Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Confession is good for what?

Confession is good for the soul. 

How many times have you heard that over the course of your life? I heard it in church growing up, from my Catholic friends when I teased them about attending confession, and from an older friend who convinced me that unburdening myself would improve my marriage. What a complete load of crap. In the case of infidelity this is the biggest load of self-serving bullshit I’ve ever heard.

Tonight as I watched TV I was reminded of this little bit of guidance. Maybe this is a topic best left to a Wag Vs. Angie forum, but it's weighing on my mind. A man confesses to his wife that he gave his secretary a ride home one evening after an office celebration. Upon delivering the young secretary to her door, the waif kissed him. Confession occurs. Cue fireworks. The episode (plus those that follow) is wrought with hurt feelings, distrust, internal and external struggles, and the questioning of vows, self-worth, self-esteem, and respect.

I think most of us know someone in our lives whether it be a friend, neighbor, sibling, parent, or even ourselves who has been in a situation where the above, or worse, has occurred. Skeletons in people's closets exist for a reason... because they aren't taken out for display. Still, there are a lot of people who step out on their spouses, but the weight of the guilt is too much for them to bear. Often those people come clean. What strikes me most about those situations is that far more people will applaud the person who confesses than they will the person who keeps the infidelity to themselves.  

Holy man at your service... 
Do you know whose soul confession is good for? The guilty. Don't kid yourself. The idea behind the wisdom of confession is to confess your sin to God. The purpose was to encourage man to admit to himself and to God that he was not perfect and to ask for forgiveness. The goal was not to take the burden of your shame and lay it on another person. 

It most certainly is not meant to be confessed to someone you love and will hurt in doing so. What purpose does it serve to confess your sin to your partner? Yes, you will feel better for telling them. True, you won't have to hide it anymore. You can even ask THEM for forgiveness. Congratulations. 

If your infidelity has put such a heavy burden on your soul then you are the person who should bear that cross. If you are a believer and feel that confession is necessary, find a holy man. Do not lay that package at your wife’s or husband’s feet without considering the impact that little relief for you will have on your partner. 

Alright, the sermon is done. Please put some money in the plate when it comes around. It pays for the candles and the robes. No, not the ones for the acolytes.... the ones for spa time. 

Mother Angie... out! 

Monday, November 28, 2011

You're Fat. Let's Talk.

This week's topic at Wag Vs Angie is......

Is it okay to tell your partner that they need to lose weight? Yes. It most certainly is.
Weight is a heavy topic. Pun intended. Our society has reached a stage where we have cured diseases that had once been cause for a much shorter average life span. At the same time we have developed time saving conveniences and in the process have become less healthy and quite a bit lazier. We traded our small pox, measles, rubella, and polio for heart disease, diabetes, and various other ailments that are brought on by and/or exasperated by obesity.
We are not talking about a slight weight gain that comes on with age (5-10 pounds). When someone is over weight there tends to be an underlying cause. Whether it’s a medical illness or depression… continuing to ignore the problem will not help the situation. If you value your partner’s health you will say something. The question is HOW do you go about saying it. You must be kind or your message will come across as nothing more than a slap to the face. Explain that you love them regardless of their weight, but that you want them to be around to love. One of my ex boyfriends used to call me names, make jokes about my “blubber”, and point out how much heavier I was than him in front of other people. This made me more depressed and in the process I ate more and gained more.
I would caution you to sweep your own doorstep first. If you’re carrying an extra 20 pounds you may want to approach the matter in another way altogether. Make healthier food choices as a family. Join a gym together and ACTUALLY go. Take up more physical activities the two of you can do together. Even if you’re not carrying the extra weight you would be wise to try the above suggestions. Relationships are made stronger by shared interests and activities. In the process you will both shape up, reduce health risks, and drop some pounds.
Of course there is a caveat.
Know your reasons for bringing it up. If you’re angry and feeling hurtful it’s probably not the weight you’re lashing out about. If your spouse has just had a baby you should be shot for telling them they could stand to lose a few. You may end up losing a couple of things yourself.
Let's find out what what has to say! WagTheDad.... let's talk. 

Saturday, November 26, 2011

And God said, "Bwahaha! Get up!"

6:45 AM Saturday, November 26
When I heard the storm door slam against the side of the house this morning followed by the howling sound of winter wind, I just knew it was going to be one of those days. It was a sign from God that I might want to prepare myself for what was about to happen.

I lay there a few minutes longer willing myself back to sleep only to hear the creaking of my bedroom door and a timid voice from the main floor of the house.

"Mom? I might need to take your car to work today." the voice said.

Immediately my eyes were wide open. My car? My baby? The car I've almost paid off? My only source of escape? My mind was reeling... for about 15 whole seconds.

