Sunday, October 16, 2005

It was estrogen weekend here at the household.

First, we hosted my wife's sister's 40th birthday party. (For blog purposes, let's refer to her as Hank Jr) The attendees mostly consisted of Hank Jr's closest friends, who are primarily independent, politically correct, and strongly feminist women. I was, for the most part, the only heterosexual male at the party, which was fine.

The most amusing moment in the party was when Hank Jr. was opening her presents. Earlier, she had used our computer to create a playlist of music from our iTunes collection. She tossed in a bunch of fun songs and they were still playing when everyone gathered in the living room for present time. Right about then, the song "Gold Digger" comes on, which, although it's damn toe-tapping, isn't very politically correct or feminist-friendly.

Several guests politely bobbed their heads while Kanye West rapped about gold diggers who ain't messin' with no broke niggaz. Yeaah!

My other favorite moment came after the party ended. My wife confided to me that one of the guests told her how handsome I was, and that she just wanted to stare at me.

Let me be perfectly blunt here. This means that I am HOT! H! O! T! !! Hot!

I could be humble, but I get this kind of feedback about once a decade and almost never from women. There's virtually no reason to suspect that her opinion was colored by the fact that I was the only straight man in the room, so I'm milking this one. Damn, I'm hot.

For the rest of the weekend I mostly just hung out with Daisy, Hank, Hank Jr, and Hank's mom, whom I guess we'll call Hank Sr. After sitting through part of Hank's quilting session, and hearing about her Hank Jr's sheet's thread count, I began to menstruate. To be honest, the blood may not have been from my period. Maybe it was just from my penis falling off. Either way, hopefully this does not affect my hotness.

And one final semi-related note. I went grocery shopping today and bought a pound of my favorite coffee beans roasted by a chain called Peet's. The name of the blend is Major Dickason's Blend. I later noticed, as the cashier rang up my groceries, that the large computer display listed this item as "Peet's Major Dick".

Sometimes life is just one big dick joke.


The Mincemeat Vixen said...

There's a brand of cookies up here, I don't know if you have them down there, called "Otis Spunkmeyer" which are generally located near the cash register as impulse buys, and never fail to make me snicker.

Also - what is it with you guys and other women calling you hot? I can tell my boyfriend he's hot and it means nothing. He hears one of my friends call him hot, or a woman at his office call him hot, or a homeless fucking crackhead call him hot, and he's strutting around for a week.

Mike said...

Vixen! We also have Otis Spunkmeyer cookies up here. We've had them so long, that I no longer even notice the name. I feel jaded now.

I would kill to have some homeless crackhead call me hot. They see a lot of people.