A To Z Challenge: Help Me!

Ah the letter H, the eighth letter of the alphabet...sons a bitches, I've got eighteen more letters to go, remind me why I signed up for this torture again?  Anyway, I shall go on.

Scoundrel?  I like the sound of that.

I am all about helping people, I mean I do subscribe to the Scout Oath where it says "To help other people at all times." and it's an old fashioned idea but I still try to live by the Motto of "Do A Good Turn Daily".  If I see an older person having troubles loading their car or a pregnant lady who dropped something I stop and help them out.  I hold the door for people and even let the dad who has one item and three kids go ahead of me.  I like to help people.

However there are some people I will not help.  I turn yet again to the wonderful world of Facebook...

You are scrolling through your Facebook feed, stalking checking up on people and one status jumps at you.

I need gas money this week.

OK it's not the worst status update you've seen but you know this person.  They smoke two packs a day, have nice clothes and lastly if they are updating Facebook, they either have internet or a cell phone.  Do I feel bad for you? No.  Am I going to help you?  No.  Do I think you should prioritize your life?  Yes.

Then there are the pictures of people holding signs up that say "If I get X amount of likes, I will get _______.

If the Minions did this, I would laugh my ass off.

Bullshit.  I subscribed to that once, it was the first one I saw.  The status said if they got a million likes they would name their first born Megatron.  I liked it and guess what?  I didn't hear about any kid barreling out of the sperm slide named Megatrron.  I can see why too, who would name their kid Megatron?  I mean Galvatron sure, but Megatron?  I am not going to like your picture because that is the laziest way to get something and it's asinine.  Sorry bud, you're not getting the heart transplant.

Let's jump away from Facebook for the next group of people.  Panhandlers.  Hell yeah I called them out.  Most of them are frauds.  First, it's uncomfortable when you're sitting at a stop light and there is a dude walking up and down the median holding a sign, staring at you and second, why is he wearing Nike sneakers when I can't afford Nikes.

Look, before you jump all over me about not helping the homeless or hungry, just stop right where you are.  I do help them.  I offer them food.  If they are truly homeless and hungry, they will take food.  If they refuse the food and want money, they are a fraud.  I also think they should work for their pay like other people do.  Don't just stand there holding a sign, do something to encourage people to pay you.  Play an instrument, sell an item, do something other than stand there.  If it's that easy to make money, I'll quit my job and stand outside for eight hours a day for living.

I get it, I really do.  People try to find the easiest way to get by but before I help you out, make sure you really need help.

A To Z Challenge: Grey Hair

Welcome to the letter G.  It's nice to have Sunday's off during the A to Z Challenge, however you still have to write a post on Sunday...go figure.

Grand Moff Tarkin

 Like many people who own houses, we have embarked on the annual spring journey of sprucing up the house and yard.  Each weekend we will take a pilgrimage to Home Depot and Lowes, load up the SUV with bark mulch, paint and various other items we need to make our domicile more inviting...not that we actually have people over anyway.

A month ago we made a deal with Minion #1 that if he kept his room clean and organized for thirty days he could rearrange and redecorate his bedroom, it seems the Nemo motif wasn't cutting it for our nine year old anymore.  Well #1 kept his part of the bargain so it was our turn and off to Home Depot we went.

We spent the better part of Sunday removing furniture and toys out of his room and started painting.  After a several hours we decided to call it quits and relax for the rest of the night.  After a day of moving shit and painting one needs a shower.

My usual routine takes place even during the evening shower time, I looked in the mirror and was horrified.  I've been constantly getting new grey hairs lately, which isn't a bad thing because my Dad went bald at the ripe old age of 22.  With three Minions and 32 adopted Minions the grey hair has been cropping up more and more, but this time I looked in the mirror and like I said, was horrified.

"Honey!  Come here!"

"What?!"

(What do you mean what?  Do you have earwax too?)

"Can you come into the bathroom? I need your opinion!"

"Why?"

(Because you're contractually obligated to...I didn't really say that tough)

"Because I'm naked and I don't want to scare the Minions."

"Sigh....fine, hold on."

About five minutes later....

"Did you stop and get take out before walking the twenty feet to the bathroom?"

