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How to Write?

July 31st, 2012

It is very hard for me to write during this particular time in my life.

Some people are very private. They like to keep their problems to themselves. I am not some people.

Normally writing is cathartic. A weight gets lifted from my chest every time I hit “submit” and release my problems into the untouching arms of the internet.

Now things are different. I find myself with a new, conservative career. I also find myself with readers who actually know me, and even some who are trying to get to know me.

Don’t misunderstand me. My blog has never been a secret. I am not embarrassed by it. In fact, I have always been rather proud of it.

But recent events, recent “breaks”, recent feelings that I have shared, have had a backlash. This is not the first time. It is, however, the first time I’ve been selfless enough to care.

I don’t like hurting people. The sharpness of words can cut emotional wounds.

So what do I say? What can I write? How do I get my release?

Do I quit writing? Do I quit sharing? Do I write and not share? Do I only tell bubble-gum stories and leave the grittiness of feelings out of it?

Oh how I would love to write about a day of double betrayal, seeing my ex for the first time in public, and the excitement and sheer comedy of going on dates again.

I’m struggling to find a balance. Writing without posting doesn’t give me the same fix. I like to feel as if I have put myself out there and said what is in my heart. People can decide to like it, or they can decide not to. Either way, it is no longer bent up inside of me.

The problem lies in the fact that my stories involve others. They are not just about me.

I feel as though I need to have an alias or write a dating column for some small city where no one actually knows me. But then again, even if I was by some miracle able to do this, um, this is the internet and nothing stays secret for long.

So buttoned up I will be for now. At least about the juicy gossip that everyone wants to hear about. I’m sorry, but what else am I to do?

Blogfully yours,


Summer

Bag full of complaints, blogging, Dating debating

I tasted the Koolaide, it was non-alcoholic and surprisingly refreshing

May 8th, 2012

Last weekend I went to a blogger’s retreat called Breathing Space.

I’ll be honest with you, I was a little nervous to go. Being non-mormon, non-married, and kid-less, I knew I would be in the minority. But I told myself that a girls retreat would be fun, plus it would do me some good to go outside of my comfort zone. So I bucked up and went.

The event was held at Daybreak. We stayed in the model homes. They had classes during the day and fun events in the evening. I must say, I was completely blown away by how well organized the event was. The organizers were super crafty women who paid a great deal of attention to the small details. I have no idea how they were able to cram so many smiles, sunshine, flowers, and happy feelings into a coffee and alcohol free event – but they did. It was nearly flawless.

My anxiety did rear it’s ugly head the night of the Stepford Wives themed dinner. During the networking hour I became convinced that everyone was giving me dirty looks. I went outside and called Cute. “Hi babe. I don’t think I can do this. These women hate me. Plus they have a soda bar, not a bar bar. I tried to talk to someone and she shut me down. I’m pretty sure that no one wants to talk to me.”

Now, it’s not often that Cute really says much. He is normally a go-with-the-flow type of guy. But for some reason, he said exactly what I needed to hear. “Get your but back in there. You paid money to go out there, network, and have a good time. Go get your money’s worth. Those women do not hate you.”

So, begrudgingly, I put on a smile and did just that.

And guess what? They didn’t all hate me. In fact, I met some really amazing women. We laughed, told stories, and became friends.

In the end I was very glad I went. Daybreak is a beautiful place. If I was living a different life, one that involved a husband, kids, and religion, I think I could be very happy out there. It is such a fun community and there is so much for children to do. There are play-sets, paved trails, community centers, a pond, family shopping and even live music played outdoors on the weekend.

As it stands, my life is that of a single (non-married) career-woman and there is nothing wrong with that. I feel at home in the safety of the city. But I’m glad I got to see how the other half lives. It looks perfectly lovely.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – you can see more pictures from the event on their Flickr stream.

blogging

30 Has Broken Me

August 10th, 2010

As many of you know, I spent my 30th birthday in New York City. In theory it was the absolutely most perfectest place to spend a milestone birthday.

