I'm not going to come on here and say that Tom Cruise is not crazy. I think he is a three of hearts short of a full deck and toolbox without a hammer.
I'm not going to come on here and say Scientology is not a cult. It is the Amway of religions started by a sci-fi writer trying to win a bet with a colleague.
I will say that labeling kids who act like...um... well.... kids with an acronym stating they have a "metal disorder" is wrong.
I will say that not labeling the parents as distracted, inattentive, self-absorbed and lazy and labeling a new generation of children "mentally ill" is wrong. The kids have not changed and there ain't something in the water.
I will say that drugging our children with a Class II narcotic that is built like and works like amphetamines and coke (and not the one you want to give the world - I mean Lindsey Lohan's candy) is wrong.
I will say feeding a developing mind a narcotic at six then telling them to "say no to drugs" with a straight face at thirteen is wrong.
I will say we have no idea what this drug will do to our children and getting them high so they annoy us less is wrong.
I will say masking the symptoms is not addressing the problem but it's a lot easier than parenting.
I will also say that Reese's Peanut Butter Cereal is the greatest invention of the 21st century because this little stream-of-consciousness post got pretty heavy pretty effing fast.
Here is the not-so-evil Sandra based on a photo she emailed me. I had to pull out a colored pencil to convey the color of her cheeks and lips. The original photo does not have the same serious mood that this sketch does. At first this bugged me... now I think I like how my pencil did more than mimic the picture. It seemed to add its own view, its mood.
Sandra, thanks for letting me "sketch you up!"
(readers are encouraged to read this post to learn how to get your own photo sketched up)
WARNING Reading posts may make you a bigger sap. Reading posts may cause uncontrolable "Awwws". Reading posts may make you sicky-sweet nauseous. Reading posts may make you love your love more. Reading posts may make you say to your love, "Why THE FUCK can't you be more like (hof/A*)?"
At least at three or four years old it seems like it is. When I was just a toddler I would often ask my mother how long will it be until X happens. At four, I barely understood concepts like food being used exclusively for eating (vs. throwing) nor the appropriate canvas for my astonishing crayon masterpieces; when Mom would answer with any time period other than "soon" or "later" I was unable to wrap my bantam brain around it. It was not a big ordeal until....
They told my pygmy butt we were going to Disney World.
Within hours of that announcement I invented a version of Chinese torture that required no water....
"how long till Din'ney Wurd?" "Soon, Hof, soon" "Mom?" "yes?" "how long till we go to Mickey's house?" "Soon, Hof, soon" "Oh, Mom, Mom, MOM!!!!!!!!" "WHAT!?!" "how long till Din'ney Wurd?" "Sweetie," as she kneeled down to meet me eye-to-eye, "we are going to Disney World in about three months."
I tottled off as that answer satisfied me... until I realized I had no clue what a month was. After a full three minutes of peace, Mom found me tugging at her demin skirt again.
"Mom... mom.... mom?..... MOM!!!!" "WHAT!?!?!" "How longs a mumfph?"
Mom first tried to explain how many days are in a month. With no real understanding of what "30" was (outside of the word I squeezed between twenty-nine and thrity-one) being it could not be represented with the fingers on two hands, she tried explaining it was ten weeks away. I understood 10 as, with both palms out in her face and every finger stretched, I could show her ten.
This was the moment a new measurement system for time was born....
"Hof, it's ten cartoon days until we go see Mickey" made total sense to me. Cartoon day (Saturday) was the best day EVER and I roughly grasped how often it came. SWEET! Until the ten cartoon days got closer to four cartoon days until we go see Mickey. I started getting REAL antsy and wanted to know how long till the next Cartoon Day so I could bend one more finger when I showed everyone (regardless if they asked or not) how many Cartoon Days until Mickey.
"Honey, the next Cartoon Day is in three days" The tilt of my head and furrow of my brow made it clear to her I had no idea what a "day" was. "A day is from sleep to sleep." BINGO! EUREKA! I got it. Another new measure of time was born.... The Sleep. Four Sleeps till Cartoon Day, Three Sleeps and my friend could come over, Nine Sleeps until my birthday, etc, etc.