"I had to make a cup of coffee."

"Huh?  Anyway, look a the grey hair I have now, do you think I should worry about it or let it go?"

"You idiot, we've been painting all day and you've painted the ceiling....take your shower and your grey hair will go away...dumbass."

So after that point I have decided not to worry about grey hair until AFTER my showers.

Oh yeah, I'm also linking up to Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom's Monday blog hop!

A To Z Challenge: 50 Shades of Shut the F@%k Up: Chapter 8

Today is the letter F in the A to Z Challenge and what better thing to do than my review of 50 Shades, chapter 8.  I know some of you have just started following my blog thanks to the A to Z Challenge so let me catch you up.

A while ago I was tasked with reading 50 Shades of Grey by some readers to get a male and Dad's perspective on the porn.  Well I am not an avid reader so I said I would tackle it chapter by chapter and give my review of each after I have read them.  At the end of each post I grade them using the handcuff system (which you'll see at the end of this post).  But, before I give you my review of chapter 8, head over HERE to catch up on my reviews of chapters 1-7, most people have said they would rather read my synopsis instead of the book pornographic novel.

I heard some disturbing news before I read this chapter thanks to Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom that Emma Watson completely denied being in the possible movie.  All this time I was thinking that Hermione Granger would be playing Steeley in the big screen *ahem* production but upon looking at her Twitter account...well here, look for yourself...

Oh well, life goes on...but I hear the chick who played Luna Lovegood might be available.

Anyway, chapter 8.  SEX!  It took eight fucking chapters for any sex to happen other than the implied girl on girl action between Steeley and Double K and the occasional possibility of Steeley taking care of business hands on in the shower.  Eight chapters!  When you watch a porn it only takes about five minutes to show some action, get with the program.  

So when we late left Steeley and the Grey Man, he had just found out that Steeley was the virgin Mary and had never been touched (I can't use the term deflowered slut tunnel in this post..oh wait, I just did).  He is distraught, upset, freaked out and pissed off about this because it could possibly ruin his torture routine with Steeley.  Really?  That's what he is worried about, what about the fact that you just divulged an medieval chamber that has more fucked up devices than, well, an an actual dungeon from medieval times and she has all sorts of incriminating evidence against you, you sick disturbed sex offender?

In this chapter there are a few words that are used like somnambulant that no one has ever used in their lives, let alone know what it means...I mean I am typing this in Google Chrome and it put the squiggly red line under it, even the internet doesn't have a clue what it means.  Stick to the modern English language please.  So Steeley explains why she is still pure as the driven snow and wonders to herself "and you turn out to be some sort of monster."  No shit Sherlock, I've read about actual monsters who are less freakish than this guy, even the Hulk has a caring side to him.

After a little banter about her virginity, he decided to "rectify the situation".  What the fajita?  He stole one of my catch phrases!  I think there are spies looking at my blog and taking material out of it, but I digress.  Steeley tells us that he gives her a wicked grin that the effects travel all the way down there...down where?  China?  Australia?  Your toes?  Just say it for shit's sake, your pussy.  Stop trying to hide the fact that you've written a porn script that hasn't been produced yet.

OK, I know women need visualization but describing every detail about the Grey Man's bedroom is over the top, I mean the author could have said that he brought her to the back alley, behind a dumpster and you guys would be all moist in the nether regions with this book.  Then there is Steeley's fascination with his feet, it's only one sentence but I have an inkling that we will be hearing more about the Grey Man's feet later.

For about four pages there is what the author passes off as foreplay, I'm not going to get into details but one part strikes me as odd.  Through the last seven chapters the author insinuates that Steeley is taking care of business but then the Grey Man straight up asks her to "How do you make yourself come?  I want to see."  She says she doesn't...I call bullshit on this one Steeley.

So there is another two to three pages of "foreplay" and then the do the deed.  Steeley is deflowered, blood everywhere and in pain...I'm not exaggerating there, the author goes into detail about it...gross.  AND of course, the author adds in every woman's fantasy, a guy going more than once in the span of an hour.  Holy high expectations Batman!  I wonder how many relationships have been ruined because the women want the man to gear up for round two in ten minutes?  One phrase cracked me up during the sex scenes, "You're so tight, are you OK?"  Seriously?  Dude, you're the first penis, let alone item that has been in there and you wonder why she's tight?  What women have you been sleeping with?  "Oh look there's my BMW."