That theory was bullshit.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE New York and for the most part I had fantastic time. It’s just that I don’t get along with birthdays all that great to begin with.

My actual birthday was spent moving in slow motion due to pre-birthday celebrations. And I mean SLOW MOTION.

I don’t think we left the hotel once that day.

It took a great deal of effort, but we did make it to two of the three conference sessions (no one can say we didn’t make it to any of the actual conferences). Afterward we got dolled up for dinner and a night on the town to celebrate my “real” birthday.

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Cat, Susan and I went to a fancy-schmancy New York style dinner, then back  to the hotel for the estrogen filled party known as Sparklecorn 2010.

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Since it was my birthday, and the birthday girl gets to call all the shots, I decided that I wanted to change from my short, sassy, pink dress into jeans and a black top that always makes me feel like a million bucks.

Now, here comes the embarrassing part.

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I’m not even going to pretend like alcohol was not involved…

We headed up to the room where I asked my birthday bitches, Susan and Cat, which panties I should wear… don’t ask me why. I ended up deciding to try on both pairs so they could appropriately asses the extent of panty lines that may or may not be showing through my super tight pants.

So I jumped, and I shimmied, into the worlds most non-stretchy jeans.

Then, as I was pulling out the last acrobatic movement to slipping them over my ass, there was an earth-shatteringly loud POP. And then I dropped to the floor. And then I died.

When the girls finally got me to stop screaming, they lifted me onto the bed to examine the source of the pop, the source being my ankle, which now  looked like there was a baseball attached to it.

I fucking kid you not.

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From this pint on our plans were drastically changed. No more hitting the town, going form bar to bar. Instead Susan and Cat ran to the local convenience store to get bandages and ice while I laid in the hotel room drinking like the lush-birthday-princess-gimp I was.

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After wrapping up my ankle, they located a double-wide wheelchair from the hotel lobby and wheeled me downstairs to the hotel bar.

No sense in letting the birthday celebrations end because of a possible broken bone, right?

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After a sleepless night the adventure of getting me from the hotel, to the airport and through airport security began. Again, no easy feat and quite possibly the most humbling, humiliating experience I have ever had to go through. airport

I waited until I got home to go to the doctor. Guess what? My drunken skinny jeans adventure has landed me with a broken 5th meditarcel. I don’t know what that means, but I find out tomorrow if I need to have surgery.

Yay?

I guess now that I’m thirty I need to start wearing “mom jeans” and taking calcium pills.

Seriously, what’s next? Memory loss? Hot flashes? Depends? Reading glasses? Dentures?

Hell, I may as well take up mall-walking now… that is, of course, after my foot is healed.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – More pictures can be seen HERE

Anklegate, Bag full of complaints, blogging, BlogHer10, Out and About, Vacations

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready for New York

August 4th, 2010

I’m going to New York.

Wait, let me try that again.

I am going to New York City for my very first time ever. And? I will be celebrating my 30th birthday there. Which means I will also be celebrating the final days of my 20′s,  in New York City.

I have no idea what to pack. I think I’ll just pack one of everything I own. Better to be over prepared, right?

Did I mention I’m going to NEW YORK FREAKING CITY?

Sorry, I keep thinking if I say it enough times it will actually sink in that I really am going, to New York City, for the first time EVER.  

I’m pretty sure this city is going to eat me alive and spit out my remains. Of course I get off on that kind of abuse so I will likely fall in love with the city and pine to move there and live a pennyless existence in a 400 sq foot apartment.

Doesn’t it just sounds so romantic?

New York City…

I guess I should make mention that the real reason I am going is for a blogging convention called BlogHer (see those adds on the side of my blog? Yeah, that’s who puts on the convention).

This will be my second year attending. In fact, you can read all about my Chicago BlogHer adventure HERE.

Chicago was awesome, but I have a feeling it won’t hold a candle to New York.

So, when do I leave?

Taking the red eye out tonight.

So, am I packed?

Haven’t packed a thing.

Who am I traveling with?

My amazing friend Susan!