Mom carried the Cartoon Days and Sleeps on through the raising of her other three children. It was brilliant and meant to be reused. To this day... all four of us will pull out a "Five Sleeps" or "Three Cartoon Days" because it still makes perfect sense.
Don't look around like you don't know who I'm talking to. HEY! Look, we need to talk. I hate to be the one to tell you this but your so-called friends only whisper about it when you are not around... I, HofSnark, talk not behind your back. I, HofSnark speaketh straight at you. ANYWAY, you are starting to get really heavy. I'm not kidding; your jeans are not shrinking in the dryer. You are getting fat. Don't shoot the messenger, I only call it as I see it. Quit stuffing your face and lose the saddlebags. Cow. Are you wondering who this little message was for? I said I was talking to you. This is not code for someone else. You... YOU. Cow. Super Heifer, stop eating so much.... you were never that good looking. Now you are fat and ugly. Yep.... I am still talking to you. Someday you'll thank me. If you need someone to jam their finger down your throat after dinner, I'm on call.
HofSnark here trying, against all odds, to save this blister on the skin of bloggerton. Hofzinser is starting to get sappy again and I can't stomach much more of it. So, loser (still talking to you), here is a post that is actually worth reading....
There are those of you that misspell on your blog. A misplaced "e" before an "i" or a straight-up typo is something even I can tolerate. Some of you misspell in your posts with vengeance. You sound like an seventh grade teacher from West Virginia. Some think you misspell because you're stupid. Granted, you probably are stupid, but that's not why you misspell. You misspell because, deep down inside, you hate your readers. You hate them and refuse to take the time to spell check your shit. Well, I hate you too so we're Kosher.
I was tooling around blogsphere this morning and found a blog, which at first glance, appears to be in a different language. Then, at closer inspection, I realized it is supposed to be in English.
The nightmare came to full course once I realized this person was spelling this way as an effort. So, God help me, if I ever meet this cretin I will donkey punch the fucklick. Here are two of his posts. The name of the twit and the twit's blog are removed to protect the guilty. I am publishing this without permission... better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. Get ready.... here it comes:]
Saturday, June 25, 2005 Who are you? - Never be who you are not!
I duno abt others, bt for myself, many atimes, I wish I was some1 else. Mb some1 taller, more yandao, more cool, more sociable & the list goes on & on... Hwever, I'd never realized tt each & every1 of us is a gem on our own. We're precious & special coz there's no1 who is totally the same as who we are. And whoever we compared ourselves to, u'll certainly find 1 positive thing u haf tt the other party doesn't. If only u looks deeper into ur heart, there lies a hero u nv noe of. Be proud of urself! U're the best u ever could get!
Friday, June 24, 2005 More than words...- Be tactful with your words!
When u noe something when said will provoke others or start an arguement, den try ur best nt to say. If u really muz tok abt it, be tactful (use the correct words, nicer ones) to avoid hurting others or pick up a quarrel. Let me gif u an example, a common one. When ur frenz accidentally knock over a glass of water & splash onto u, dun start saying, "Y r u so dumb/stupid/careless?!" Mb u cld say, "It's okay, but do be careful next time. It would be quite bad if it was hot water." Coz u didn't gave them -ve remarks, bt remind them 2b careful & the seriousness if the same situation were to happen again. It might nt be a v.gd e.g, bt u ppl noe wat I meant 2 say. So dun start shooting ur mouth off the next time. We haf a brain 2 tink, dun we?
[Jesus son of god and mary....
I think this dotard (who is 21, by the way) is trying to be cute. "Look at ME! I'm so clever!" *PUNCH* *SPIT* *KICK* Go ahead, struggle fuckstick.... *PUNCH*
Vowels are not optional and numbers denote amounts. You make me work this hard to read you spew how you wish you were "some1 else"? You short unloved dildo... no one is a "gem". Anyone anywhere near a Blogspot domain is a fucking loser; that's why they blog (or worse, read blogs). I'll stick some coal in your colon and show you a gem. We are neither precious nor special. I "noe" you are hoping to make sense of your life. I "noe" you hope that it's not as bad as it seems. This just in; it's as bad as it seems, in fact, it's worse. Your life has no meaning and writing about it on your blog won't change that.
