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Posts Tagged ‘Penises’

Dear Kate,

Thanks for telling me about the World Naked Bike Ride.

I would never have known about it. That’s what neighbors are for, I guess.

I had no idea that hundreds of naked people would be riding along the street that is perpendicular to mine: tits and bits mere steps from my front door.

Naturally, we pulled out the chairs to watch the procession.

I had a moment of concern as I had Gideon, 16, with me. But I’m not prudish, and he has access to PLENTY through his phone.

Here they come!

I needn’t have been worried at all. It was not, IN ANY WAY, a sexualized, deviant event.

In fact, the ride might have put all of us off sex for a very long time. 😉😂

There they go.

Good for all the riders for promoting body positivity and the reduction of our carbon footprint.

And thanks, neighbor, for making sure I know about crucial local events. This one was (as you well know) right up my alley.

See you Tuesday for game night!
Beth

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Dear Sue,

You win.

Your water fitness class almost made me tap out. That would have been a first.

I don’t know if it is because it has been a while since I went to a class (<cough> six months <cough>) or whether it is because you are hard core.

Either way, I had jelly legs at the end of the class.

So thank you.

This pool is great for families (see water slides) but not so great for fitness courses in the deep end. I actually accidentally touched another participant because of the proximity. EEEK.

Not your fault.

I laughed when you shouted, “We always like men in here” to the man picking out a water noodle. To be fair, he did suggest he could be a shark among the mermaids (yuck).

And I appreciate that you gave the chatty ladies hell. (No, lady with pink hair, I don’t want to hear another word about your elbow, thankyouverymuch.)

Anyway, as that great sage Arnold Schwarzenegger said: “I’ll be back.”

Sincerely,
Beth

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Dear High Road,

I really don’t want to take you. I don’t. But I knowI should.

For example, someone has angered me, and I want to tell off that person. Immediately and thoroughly.

I want to go FULL KAREN.

My journalism and PR background has helped me know you. And you’ve always served me well.

I’m not a bridge burner.

I believe in karma.

But.

Your antithesis, the low road, is looking mighty appealing. Calling to me, even.

Sigh.

But I will. Because I am better than the person I mentioned above. Karma can sort him out.

I’ll be seeing you. Loads.

Yours truly,
Beth

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Dear People Who Like Speaker Phone:

You have to stop. Seriously. You live in this world with other people who do NOT need or want to hear your conversations.

I’ve mentioned this before.

Why are you still doing it?

All loud. On speaker. In a grocery store.

And you people who like to watch videos with the sound up and no headphones? That goes for you too.

Don’t be loud in public. The world is not your living room. Have some dang manners.

Kthxbye,
Auntie Beth (I’m no Miss Manners, but I’ll do.)

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Dear @adampocalypse,

I’m very sorry my public reply to your public question to AITA on Twitter upset you so much that you blocked me.

I’ve never been blocked before — not to my knowledge, anyway.

Maybe you block people regularly, so you don’t remember our exchange.

(And if you do block people regularly, perhaps you should stay off Twitter. Or stop commenting on tweets from popular accounts.)

To remind you, @AITA_reddit posted a selection involving a grown woman whose teenaged boys were mortified by her One Direction decor in one of the bathrooms.

As a mother of teenaged boys, and as someone who loves One Direction, I was interested in the post and fully on her side (as most people were).

But there’s always one person who wants to make it awkward.

That person was you.

It seemed like quite a leap from liking a band to being a pedophile. I’m shocked 584 people implied they agreed with you.

I was compelled to respond. (Because of course I was.) But I wasn’t the only one.

1. Target sold these candles.
2. I guarantee you that most moms of teenaged boys are not into thinking sexually about teenaged boys. They are gross.
3. Yes, I know some women do. That’s gross too. And, thankfully, not that common.

I think you are too sensitive to be on a public forum. You also seem to be projecting.

I am a middle-aged woman who thinks Harry Styles is very cute. He does not meet the age requirement (half my age plus seven) for naughtiness, and also, HE’S A CELEBRITY I’LL NEVER MEET.

