Friday, July 22, 2005


There really are no words to express my excitement right now. Tomorrow morning, at five am, I leave for the Outer Banks of North Carolina, not to return for two weeks. The Outer Banks is one of my official "Five Favorite Places on Earth" and I can't wait to remember what it feels like to relax. Back to the same room I've been staying in for 15 years, back to sitting on the porch knitting or going out looking for cool places to sit and paint with watercolors. Back to seashell hunting and attempting and failing (miserably) to use a sea kayak. Shopping for pottery in the little town of Manteo, eating crab dip, and getting an ill-advised tan. All that is a mere 28 hours away from right now.

If you would like to see exactly where I'll be for the next two weeks, click the links below:

Where I'll be staying:
Where I'll be eating:
Where I'll be fishing:
My day trip for next Friday:

Anyway, I'll be taking the laptop, and hopefully finding some good hotspots. Hopefully I won't have any hurricanes to blog about this year. I got my fill of that last year.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Ad Hell

Yesterday, I left my mom alone with my computer here at work for awhile. She is a bit naive of the garbage that can come through the 'net, and she inadvertantly downloaded some garbage adware. This adware was is so sneaky that I was unable to delete it via three separate anti-ad and spy packages. When I sought it out throught the add/remove programs function, I clicked to remove it. When I did so, I got a message box that told me that if I wanted to remove this shit, I had to go to their website and download MORE of their software. I don't think so, bub.

So thank you SO MUCH "ABetterInternet" for giving me the opportunity to bet on horses, play poker online and whatever the hell else you've offered me.

Kind readers, if you've got some time to spare and feel inclined to help me out here, visit these sites and keep sending them inane messages, or offer them the chance to buy something from you. I've had it to here with this crap and am desperate for a little revenge. I can't singlehandedly take down the IRS, as I would like, but I can send mean messages to these spammers and, at the very least, annoy them a little.

Here is the letter I just wrote them:

No words of tongue or pen are adamant enough to express your level of sucking. I leave my mother alone with my computer for one day and I am infected with your insidious garbage. What took her five minutes to accidentally download will take me hours to remove. I will consequently lose hours of valuable business time trying to fix this. I hope that all of you at the alleged "A Better Internet" get infected with a motherboard-burner of a virus. And I hope you all get flat tires in a rainstorm, and end up with a serious case of the sniffles. Kindly bite me. I'm blogging this as soon as my computer starts working again. You may read it at

Sleep on this, examine your conscience, and then consider seeking valid employment. You've ruined my day.

You may visit them at

BetterInternet, Inc.
107 Grand Street
3rd Floor
New York, NY 10013


With a nod to NH, I feel I must report these facts:

Every year, two or three times per year, actually, I go to a week at a YMCA camp session called "Women's Week." I am an instructor there. It's basically a big camp, with cabins and all the regular camp stuff. Women gather for these weeks from all walks of life and of all ages. Youngest I've seen: 18, Oldest: 92. I would say that the average age is about 45, though, and most of the women that come are married. We have classes in yoga, crafts, horseback riding, and sailing. Not to mention wine tasting, financial planning, astronomy, and business. An average of 65 women attend each session. We have tennis tournaments, hikes, and across-the-lake swims. We stay for five days. It's an absolute blast. I learned to do pottery there many years ago.

My camp friends and I have all reported being amazed at how many men ask if we sit around and bitch about men all day. I've been asked by many myself. I had never really thought about it, though. The fact of the matter is, nobody talks about men there, at all. Like rational creatures, we talk books, politics (with some heated debate), recipes, movies, travel, and all those normal subjects. We play practical jokes on one another. We bring our instruments and play at night. We drink wine and sing songs. We compare hiking injuries and bug bites. We bitch about the muddy path to the shower house, and how you need a shower just from walking back to your cabin. We complain about bear poop on the path. We complain about the odd chipmunk in our cabins. We discuss the fact that they serve too much fat-free dressing. We consider that we may be too fat for the poor horses. We discuss the beautiful foliage. We shop for Amish quilts and pies. We marvel at this or that woman's particular talent in kayaking. We spot eagles and listen for owls. But the fact is, of all these women, I know very little about their careers or husbands. I know that they exist, but that's it. It's just not a topic of conversation.