So after the long, drawn out description of Steeley's first time, she wakes up and wanders out to the living room where the Grey Man is playing the piano in nothing but sleep pants.  Holy crap!  Even the Grey Man wears sleep pants, does he wear them out in public too?  So after reading chapter eight we finally have proof that the Grey Man is psychotic and bipolar...just saying.

Imagination Factor

I gave two cuffs for this chapter on the imagination, she really didn't leave much to the imagination what with the blood everywhere and description of his room, give me something to imagine please.

Wishful Thinking Factor

I gave four cuffs for wishful thinking, I wanted to give five but I know there are guys out there who make average guys look bad by being freaks of nature in the sack.

Visualization Factor

Five cuffs for this one, the author didn't hold anything back especially about the deflowering, does anyone think that is sexy?

Pornographic Factor

The aspect got three cuffs, bordering on four.  There was sex but not exactly porn style sex.  I have been told that the following chapters will be more pornographic.

High Expectation Factor

Five cuffs...and we all know why...you damn freaks of nature.

I don't know, I still say there is hope for Emma to appear in the move.  Emma or your agents, if you're reading this....hi!

A to Z Challenge: Earwax

Ephant Mon

Oh boy, letter E.  I thought about taking the easy way out and repost my Easter post from lat year's A to Z Challenge but The Trophy said I couldn't do it because I would be cheating myself...or some bullshit like that.  I could have posted about Ewoks or should I say the lack there of the name Ewok in Return of the Jedi, yeah check it out, not uttered once in the whole movie, but instead I look yet again at the Minions for inspiration.

All three Minions shower on a daily basis, even #3 (with our help of course).  We all know they don't exactly do a bang up job when it comes to cleanliness and you can read the original post HERE or go to Amazon.com to download the book I am in...hint, hint, nudge, nudge.  Anyway, the Minions do fairly well when it comes to showering now, with some exceptions...

Just the other evening we were sitting on the couch watching Girls Gone Wild Duck Dynasty and a commercial came on.

"Hey Minion #1, want some popcorn?"

"Huh?" (What do you mean huh?  You're worse than the cat with a tuna can.)

"Popcorn.  Do you want some?"

"What?" (Seriously?)

"DO YOU WANT SOME POPCORN?"

"Sure."

"Minion #2, do you want some popcorn too?"

"..."

"#2?"

"..."

"#2!" (At this point I feel live Dave calling for Alvin....)

"OK! "

As I'm getting the popcorn I stare at them wondering where their brains went and who took them, then I see it...the brown glop sticking out of #1's ear.  I walk over and look closer at this goo.

"When was the last time you cleaned your ears?"

"What?"

"GET IN THE BATHROOM BOTH OF YOU!"

"There's not reason to yell..." (Oh, now you hear me...)

Both of them have enough earwax to supply Yankee Candle at this point.  I grab a couple of Q-Tips and instruct them to dig the crap out.  After approximately seventeen Q-Tips each their ears seem to be clear.

"There doesn't that feel better?"

"Huh?"

OK, maybe it's the brain damage and not the earwax...

A To Z Challenge: Doctors

Dengar.

I have decided to post a picture of a character from Star Wars for each letter too, just a little side note.

I had a tough time with the letter D this time around, I could have done dumbasses, douches or a whole slew of other D words but I chose to talk about Doctors.

Doctors are fantastic people and without them we could die.  There is no denying that they chose this career path because they want to help people and for that I applaud them.  The question is how did they choose what kind of doctor they wanted to be?  Sure you have the general practitioner but what about the other "specialists"?

I rarely go to the doctor but when I do there is something seriously wrong with me like a broken shoulder, bleeding from the ass (THAT'S a blog post on it's own) or my knee is blown out.  The only other reason I go is to get a physical if and when needed, that's it.  The last time I went to the doctors was to get my broken shoulder checked out after a car accident and my doctor sent me to a specialist.  I asked her, "What is he a specialist for?" and she told me that he was a specialist for shoulders.