As for your advice on avoiding confrontations.... come by the house tonight so we can talk this over. By "talk this over" I mean tying you to my garage door and wrapping your scrotum in tinfoil so I have something to connect the car battery to. If you have a friend over and he knocks over a glass of water you should not call them stupid... You SHOULD see if their head can fit inside the glass. Push hard enough and all things are possible. We are all gems and we are all special and we all have heads that will (eventually) fit in any vessel.
Shit, Hofzinser must be up, I can hear him brushing his contorted yellow teeth. HofSnark OUT!]
1) Donkey Kong Cereal. It tasted like Capn' Crunch without causing cabin boy fantasies and was, to put it bluntly, crunchy barrels of fun.
2) Summer vacation. I deserve, as an adult, ninety days (with no work) to spend playing doctor with the neighborhood girls in the woods behind my house.
3) Building with Lego. I know what you're thinking, "Um, hofzinser, you can still buy Lego". You are correct, I can still buy Lego. You don't build with them anymore, though. Have you looked at the Lego they sell now? Everything is already one big Lego; one formed piece. There is nothing to put together. The bastards dumbed-down Lego. You are also thinking, "You should proof your posts before publishing, you incredibly handsome blogger. The plural of Lego is Legos." You are half right. I am incredibly handsome but, and I looked this up, the plural of Lego is.... Lego. Me:1 You:0
4) My Sister. She lived here for a year and moved back to North Carolina last week. She made this house feel like a home and always answered the phone at 3am if I was drunk off my ass and needed a ride home.
5) Roller Rinks. There was one in the Fingerlakes Mall in Auburn, NY. When i was a kid my mom would drop me and my brother off there. The rink ran a circle around the food court on the second floor. They played hair band song after hair band song. I could go backwards, on one skate and do a fast spinny thingy without throwing up the pizza. Of course, when they played REO Speedwagon, nobody would hold my hand and make the laps with me. I still think they were intimidated by my looks. People think it's easy being this good looking... sometimes it's just lonely.
6) My Mom. This September will be nine years since she died of breast cancer (at the ripe old age of 45). She would have loved A*. I can imagine them meeting and Mom giving her the "what the hell took you so long" hug. Since the day I left for college she called every Sunday morning. She never stopped until she was too weak to pick up the phone. I forgot her birthday two years in a row because I suck.
7) Defenders of the Earth. Screw Super Friends, this cartoon brought together all the heroes nobody ever heard of or gave a shit about... Flash Gordon, The Phantom, Mandrake the Magician, and Lothar! Flash Gordon was a guy that was not that strong, really not that fast and had a laser gun (eat ass, Superman!). Mandrake was a cut-rate Copperfield. The Phantom wore a purple suit and could punch things. Lothar was one of the first black superheroes on TV. He had no powers and usually stood as the standard plot device by getting kidnapped or brainwashed. Best part? He was Madrake's manslave. Try and get a cartoon on TV now showing a white dude in a top hat with a black manslave. In 1985 nobody was making Saturday Morning cartoons politically correct. Ming the Merciless and his diabolical plans never stood a chance against this powerhouse team.
8), 9), 10) Right now, more than anything, I miss A*. Fuck this long-distance crap, fuck not rushing into things, fuck being practical, fuck, fuck, phuck, double-fuck.
How do you sleep at night? We all harness great power and strength and some use their powers to fight evil and save the world while you are too busy wondering why Lyle Lovett and Julia Roberts didn't have bass-fished lipped kids with bad hair. What was the last great idea to emerge from your brain?
We spend so much of our lives mired in the day-to-day that few of us take the time to think big. Then there are the select few remaining heroes of our time. The rare intelllects that stop thinking about themselves and their choices in breakfast cereal and start thinking how they can make their mark on our world. They think outside of the confines of modern society and ask not, "Why" but "Why not?".
These great thinkers are the real superheroes of our times. They are the few, the proud and selfless. They use their powers for good and, apparently, they all work for Snapple. Ladies and gents, you favorite blogger serves up another installment of Uncle Hof's Superhero of the Week.