What do I plan to do while I am there?

Outside of drinking? I’m not really sure. Maybe take a double decker tour bus to see the city, go to Central Park, try not to get mugged, scream, “up yours buddy!” to somebody on the street while giving them the bird.

You know, the normal things.

NEW YORK CITY BABY!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

blogging, BlogHer10, Vacations

I’m Not Afraid to Rock the Tutu

February 24th, 2010

Dear Internet & Blogosphere,

Please excuse Summer for her recent absences and tardiness.  Believe me when I say she is not slacking off and has been going through a major transition in her life. OK, not major as in sex change operation. But major as in getting the job she has wanted, with the company she has wanted, for oh, I don’t know, over three years now!

We ask for your patience and understanding as she learns her new juggling routine, which she is told will consist of SEVEN lit batons, a pink sparkly balancing ball, a one armed leotard and a tutu. She also needs to tames the circus lions and makes friends with the carnie folk.

As you can imagine,  she is going to be a busy busy girl.

But do not fret, it won’t take long and she’ll be a regular performer at the Circ de Advertis` and the consistent posts you have come to expect at Blogfully Yours will be back in full force.

Thank you in advance for your understanding.

Sincerely,

Blogfully Yours Management

blogging

My Best

February 17th, 2010

I believe you should always try to do your best. However, what that best is changes from time to time.

Right now I have so many pots in the fire that my best is to juggle work, school, homework and eating twice a day, sometimes more. My best has not included finding time to blog, yet alone finding time to see my boyfriend.

Be patient with me.

Right now, I’m doing my best.

Four Agreements by Miguel Ruiz

Four Agreements by Miguel Ruiz

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Back to School, blogging

The Story of 2009

January 6th, 2010

If I was an attentive blogger who was on top of her shit, this list would have been posted before the new year. However I am NOT a blogger who is on top of her shit, so you get it now.

My 2009 year in review.

January: I entered into my second semester of college. I started out the year single, but became reunited with an old flame who I dated 1.5 years earlier. Cautiously we started dating but it wasn’t long before I was head over heels for him. Karina promised to “cut him” if he hurt me.

February: ED and I celebrated Valentines Day a little early because I was going to be gone over the holiday hiking in Moab with my friends. It was my first time hiking there. I loved every second of seeing the beauty around me and I even finished a grueling 8.5 mile hike!

March: I continued taking baby steps with my relationship with ED until he dropped a bomb on me and asked me to go with him to the country to meet his family. I nearly had a heart attack when he asked me but happily agreed to go. To say this was a HUGE step for us would be an understatement.

April: The full swing of school and all of it’s stresses started to take it’s toll on me, like it does every semester. I documented shaving my cat Aurora. I do this a couple of times a year, but this was the first time I actually took pictures.

May: After finishing the semester with a 4.0, ED and I decided to celebrate by taking a trip to Zions National Park. We had an absolutely amazing time. We both love to hike and it was the perfect weekend get away. Karina the Russian often meets me for lunch and she took me for the perfect picnic lunch in the park with her kiddos.

June: I got a tattoo that I had been talking about getting for TWO YEARS. It turned out absolutely beautiful! In fact, a few weeks after getting it a stranger recognized me at a festival because she read it on my blog. It totally made my day. ED finally decided it was time to start taking me around his friends.

July: What a busy month! I launched my new blog (the one you see here today. My old one can be found here) with a great deal of help from my friend Sarah who I am forever indebted to. I attended my older sisters bachelorette party where there was fire dancing and her “Non-Conformist Hippie” wedding. I went to BlogHer in Chicago! A conference completely devoted to blogging and booze. It was overwhelming, but such a fun adventure. While I was gone I let a man take over my blog. When I returned I got in a fight with Karina the Russian and made up with her.

August: Yet another busy busy month. I turned 22… again. ED turned 30 and to celebrate both of our birthdays we took an amazing trip to MEXICO! While I was gone I had two amazing guest bloggers: Sarah from Tales of Wit and Charm and Brittany from Barefoot Foodie.  Love those girls! Oh, and I moved.

