Shooting from the hip with a sawed off shotgun
When you have no defined target, a sawed off is good to spray-shoot the products of a scattered brain.
Sexy decoys and the human response— Maury Povich has dedicated a few shows to the sexy decoy. Put a man in a limo or back room with a “sexy decoy” and see how he reacts to overt acts of sexual provocation. Provide human reaction to man’s signifcant other. Just add saltwater tears and you have a show. The problem is in the premise that no man who loves his woman could be tempted by a sexy decoy. In fact, the man of fidelity is a tempted man just like a man who decides to break his marriage vows. The difference between the two men is that the man of fidelity goes out of his way to avoid temptation he can’t combat. That is, he does not put himself in situations where he’s offered a hummer by a girl he’s never met (or if he does put himself in those situations, he knows how to handle them). A wife agreeing to sick a sexy decoy (aka hooker) on her hubby is the biggest mistake she can make. She’s inserting temptation that he might have otherwise avoided. She might as well just buy him a whore for the night and enjoy the free time to paint her toenails.
I’ve already been an in-law. I want to be an outlaw— Living on the edge of the law just might be the kind of adrenaline I need. Sometimes life–espcially in the wake of supreme fun–can seem a little boring. I don’t really have much desire to commit crimes or skirt the law, but I have to assume it would be quite a rush. Prison, of course, would suck. Mayhaps a good crocodile attack is what I need.
It’s not the flies you want— A lesson for all wives: If you want your husband to drop what he’s doing and give you some of that loving you so deserve, don’t interupt him when he’s deep in concentration and start with a volly of “So do intend on doing this for the next few hours or what?” It just isn’t the kind of pillow-talk that gets a guy’s juices flowing.
Stick it to the man? But I want to BE the man— I’ve recently become re-enamored with the idea of entrepreneurial spirit. I have it. I think I could scrounge together some dough. Problem? No friggin’ idea what kind of business I would create. Of course, I have ideas, but I’m afflicted with a fantastic case of Failure Fear.
The future may not be bright— But I need a pair of sunglasses anyway. A cheap pair. Maybe from the dollar store. Maybe something in a rose-colored lens. That’s the outlook I need.
That’s all for now. Good weekend, all.
