I am a man in my midish-30’s.When using Play-Doh with my wife and kids, I almost always end up making a penis or a vagina or both. I make sure my kids don’t see what I’m doing, of course. Is there something wrong with me?
Typical Guy (I hope)
Dear Typical Guy (you wish),
Yes. You do not get nearly enough sex. Tell your wife I said so.
I just heard a joke that I'm struggling to make sense of and I thought you could probably help. Tell me if you get this: "Confucius says, 'Man who walks through airport door sideways going to Thailand.'"
Confused by Confucius
Dear Confused by Confucius,
Whoever told you the joke is too vague and, therefore, not very funny. You need to know where in Thailand the man is going. To wit: Confucius says, "Man who walks through airport door sideways going to Bangkok."
I am a bored stay-at-home mom and I'd like to make more friends. Top of my list is finding a gay husband. My cousin has one, but she met hers in eating disorder treatment. I don't want one with quite that much baggage.
Do you have any ideas where a mom from the conservative 'burbs could go to meet prospects?
I’m assuming you need a gay husband because straight men cannot be trusted around you. You must be hot. Next time send a picture with your letter.
I don’t have much experience finding gay men, but I’ve always been under the impression that they walk among us. So, I guess my advice would be to keep your eyes out for someone wearing green on Thursday (when I was in Junior High this was said to be a sure sign that one was gay). You might also try a Bette Midler concert.
Last Wednesday started off rough. My kids fought everything I tried to do. We needed to get to preschool early so that I could make it to a dentist appointment. On our way to the car we discovered a dead mouse on the garage floor. It took me about 10 minutes to explain to my daughter what it was and why it was where it was and why I was using a plastic bag to throw a sleeping mouse into the garbage. We ended up being a bit late dropping my daughter off at preschool and so I was a little late for my appointment. The hygienist made up the lost time by power-scraping my teeth, which caused them (not my gums) to bleed. Then, I had to fly from there to the doctor to have what I thought might be a bladder infection checked. That’s when the fun really started. The doctor said that men rarely get bladder infections, and that it was far more likely that my prostate was infected and swollen. I only vaguely knew what a prostate was; based on T.V. ads, I knew when I got older that I could expect trouble. Well, I guess I’m older.
“It sounds like a prostate infection. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to do a rectal exam.”
“Yes. We’ll do a urine analysis, too, but I expect it to be clear- your bladder is most likely fine. We need to do a rectal exam in order to feel if your prostate is swollen. I’m sorry.”
But he did not seem sorry. I can’t be sure, because I couldn’t see through my tears, but I think he shoved his whole arm up my ass. He claimed that he could feel that my prostate was swollen, but I think what he felt was one of my lungs. He gave me an antibiotic, and that seems to be helping, but I have an overwhelming urge to sue him anyway. Do you think I should?
I’ll Never Be The Same.
Dear I’ll Never Be The Same,
I’ve taken several pre-law courses (actually the same one several times) and I promise that you don’t have a case. This is especially true because it sounds like your doctor took no joy in the exam either. I bet he truly was sorry. It would be easy to make a gay joke here, but I am not going to. I think it’s safe to say that that is as unsexy a situation as you will find- a gay doctor would not enjoy it either, I’m sure. You didn’t say, so I have to guess that your symptom was a burning sensation while urinating. I want to offer you my congratulations… when that happens to me, the last thing I think of is a bladder infection. In fact, depending on the type of burning, I can usually figure out myself which STD is flaring up.
Perhaps you've seen this e-mail. I saw it today for the first time, and was amazed with the results.
FIND OUT WHO YOUR ROLE MODEL IS. DON'T SCROLL DOWN YET, DO THE SIMPLE MATH BELOW, THEN SCROLL DOWN TO FIND YOUR HERO. IT'S CRAZY HOW ACCURATE IT IS!
> 1) Pick your favorite number between 1-9
> 2) Multiply by 3 then
> 3) Add 3
> 4) Then again Multiply by 3 (I'll wait while you get the
> 5) You'll get a 2 or 3 digit number....
> 6) Add the digits together
> Now Scroll down............With that number, see who your ROLE MODEL
> is from the list below:
2. Oprah Winfrey
3. Werner Pieters
4. Bill Clinton
5. Bill Gates
7. Ronald Reagan
8. Your Father
Several weeks ago, I asked my Facebook followers to submit sentences to be incorporated into a post. This is what they came up with:
1) There once was a man from Nantucket.
2) Beans, beans the magical fruit.
3) I’m Michelle Bachmann and I approve this message.
4) I stayed awake the last four days awaiting the next edition of “Unconventional Wisdom.”
5) When I was younger, I thought I knew a lot of things…now that I’m older, I’m thinking maybe everyone else really knows all the things.
6) On this night of a thousand dreams, I lie here and think, “What I wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep.”
7) It was at that very moment that I knew I was a lesbian.
8) Most of us have a lot of faith in people, despite our experience.
9) Bird skeletons are characterized by thin, hollow boners.