"Why? Did it snow? Your car works in the snow, ya know. If you can drive mine you can drive yours." I replied to my darling daughter.

"It's not that. I parked my car in the driveway last night and I was wearing Zach's coat and put my keys in the pocket. He took his coat when he left." She said.

"Right. Okay, can't you use the spare key?" I asked

"There isn't a spare key. The key you gave me was the spare." Came the almost tearful response.

"You realize my car is in the garage, right? How were you going to get my car out of the driveway when you're parked in the driveway?" I asked, feeling a little superior and pissed off at the same time.

"I can just push it out of the drive way in neutral." She offered.

So I let her go on outside and do just that. Please note that my precious princess is 5'3" and 105 pounds sopping wet. It took all of two minutes before she came back to the house and in her shaky "she's going to kill me I just know it" voice said, "Mom?"

Yeah I looked just like that except for the blonde hair
and I wore wool socks and a jacket. Otherwise totally
the same. 
"You can't do it can you?" I said while climbing out of bed.

"No... can you help me?" She asked.

"Well I don't have a lot of options do I?" said the bitchy mom while she put on her wool socks, shoes, and jacket.

Outside I went. I instructed her to get in the car and put it in neutral and I would push her out of the driveway.  It was going fairly well until I realized she had not cranked the steering wheel and I was merely pushing her car into the middle of the street. I went to the window and told her I would push her back into the drive and we would start over.

Pushing the car back UP the drive was a bit more difficult. I managed to get her car almost up the approach before I could get it no further. I went to the window and told her to crank the steering wheel so I could push her right into the street parking when she informed me that she couldn't because she'd locked the steering wheel and it couldn't be unlocked without the key.

We could neither get her far enough out to get my car out of the garage or far enough in to get her car to not be blocking the sidewalk. I was more than a little angry. I made a few passing comments about why they should never ever ever park in MY driveway again. My lips locked in a tight angry line that all of the women in my family get when they are trying not to say the even bitchier things about to fly out of our mouths.

I thought that I might be able to back my car out into the yard and possibly just drive over the neighbors small stretch of yard and out their drive way. No one else is awake at that time of day. The ground is frozen enough that it won't leave marks. It could work. I stomped back to the house and grabbed the set of spare keys off the hook in the kitchen. Precious had my keys in her pocket now and I didn't feel much like approaching her at that moment.
I stared at the keys in my hand and stomped back outside to her car. I held out my hand and asked her to politely give me back my damn car keys. The look on her face was one of total confusion. How was she going to get to work if I wouldn't let her drive my car? She handed the keys over and before she could say a word, I handed her the key ring I had taken from the house. The key ring that held... you guessed it, the spare key to her car.

"THAT'S my spare key?" she said, eyes wide.

"One of these things is not like the others." I replied (yeah I am sarcastically Sesame Street at times) while showing her the valet key and spare for my car and the key to her car, which is quite obviously different though quite obviously the same cut and shape of the key she carelessly left in her boyfriends jacket.

And this is why I am going to tie a snow shovel to the back of my car and drive until someone stops me and asks what the hell it is. This cold weather crap is annoying!

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and/or is having a great weekend! I'll see you kids on Monday when Wag Vs. Angie returns with a hot new topic!

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Where I blame Becca for my future in phone sex...

Enterprise IT sales can be a pretty tough gig when the economy is in the crapper. If you're not selling something that involves sex, starts with iP, or runs on an Adroid OS it's like pulling teeth sometimes.

Note to me: Patent that iP*ssy idea. 

Hey! It's Becca! 
This afternoon Miss Becca of I'm Pretty Sure That graced my IM with her presence. These are the little bright spots in my day; Becca, Blogging, Blog Hopping, and the Twitter. When I first started talking to Becca, I had this sneaking suspicion that she was far smarter than I. Today she went and proved it to me by giving me the very best job advice ever!

While we were casually discussing how awesome our jobs are (or something to that effect RIGHT BECCA?!) the subject came around to our voices. Becca lamented that her voice makes her sound young, which makes her less than believable when she gets angry. This could be bit of a stumbling block for some, but she overcomes it by being kick ass at what she does.

My job has me talking to IT professionals all day long. Since my job is in the Midwest and my clients are primarily New York businesses or schools I spend 90 percent of my work day on the phone. I know. I know. Regardless, if you know me in real life I'm fairly animated. Inflection is never a problem for me. Unfortunately when you're talking to a primarily male audience you don't want to come across too bubbly. That being said, I try to slow it down and dial down the cheerleader a bit. What comes across the phone line ends up sounding a bit more um... Phone Whore.

Fantasy Me
When Becca heard this she came up with a brilliant idea. When I move I will need to find a job (unless my company comes through with the remote gig). Why not take my God given talent and make a career of it? That's right, she wants me to be a phone sex operator, or as they are called in the biz, Adult Phone Actress.