Now, when I hear so many men suggest that women just sit around and bitch about them, or that we rant about our superiority, I have to ask myself: Do women really act like that? Do I just associate with a different kind of women? Am I in the minority? Most of these complaints do not apply to anyone that I know. What does it all mean? All of my married friends love their husbands. If they don't, I don't know about it. I've met their husbands and they seem nice and well-grounded. Where is all this cattiness and back-biting? Many of us are annoyed with this or that little habit, but it rarely comes up in conversation. The one woman I do know who talks too much about her husband is bragging about him all the time, and it gets annoying. I admit that there are many John habits that get on my nerves, but the fact is, I rarely talk about them, and they are not enough to make me actively bitch about him.

For the record, I have been viscously dumped, cheated on, dissed, judged, and lied to by men. I have discovered a boyfriend was gay. I've been insulted and badly-treated. Conclusion: wrong men. I have had boyfriends with whom I've had good breakups, too. Good guys, wrong time. But none of this made me HATE men. Frankly, I still rather like them.

So please, tell me, where are all these women who hate men? I personally don't know any.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

How to Pick Up Chicks

Inspired by Kelly's recent post about a pervy dad, I've decided to help all you men out with an insider's guide on how to win with women. Follow my list, and you will never fail with the babes. These are the things that make me attracted to a man every time. I am helpless against them. Thank me now, guys, because most women won't tell you these things. They make you too powerful:

1. ALWAYS comment on women in the general vicinity, or on the TV. When you see a good looking chick, be sure to say something about how she is built, and try to use the phrase, "get me some of that." Make an ass-slapping motion. Women love this. If your eye is constantly roaming, it keeps us on our toes. Keeps us interested. Otherwise, we get bored with you really quickly. Knowing that you are discerning man makes us want to look better for you. When we know that you are a true connoisseur or the female form, we feel honored to be chosen by you.

2. When referring to breasts (and you should do this often) always use cute terms like "honkers", "hooters", or "ta-tas". You may also want to refer to someone's "rack." This lets us know that you are sensitive, and that you don't want to offend us by using crass, correct terminology.

3. Let's face it. Most women will not admit it, but we like REAL men. And when I say "real", I mean the kind that doesn't give into the pressures of society to be "polite" and "gentlemanly". This makes you look weak and gay. By all means, assert your masculinity by burping and farting as boisterously and unapologetically as possible. We may turn our noses up, but secretly, we are really turned on.

4. Never, ever dance. If you do it badly, you will look stupid. If you do it well, you are gay. Women HATE men who dance. If you have any self-respect, keep your ass on the barstool.

5. Name your penis, and tell everyone about it. When we hear about "Mr. Pokey" enough times, we're very intrigued and desperate to meet him. Give him a more sophisticated name if you are interested in meeting more learned women. I once totally went for a guy because I wanted to meet "Sir Richard."

6. Make fun of others ruthlessly. This shows that you have a great sense of humor, and want to keep the conversation light and moving along. However, if someone should give YOU a dose of ribbing, get very serious. No REAL man would stand for that.

7. By all means, drive a sports car. We like Camaros best. I once had a boss who called his car a "tart magnet." That REALLY made me want to sleep with him. Sadly, I never did, and I still regret never getting a chance to ride in the tart magnet. It's probably all for the best, though. Obviously, with a car like that, he was more man than I could handle.

8. When out with a group for dinner or drinks, conveniently "forget" your wallet. In fact, it's probably best if you never have any money. This lets us know that you are a ture rebel, with an adventurous, free spirit. You have no use for ridiculous societal conventions like "money" or "responsibility". We admire your freedom and want to be a part of it.

9. When relaxing at home, be sure to wear a beater, and have just a small, gerbil-size ball of chest hair peeking over the top, because, YUM.

10. If you have taken all of the other advice, by now you are in a steady relationship with a hot babe, one who is willing to support YOU. Now that you've got her, you want to keep her, at least for a little while, so keep on your toes! Be sure to introduce her to all of your friends as your "new ho" or your "next ex-wife." We love it when you're funny like that. Be a sloppy kisser, or else we won't feel that you have any real passion for us. Loudly proclaim to your friends, in mixed company, how well-satisfied you make us. Slap us on the ass in public. Scratch youself often. Self-control is for girls and wimps! And to keep us really intrigued, disappear for days at a time. Girls love mystery!

If you feel that these tips are not for you, you may be on the wrong track. A different approach may work for you. Look for my next installment, to be entitled, "How to Attract Women by Being a Whisper-Thin, Pompous, Penniless, Brooding Bohemian Artsy Type." This is a more difficult course, but for those who can pull it off, extremely effective.

Good luck on your quest!