September: I started fall semester and had some of the quirkiest teachers yet. I went to heaven, also known as Lake Powell. I posted two (short) essays. I fought and made up with Karina the Russian, again.

October: Let’s see, in October I moved… again. This time into a place I absolutely love! My iPhone was stolden and my life just hasn’t been the same without it. I dressed only semi-slutty for Halloween and attended two parties. And I cooked for ED, the first time in the ten months we had been dating!

November: The beginning of the month I wish I could forget. I lost my oldest and dearest friend, Zach. *Deep breath*I finally got the courage to write about my lost relationship with Jesus and why I left the LDS church which prompted me to start a new feature on my blog called “TMI Friday” (Too Much Information Friday) where I boarder the line of oversharing. I just decided I no longer wanted to hold anything back. And I haven’t. I wrote about my divorce, and how grief effected me too.

December: Well to back up a bit, I spent my first Thanksgiving away from my family. EVER. I overcame my fear of shooting guns. I continued with TMI Friday, writing about oversharing and the most personal of all, my secret pain. I met Dooce! Threw an Ugly Christmas Sweater Party and spent half of Christmas with my family and the other half with ED’s.

Whew!

For those of you who are new to my blog, there you have it. You now know everything there is to know about me… at least from the past year.

I’m not sure how many people will actually get through this post, but to be honest, I did it mostly for myself anyway. It was time consuming fun to look back on the past year and you know, even though the economy is in the crapper and I lost one of my best friends, 2009 really wasn’t a bad year for me. I traveled, got straight A’s and am in the healthiest relationship I have ever been in.

Here is to 2010. Please don’t take a giant crap on me.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

blogging, Just me

The time I made an ass out of myself in front of Twenty-six

December 10th, 2009

I used to work in radio as an account executive for a few various stations which will remain un-named. Account executive is a fancy way of saying I sold air time, or commercials. It was a gig I really enjoyed, mainly because it gave me the ability to meet a lot of musicians.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love musicians? Have I told you how much I thoroughly enjoy going to concerts? No? News to you? Well there is a category on my side bar called “Concert whore” so that should give you some sort of idea.

Throughout the years I have grown to realize that musicians are people, just like you and me… only with lots of money, big egos and substance abuse problems. Don’t get me wrong, it is still really freaking cool to meet them, but I don’t get my panties all in a wad about it anymore. I can be relaxed and non-spazmatic while meeting stars like Aaron Lewis, Tommy Lee, Maroon Five, Nickleback (ED loves to tease me about that one!), Third Eye Blind, Candlebox, Hinder, Alanis Morissette… you get the picture.  So I am not entirely sure why, with all the experience I have of meeting celebrities, I completely forgot how to speak when I met Dooce last week.

Ms. Twenty-Six herself was signing copies of her book “It Sucked and Then I Cried” at Kings Bookstore for their holiday open house. When I found out about the book signing (through her blog, which I read everyday), I knew I wanted to go. I’ve only ever heard great things about her from friends who either know her or have met  her. Plus, if I am being completely honest, she is pretty much my hero. My blogging hero.

I got to the bookstore just slightly after the open house started. It was pretty packed and I had never been there before so I just started wandering. I turned a corner, looking absentmindedly at books, and there she was. I took a deep breath and walked right up to her table. Instantly any knowledge of how to form words or sentences or thoughts, went straight out the window. She looked at me standing there saying nothing but smiling and playing with the corner of my coat jacket like a lovesick school girl, then casually looked over at her husband Jon giving him the oh great we have another crazy one here look, and greeted me warmly.

Hours after I leaving the book signing, I was still mentally slapping myself on the forehead for acting like such a complete and utter idiot! I’m not one who is prone to beating myself up needlessly, but I could not for the life of me let go of what a spaz I was. She was so incredibly… nice… and normal… and actually tried to have a conversation with me. I say “tried” because it had to be difficult to converse with someone who just keeps smiling and nodding and who couldn’t answer the simplest of questions!  When I did manage to speak, I mumbled something about being a blogger and SHE ASKED FOR MY CARD!!! and then I fainted. Okay, so I didn’t actually faint, but it would have been less dramatic than the scene I made, violently digging through my purse muttering “bah… bah… bah…”, until I found it.