Harry IS dating an older woman in the age-gap allowance (Olivia Wilde), so good for her.

(Side note on the age thing: I’m very excited to know that I can date all those hot middle-aged men when I’m 80. Cougaring FTW!)

When my aforementioned teenaged boys were young, they liked to watch iCarly. So I watched too. I thought Freddie Benson was adorable, but I did not want to sleep with him.

Now?

Hello, Freddie!

But no. Still not in the acceptable range. (Also, I’m married. Hi, Eddie!)

My point?

You can think someone is cute and not want to groom them for sex.

Just because a grown woman likes a boy band does not mean she is a pedophile.

I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to believe. And that, sadly, says more about your life.

I’m sorry my response upset you enough for you to block me. You didn’t need to worry, though: I had not planned on having any subsequent interaction with you.

May your future responses to @AITA_reddit bring you more peace, joy and solidarity than this one.

Sincerely,
@BethCon5

*I’m apparently a mean girl, so this works.

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This guy. Rep. Barry Fleming. UGH. He’s from the Georgia city that has the Laurel & Hardy Museum. His efforts would be a comedy if his fellow Republicans weren’t serious.

Dear Georgia GOP,

Hey, y’all! Georgia voter here. What you are doing with your omnibus elections bill is ridiculous. I know you are upset that President Biden won the state in November and Senators Ossoff/Warnock won their seats in January, but you can’t just change the rules because you lost.

Except you can, because that’s what you do (*cough* gerrymandering *cough*).

There was no voter fraud. That’s been proven over and over.

Stop being sore losers. Just mobilize your base and register new voters. You know, like Stacey Abrams did.

I’ve voted in every election. I voted absentee in November because, you know, PANDEMIC. I took a picture of myself at the ballot dropbox because I know how y’all like to pretend ballots are being returned by others. 🙄

Forcing a voter to make a copy of his/ her/their ID or get a witness for a signature IS NOT GOING TO STOP FRAUD.

Reducing early voting IS NOT GOING TO STOP FRAUD.

Eliminating no-excuse absentee voting IS NOT GOING TO STOP FRAUD.

It just makes voting a hassle for everyone.

Even the Georgia Secretary of State — a man in YOUR PARTY — says y’all lost because of unfounded conspiracy theories, not because of fraud.

Stop making it harder for people to vote. You should be reducing barriers. But I guess you aren’t interested in a fair fight. You want to rig the system.

Huh.

That’s funny.

That sounds like someone I’m glad is gone.

Do a better job of promoting yourselves and your platforms. Then more people might vote for you.

It’s not likely to be me, though, because you waste time on stupid stuff like this.

Be best.
(🙄)
Beth

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Hey Y’all!

It’s that time of year.

My birthday is coming up.

😉

Gideon said something funny the other day.

Him: It must be great to have a birthday close to Christmas: More presents!

Me: (head explodes)

No, it’s not great to have a birthday near Christmas. In general, no one cares about your birthday because CHRISTMAS.

When someone DOES remember?

Here’s your birthday AND Christmas present.

In Santa wrap.

It’s not fun.

That’s not to say there haven’t been good birthday moments.

Trish the Human planned a scavenger hunt (with help from Ed and Eddie).

And 36-hour Tina always sends me a treat for my birthday and often meets up with me in New York to share the big day.

Tina knows the way to my heart.

Friends once threw me a half-birthday party in June. (Thank you, Heidi, Mark, Venessa and Bob.)

But these are just a few fun times, and I’m old. You see what I’m saying.

What’s that?

You want to make it up to me?

Sure you do.

😉

Follow this link and donate money so that my favorite band, Jesse’s Divide, can make their first album. Yes, I’ve mentioned them before. Repeatedly.

Why is this a gift for me?

If they get the money, they make an album with new music. That makes me happy.

When the world returns to normal, they will tour to support it. Likely in the United States. That also makes me happy.