June 22, 2005, 3:57PM
Giant popsicle melts, floods New York park
NEW YORK — An attempt to erect the world's largest popsicle in a city square ended with a scene straight out of a disaster film — but much stickier.
The 25-foot-tall, 17 1/2-ton treat of frozen Snapple juice melted faster than expected Tuesday, flooding Union Square in downtown Manhattan with kiwi-strawberry-flavored fluid that sent pedestrians scurrying for higher ground.
Firefighters closed off several streets and used hoses to wash away the sugary goo.
Snapple had been trying to promote a new line of frozen treats by setting a record for the world's largest popsicle, but called off the stunt before the it was pulled fully upright by a construction crane. Authorities said they were worried the thing would collapse in the 80-degree, first-day-of-summer heat.
"What was unsettling was that the fluid just kept coming," Stuart Claxton of the Guinness Book of World Records told the Daily News. "It was quite a lot of fluid. On a hot day like this, you have to move fast."
Snapple official Lauren Radcliffe said the company was unlikely to make a second attempt to break the record, set by a 21-foot ice pop in Holland in 1997.
The giant ice pop was supposed to have been able to withstand the heat for some time, and organizers weren't sure why it didn't. It had been made in Edison, N.J., and hauled to New York by freezer truck in the morning.
(ed note: this article was stolen, without permission from here so keep your yapper shut, I do this to entertain you and if I find out you squeeled....)
He steps out of the shower and wraps the towel around himself as he runs to answer the phone.
"Hello?", he pants between breaths "Hey sweetie.... are you getting ready?" "Yep, just got out of the shower." "Could you do me a favor?", she whispers. "Sure!" "Put on some of that cologne you wore on our first date. It smells so good on you... and it drives me crazy"
This is the thirteenth installment in the "Why do Men...?" series inspired from comments onthis post.
The newly-smitten WordWhiz asked: Why do men only care about how they smell for the first couple weeks of the relationship?
Let's start by making something abundantly clear... cologne is a construct of the Female Industrial Complex. Cologne has a dubious history; it was invented in France where female armpit shaving is considered optional. To make matters worse, it is named after a region in Germany (a country where national borders are drawn in pencil).
The first cologne was invented by Gian Paolo Feminis in 1709. He called it "Aqua Admirabilis" (which loosly translates as "Water Baths Not Needed") and Napolean was rumored to use eight quarts of the stuff a month. Feminis made this first scent from grape essense. The first cologne came from a guy who sucked at making wine. Here is a Dan-Brownism for you... Feminis/Germany= Feminazi? Coincidence? I think not.
Perfumes first came to Europe (and make no mistake about it, cologne is perfume... you women and your word games fool us not) as knights returned from the Crusades. The Muslim world realized that they stink (something many Europeans still fail to realize). The builders of the Library of Alexandria took Puerto Rican showers when Europeans still thought the world was a flat plate on the back of a giant turtle. To honor using perfume instead of soap, early explorers of the new world named an island in the carribean to honor the practice. In early June there is even an annual parade in NYC to honor enshrouding yourself in cologne in lieu of taking a bath. It's not called the Shower With Soap Day Parade now is it?
We know you women are all about the cologne. We use it early to help snare your attention. As time passes and we feel confident we have your interest for reasons other than our scent, we tend to lapse. For us, cologne is a tool used for a specific phase in the courting ritual. Once the relationship moves to the later phases, we don't see the need for this weapon.
It is a mistake on our part. Women associate the smell to the days when we did the dog-and-pony show to impress you. You associate it to the days when we opened the car door for you, suprised you with flowers, blah, blah, blah..... We men need to remember it is still a tool in the later phases to remind the lady of those times. We need to think of cologne as our own time machine.
Solution: If you want your man to remeber to use cologne then use positive reinforcement. Early on always make mention of how good he smells right before you get frisky. Preface kissing and touching with a simple, "God, you smell so sexy." Never say the cologne smells good... make it clear it smells good ON US. Trust me, we will remember.