First, I would like to apologize- especially to the kind reader who is so intense that [he] stayed awake the last four nights (it has now been much longer) awaiting the next edition of “Unconventional Wisdom.” It feels odd for me to apologize for not posting, but believe it or not, there are people out there who look forward to reading this blog, so: I am sorry it has been so long since my last post. We’ve been sick in my house, and writing simply has not been in the cards. This post in particular was not one I could write while sick- it is optimistic, and I wasn’t feeling that way for a spell.
Okay. Now at first blush, these sentences may not seem to have much in common. But they do. And, you may be surprised to learn that they also contain the meaning of life!
And here is the meaning of life, as told to Kurt Vonnegut by his son, Mark:
“We are all here to help each other through this thing, whatever it is.”
Don’t let the simplicity of that statement fool you- the best part of every religion I know of can be found in it. Yes, that quote is plenty deep; but the answer to the questions, “Why are we here? What is the point of life?” need not be. You are here because a man and a woman copulated. And you remain here because some prehistoric corner of your brain has kept your lungs breathing and your heart beating more or less continuously ever since.
And that is it. So you might as well laugh, and be kind, and help your friends get through this thing, whatever it is. And look up at the stars!
My grandpa loves to help us through this thing by making us laugh. As much a part of Thanksgiving dinner at his home as turkey was this exchange he’d have with his sister:
“Bean, beans the magical fruit. Did I ever tell you guys about the time Margie shit in her pants on the bus?
“Pat! I did not. I…”
“We had no money in those days, so Margie had nothing more than a can of beans for lunch one day. Then she hopped on the bus, and headed to work. Before long, she needed to fart. She looked around to make sure it was safe. There was no one around when the bus got to the next stop. She timed her fart for the noisy opening of the doors. Except she didn’t fart, she shit in her pants! And she didn’t notice that a man had gotten on at the stop. There were no open seats, so he came and sat right next to Margie here!”
And, of course, by the time he got to the end, everyone would be crying and choking; thoroughly helped, for a while at least. (I have no idea if that actually happened to poor Margie- I know for sure that her reaction to it, the same year after year, kept the joke alive.)
Most of us have a lot of faith in people, despite our experience. Sure, there are plenty of assholes running around, but we share the planet with many, many more people who are simply decent. People who are walking around, smiling to themselves, thinking of a joke, “There once was a man from Nantucket…” or her first kiss, “It was at that very moment that I knew I was a lesbian.” You would not know it, but the lady who was distracted, rude even, and who did not smile at you in the check-out lane, may have simply been tired, having spent the whole previous night thinking, “On this night of a thousand dreams, I lie here and think, ‘What I wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep.’” Wouldn’t you show her sympathy if you knew that? Would you still demand to speak to her manager? Wouldn’t you smile, and help her through this thing? I bet you would.
My friend, Jon, has been helping me get through this for over twenty years. We are all grown up now, but he can still very easily make me giggle. Sometimes, he doesn’t have to do anything; hearing from him brings back happy memories. To wit: We were driving on the freeway when Jon said, “Get off the road you clowns.” I looked over expecting to find bad driving. What did I see? A car full of clowns. That memory has helped me get through a lot of this. And he keeps on giving. He was recently kind enough to share this, from a test he wrote for a biology class he teaches; see if you can spot the typo: Bird skeletons are characterized by thin, hollow boners. Thanks for your help, Jon.
Since we are not very far removed from election season, I will leave you with this, something I very much would like to hear my neighbors to the north United States Representative say:
When I was younger, I thought I knew a lot of things…now that I’m older, I’m thinking maybe everyone else really knows all the things.
----I’m Michelle Bachmann and I approve this message.---
Ever since college, I have had a recurring dream which begins with me entering finals week and in which I remember that I have been enrolled in a course that I forgot about until the last week. The final test is the first class of that course that I attend (I had a few in real life where that was practically true, including one in which I set the curve. My recent qualification for Mensa probably helps explain this; having a roommate who was a religious class attender and copious note taker helps even more, though). Anyway, this is not a happy dream.
Last night I had a dream in which I realized that I had a baby that I had forgotten about. One day, I remembered her, and rushed downstairs to check on her (about 9 months late, but hey, I was doing my best). She was fine, miraculously. I was horrified at the thought of her down in the basement, alone, for nine months, while I and the other two kids went about our daily business. It turned out that my wife had been taking care of her at night, which, in my dream at least, explained the baby's good heath.
This morning it crossed my mind that there was more truth in that dream than I'd care to admit. I am not always the most attentive parent during the day. I usually disappear to the basement after supper. I know for certain that there are stay-at-home parents who do much more with their kids than I do, whose kids watch less T.V. Still, I don't feel guilty. I do enough, I am also certain of that.
A couple days ago, the baby was crying so hard that he was having trouble breathing. Nothing I did helped. Eventually my daughter walked over to us, and patted him on the back. She bent down and said soothingly, "It's okay, it's okay. We're all here. Daddy's here, I'm here, mommy will be here soon. You will be okay, Baby Brother." If I have taught her nothing else, I have taught her enough.