So be a pal and help my pals. They aren’t asking for much. I don’t think I am either.

These guys are great. I promise.

Thank you!

Love,
The Soon-to-be Birthday Girl

 

 

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Dear Mr. Trump,

Americans have been making their choices in droves via early voting and absentee ballots.

Tuesday is Election Day (even though we may not have an answer that day).

I won’t be voting that day. Eddie and I chose the absentee route for two reasons:

  1. I believe scientists that the Coronavirus is real and not a hoax perpetrated by the Democratic Party. (I mean, REALLY? A U.S. party is going to get the whole world in on a hoax? To what end?)
  2. Hence, I want to limit potential exposure by not putting myself in close contact with people I don’t know.

I’ve had in-depth conversations with two long-time friends who support you. One was a rational, calm conversation where we agreed more than we disagreed. One was … not like that at all.

I understand your allure even less than I did in 2016.

And I am regularly amused/outraged/appalled at the emails I get from your campaign. (I’m on your list thanks to an event I attended.)

This is the article that examines presidential laziness.

Here’s my response to some slogans you and your supporters use.

“Make America Great Again”
I thought America was pretty great pre-2016.

“Keep America Great”
Sorry, but America is not great at the moment. I am NOT better off than I was four years ago. I’m middle class and paying WAY more taxes. The industry in which I work has been negatively affected by your xenophobic policies. And as someone who travels, I can tell you that America is an international embarrassment.

“Life begins at conception”
Fantastic! So that means you’ll protect women endangered by a pregnancy, the children after they are born, old people who might get COVID-19, poor people, immigrants and people on death row. Right? Pro-life means that you support all lives.

“My body, my choice”
This one makes my head explode as it has been co-opted for the anti-mask movement. If you want personal autonomy, great. I’m all for that. But you can’t pick and choose. (See above.)

“Drain the Swamp”
Eeesh. Washington, D.C., is now the swampiest swamp ever.

It should come as no surprise that I will not be voting for you. This is not to say I haven’t voted Republican in the past, and wouldn’t do so again if he/she were the right person.

But you are not the right person.

And the Republican Party is not the Republican Party of old. You know, the one that wanted a smaller government, fiscal responsibility, personal autonomy, etc.

I care about LBGTQIA rights, universal healthcare, eradicating systemic racism, reducing the deficit, upholding personal choice, maintaining separation of church and state — all those things that you are against.

So I’m not wishing you luck on Tuesday.

And I hope you’ll take McConnell and Graham with you.

Frigid regards,
Beth

 

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Dear Readers:

My playful ribbing of my friends has paid off. Nick has come through with a guest post about dealing with teenagers — a frequent topic of mine. His oldest is older than mine, so he’s been through it.

And for the rest of you (Julia, Royce, Kerstin, TJ), don’t worry about it being perfect. That’s what editors are for. Send it!

Love,
Beth

Advice for harassed parents (or how I learned to stop worrying and love my kid)
Guest post by Nick (aka He Who Has Been There)

My eldest son just turned 18. Here in the U.K., that’s it: All milestones hit. He’s now a grown man, even though if he buys beer he’ll still get challenged for appearing to be under 21, despite the drinking age being 18. Go figure. He can have a house, car, family — all that. First, he needs to get a job. But we’ll leave that particular bone of contention for another time.

Getting this far wasn’t easy. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve said something along the lines of “YOU’LL PICK UP THAT SOCK/PLATE/INDETERMINATE MATTER IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY,” which was normally met with an exasperated sigh or the dreaded eye-roll. See, the thing is, and this is important for anyone with a kid who’s in the middle of those teenage years to know:

You’ll always LOVE your kid. It’s okay to not LIKE them sometimes.

It’s easy when they’re small. For example, it’s cute when they get so excited at Christmas that they literally piss themselves. Or, when potty training is happening, they get their junk caught in a CD case and run into the kitchen shouting “ME NO LIKE!” (Both real, both SURE to mortify the boy if he ever reads this.)