Honestly, it was like I didn’t even recognize myself.

When I got home that night I emailed her to apologize for being such a spaz, you know, cause nothing says “I’m not a whack job” like emailing someone you just met 30 minutes after meeting them to tell them you are not actually a freak in real life?

Lord I’m retarded.

I suppose I’ll stick to meeting rock stars from now on because my precious ego can’t take meeting another person I admire.

Have you ever made an ass of yourself in front of someone you admire or am I just special, and by special I mean retarded?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

blogging, Concert whore, Story Time

Getting There is Half the Fun (I Swear This Will Be The Last Time I Mention BlogHer)

July 27th, 2009

Chicago and the BlogHer convention were basically awesome, and by awesome I mean it kicked my ass. Both the city and the mass amount of estrogen was enough to leave me feeling exhausted, overwhelmed and unprepared most of the time. But hell, what’s an adventure without the anxiety?

Getting from the Chicago airport to the hotel was the first leg of the adventure. My lovely, independent and resourceful traveling companion, Sarah, and I decided mass transit was the way to go. One surprisingly non-scary train ride and a bus in the wrong direction followed by one in the right direction but dropping us off a mile from our hotel forcing us carry our over sized luggage through the crowded streets of Chicago (because we sure as hell were not going to ask for directions or call a cab) later, we arrived.

Matching travel outfits not required

Matching travel outfits not required.

Oh, you mean busses go in both directions?

Oh, you mean buses go in both directions?

As we stumbled through the hotel lobby doors, hot, sweaty and ready to do anything but be social, part of me felt proud that we made it all on our own without asking for help from anyone but Mrs. iPhone (AKA Google maps). That part of me wanted to drop my bags and scream, “We made it! We finally fucking made it! Look out! Independent women coming through!”

Fortunately I refrained.

As for the actual conference, between the session, the mommy bloggers, the parties, the free swag and the whole experience that is Chicago, I think I’ll let the pictures give a small glimpse of the story.

Beauty in the city

Beauty in the city along the Magnificent Mile.

Napping is crucial to survival

Napping is crucial to survival.

Meeting Jenny the Bloggess. I'm awkward, she's medicated.

Meeting Jenny the Bloggess. I'm awkward, she's medicated.

Totally worth waiting over an hour and almost being denied booze for

Totally worth waiting over an hour for and almost being denied booze.

Sitting by what I now know is the Chicago River thanks to twitter

Sitting by what I now know is the Chicago River thanks to my twitter peps.

Cheeseburger party sponsored by McDonalds in a hotel suite. Oddly enough, one of the few parties shut down by hotel security.

Cheeseburger party sponsored by McDonalds in a hotel suite. Oddly enough, one of the few parties shut down by hotel security.

BlogHer style brown bag found in the lobby.

BlogHer style brown bag found in the lobby.

Who wouldn't want to share a room with these beautiful ladies?

Who wouldn't want to share a room with these beautiful ladies?

I want to publicly say I adore my roommates Sandi, Loralee and Sarah. They made my experience so much better than I possibly imagined.

Whew!

Going out of town is always an adventure and I am so glad I went on this one. I learned a lot and was forced out of my comfort zone. I made some new amazing friendships and have enough around the table drinking stories to keep my friends rolling for months to come.

However, for me, the best part of this adventure (or really any for that matter) is finally returning home from it. The smile I got on my face when I saw the Wasatch Mountains through the airplane window could only be topped by seeing ED roll up at the airport to pick me up.

Home sweet chaotic home!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

blogging, BlogHer09, Out and About, Story Time, Vacations

My First (and possibly last) Guest Blogger!

