humor, Uncategorized

Why I Love My Auntie

Yep, it’s true. I’m a super hero…

Ah. My Auntie… The monthly, most-of-the-time routinely, visit from our mother’s sister. I’ve compiled some letters for her and her total control over us women. After years of cursing her, damning her and raging an all out war over not being able to wear white for fear of a random spotting of this broad… I’ve decided to dig deep. Uncover the lurking beneath my disdain for her, surely there must be some appreciation. Freaking somewhere. Guys, this post isn’t for you… but if you so, feel inclined? Continue reading, maybe this will help unveil the mystery in woman land. Or confuse you more… Either way, Good luck with all that.



Dear Aunt Flo,

Without you, debilitating my existence among the outside world for 3-4 days, I wouldn’t know what household tasks I’ve been procrastinating on. Given that I’ve been laid up for almost a week… staring at a visual to-do list. That I don’t want to do. You’re crampage bestowed upon me, forcing me to eat dark chocoloate and caramel covered pretzels to pass the time, I am grateful. Thank you.

My Darling Aunt Flo,

Hero weapon of choice? Stilettos, darling. Stilettos.

For the incessant emotional roller coaster you’ve provided me for a week? I am filled with gratitude. For without that, I would never have known such sorrow. Meaningless, tearful sorrow that I, nor anyone else, understands; but, somehow lifetime movies do. Tapping into an unnecessary, mopey depression, once a month like clockwork. Fascinatingly, this inexplicable sadness makes boyfriends around the globe jump to our every whim; driving themselves nuts trying to make the crying stop. Just so they don’t have to sit through it too. And somehow every month, they do. Thank you.

For Aunt Flo,

When I am making my physical fitness goals a reality, you manage to swoop in and stop all that. Hey, I had a toned tummy yesterday… Even with a heavy dose of Ibuprofen to pull me through, you annhiliate any hopes of achieving six pack abs perfection with a bloating that I cannot explain away to people. Or myself. Uh, where did this poofy pouch come from? I just know that once you’ve done your thing, I can resume my hotness. For one week though, this heifer? Your puffypacation, I pay oinkage. Begrudgingly… Thank you.

Dearest Aunt Flo,

Mood swings. How do I thank thee? Again, another conglomerate of wild and random emotions that gets the boyfriends to jump to action… just to stop the screaming. Then the crying. And then back to the shreiking again. Remembering every horrible thing our loverboys do to us, month after month, and being able to use our elephant-like memories to brain suck them into submission. This one, Aunt Flo, being my favorite of all… I give homage. Thanks!

*insert leather hero pants music here*

All in all, the enigmatic effect on the boys around us is truly the best part of you, Aunt FLo. We girls stay mysterious- and keeping mad confucktion- to the opposite sex… and that’s our super power. I salute you Auntie! So boys… keep attempting to unlock our secrets with your cereal decoder rings. Or just keep thinking we’re crazy. *wink


humor, relationships

Gum Drop Daddy

Photo: Jared Alexander
Photo: Jared Alexander

The best advice I ever received was to always take gum (or breath mints), if offered. Wait. What?You don’t take candy from strangers. But, doesn’t it sort of make meeting strangers fun? You can’t tame this butterfly.  But, this post isn’t about that. Or is it? I don’t know. Just follow along.  And well, yes,  I did offer a breath mint to a total stranger on my flight yesterday. He was dressed nice, suit, tie, etc. How bad could he be? Yes, I’m a fan of the clean cut man club. You know, the type that bathe, more than once a week. And shave. Uh, ever watch Mansions & Murders, sweetheart? Yes, but not every tall glass of water is out to murder his family in their mansion. So, still a fan. Sexy and perfectly manscaped. Sigh.

Anyway,  this hot little gum drop slept pretty much half way across the nation, as we flew high in the skies, seated in between my son and I.  Head back against the seat rest. Mouth wide open. Breathing all over everybody. So, when he awoke from his drool-less slumber, I thought I’d chat it up. Oh no. He wasn’t having it. Dag nabbit. Dialogue, dialogue… I need to instigate a conversation.  So, I offered a mint, to break the ice and he slightly joked, “Oh, no thanks. Unless you’re trying to tell me something,” as he smiled. His sexy little smirk. Ahhh… why is he staring at me all weird? Maybe I should stop batting my eyelashes in his general direction. Damn his freshly shaven, strong jawline.

4567c-img_6565About an hour to go on the flight. And cutie patootie is ordering a cup of noodles and bloody mary mix. Without the alcohol. And a Cup O’ Noodles. Hmmm… ok, they were out of tomato juice. I see the alternative, choice of champions. Sarcasm. But, now he’s so loaded up on sodium, he might poop salt. Dammit. Less attractive now. And then the coughing begins. Why?! Why, the bad food choices?!! There were other healthier options. Like vodka. And, he’s still not taking an interest in me and all my hotness. Hmmm… no biggie. But, I can’t find anything wrong with him except his terrible sodium-packed snackery. And his possible, common cold outbreak, he’s about to unleash onto the airborne vehicle because he doesn’t cover his mouth with his sleeve. Or hand. Or maybe with a nearby napkin. Hey hambone, let’s try the nearby napkin!  So, I give up on this chance at love, because we’re only a few short stints from landing and I realize, for at least two, of the four and a half hour flight, he’s the jerkoff that’s been coughing and hacking in my general direction. While snotty children were screaming in the back and running up and down the aisles. Ah, but his kindly tailored suit and chisled bone structure, all handsome and yearning for my touch … You sure you don’t want some gum?