Sometimes, you get some really stupid crap in your email. Sometimes you get a few gems.

This is kind of one of them.

Some people say, you know, that it is absolutely impossible to please a woman. This list explains why it is not so. Sure, we might be demanding and we might be a little on the picky side, but we have our reasons. But seriously, guys, if you ever want to make us happy, I suggest you print the following off, and use it as a checklist. These are not one-time obligations, they are full-time!

It's not difficult to make a woman happy.

A man only needs to be:

1. a friend
2. a companion
3. a lover
4. a brother
5. a father
6. a master
7. a chef
8 an electrician
9. a carpenter
10. a plumber
11. a mechanic
12. a decorator
13. a stylist
14. a sexologist
15. a gynecologist
16. a psychologist
17. a pest exterminator
18. a psychiatrist
19. a healer
20. a good listener
21. an organizer
22. a good father
23. very clean
24. sympathetic
25. athletic
26. warm
27. attentive
28. gallant
29. intelligent
30. funny
31.. creative
32. tender
33. strong
34. understanding
35. tolerant
36. prudent
37. ambitious
38. capable
39. courageous
40. determined
41 true
42. dependable
43. passionate
44. compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:
45. give her compliments regularly
46. love shopping
47. be honest
48. be very rich
49. not stress her out
50. not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:
51. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself
52. give her lots of time, especially time for herself
53. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:
54. Never to forget:
* birthdays
* anniversaries
* arrangements she makes


On the flip side...

HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY

1. Show up naked
2. Cook some food

First of all, Merry Christmas or Solstice to whomever celebrates it. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday and got some epic loot and time with you and yours.

Christmas is a mess in our house, and passes quickly in a morning of paper and food and brunch and more food. When I was little, my parents set the rule to being 8 AM - we could not go wake them up before then at all on Christmas Day. We could look at our stockings, but we were not allowed to wake my parents up. To talk to other people, I realize just how incredulous that rule is, or the fact that we stuck to it. But stick to it we did, and now they are the ones that have to fight to get me out of bed Christmas Day. I got to bed late on account of stuffing the stockings (yes, I know. I know. It reaches new heights of apathy when I do all of the wrapping for everyone in the house and as well as stuffing the stockings), and at 9 AM? Screw that, I'm not getting up. Are they crazy? Another half an hour. Shove off. Go eat your cinnamon buns and drink your coffee and let me sleep. Then she starts tickling. I bury my feet between the mattress and the railing (I have a water bed). So she goes away, and I think I've won the battle.

Only temporarily. Five minutes later, she's back with Outlaw, my big-ass black lab and the only one who can get on the water bed, even with his gimpy back leg (I need to take him in to get that x-rayed, because he's been limping and I do not like it). So up he comes, and he half-squashes me and licks and kisses and slurps. And then he starts thinking, "hey... this is really damn comfortable. You know, mama, you're onto something. Go back to sleep." So he cuddles into me and I work at getting back into bed (he's forced me half out of the bed thanks to his position), and after about ten minutes of this, and I'm still not going anywhere, my mother gets my brother to come in and play his stupid plastic recorder. My hearing sucks, but...

[ Continued ]

It's Thanksgiving weekend in Canada.

This means that we do 30 hours of work to do 30 minutes of eating.

I know I sound bitter, and I probably shouldn't, but I really, really, really, really, really hate family get-togethers. The only reason that this one doesn't have me cursing --yet-- is because one of my aunts (Aunt Ditz) and her trio of spawn and duo of grandspawn aren't coming. A warning: I may be about to get offensive here, so the faint of heart who are not familiar with my rants should probably stop reading right now.

One of my cousins, C, is younger than I am, and she has two children. One of them about two years, two months (D-1), and the other's just an infant (D-2). I am not good with children. I do not like them, I do not want them, and I will not ever have them. Which is fine, you're probably saying, my choices have nothing to do with hers and they really don't impact me.

