I found out not to long ago that on a scale of 1 to “I want to have sex with you”, I was rated about a 6. Which, if I may translate, means I’m only 4 beers and a shrug of “why not?” from being the best (or worse) night of your life.
Chris, thank you for your honesty.
I suppose this should bother me, but it doesn’t. Everything needs a rating: food, movies, cars, TV shows… why not sex appeal? If more people knew where they stood, it would prevent a ton of disappointment. A man who is clearly a 3 would not, under any circumstances, go after a woman rated higher than a 5.
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*Warning – This post might contain Too Much Information (TMI). Read at your own risk.*
The price of stuff is going up.
We recently went grocery shopping and a pound of butter was almost $6! Can you believe that? Why is butter so expensive? We almost had to put it on lay-away. Pretty soon we’ll have to purchase it on a stick-by-stick basis and I don’t think stores even do that. So to save money, we have come to the obvious and very logical conclusion to cut-back spending on certain items. I guess my cranberry juice doesn’t have to be OceanSpray and I suppose I can drink Dr. Fizz instead of Dr. Pepper.
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Fun with my Blogroll:
Mike enjoys visiting Spazoid’s Space because he can watch “My Scoliosis Saga” on the big-screen TVs. Unfortunately he can never quite hear it because of the way Jeannette Eats Spaghetti. Lucky for him, there was a Devilish Southern Belle sitting nearby calmly reading The Hylton Memoirs. Should I go for it?, he thought. Mike walked over and asked if he could buy her a drink. “Sure,” she replied. “I’ll take a Martini, Shaken Not Stirred.” Sparks flew as they discussed Mindless Diversions and Other Things and recounted their favorite shows on Melevision. This girl might be a keeper, he thought.
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You know when you’re trying to open your chocolate pudding and the foil cover splits in half? I hate that. I wind up having to stick my finger in the pudding so I can peel back the uncooperative portion. Then of course I lick the pudding from my finger (waste not want not, people) leaving it vaguely chocolaty and sticky. So hours later after my hand has brushed across my clothes numerous times, that one finger is covered in all kinds of lint and looks like a mossy piece of fruit someone should dispose of. Seriously, that foil lid has a severe design flaw.
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The H was asked this question by one of his friends and failed to have an answer ready. I wouldn’t want anyone reading this to suffer the same fate, so I took the liberty of researching some answers for you.
Why, you ask?
Because you never know.
Now, first it is important to know a little about the culprit:
NAME: Darkseid
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