July 23rd, 2009

I’m off learning how to be a better, more efficient blogger, which is code for I’m on vacation in Chicago.  I asked my long time friend Chip if he would be interested in writing a guest post. I think his response was something like “sure, why the fuck not?” I told him this was his chance to write on a females blog about anything he wanted. That was all the direction I gave him…

Lord help me, I hope this goes over well!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

***

If it’s one thing I hate, it’s touchy-feely, self-help articles written by delusional, overly-sensitive morons who can’t even help themselves. If it’s two things I hate, it’s when those touchy-feely, self-help articles get emailed to me.

Awhile back, I found such an article in my in-box. Written by a guy who positioned himself as the “voice of all men,” the list was supposed to be a guide for women – you know, so they could “understand” us men better. Normally, I’d dump that kind of dog shit in the trash faster than you can say “Women Are From Venus, Men Are From Uranus,” and then instantly terminate my friendship with whoever forwarded it to me, but for some reason, I read it.

It was awful. Like “Runaway Bride” awful. It was insipid, it was spineless, and it was flat-out misrepresenting the male of our species. If anything, it was only going to make women think that men are more pathetic than we already are.

So in an effort to set the record straight – and to retain some of our dignity, I’ve written a response to each of the points in the original article. That original article – AND THIS IS IMPORTANT – is directly below, in italics. And yes, I’m going to ask you to read it. Quickly. Yes, it’s going to be painful, but it’s necessary to build up the proper amount of nausea to understand my retort – which immediately follows. (You may need a bottle of whiskey to get through this first part though…)

What Scares a Man?

By David Zinczenko, for Men’s Health

You probably think you know what frightens most men. A long-weekend at the in-laws’ place. Antiquing. Running out of beer in the third quarter. But that’s just the stuff he’ll admit to being afraid of, which, by definition, means they’re not his true deep fears. So how can you determine what those are? Easy: They’re the ones he’ll almost never talk about. But I will. Let’s count down through the Scary Fifteen:

#15 Hair in the drain. The first sign of male pattern baldness brings a man face-to-follicle with a skimpy aspect of his future. And it’s always earlier than he expects or wants (which is, like, never). Logically, men know that baldness is as much of a part of life as Leno making Britney jokes. Logically, men know that being bald doesn’t mean that they’re any less smart, virile, or successful. Logically, men know that women don’t care how much hair their men have. Logically, men know there are plenty of bald men who are comfortable in their skin–no matter how much of it they’re showing. But when it first happens, it feels like stepping on a scale and being 20 pounds heavier or waking up in high school with a quarter-sized nose pimple. It’s the inevitable and uncontrollable change in appearance that men try so desperately to protect. Maybe even more importantly, this moment when a man starts losing his hair says a lot about him-whether he’s cool enough to handle it, or anxious enough to attempt to deny it with comb-overs, Rogaine, or faith healers.

#14 Getting caught noticing another woman. A man’s instinctual response to visual stimulation very rarely has anything to do with his current relationship or how he feels about it. But his lizard brain reacts instantly, and before he knows he’s doing it, he’s looking at someone else. We hate having to explain behaviors that even we don’t fully understand.

#13 Rejection. Doesn’t matter whether it happens after a job interview, or at a bar, or on the basketball court. And remember, there’s a difference between losing and being outright rejected. Men can handle losing a game or having a bar conversation disintegrate into nothing. But the proud creatures that men are, they hate having their shots blocked. Mainly, that’s because it means that someone else has the upper hand-and is gloating about it.

#12 Super Nanny.

#11 Speedos.

#10 His dad’s death. It’s his most powerful moment of a reflection, as he thinks about his own mortality. Becoming the family patriarch is heavy stuff. For many men, it’s a life-changing moment, because they think about what their fathers did for them and what they failed to do. The next step: considering what they need to do to be better dads and better men themselves–which means they must confront their own failures, as well. That’s a lot for a grief-stricken man to deal with. He should get some latitude to do that in his own way. For him, reaching out may be through what seem like misdirections–more chatter about fishing with friends, an extra set of tickets to the Phillies showdown with the Mets. But guys need a reason to get together; the talk will come during a slow point in the 6th inning, or in the car on the way home.