The first time we forget to wear the scent, drop a hint that you noticed its absense. "Sweetie, don't forget to put on some X, it drives me crazy." If we learn that the scent improves our chances of nookie, we won't forget it again... ever. You only need to make the connection. If you NAG us about wearing cologne... well, we know how effective nagging is.
If you would like your "Why do Men...?" question answered in a future post be sure to leave your question as a comment HERE.
A simple question seeking a simple answer. Instead of you asking a "Why do men" question and me furnishing the answer... I will reverse it.
Here is a new hofzinser's BLOGGER challenge. Are you up to it?
(if Mr. Drinker and Mr. Underhill does not meet this one, all is lost)
Are you ready?
My "Why do men" to all of you, male and female...
Why do men love women's breasts?
Be sure to comment here to let us know you posted and met hofzinser's BLOGGER challenge! As always, I will add a link to your post below (so don't include it in your comment).
The writer's writer Kira met the challenge! The always honest Andy met the challenge! The hot-as-all-hell-and-get-out A* met the challenge! The more vegas-than-vegas Paige met the challenge! The almost too honest Mr. Drinker met the challenge! The fireman-fixated WordWhiz met the challenge!
In-Ah (of my lurkers) rose up and commented... I swung by her blog and found some amazing work. Her style is stunning and original. Her animation (both drawn and CGI) makes me laugh out loud. So much friggin talent!
[Sorry if I seem a bit groggy, I just woke up from the coma that hofzinser's audio interview put me in. Just when you think this puss-spitting blog couldn't get any worse he wastes twenty minutes of your life that you will never get back talking with urinal boy. Now he is all tangled up with that tinfoil chick about how she is getting some on the side. OOOO isn't hofzinser soooo smart? OOOOO doesn't he always know the right answers. OOOOO I wonder if it's hard to keep your balance on such a rickety soapbox. Lay off ms. reynolds wrap, hof, and put your friggin high horse in the grinder and make dog food. What a fuckstick.
As usual, it's me, HofSnark here to save this god-forsaken blog by offering up a post that is actually worth reading. I got this gem of a spam in my inbox last night. I gotta give the guy points for creativity. I also have to give him a free trip to County for a anal fiesta party with seventeen of his closest cell mates. My comments are in red.]
To: HofSnark From: Col. Noh Dae-Jung(rtd)
Greetings from me and my family. [blah, blah send me pictures of your daughter in her commie school uniform] Getting your contact was not an easy task because since I am not computer literate, [ever notice that all spammers claim to be computer illiterate? Is this supposed to throw me off his trail? Am I supposed to now think, "sheesh, this must be for real because the guy is too stupid to try and pull the rug over my eyes". I may have been born yesterday, Colonel, but I stayed up all night.] I ordered my son to seek a partner very far away [seek a partner? far away? Not many fathers order their sons into a long-distance gay relationship. Hats off for being so open minded!] and he went to the institute of International Business to apply and he paid them the charges. [sheesh, those bastards at the institute gave you my email? Muther effer, that's it, I'm calling them today and giving them a piece of my mind. I sign up for their free brochure on starting your own white slavery ring and now I end up with this effing email.] My name is NOH DAE-JUNG, [No Day Young? I think I met your sister, Yes Night Long when I went for a massage the other day. She loved me long time.] The brother of GENERAL. NOH TAE-WOO, [Damn! You are a Colonel and he is a General? I bet that pisses you off to no end. I bet thanksgiving is no fun. "why can't you be more like your brother?", "We knew you would never be as good as he is", "Pass the roasted cocker spaniel stir-fry".] the former President of South Korea who ascended to power through a popular electoral victory in 1988 to 1992. [Now that is a long fucking election. Four years to elect your brother? Suddenly our elections don't seem so bad. Was it a "popular electoral victory"? I thought I read he was elected because he was unpopular and lost. Oh, wait, it was Dubbaya who was unpopular and lost himself into office against Al Bore; my bad.] After serving duly, [what the eff is "duly"? Is that the wonderful Korean feline dish I keep hearing about? What is the president doing serving people dinner anyway? Does it give you the runs?] he was accused of mass embezzlement [Really? I though he was accused of stealing pens from the supply closet. Fuck CNN and their shotty reporting.] which ran into billions of won ["billions of won"? What the fuck are you talking about? Oh, wait, South Korea's currency is the won. So let me convert this into dollars.... billions of won, in today's dollar is about $23.56. They got pissed over $25? Tell them to chill the fuck out. While you're at it, tell them Kimchee is fucking nasty. How