Here’s Nick. Innocent. He has no idea what this creature will become in just 10 or so years.

But as they grow in size, they also get this disastrous condition called “their own personality.” Shocking, I know. And when they get to about 12, 13? That personality generally stinks. As do they, because puberty takes no prisoners where body odour is concerned (Note from Beth: “Odor” as we Americans shun unnecessary letters).

The smallest things become battlegrounds.

Concerned Parent: “Have you done your homework?”
Insolent Child: *AUDIBLE EYE ROLL*
CP: “May as well get it done now, kid Then it’s finished so you’ve got the weekend to yourself.”
IC: “GOD.” (Stomps away)

A hill that we both picked to die on was a matter of hygiene. As in, brush your goddamn teeth. He’d wake up, have breakfast, and sit in the living room in his trademark sullen silence. When I would ask if he’d brushed his teeth, the look of horror and disgust was as if I’d offered him a lightly grilled stoat (Note from Beth: This is British-speak for weasel) as an aperitif. He’d eventually stomp away to the bathroom, but only after I’d shown him the Big Book of British Smiles. (Our teeth aren’t really that bad, but it made a point, and “The Simpsons” is gold.)

Then.

One magical day a few months before his 18th birthday, he all of a sudden stopped being this terrible-smelling, silent protagonist in his own Greek tragedy, and became a larger version of the kid I used to know. Hairier, with a deeper voice (no seriously: He’s like a skinny white version of Barry White, fer chrissake), but actually nice to be around. I look forward to our movie nights. Sharing a beer with the kid. Actually having a human conversation.

Here’s Nick with his son, who has regained human form. Neither has the capacity to smile for a selfie, apparently.

So, parents of teenagers: Hang in there. It gets worse before it gets better. But when it gets better, it’s great!

If only he’d get off his arse, and get a job …

 

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Dear McKinnons,

Every time we stay with you, we have something to laugh about. From Petra trying to fatten us up like Thanksgiving turkeys to Patrick disappearing in the middle of the conversation to go to Home Depot, it’s always an adventure.

On Thursday, I walked into your house with the family. Patrick took one look at me.

Him: What’s on your pants?
Me: Serial killers.
Him: Is that a band?
Me: No. Real serial killers. You know. Like Charles Manson.

(The leggings I mentioned in this post.)

This time, even Ryder and Mia gave us a laugh.

After I tagged along on the guys’ outing to see “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker” Friday (the bros and a bra), we discussed the finer points of some key deaths. (No spoilers.)

Ryder went back into the vault to describe Obi Wan’s death like this:

His towel dropped.

I laughed so hard, I was wheezing.

(Ryder then asked if he was going to make it into my blog finally. Yes, my young padawan.)

Mia, who has a competitive streak like her father, did not want said father to win the Uno game Friday.

She turned to me, sitting next to Pat as I always do.

Her: You got something for him?
Me: I do.

She plays a color she knows I have. I throw down a reverse. She wins the game. We high five, because she won and not Pat.

Evil. I love it.

Saturday, Petra and I were having a serious conversation about the deaths of our fathers and subsequent guilt.

Here comes Pat to vacuum right behind her.

Petra and I looked at each other. Shocked. Then started laughing because OF COURSE HE HAD TO DO THAT RIGHT THEN.

Then last night, we all played a Pictionary-like game called “Buzz Draw.”

Naturally, someone yells out “penis” if anything is remotely phallic. (Like there is ever going to be a penis prompt on a family game card.)

Gideon drew “winter.” He thought at first that no one got it.

Mia: I said ‘winter’ a long time ago!
Pat: But I yelled ‘penis’ at the same time.

Speaking of penis, your dog Angus took an unusual interest in me.

I feel like I need a restraining order. Counseling at the very least.

Here he is rubbing his slobbery toy all over me under the table.

It’s better than what he usually rubs on me. (Hint: See theme of the game above.)

Perv.

Anyway, thanks for letting us stay with you this weekend. And thanks especially for the laughs.

Love,
Beth

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