That started my mind turning. What would it be like for me living in California anywhere near wine country (or a Trader Joe's with cheap wine-a-plenty)? Add to that working from home in a profession that quite literally screams take off your clothes. A little wine always helps get the dirty words flowing so I would imagine it's probably a helpful tool  (ha ha I said tool in a phone sex post) for the Adult Phone Actresses of the world.

Uh huh. It's Lewis, bitches!
Stay with me here. Alright we have warm temps, at home, nudity, a headset, and wine. In my head I'm putting tipsy on the calendar for 1 hour into my "shift". I thought to myself, "How would that go over? Would the customers like that?" As soon as I thought it I face palmed and pictured the phone sex world's clientele.

I picture a guy at the bar who would love to take that tipsy chick home, but he's too shy to hit on her so he goes home alone and dials the phone sex lady Adult Phone Actress. Being sober when that guy calls would be a bit of a let down for him, right? He's a paying customer!

He deserves that tipsy chick he is fantasizing about at the bar and it's my job to make sure he gets that or what sounds like a reasonable likeness

So, what's the strangest job you've ever had? 

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Roxanne- My Inner Whore

Yeah.. like this one. (
Some days I wake up and the image reflecting back in the mirror looks like she's been rolling around with some guy in the back of his 84' TransAm. Whoever that chick is (let's just call her Roxanne), she's naughty and obviously went places while I was sleeping. It's like my inner whore escaped. Sometimes the good girl I really am gets up too late to really put her away properly.

Today is one of those days. The alarm went off at 6 AM and, like any normal person would, I hit the snooze twice. The third time that thing buzzed in my ear I had all intentions of hitting snooze again, but instead that whore who inhabits my sleeping mind shut off the alarm altogether. When I finally came to, it was 6:45 and panic immediately set in. I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter and rushed to the bathroom. Hell hath no fury like a woman who has to leave the house without her face on, and seriously... ewwww.

It did not end up looking like this.
Last night I had prepped my wet hair with product and tied it up in a ponytail with all intentions of getting up to straighten it when I got up. Unfortunately during the night the hair tie disappeared (probably the whore's doing), and rather than having at least partially sleek hair... my half-fro was out in full force. By the time I'd slapped on a coat of face spackle to hide the fact that I'm actually part albino, I had only 30 seconds to run a little balm over the ends of my 'do' and hit the road.

At 7:30 I pulled into the work parking lot and made a dash for the door. Morning greetings out of the way, I made my way to the ladies room to see how my hair had handled the foggy November weather. They say the Devil takes on many forms. In my world, humidity is the anti-Christ. Let's just say the curly hair got frizzier.

Okay it's not THIS big.

I did the only thing I could do. I embraced my inner whore and let Ol' Roxanne out. The can of Big Sexy Hair hairspray beckoned from the shelf. I lifted pieces here and there to keep the Bozo look from taking over then gave it a quick spray to solidify my place in whore-history. It must have worked too because when I came back to my desk one of my co-workers told me that all I'd need to complete the look would be a bit of smudged lipstick and a broken heel.

Maybe it's the jeans with fray marks and holes in them, but I am pretty sure it is the hair. Whatever it is its got me singing... "Roxanneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee You don't have to put on the red light!" And I put on the red light anyway! Where's the guy with the pegged jeans, case of cold Old Mil, and a TransAm when you need him?

♫♪Roxxxxxxanneeeeeeeeeeee you don't have to wear that dress tonight.... walk the streets for money... you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right!♫♪

Monday, November 21, 2011

Because I Am Mean Like That (Why I'm forcing my daughter to cook)
I've decided that I will prepare a giant Thanksgiving feast this year. Because I'm good like that. What? I can cook! Doubters. Frankly I'm a little angry that any of you might think I can't cook. Sure, nobody said anything but I know how it is. (Too irrational? Allow me to dial down the PMS)

Right-o! What I am about to say might come across as if I'm trying to force my child into a gender role that is unfair and unduly patriarchal. Anyone offended will just have to get over it. This is what's going down, Charlie Brown. I told my daughter that she needed to discuss with her boyfriend what three sides they would like prepared to go with what I will be serving (turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, dinner rolls, cranberries). Aside from that, I informed her, SHE would be cooking those three items they chose.
"It is time." I said to my daughter in my best Mufasa like voice. If I'd been able to convince someone to play the part of Rafiki I would have lifted her up to the kitchen with the appliances as an audience. She was not all that impressed, but I stand by the purpose of my dramatics. It's time for her to prove her worth in the kitchen. Her boyfriend does almost all of the cooking that involves more than boiling noodles. It stands to reason before he walks her down the aisle he might need to see that she can hold her own at the oven.

