The New Man in My Life That Brings Joy

Do you know what J-man did for me?  (J-man, the pool boy that lives at Mothers)

After a special extraordinary weekend filled with obnoxious men, grumpy attitudes, refusals to poop, and lots of screaming. (Big D included)

J-man brought his fancy computer to the table at Mothers, where I was sitting and groveling in my poor attitude.  His computer has a chastity belt wrapped 2 times around the middle complete with 4 locks.  J-man unlocked all 4 locks, threw them in the meat grinder and then emptied it into the trash.  He opened the computer to reveal  (star star sparkle star star) a special button that I push that brings me straight to my wonderful blog sight.

No fancy wizard twirls and special 5 letter, 7 number, 13 special signs and symbols pass codes.  Just a simple double click.

I legitimately feel like a queen.

And what adds the luscious cherry on top - is that J-man leaves his computer in a very easy location for me to access.  No wild goose chases or bachelor pad ransacks.

Also, he patted my hand 4 times and smiled nicely.  And I half smiled back.

Take Aways
1)  Whenever possible, steal any J-manish man off the street corners and have him move in with you.
2)  31 years later, I still hate Patch the Pirate the same.
3)  Husbands don't care if J-men move in.
4)  Honestly, it makes them happy, and life easier.
5)  I think it's time for me to run away and have a break from all of these naughty men in my life.  Minus J-man

Bachelor Pads That Cause Me Unneccessary Grief

You may be wondering why my posting is sodidlyoh sporadic when I used to have posts up consistently by 9 am.  I wonder the same thing.

And here's the answer:

I do not have my own computation device.  Mainly because Big D thinks that instant queenship-hood will envelop me and I would walk around with a crown on my head and nose 3 inches higher than it already is.  So in order to keep me properly placed in my mom squzzies - cooking him dinner 3x a week and washing his man panties, I have to beg usage of others.

Ok, so I walk into Mothers knowing that I have nothing, and must produce something.  On a regular basis - ie 5x a week.  Challenge accepted.

I do have 2 brothers still living at home that both have a nice half eaten apple machine.  As well as a new man, J-man (because he's the man) hanging around town (aka Mothers) who ALSO has a nice half-eaten apple machine.

And I thought to myself, "Foxy, this is NOT, legitimately NOT going to be an issue.  This problem of having nothing - Jesus just turned nothing into 3 apples.  I am cov-ured by the blood."

Until I realized that I had moved into a bachelor's pad.  Yup, three bachelors.  All on the hunt.  They have this room with couches and corner tables and beds.  Yes, multiple.  It's air-conditioned.  And dark.  And they hide up there.  With the apple machines.  And they talk about hussies, that care WAY too much about their appearance.  Hussies that I want to box their ears in and then ask, WHAT NOW?.

Back to the topic - machines.  So these fellas hide what I need mostly.  But on a rare occasion there will be a slip-up and somebody will leave their computer lying around in the western boating wing.  I'll open it up feeling like a half queen, pleased as punch that I landed such a find.  Only until I open the turkeybutt appliance and find that there are more password/codes/fancy finger moves/high kicks and wizard twirls that must be performed before I can even get to the internet.

My cover is legitimately blown.  I either have to give up or holler for help with the wizard twirls.

That's the scoopy-poopy.  You could pray for me that these men would have more of a generous, helping spirit. *ahem*

Take Aways
1)  Box the hussies ears in, regardless.
2)  Have a heart-to-heart with all the rude men that surround me.
3)  Steal their computers and memorize the fancy moves it takes to get to said internet.
4)  Give up completely and worry only about attending to body lice.