tv."

If he decide to get up and load the dishwasher, she'll get frustrated rather than aroused because nine times out of ten?  HE'S LOADING IT WRONG.  Glasses go on the TOP.  JESUS.  WHO FREAKING RAISED YOU??

If he actually goes so far as to put clothes in the wash and start a load, what she'll be thinking, as he look so proud of himself and waits for his reward, will be, "I do laundry all the time and no one gives ME a fucking medal.  Get OVER yourself.  It's laundry, not brain surgery.  You didn't save a life, for God's sake."

(Seriously... why do men expect praise when they do basic household chores?  YOU LIVE HERE!!!)

I know this sounds harsh but I'm telling you these things for your own good.

That's great...keep doing the dishes.  But you still aren't getting laid.

To all the "There is nothing sexier than a man doing dishes" people, I'm about to rain alllll over your parade.

Yes, there is.  There are MANY things sexier than a man doing the dishes.

In my opinion, a man doing the dishes is called "helping."  It doesn't turn me on, it doesn't make my heart go pitty-pat, it makes me think, "About fucking time!" and want to go take a bubble bath and read a book while he finally does something he should have been doing all along. Not once does it occur to me to get naked and reward him for acting like he actually lives here, too, and contributes to the mess, by taking my clothes off and playing cowgirl.

Sexier Than A Man Doing Dishes:

Now that's HAWT.

That's right.... a man bringing me a pug.  I personally think there is nothing sexier than a man who loves animals and isn't afraid to show it.  Especially little dogs.  A man who loves little dogs with flat smooshy faces and wants to give me one is my idea of Sexiest Man Alive.  Move along, Brad Pitt... bring me a little foreign orphan and I'll send you packing.  Want to see me behave badly in the best possible way?

Give me a puppy.

I'll do the dishes while you help housebreak it and clean up it's poo.  

And you'll be thanked for it later.

*wink wink nudge nudge*

(Sorry... I just can't bring myself to be dirty in case my kids accidentally read this.  I just... can't.)

Sexier Than A Man Doing Laundry:

"I'll take a large pizza, with spinach and feta for my lady..."

A man ordering take out,  all by himself without needing the number looked up for him or the phone brought to him,  without being asked or having to be told, for the fifty billionth time, what you like on your pizza...   That's sexy.

I will happily fold and match your socks while you make that call and place that order.

Sexier Than A Man Putting Down The Toilet Seat:

Not tonight, baby... Tonight is just for YOU.

Imagine it... an entire evening with no farting.  Is it possible?  IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE?  I personally have never experienced this phenomena, but I've heard about it from friends.  

A night with no farting... 

You can leave the toilet seat up all you want if you can give me one night with no gas.  And dude, you would get LAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIDDDDD!!!  

Why, I can't imagine anything I'd like to do MORE than have sex with you!

Sexier Than A Man Sweeping:

That's right... Nigel Barker.

You want a sure fire way to get her into bed?

Bring home Nigel Barker.

Trust me when I say it will work.  Every time.

Of course, YOU have to leave... but your mission will have been accomlished.

She's turned on.

She's ready for sex.

And she's gettin' bizzy.

In your bed.

Nigel Barker for the WIN!!!

Now, THAT'S sexy!


  1. You know this all boils down to paying attention to shit you like and then doing something about it. Pugs? Check. Ordering your favorite pizza so you don't have to cook? Check. Not farting? Ahhh, check. And bringing home a favorite sexy man? Um, might be a bit above and beyond, but check.

    Just pay attention, men. And do something about it. The end.

    Side note: are you still having issues with commenting on my blog?

  2. Truer words have never been written.

    I am pretty sure that I could fill many a blog posts with words much like these, but it would just be a really depressing diary.

    Your posts make me smile and crack up every time. Thanks for being such a funny, kick-ass lady!

  3. Yeah guys, what she said. And don't get that hurt-little-boy look when you announce that you swept the kitchen floor and no one gives you a standing ovation. You can maybe forget the floor if you bring home the hot guy AND the pizza without being asked. Priorities.

    Dani, there have been no scary pictures for several posts. Trying to lull us into a false sense of security?

  4. Check, check, check. I agree with you on every single point (well, except replace pug with chihuahua and min-pin. Actually, I'd take a pug too, now that I think about it. Yeah, bring me all three).

    I often wonder about the dishwasher thing when my husband decides to do the dishes (which isn't often). He too puts glasses on the bottom. And he'll only put, like, five things in the dishwasher, and then start it up, leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink. Um, hello? It isn't rocket science.

  5. TWH can't order takeout for shit!! It's a nightmare. For a guy who's so damned capable, he's thwarted by a fucking telephone. Jebus!!


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