did you flat-faced dits come up with Kimchee? Was one of you waking around one day thinking, "I wonder what this head of cabbage would taste like if I took it, buried it in the ground and let it rot for a few weeks. hmmmm, rotten cabbage"] because of the GREAT OLYMPICS 1988 which brought Korea to the world lime light, [did it now? I could have sworn our little police action there in the 50's put your shit country on the map.] and was arrested but released after long years of incarceration [did he seem different after prison? Lucky for him he was in Korea. We know how you Asians are hung so the anal bender was not too bad. Imagine going to prison in Kenya. Having one of those horse-endowed cannibals making you their girlfriend cannot be fun... Ow... I said, "OW"... Hold shit OUCHMUTHER THAT THING IS... FOR THE LOVE OF ANYTHING IT'S NOT GOING TO FIT!] and now under scrutiny. Before my brother's was overthrown, I secretly siphoned the sum of 30 mil United States Currency out of Seoul [siphoned? Why do I have this image of you taking a rubber tube and slipping into the country's coffers and sucking on it until the money started pouring through?] and deposited the money with a security firm that transports valuable goods and through diplomatic means.[transports through diplomatic means? What the fuck does that mean? They carry packages by talking to other countries with four pound earpieces and a interpretor?] I am contacting you [pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me, pick me] because I want you to deal with the security company [why? Do they still have you on hold?] and claim the money on my behalf [riiiiiiiiiight] since I have declared that the consignment belong to my foreign business partner. [Ok, I'll do it but no kissing with tongue, no salad tossing and you can only go one knuckle deep] You shall also be required to assist me in investment in your country. [shit, for 30 million I'll kiss your hung-so-tiny and make you breakfast in the morning. By the way, you getting those pictures of your daughter I asked for?]
I expect you to declare what percentage of the total money you will take for your assistance. [I expect you to ask me for my social security number as a sign of good faith. How luck am I, you just happen to pick me, a complete stranger to help you get 30 million out of your country. What were the chances!?!] When I receive your positive response I will let you know where the security company is and the payment pin code [let me guess it first. Ummm, hmmmm, let me think, is it 1 2 3 4?] to claim the money which is very important. [I am so glad you reminded me that 30 million bucks is important. I think 10 million fell out of my pocket into my couch the other day and I forget to check. I'll be right back] we do not want the government of my Country to know about the money because they will believe I got the money from my brother while he was still in office as president. [Now where would they get that idea? Everybody knows you gave the best head on the whole peninsula and that is a golden path to riches] Once you confirm the receipt of the money ,I will come over with my Children to your Country [just send your daughter] or any Country in Europe to start a new life with my Family. As soon as payment is effected, and the amount mentioned above is successfully transferred into your account, [just out of friggin curiosity, are you at all worried that after you transfer that 30 million into my account that you will have trouble contacting me? Do you think my government might get curious when the bank reports this little Western Union transaction? Do you worry we might, maybe, could end up on a list somewhere in Quantico? I mean, I'm not saying you would have trouble contacting me after you the money, I'm just curious; you know, just asking] we intend to use our own share in acquiring some estates abroad. [I intend to use my share to get many broads.] For this too you shall also be our overseas manager [Ok, now yer pushing it. I'll take your friggin pocket change and all but now you want me to be a landlord? Honestly, do you think this little tidbit sweetens the deal for me? You offer me millions then, as the cherry, you offer me a good steady job. Um, shithead, I will be a millionaire... not looking far a part-timer to help pay the cable bill] of all our properties and you will be paid based on a certain percentage agreed on by both parties. For now, let all our communication be by e-mail [what a shocker! I can't call you and hear your Brooklyn accent?] because my line is right now connected to the South Korean Telecommunication Network services [those bastards charge out the ass for international calls. Good thinking, imagine the money we are saving!] therefore we can not take the chances of being heard. [I think unsecure email is a much better idea. Nobody can read other people's email. Damn, no wonder they made you a Colonel. I know, I know, so many thought you were promoted because your brother was President. I never thought that, just so you know, ole' pal o' mine]
Thank you in anticipation of your cooperation.