At the store on Saturday she broke away from the Mom Cart and decided to do a little feast worthy shopping of her own. Based on what she's picked up so far it appears she will be making a green bean casserole. I must say that I'm sort of impressed by her ability to pick a dish that requires little more effort than spinning the wheel on a can opener. Something tells me that if I asked her to provide a pie I would find a boxed up pie in the freezer Thursday morning.
Truth be told, I've only got myself to blame. I wasn't all that specific about what sort of goal she should be setting for this momentous occasion. Perhaps I should be relieved she didn't aim too terribly high. There's no point in having her show me up in the kitchen while she's still living in my house, right? On second thought... maybe that frozen pie wouldn't be so bad. Shit. There's a chance I have bigger issues than even I know.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Don't judge me! How I Spent My Birthday

Due to circumstances beyond my control (okay that's a lie)... Wag Vs. Angie will be off the schedule for the week. I celebrated with family and friends this weekend and was unable to get my assignment in on time. Also, I realized that I'm no longer capable of running with the big dogs more than 1 day per week.

Also, I would like you all to know that there is actually a limit to the number of vodka diets one person should consume. I am not sure what that limit is, but I tripped right over that line at some point Friday night. On a positive note, I was sober enough to use a designated driver, wash my face, put my fancy earrings away, and not send any embarrassing drunk texts or make any phone calls (yes I checked). I was not sober enough to remember to take my purse off the bed before I climbed in, which was evident by the spilled contents on the floor in the morning.

Side note: The last time I really tied one on, I got all Cleopatra and packed my purse full of things I might need in the afterlife. When I woke up in the morning I sternly asked myself to explain why I thought I needed:

1. Fork
2. Clean underwear
3. Weight Watchers Dessert
4. Hair brush (I don't brush my hair)
5. All of my makeup
6. Reading glasses

Anyway, someone please explain what is it about drinking with the girls that makes you want to take pictures of your boobs? Shhhh don't judge. Our faces weren't in them. Okay they weren't in all of them. Besides, it's not like they went on Facebook or anything... except the one that we immediately freaked out about and removed. Never let the girl who doesn't know how to use her camera phone take the pics. I should explain that we still had bras on. That's better right? No? Oh well. 

Everyone have yourselves a happy Monday and for those of you celebrating Thanksgiving, enjoy the shorter work week! 

Friday, November 18, 2011

Pants too tight? Blame Norwegian Immigrants!

Image from
Do not adjust your font, my ass really has gotten bigger. This sweater isn't bulky... that's a muffin top fighting to get out. Even my hair feels fatter today. It's not that I have no self-control. It's not that my will power (or won't power as Leauxra would say) is lacking. The problem is that I am too nice. I just don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. 

Yesterday was Thanksgiving potluck day in our office. With so many people being out next week, we felt the best thing to do was start the binge early and embrace our gluttony with the giant bear hug of true American's. We're a thankful bunch doncha know! I wore my least constricting attire just short of donning the XL sweat pants I bought 5 years ago with the drawstring. Tuesday evening I threw another mile onto my evening jog in hopes that I'd be able to mitigate some of the damage. 

The spread covered everything a good binge-purge session should, plus oyster stuffing, lefsa, something with sour kraut, and various breads of the world (okay not so much of the world). If you read my gluttony post, you'll know that potlucks don't really contain healthy food choices (aside from the obligatory veggie tray). I never hear anyone say "Oh, I'll bring a giant mixed salad with mandarin oranges, walnuts, and raspberry vinegrette!" Do you know why? Because it's STUPID! Do you know why else? Because it's STUPID! Wanna go three for three? That person would be ridiculed to the point of having grounds for a harassment lawsuit. 

I want to clear up a little confusion about "salad". If you make a fruit "salad" that consists of various fruits tossed in a mixture of either whipped cream or pudding, it is not a salad. It's not even a damned parfait, okay? Aside from a few strawberries, grapes, blueberries, or whatever the hell fruit you're throwing in that bitch, if you mix it with pudding or Cool Whip it's a dessert. I don't care what your Methodist, Catholic, Lutheran, or Presbyterian cook book says  (I name those specifically because I believe I have one of each). 

So to the woman who brought the Jello and Cool Whip "fruit salad" in a graham cracker crust yesterday, thanks for bringing pie.

I'm going to blame the Norwegian and Swedish immigrants for this lie. One cold blustery Wednesday night, long long ago in North Dakota or Minnesota, it was decided that fruits and veggies fall into the same food group, therefore uncooked fruits would fall into the category of salad. In order to stretch the fruit a bit further, it was fluffed up with Cool Whip. Fruit salad was born. 