#9 Her tears. Men know it’s natural, that women need to do it, and that it’s a signal that they better provide something more than just a tissue-even though many men have no clue what that something might be. Men have been told that women cry for all kinds of reasons-to release some emotions, to get our attention, or just because dammit, The Bachelor rose ceremony is so stinkin’ sad. Men want to do the right thing, but because men don’t navigate those falling waters very often, they probably do the wrong thing more often than not. Which is another reason why they fear her emotional tsunami.

#8 Being a lousy lover. Of all the things that men want to happen in bed, pleasing their women ranks near the top of the list, according to a national Men, Love, and Sex survey by Harris Interactive. Men hate to think that women may be bored, unimpressed, or unsatisfied. Maybe it’s an ego thing (okay, it is an ego thing), but men do very genuinely care about how much pleasure a woman is having in bed. That’s why the faking thing drives men so crazy. To men, feigned pleasure is code for: You’re so damn terrible at this, but there there, little fella, I’m gonna make you feel good about your inadequate self. Men want to know what women want, and they want to be successful in delivering it.

#7 Not being a god to his kids. There comes a time when men don’t care much about what strangers, co-workers, friends, in-laws, or anybody else thinks about them. But when a kid articulates his father’s flaws, it’s the ultimate heart crumbler. Men know that sometimes they work too much or are too short-fused or simply fall short on the hero-dad meter, but deep down, they know it’s the most important job that they’re going to do. And if they don’t do it right, they know there’s a significant chink in their masculine armor.

#6 Living paycheck to paycheck. Even though men aren’t the only hunters and providers anymore, they still feel a deep evolutionary pull to provide the backbone and protection for their tribe. When men lose money, can’t make enough money, or are scrounging for money, it can be an emotional disaster-it makes them feel like they’re losing control in their lives.

#5 Beautiful women. Few things intimidate men more than IRS audits and 12-foot birdie putts. A beautiful woman is one of them. A beautiful woman-whether spotted at work, in bookstores, driving in the next lane, anywhere-simply has the power to turn a man of steel into creamed corn. Men know this. Men try to resist this. Ultimately, it’s a challenge. Beauty may be a short-lived form of power, but it is profound, and nearly all men cower before it. It can make them do really, really stupid things.

#4 Getting naked. Ladies shouldn’t think that they’re alone in fleshy hang-ups. Guys are just as concerned about what women will initially think about their body hair, muscles, guts, toes, and other parts. Men are deeply aware that they can be too fat, too skinny, too hairy, too smelly, and while men are eager to revel in a woman’s body, they also share anxiety about revealing their own.

#3 Tofurky.

#2 Not seeing his kids grow up. Death, of course, scares everyone-not so much for the bad stuff that may happen to them, but for missing out on all the good stuff that will happen to their kids. Or, worse yet, not being around to protect them from the bad stuff.

# 1 Public humiliation. Here’s one that will make even the strongest men cave: Looking weak. Whether a man is extremely secure-or insanely insecure-about himself, he’s worries that he’ll look incompetent, idiotic, or both. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a zipper malfunction, an off-color joke he mistakenly slips in during a speech, a dismissive statement by a boss in a department meeting, fumbling the fly ball at a softball game, getting arrested for fighting after his kid’s soccer game, whatever. It’s one thing to make mistakes. But making the reputation-damaging ones in public is tough to take. That’s because as much as men try to protect their homes, their families, their appearance, and their jobs, perhaps the most nerve-wracking job of all is protecting the thing they can’t cure with money, with effort or with laser hair removal: their reputations.

And now, my response:

Interesting, David, but your article simply doesn’t apply to me.

#15. Hair in the drain? Screw it. I’ve shaved my head lots of times. If I start going bald, I’ll do it again. Men don’t care about hair as much as self-help articles like this say they do. Bruce Willis is getting laid a lot more than Yanni or Fabio, dipshit.

#14. Getting caught checking out other women. Please. I only date women who point out hot chicks.