So let's take this further. I've done some animal rescue: two of my current zoo are rescues. One of them, Max, is a cockatiel and no cause for concern (although he can bite through leather work gloves. Seriously.). He is extremely hand-shy and aggressive, and I only take him out if it's just me, so I can do his nails and wings, and maybe sit with him for a bit in my bedroom just to interact with him, where he's fine if there are no hands anywhere. His former cagemate, Rocky, was also a rescue, but he's gone to the Rainbow Bridge from a heart attack/stroke/seizure some years ago. He fell from a perch and broke his neck on the fall, and died a few minutes later in my hands.

So that brings me to my second (living, technically third) rescue project. Grady. He is a massive chocolate lab that is made of pure sinew and nervous energy. He was seriously abused in his previous home, has had to have three surgeries on a luxated patella that still freezes up for twenty minutes or so randomly, and has a "it ain't much, but it's MINE" mentality. This is a dog...

[ Continued ]

So today was pretty cool--I ended up going to bed at around 10ish PST, which meant 1 AM EST... and I'd been up since 3 AM EST, or midnight PST. I was toast.

I ended up waking up at what turned out to be 6 AM PST, and I just kind of drifted in and out of sleep for a while - Jen sacrificed her studio to turn it into a bedroom for me, and I had a futon and a fan... what more can a girl want? Either way, slept really well - didn't miss my water bed. I'm half-tempted when I move out to seriously consider getting my own bed that's not a water bed.

We watched Definitely, Maybe, and had omelets and toast for breakfast. Jen was worried that the weather was going to suck, since it was predicting rain and cold temperatures. Slightly chilly, but nothing I couldn't handle with a t-shirt and shorts. I am in heaven. This weather was fantastic - we got a bit of rain in the afternoon, but it was otherwise gorgeous. So what's a girl to do? Ride horses! I've been on a horse once in my life. That's it. So we took out the enormous 18-hand Belgian mare, Becky, and we went through grooming and brushing, and how to tack up. She loves faking people with the cinch--blowing out her stomach so to make the cinch not be as set as it should be. Further more, Becky is the boss mare of the herd - I quickly learned that sweetness and manners got me nowhere with her. My crooning was essentially earning me a big 'go fuck yourself, sweetcheeks' from the horse.

So, tacked up, and led outside... time to mount up.

In case you didn't know it already, I am short, dumpy, and front-loaded with an apron-gut. This mare is fucking huge. We had a little step stool for a mounting block, and I was trying to boost myself with my weaker leg, the one that's had more sports injuries. And this did not go well. Five tries later, with Jen holding onto the other side for dear life, I was about ready to give up and watch her ride, because there was no way in hell I could see myself getting on this horse short of a ladder....

[ Continued ]

Okay here.


Not anywhere near done yet, but here we go. I got up at 3 AM, woke up the princess (aka my mother), ran downstairs. She was driving me to the Aboutown depot. I thought I saw it to the right of one intersection, she insisted it was at another address.

Okay then.

So she turned out to be wrong, and off we went to where I'd seen the sign in the first place. So we got there, and she headed back to her bed. I, in the meantime, got in the big comfy shuttle.

Note for everyone, if you do use Aboutown, ride shotgun. The back seats suck for slumping/slouching/snoozing. End result, I was awake and stayed awake.

Got to the border in about two hours, so we made good time. Went through security, and headed to the airport. Got there about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. I was thrilled. Got through ticketing, checked the duffle, took the laptop and purse as carry-ons. Through security, which wasn't so bad, but it would have been nicer to be able to hear them. But no real problems there. Past security, and into a veritable freaking mall. The Detroit Metro Airport is kind of freaking awesome.

I got the muffin of my dreams, and it was sensational. I kind of want another, but I know better. Found the tram, which is a VERY nice way of moving from end to end of this enormous freaking terminal. Found my gate, and lo and behold, tell it from the mountain, but THERE IS A BOOKSTORE RIGHT BY IT. I am in love.

Picked up two new books. They will be fun.

(Continued after landing)

So I picked up two new books, and I read one on the plane, and it was faaaaabulous. Absolutely side-splitting hilarious... The Portable Italian Mamma.

The flight was good, though we took a while to get off the ground, and the turbulence meant we were delayed about 45 minutes. I got a window seat, and did have a kid beside me, but she was very well behaved, very quiet, and basically clung to her mother, who kept her quiet.

Disembarked, met up with Jen and Matt in the airport, got my bags, and headed...

[ Continued ]