Perhaps this helps you understand what a woman means when she says, "I eat nothing but salad and the weight still isn't coming off!" I guess it could be the ranch dressing, bacon, cheese, and seasoned croutons on the lettuce salad... but I am not sure it's legal to eat lettuce without those 4 things. Pretty sure it's not. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Bringing Back the 70's Porn Stache

Everywhere I look lately I see what appear to be the human version of the Chia Pets. It wasn't terribly obvious until the middle of last week, but today it's simply impossible to miss. The 70's porn stache is back and badder than ever. Well, it's ALMOST back. Let's just say it's getting that bad.

I'm fairly used to seeing men in my parent's age group with facial hair. It's almost expected that at some point in time Midwest guys will attempt to pull off some sort of mustache or beard. When I started seeing the younger guys sporting the old "Flavor Saver" look I had to think about kittens and rainbows to keep myself from:

A) Breaking out in hysterical laughter
B) Staring with a look of confusion and mild disgust

You can't help yourself. You either want to point and laugh or knit your brows frown. First attempts to sprout full growth on the upper lip tend to end up looking a little more like what you'd see on your old grandma when she's given up the ghost on tweezing those hormone hairs. The overall effect is something reminiscent of a penciled-in effect. It's patchy, uneven, and looks skeezy/dirty in general.

Some guys only need to try a couple of times before they are able to really put a nice thick caterpillar-esque stache. Others will never be able to grow one... their facial hair preferring to migrate to a strange patch on the cheek, massive owl like brows, out the ears, or to gnarly straggling chin pubes. Regardless of which category a man finds himself in... he can put that stache to good use. No, I don't mean mustache rides or saving flavors. Here's how!

During November each year, Movember is responsible for the sprouting of moustaches on thousands of men’s faces, in the US and around the world. With their Mo’s, these men raise vital funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer and other cancers that affect men.

These selfless and generous men, known as Mo Bros, groom, trim and wax their way into the annals of fine moustachery. Supported by the women in their lives, Mo Sistas, Movember Mo Bros raise funds by seeking out sponsorship for their Mo-growing efforts.

My friend Max is participating in Movember and doing a right fine job! I'm torn between pegging him as Burt Reynolds circa Smoky and the Bandit (1977) or Tom Selleck in his Magnum PI days. It's been a few days since he's shown us the progress... so maybe he's gone Borat by now. 

I see pink ribbons all over the place, own a few myself, and through my Avon rep status support breast cancer awareness. While there IS a blue ribbon campaign for prostate cancer, the voice isn't as loud. That needs to change. 

So please... if you get a chance, go on over and check out Max's Porn Stache and if you feel so inclined throw a few bucks his way. Somewhere a man with an itchy, rodent like strip of hair on his lip is making himself the face of prostate cancer. That alone deserves a little respect! 

Mo Merchandise      Mo Money      Mo News      Mens Health  

Image from

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Future's So Bright (well this week)...

When I woke up this morning I was in a pretty damn chipper mood. No lie! I slept well, had high hopes for my productivity level, and my hair wasn't wiggin' out or anything. I slipped on a pair of jeans fresh from the hot dryer and there was no struggle to yank the bitches up. From that point on I was all, "Hazaa! That's right bitches!Just mess with me. Come on and try it. I will end you!"

Things got even better when I got to work. I hit my numbers for the week early.  I (in one way or another) Herman Cain'd or Bill Clinton'd (depends on your party) a co-worker:

Him: It's Short Asian Syndrome. 
Me: Is that what you call it? 
Him: I feel inadequate because of my height.
Me: Oh, I would have thought it was the size of your penis. I mean paycheck. 
Him: No. I can't hide my height, but my penis ,much like my paycheck, can be hidden in a small pocket.

Then I had a doughnut, downed a Monster Lo-Carb, and kept on keeping on. I was even funny as hell on IM. 

**** says: It used to be so nice being innocent like believing in the fountain of youth. How could adults believe that? Like nowadays...thinking we'll ever have a balanced budget again. People are stupid and pathetic.

Angie 2.0v3B *komen says: I'm going to slip you antidepressants in your food.

**** says: Why?

Angie 2.0v3B *komen says: To see if it helps you have a happy or positive thought during the day. It's like a crap you know it's in there. Everyone has them. You just need to push it out and you'll feel so much better after.

**** says: You’re disgusting. I’m going to go. Have a nice day.

Angie 2.0v3B *komen says: Aww! Come back. Tell me more about how we’re all going to hell! Please?

Anyway... part of the reason I'm all giddy is that last night I was screwing around on Facebook (just in the gaming way not in the "taking off my pants and offering myself on cam chat" sort of way) and found a casino game. I love slot machines like a hooker loves a free clinic. More importantly, our company Christmas party is going to be held at the new casino/resort this year, and this game is like training. 