Yours faithfully, [better be faithfully because if I hear that you are out at the club all huggin' up on the tramp again I will cut off that toothprick of yours. Don't forget the picture either.] Noh Dae-Jung.
[So I guess I'll be a millionaire soon. Sweet. HofSnark OUT!]
A big thanks, Bathroom Reader, for honoring me with this feature.
So, if you are in the mood to hear deep secrets and incredible insights then be sure to catch the next 20/20. If you have nothing else to do you can listen to BR and I blab on like we are SOOOOO important then be sure to listen to the whole thing... you will be tested on this!
The challenge: You did not have perfect parents (none of us do/did). They set your sites 'off' on a few things. Blog out one of the sites you now, as an adult, realize your parents set wrong.
I was blessed with amazing parents. This is a tough one as so many of my sites are perfectly set. If I miss a target, it is my own bad aim, not the fault of the sites calibrated by my parents. I did have to recalibrate one of my sites, one that my parents, by example, set wrong.
I had to teach myself how to manage money.
Growing up my father owned a successful contracting company. We had a large house, cars, boats, vacation homes, satelite TV (when the dishes made your yard seem like a rebel outpost from Star Wars) and big screen TVs. We went on vacation every year to Disney World. My parents made annual jaunts to Vegas. Christmas was coming down stairs to see a tree with presents spilling out from under it.
They were good about not spoiling us. We never got presents outside of events like Christmas and birthdays. But, as swimmer pointed out in his post, they set a strong example. When my parents wanted something they whipped out the Visa and got it. The buying power of credit was instilled in my mind. How credit worked was not.
Granted, I was not stupid. I knew what you bought on plastic added to a balance which you paid off on a monthly basis. What I did not intrinsically understand was how interest worked and not only how long it took to pay off cards but how much you ended up paying for anything you bought on credit.
My sites were set and I was sent off to college. The flood of credit card applications started immediately. I filled them all out. I had the coolest dorm room. Stereo, nintendo, microwave, CDs and nice furniture. Wow, being an adult was so nice! I was able to surround myself with anything my heart desired. Like Mom and Dad, when I wanted something the plastic sugar-daddy got it for me.
When I graduated I had already had two cards closed on me. I left campus with a degree and over twelve thousand in credit card debt. As a bonus, I stopped getting credit card applications when my credit score fell like a single dude's standards at last call.
Finally I realized this could not continue. I started having visions of where I wanted to be in five, ten or even twenty years. The debt monkey would never let me get there. I got a job out of school and locked down the checking account. I closed all of my credit cards (vs. them closing them) and put together a plan. I paid and saved, paid and saved. After eight (EIGHT!) years I was credit card debt free.
I now have two cards. They hold small balances that are paid off within sixty days. My credit is recovering from the sins of the past and my finances are in damn good shape.
I will teach my children how money works. How to make your money a tool not an overlord. How to fight the consumer urges that drive us into debt. I will set their sites right. I can only hope that I can also raise them as well as I was.
It was hard to think of where my parents could have done better. I like me (really? Nobody could tell!) and I am who I am by the grace of their scary child-rearing talent.
Carmen Elecktra, the day after her marriage to Dennis Rodman, leaves their Vegas suite to do some shopping. She tells him she will be gone all day but comes home early to see if he wants to get some lunch.
She walks in the door of the suite to find her husband for 22 hours lying in bed with another woman.
"Who is that girl!?!", she shrieks as she enters.
Shrugging his shoulders, he replies, "What girl?"
This is the twelfth installment in the "Why do Men...?" series inspired from comments on this post.
A coworker of A*'s asked: Why do men cheat?
To put it simply, he cheats because you've gotten fat and she is better in bed than you.
OK, I just couldn't resist... we now return you to the regularly scheduled real answer:
There are no shortages on theories of why men stray (foilwoman gave a great list on one of my comments):
1) My wife/girlfriend and I no longer have satisfying sex, it used to be satisfying, but it no longer is. This is an excuse men will use for cheating but it is not WHY they cheat.
