Author Archives: LadyJane

No Glove, No Love

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Rubbers. Jimmy Hats. Raincoats. Willie Warmers. Condoms. Call ‘em what you will. I like to call them the reason I’m not pregnant and I plan on staying that way until there is a ring on my finger, my own roof over my head and a hell of lot more money in my bank account.  Condoms are the reason Tarzan isn’t supporting his baby mama on a bank teller salary.  And the reason I am writing this article. Why, you may ask?

Because Tarzan has decided, unilaterally, that he no longer wishes to wear a condom when we do it like they do on the Discovery Channel. Which would be fine if I was on birth control. Except I’m not. I don’t have health insurance and can’t afford the extra 70 bucks a month for the script.

Tarzan says that they cut off his circulation and he can’t feel anything anymore. ANYMORE? We’ve been having amazing sex for the last year and half and now, all of a sudden, he can’t feel anything?  I offered to buy the Magnum Thin condoms, but he said he doesn’t trust them.  I offered to get the Magnum Extra Large ones and do you know what he said? “I’m a patient man. I can wait.” Well you know what?

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YES, I have big boobs and NO, you may not stare at them.

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As none of you know, I am a relatively well-endowed chicita. Have been since I was twelve or thirteen. It’s a hard-knock life, having to cart around big knockers. It’s not as easy as it looks. We get back pain. We have to buy larger bras, which are difficult to find in themselves. And then, because our boobs are so heavy, the bra straps and bands cut into our skin, leaving undesirable and unsexy lines and marks. We have to buy bigger shirts that have more acreage for our ta-tas. And if we want to look cute, all the cute shirts are low-cut. So yes, cleavage is an almost constant companion. We ladies accept this.

Men loves titties. We ladies have accepted this as well. When they’re babies, they drink from them, when they hit puberty, they’re curious about them, and when they start getting it in, they want to do any number of things, sucking, biting, motorboating- to name a few. So it is completely understandable that if your average guy comes across a girl with size D ta-tas that he’s going to look.

HOWEVER.

JUST BECAUSE I HAVE SIZE D TITS AND I WEAR A SLEEVELESS SHIRT WHILE DOING MANUAL LABOR BECAUSE I GET HOT DOES NOT MAKE IT OKAY FOR YOU TO COME UP TO ME WITH A ‘BABY BOTTLES’ SIGN AND PUT IT ACROSS MY CHEST.

Forget the sexual harassment claim I’d have since I was at work when this happened. The guy was like 50! FIFTY! Would he like some creepo doing that to his twentysomething daughter?!

No.

You Can Have a Weiner and Still be a Pussy

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In light of this current Anthony WEINER scandal, I have come to a conclusion. Only cowards cheat. I am a firm believer in fidelity. If you’re dating somebody, you should stay true to that somebody. If YOU’RE MARRIED AND YOUR WIFE IS PREGNANT, KEEP YOUR GODDAMN JUNK IN YOUR PANTS.

Now, I know not everyone’s perfect. And I know that not every relationship is meant to last forever.  If you’re seeing Person A and all of sudden Person B comes around and you’re tempted to cheat, then sit back and take a look at your relationship. CLEARLY, something is missing.  If you want to pursue a relationship with Person B, then end things with Person A. It’s not fair to A, who trusts you to be faithful. It’s not fair to B, who likely doesn’t know about A and if he or she does know about A, is cool with being a Homewrecker, then that says a lot about that person’s character i.e. scumbagaroo.

We’ve all been tempted, one summer, when I was dating Pinocchio (refer to Guilty as Charged) I met a man. And he was bangin.  He was a carpenter who was residing my neighbor’s house, and everyday he’d be outside, twenty feet from my bedroom, with no shirt, six-pack abs and a buzz saw, working the hot August days away.  And every time I saw him, the little devil on my shoulder screamed, Come to Mama.  But alas, I had a boyfriend- granted I hadn’t seen or heard from Pinocchio in weeks (refer to He’s Just Not that Into You) but I couldn’t conscionably get my mack on knowing that I wasn’t single.