It's too bad I can't get a shit load of old people on oxygen to sit down everywhere I'd like to sit for the next 2 weeks. I guess I could go down to Walgreens and race the old people to the pharmacy section. Maybe I'll find a local buffet and head to dinner at 4 PM and try to get in front of them at the foods that don't require much chewing. 

So all in all, I'm pretty damned happy! I'm not even too terribly bitchy that my plans to escape this weekend for my birthday have been scrapped. It may or may not have anything to do with the fact that the Dept. of Homeland Security has been stalking my LinkedIn profile or that I have some other obligations. Either way, it's going to be fun. I'm going to eat what I want, drink what I want, sleep late, and face the truth... I'm fucking fabulous! I'll be 38 and still holding up pretty darn well. 
I might need to get one of these! 

Now then, kids. Tell me what sort of awesomeness your day/week has in store. 

Monday, November 14, 2011

Wag Vs Angie Round Five! Who Should Make The Most Money

Hello, kids! It's that time again. When Wag emailed me his topic for the week I couldn't help myself. I got a big smile and did a little dance. I totally won this one. Why? Because he obviously has failed to see that all things being equal... things are NEVER equal. So who should make the most money? 

Answer: The person who has the most expensive taste in non-family or non-couple purchases should make the most money.

Let’s forget the fact that Forbes published an article as recent as February of 2011, showing that women still earn less than men for the same work and performance. Many companies now support the right of fathers to take paternity leave when a child is born. If you look around the blogosphere you will see more and more stay at home dads (and oddly they seem to be getting some real praise for “sacrificing” thx Sarah L). Let’s wipe that excuse off the board. Consider the cost of childcare compared to the loss of wage of the stay at home parent and in a lot of cases the actual income loss is much lower. Many times the choice of who will stay home (if anyone does) comes down to where the loss is felt the least.

Now if you want to get psychological, many men still feel uneasy or offended if their partner makes more money than they do. Is it the need to feel in control, to have the respect owed to the breadwinner, or simply one of those things we carry forward from caveman days where a man feels he is less of a man if he is not the provider for his clan? I don’t know. 

Just as many women today feel that bringing in the more substantial income proves that we are equal and able to be independent, deserving of as much respect as their spouse. However, we’re not talking about primal factors... we’re talking about the realm of SHOULD.

For the sake of this topic, let us assume this is a dual income household. Let’s focus instead on spending. Spending the money that comes into a household is a good indicator of who needs to be pulling in the higher wage. 

Maybe you've heard horror stories from men about how their wives spent them into the poor house; Countless $300+ boots, facials, hair upkeep, treatments, and always in need of the most fashionable and trendy clothes. 

I’ve also heard of men who spend more than $10K a year on hobbies like hunting, fishing gear/tournaments, new golf clubs, boats, ATVs, and that fancy riding lawn mower for the postage stamp sized yard. 

We’re becoming more equal in the “who sucks the most” category by the year. Hooray evolution! Bring on the future!

If you are the person who has the more expensive taste, then you need to earn more money to support your habits, hobbies, and desires. It’s not a matter of the sex of the person. 

You can see what he has to say about it over here

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Boys Like Beaver (AND surprise parties)

While my mom prepared for her Celebrating Home party today, I spent time with my nephews Joel and Hayden. The best thing about time with kids is that you get to relearn all of the cool stuff you forgot as you got older. This particular lesson was all about seizing the day and making it your own. 

When Joel (3 years) noticed a cake pan his mind immediately made the connection that people+cake=party. He asked if the party would be in the dark and if it was a surprise. I assured him that it certainly COULD be a surprise party. All he would need to do was go hide in the closet until all of the ladies arrived. It would be dark in there for sure, and when the time was right he could jump out and say, "SURPRISE! IT'S JOEL!" 

Funeral, wedding, birthday, christening, or even a briss, jumping out of a closet and brightening things up with your presence can't be WRONG can it? Alright, so maybe a briss wouldn't be such a great time (for the baby). I was only kidding around. How was I to know he would take me seriously? 

Needless to say, this sounded like a great idea to him and he made his way to the coat closet in preparation for the festivities. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and you could almost read his mind. "Everyone tells me how cute I am. I am funny, too. When I giggle they giggle. I am practically the highlight of everyone's day. This closet thing is perfect. I will bless them with the surprise of my presence. They will think it's for them, but I.AM.THE.SURPRISE.PARTY! It will be magnificent!"

In the end we didn't let him get in the closet and wait, but the plan was exciting enough to him that when Grandpa offered to take him down to the old farm to check out the "damn beavers", he felt it might be a little premature. After all, the ladies hadn't even begun to arrive and he had some surprising to do. Alas, the idea of beaver eventually won out (typical boy). 

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Award Day! I'm so happy I could... blog about it!