#13. Rejection. To me, succumbing to rejection is like getting bucked off a horse and not getting back on. If you give up, you’re a pussy and should be castrated as not to pollute our gene pool.

#12. Super Nanny? Are you kidding? Any man who’s scared of Super Nanny is a man who doesn’t have the balls or intelligence to discipline his own kids. Again, these people are dipshits who should not be breeding.

#11. Speedos. Speedos are like clowns. They’re not scary if you avoid them.

#10. A father’s death. This is retarded. If you have to wait until your father dies to realize your own mortality, then you need to stop screwing your sister, stop watching NASCAR, and have someone come over and slap you in the face. Wake the fuck up. Until you do, you’ll only be an embarrassment to your dad, mama’s-boy.

#9. A woman’s tears. Nothing about this is scary. Sad maybe. But scary? Be a man. Be there for her like she’s been there for you. Make her (and yourself) a stiff cocktail and get through it together. If this goes on for days, drink more. If this goes on for years, kill her.

#8. Being a bad lover. Good sex is about two things: Communication and the right physical fit. If you and your chick can’t talk about what you like, or if you’re always trying to pound a square peg into one of those triangle-shaped holes, the sex is going to be bad. (NOTE: If you actually have a square peg, or she has a triangle-shaped hole, one of you is a space alien.)

#7. Not being a god to his kids. Who’s the douche who wrote THAT shit? You don’t need to be a “god” to anyone. All you need is for your kids to respect  you – which isn’t going to happen if you keep watching American Idol and writing stupid shit like this. Plus, here’s a little newsflash, chief: You’re not a god and you never will be.

#6. Living paycheck to paycheck. I understand that this can be scary. But ambition and a little responsibility will go a long way towards eliminating this. Translation: Get a job and use a condom. The world is tired of bankrolling your bankrupt lifestyle and your retarded fuck trophies.

#5. Beautiful women. If you’re a man who’s scared of beautiful women, check yourself for testicles. If you feel some and are still curled up in a ball, just remember this: No matter how beautiful she is, keep in mind that somewhere, someone is sick and tired of her shit. If that doesn’t cure you, kill yourself. You’re too pathetic to breathe the same air as me.

#4. Getting naked. If you’re scared of someone seeing you naked, maybe it’s time to put down the Krispy Kreme, the Taco Bell, the Starbucks Double Vanilla Cappuccino Latte Thingy, and hit the gym. Period.

#3. Tofurky. The only reason you should be scared of this is if you’re being forced to eat it. And if you’re being forced to eat it, either A) you need to tell your chick to back the fuck off or B) listen to her because she’s probably trying to tell you to lose that spare tire so she’ll find you less revolting and want to have sex with you again sometime.

#2. Not being around to raise your kids. Shut the fuck up. Chances are — if you’re like 90% of the people I see who have kids these days — YOU’RE not raising them at all anyway. Instead, you’re letting our system of social welfare do it, or worse – you have plenty of money and a nanny is raising them. What?  You want to see them become adults so you can see what a success they’ve become? Let me put your mind at ease: Your little angels aren’t gonna amount to shit if you keep letting them sit around all day eating Cheetos and playing X-Box. Try taking an active role in raising them now, dumbass.

#1. Public humiliation. Yawn. It’s only humiliating if you allow it to be. What ever happened to laughing at yourself?

FINAL THOUGHT:

I don’t blame women for being fed up with the modern-day heterosexual male. If you’re a male and you’re scared of this kind of stuff, you’re a giant pussy. Conversely, MY male friends — gay or straight — aren’t scared of any of this bullshit. We’re men. Real men. And we’re tired of all the self-help columnists making us look bad. Here’s some tampons and Oprah’s book of the month. Get the fuck out of my sight.

Sincerely,

Chip Haskell

I was going to post a "nice" picture of Chip but I thought that would be too girly of me and this is, afterall, a guys post.

I was going to post a "nice" picture of Chip but I thought that would be too girly of me and this is, afterall, a guys post.

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