(2) My wife/girlfriend and I don't have enough sex, when we have it it's fine, but once a month, sorry, no thank you. This is another excuse but it's not WHY.
(3) My wife/girlfriend isn't adventurous sexually and I want to play,. (not WHY)
(4) My wife/girlfriend has some medical condition that limits or prohibits sex. Hmmm... this could be a WHY but is such a rare case.
(5) my wife/girlfriendrefuses me or withholds sex as punishment. (not WHY)
(6) My wife/girlfriendhas become unattractive. This is is getting closer but not close enought to WHY.
(7) We NEVER have sex anymore. This is a symptom of why but not WHY.
(8) I want some variety in my life. See #7 above
(9) Our marriage/relationship is falling apart, I'm really scouting for a replacement. Getting closer, but not quite the WHY.
(10) Hey, I'm a guy, I like to fool around -- one woman for the next 40 years? Are you crazy? So close...
Most of the excuses above point the finger at the partner. She's not this. She doesn't do this (anymore or ever). Blah, blah, blah. Many men will offer one of the above excuses AND think it is why they are straying. It's not. Each of the above reasons fail to address the center issue. The core motivator that puts them in the bed of another. Each of the above creates the feeling that someone else is making them cheat.
As with everything in our lives, nobody "makes" us do anything. No one forces our hand. Men stray for one central reason....
We don't feel attractive or desired in our current relationship.
Yes, folks, this is why we men stray. We are, in our heart, insecure little boys that want to feel potent and desired. Men are just like women in that we love nothing more than to feel sexy, irresistable and desired. We want to feel attractive.
When we are in a relationship for any amount of time and things become routine we often begin to wonder, "can I still attract women?" It is a natural question born of everyone's insecurities. Chris Rock jokes that "men are only as faithful as their opportunities". There is some truth to this. When men are in an established relationship and encounter another woman who shows interest it can be an ego boost. What he does with this new interest depends on him. If he is secure with himself and his current relationship, the new interest will be just taken as a compliment. If he is insecure about his potency then he may test it in new waters. A new woman can make a man feel young, attractive and sexy.
Solution: There is only so much you can do. Ultimately it comes down to the man's self image. If he has a low self image you are in trouble. He will likely stray. If he has a high self image and is secure about his looks and attractiveness, then you can help be reinforcing this. Make a constant effort to make you man feel captivating, charming, alluring and irresistible. Tell him how handsome he is. Initiate sex and be affectionate. When you stop showing interest in sex and reduce how affectionate you are, you play into his self doubt and insecurity. You are priming the field for another woman to come in and make him feel desirable.
"Once a cheater, always a cheater" refers to those men who are insecure and need to feel attractive to as many women as possible. They cheat once and will do it again to try and feed the bottomless appetite of their insecurities. If you are with a man who is confident and centered, you can help him by reinforcing this feeling with your attention.
If you would like your "Why do Men...?" question answered in a future post be sure to leave your question as a comment HERE.
FYI, the "Why do men...?" series is still alive and kicking. I am stuck with some writer's block on the "Why do men cheat" question from one of A*'s coworkers. It is a great question deserving a great answer... of course it would be much easier if I was a great writer with a great mind.
Great answers seem to come from great minds and great writers. Who decided to give them the great answers to hand out? Isn't enough they have great minds AND can write well? NO..... let's give them all the great answers too.
I think morons like me should get all the great answers. We were shorted on the brains and talent, why not give us something? We could hand them out like Halloween candy. The people that give out the candy didn't MAKE the candy. I could hand out great answers without coming up with them myself.
The more I think about this idea the more I like it... when I see a great question deserving of a great answer I could wait until I here "ding, you got answer" and open my brain's inbox and forward the answer to the cat that asked the question. Spread the wealth there, GOD. Not all the brains in one skull, already....
Are You There God? It's Me, Hofzinser...
Wait, what a great idea for a book title
*searches for a notepad to jot it down on.*
(edit: to clarify, I know what the answer is, just can't get it the writer mojo going so it will be fun to read)