Ladies and Gentleman, 
Today I received an honor so great that it made me realize that this blog: my "hobby", my heart and soul poured out in font, my lover, my therapist is worth the tears, agony, endless hours of Google image searches, anal retentive spell checking, falsifying of poll results creative use of numbers, and obviously giving up all hopes of ever holding a public office. Why? Because the award is the prettiest color of green! Seriously, look at it. It's brilliant. I think it would make an excellent accent color for my master bath. 

That's how these things work, ya know?
I woke up this morning and was all, "If only I were recognized for something, then... only then would I redo my master bath." 
While doing my blog stalking I stopped at WagTheDad and he was all, "I recognize Angie (not the exact words)." 
Then I was like, "RIGHT FREAKIN' ON! Free panty card from VS! Woot woot!" 
After that I was all, "What was I doing? Oh, COOL! Thanks Wag!"  

What can I possibly say about Wag (that he hasn't said about himself)? He's like a dirtier version of me (just add a penis, Adam's apple, more kids, a wife, and a house in Austria). Now that I look at it he's not as much like me as I thought.

He's cool though. He still has his Midwest common sense about him, which kicks ass. He's pervy, ballsy, irreverent, and funny as hell. There isn't a topic he won't touch, sometimes repeatedly, to the point where one might consider it harassment. He also has the cutest way of making himself believe he's always winning. You just can't help but to smile. It doesn't even bother me anymore when he emails in the middle of my day with things like, "I feel so bloated. I swear no one notices anything I do. These pants are hideous. I am never going out again. Do you think I'm a bad person? Gerard Butler is so hot!"

You should like him too. Because I said so, that's why. 

Five Things You Don't Know About Moi. 
1. I was a high school drop out. 
2. One side of my family doesn't even speak to me. 
3. Last night I counted my shoes and realized I have 29 pairs of black shoes and only wear 5. 
4. When I get a hug from one of my kids when they are hurting or sad it makes me feel like I still have a purpose. Sure, I feel bad for them but good for me. Sick, I know. 
5. I just started bawling at my desk as I wrote that and probably have raccoon eyes. 

Spreading the Love - Five Bloggers Who Deserve This Award

1. United States of Motherhood - Scouts Honor
Heather writes with heart, honesty, and humor. She's also recently come out of the blog closet in her local area. That's right... she's gone public! What are you looking for? Parenting? Married life? Food? Wine? Seattle living? She's got it. Now you have her. Check her out. 

2. So... what else? - Sarah Lindahl
I think it's the Minnesota thing. I really do. I would say she's got a MN sense of humor, but you'd go all the way to N.Dak and think I mean Ole and Lena jokes. It's not like that. There's something about the way she looks at her life and just hands it to you like, "so there ya go... do what you will. " It's like Garrison Keillor doing News From Lake Wobegon, but funnier! She's like Valley Fair and MOA all rolled up into one (did I go too far?)! Go there. You know you want to.

3. I know, right? - Jennifer Fabulous
I'm going to call her JFab just because I like it. JFab has a little bit of everything and a lot of what I love. Sass and clothes... oh God the clothes! She covers fashion, Hollywood, family, humor, give aways, art... She's like my favorite magazines without all the crappy filler. I dare you to go there (if you're a woman) and try to come away without wanting to shop your brains out. 

I fell in love with Becca awhile back and then she went and became my hero with her 1/2 marathon and Tiffany's bling. We bonded over the idea of one day wining and Skyping... and now, well now it's just a matter of time before we're both on at the same time. She cracks me up and she will do it to you too. Oh AND... She swears. I love swearing. 

Wine, food, humor, keg stands, mammograms, French maid pics? Something for EVERY.FREAKIN.BODY! I knew I'd be her blog stalker when I found out she was having a blogoffair with Sandra at Absolutely Narcissism and was a Vino Slut. On top of that, she always has a new recipe to try. How can a person go wrong? That's right.. you can't.  
So what do you five do now? Well first stand on one foot, touch your tongue to your nose, and send me $5 OR.... you could follow the rules and do the following: 

1. Compose a short dedication to the person who awarded you the award. 
2. Write a list for your readers detailing things about yourself your readers don’t know. 
3. Pass the love forward to five bloggers that you feel deserve to receive it too. 

Happy blogging, kids! 

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Relationship Advice - You'll thank me later (doubtful)

I don't pretend to know the relationship status of all the blog readers of the world. That being said, rather than focus exclusively on being single today, I've decided to hit some archives and pull up some handy information that works for everyone! I've looked at a few different sources to give you the five most helpful of the bunch (or not). Let's get started!

Image from

1. The smell of a woman's tears makes boners die. 

According to a study published in the Journal of Science, this could be due to the fact that women are less fertile during the emotional part of their menses. I think it's because guys don't like listening to girls cry or complain. I am not a scientist. Maybe I should be. I've been told that the smell of tears could be masked with bacon or Cam11 race fuel. I suppose you just need to find the right mix for your man. 