I know that not everyone thinks this way. I have friends who cheat on their significant others. They don’t qualify kissing another man or fondling the party in his pants cheating, because they didn’t sleep with him. Or they think because their relationship is going downhill and the boyfriend is being a pussy that gives her a carte blanche to bang someone else. Or text them pictures of your goods or sext them suggestive things.

If you are unsatisfied in your relationship, and find someone who could potentially fill that void, then end your first relationship to pursue the second. If you are a New York state representative, with a wife who works for the Secretary of State and is the favorite of Democrats EVERYWHERE, if you want to run for Mayor of one of the most influential cities in the ENTIRE WORLD, or if your wife is pregnant, then you should NOT be texting strange women pictures of your weiner.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

Gone with the Wind- Goodbye Cosmopolitan, Hello Esquire.

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Last month Cosmo featured 70+ ways to please your man. Initially I was excited at the prospect. I happen to get a lot of pleasure by pleasing my man and 70 odd ways to do so presented a lot of possible obstacles for me to climb- but then he texted me back, ‘No. I only need like 3 things and I’m good.’ So then I thought to myself Self, do you really need to buy a magazine that says the same thing every other month? Don’t you have ‘101 ways to turn him on’ in a box under your bed from 95938475938475 years ago? Keep your $3.99 and buy a sandwich.  

And then it dawned on me.

WHY ISN’T THERE A MAGAZINE FEATURING 70+ WAYS TO PLEASE YOUR WOMAN?

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Guilty as charged!

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“Jasmine was in a relationship with a dirty homeless boy named Aladdin. Snow White lived alone with 7 men. Pinocchio was a liar. Robin Hood was a thief. Tarzan walked around without his clothes on. A stranger kissed Sleeping Beauty and she married him.  Cinderella lied and snuck out at night to attend a party.  You can’t blame us.  We were taught to rebel since a young age.”

When I first read this quote, the hopeless romantic in me thought, huh, well that’s a bit cynical, eh? (apparently my inner hopeless romantic is Canadian.) And then I stopped and thought about it. Even the other Disney princesses-Belle fell in love with a beast.  Pocahontas (should you view the massacre of the Native Americans as a genocide, like I do) fell in love with a man set out to kill her and her family, Mulan dressed up as a boy, Ariel fell in love with someone of another species, and Tiana fell in love with a frog (beastiality, anyone?)

What girl hasn’t kissed a frog or ten in her day?

So I started to analyze my past relationships and/or hookups to see if they fell in line with the Disney Princess Pattern.  And guess what? I’m as guilty as charged!

Aladdin: Now I can’t say that I’ve ever dated a dirty homeless boy for I am a fairly large proponent of personal hygiene. However, part of Aladdin’s lure was that he had a magic carpet. And Ryan (as I shall give all these guys different names) had plenty of modern-day magic carpets. I rode on his Magic Harley, got driven around in his Old Magic Chevy, a Magic Subaru something or other and some other Magic carpets.  He also engineered a Magic Train! And I swooned. Like Jasmine, I found out he wasn’t a Prince after all. Which was fine with me because the sex was less than magical.

 Seven Dwarves: I’ve never been blessed to live with 7 men before, but I have lived with three. Lonely never left his bedroom, Sporty tried luring me to his bedroom to “try out [his] purple blanket” and the other might as well have been Prince Charming, but I shall call him Smarmy since in this case they are practically synonymous. Now I will admit, for the first couple days while it was just me and the men in the house, I was on cloud nine. Especially when one had an accent and the other was much older. We would sit back, drink some Jack and watch rugby. It was a life I could get used to. At the end though, I never saw Lonely, Sporty just wasn’t my cup of tea, and Smarmy travelled to different European cities to bang different women (more power to him) but it made me want to bang him less and less.

Pinocchio: What’s there to say about Pinocchio. He was a fake wooden boy turned into a real boy and lied a lot. I dated a guy who lied a lot. We broke up and stayed friends and he still lied a lot. And his wood was small! Lesson learned.

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