Image from
This isn't it. 
2. Eye-boners: They do exist and they mean the same thing as the other sort. 
When a man is sexually excited his pupils dilate. This may also mean that you've turned off the light and his eyes are adjusting. It can also mean that your guy associates being in a dark room with a girl with intercourse. Next time this happens, whisper to your man, "Is it dark in here or is that eye-boner for me?"

Image from
3. If you want to know the truth from your partner, watch their eyes when you ask the question. 
If the eyes go to the right it means they are recalling the answer from memory. Up and to the left signifies that they are creating an answer for you.

Or that they have a nervous tic. I know someone who has one of those. Crap, maybe she just lies all the time. SOB! 

It would work for me.
Image from

4. 40% of men in a recent poll said that a really long steamy kiss will get them ready for sex.
50% of men said if a girl is present. 10% of men said "ewww girls"

Again, this is where it pays to know your man. Maybe all you need to do is send him a quick text during the day. Whatever you do, don't cry. Get hold of yourself! Rub some bacon on your wrists! 

Image from

5. Jake at Cosmopolitan says the sexiest thing his girlfriend ever did was sex on an airplane. 
I'm not saying this is for everyone. As a matter of fact, it's probably not. I suggest going to a small regional airport and asking one of the local pilots if he would lend you his plane. You don't have to know how to fly or even leave the ground to have sex in a plane. There's always that little plane on the carousel at the mall too. 

Monday, November 7, 2011

Wag and Angie Tackle Marriage Counseling

Well well well... here you are again. Monday has arrived and there you sit, making the blog rounds. Guess what? Today's going to be fun! I'm over at Wag Vs Angie today and it's going to be a little different than previous weeks. This week we're taking on a reader question about Marriage Counseling!

Now we all know that counseling sessions typically have three sides... Person A, Person B, and the Counselor. We've decided to go another route. Strap in kids... let's roll! 

Q. My wife doesn’t ever want to have sex with me unless she wants something and it has been this way for 10 years. I look at porn to keep myself from looking elsewhere. Now we are in counseling and she told the counselor that I am a sex addict. Should I warn my co-workers? The neighbors? Does this really make me a sex addict? Is she crazy?

Come on over and find out what Wag and I have to offer! Wag Vs. Angie

Friday, November 4, 2011

It's all the news you need. Because I said so.

I had planned to save this for tomorrow, but there is a good chance that won't remember what I was going to write about, won't care anymore, or just won't bother getting out of bed all day. That being said, here's a little synopsis of the week that was:

Image from

1. Kim Kardashian shocked the world by announcing that she was still married, by filing for a divorce. 
Apparently the check for the wedding show cleared. We will now wait the appropriate (2 months) for the dissolution to be official so that the honeymoon sex tape can be released. 

Image from
2. Justin Bieber was accused of being male or science has come a long way. 
A 20 y/o being attracted to The Bieb is perplexing enough. Deciding to admit it is even worse. Basically signing a confession of statutory rape by publicly declaring he is the father of your baby, given fact one and two, is pretty much the next logical step in her bat shit crazy f*cked up world. 

Image from
3. The Democratic Party has a time machine. 
Earlier this week, key members of the DNC purchased a DeLorean and a shit load of plutonium and headed back to the 1990s. While there, they planted false memories and fake documents in efforts to derail the presidential aspirations of Herman Cain.  (In related news, Rick Perry apparently lost his mind in NH)

Image from
4. An 83 year old man from Centerville, Iowa has been arrested on charges of prostitution. 
The charge reads that Mr. Dawson was loaning the woman money, and offered to lower the amount she had to pay back if she would permit him to perform oral sex on her for his pleasure. This is at least the 4th time these allegations have been made against Mr. Dawson, all from females that rent property from him. I can only assume someone said yes or he wouldn't keep trying. That girl has to be feeling a little dirtier now. 

Image from
5. One week ago tonight two teams played the final game of the 2011 World Series. 
Since I do not care, lets pretend they were the Packers and the Minnesota Wild. It's all the same to me. Also, one of the teams won. Someone's team didn't. Apparently it was so good they plan to have another World Series next year...unless there is a strike or baseball is ruled unconstitutional (non-fans cross fingers).

So that's what has been going on for the last seven days. That's all of it. Not another single solitary newsworthy thing happened. Oh except:

6. The 99% are still occupying some places and it's gone global. I have been occupying my desk which means I must be rich right? 

7. Greece is still on the verge of economic disaster. 

8. Syria has, once again, erupted in violence. 

You know... if you consider this sort of stuff news. (insert an eye roll or two here or there)
My Zimbio
Top Stories