This got me thinking what other specialists are there in the medical profession?  Does every body part have a specialist?

"Ouch, I broke my tibia."

"You better go see the tibiaologist."

After doing some research I can tell you that yes, pretty much every part of your body has a specialist attached to it if you need them, but the question still remains, what made them decide to specialize in that particular part of the anatomy.  When going to med school, I'm sure there is a point in a budding doctor's schooling where they have to decide what road to take, kind of like the game of Life, but why did they choose what they chose?

Gynecologists.  At what point in a doctor's schooling do they say, "Hey I know about pussies, I can be a gynecologist."  What possesses them to have to look at sperm shoots all day long, wouldn't that get boring after a while?  I mean you head home after a long day at the office and the last thing you want to see is another vagina or maybe not, but wouldn't it be like taking your work home with you?


Podiatrists.  Let's face it feet are nasty, at least mine are.  I was almost cast by Peter Jackson to walk with Frodo, Mary and Sam to Mt. Doom.  I've heard of foot fetishes before but to make a profession out of it takes it to whole new level. I couldn't even imagine dealing with stinky ass feet on a daily basis.  "I'm going to need you to shave your feet next time, Mrs. Jones and Dr. V. Gina called me to ask me to have you shave that too."


Dermatologists.  Have you ever watch Austin Powers:  Goldmember?  You know the bad guy, Goldmember and his consistent eating of his dead skin?  Yeah, that's what I picture people at the dermatologist look like.  They go to the office with dead skin flapping all over and ask for an ointment.  Imagine having to sweep up the floor of your office after each visit, you could sell it to a honky tonk bar because it's cheaper than sawdust.  That and on top of the rashes, cuts and bumps...yuck.




Leprologists.  Wait...wasn't the last case of leprosy recorded in the bible some 2000 years ago?  Is there really a huge need for a Leprologist now a days?  I mean even third world nations have that shit controlled.  What year during med school do you decide that leprosy is a big issue and you should become a specialist in it?  "You know what?  I think I want to help people who have had body parts fall the fuck off."





Urologists.  These doctors bring a whole new meaning to golden showers, they study that piss.  What do you want to be when you grow up?  I want to be a piss doctor.  Are they watching fetish porns in med school and there is scene of three guys peeing on a girl and the epiphany hits?  "I bet there are all sorts of things I should look at with that piss."


Anyway, I've rambled on long enough about doctors and if you're a doctor reading this...wow really?  I'm honored but don't take offense if you happen to be a deflowered slut tunnel doctor.

A to Z Challenge: Candy

Hey, the A to Z Challenge is going rather well, but then again I'm only three days into it so what do I know?  Today is the letter C, which happens to be the third letter of the alphabet, funny how that works.

Chewbacca starts with C.

With Easter or Zombie Jesus Day behind us, most parents are riddled with baskets full of candy.  If the parents are smart enough, they will buy candy that they like, screw the kids right?  In our domicile we usually end up with Easter candy until Halloween and Halloween candy until Easter, it's a vicious cycle so instead of a whole metric assload of candy, the Minions get toys that they will play with for about a week and then shove in the corner of their bedrooms.

I remember growing up and getting my Easter basket filled with candy.  My Mom was one of the parents who got candy that I liked.  I remember getting Whatchamacallits, Twix and good jelly beans but hearing horror stories from my friends about what they got.....

Circus Peanuts in the shapes of Duckies and Bunnies.  Wouldn't it be cheaper to buy packing peanuts?  How are they made?  What material are they made from?  I tried a Circus Peanut once and I couldn't choke it down, it was like trying to swallow a cotton ball and we all know how I hate cotton balls...they SQUEAK!  I would imagine that if you put one in a bowl of water it would expand like those dinosaur capsules and taste the same.

Candy Corn (colored in pastel colors).  First, you shouldn't call a candy the same a vegetable.  Second, who the fuck thought this would taste good?  I think they took the Candy Corn from Halloween (which no one eats anyway) bleaches it and then re-dyes it for Easter.  If you like Candy Corn there's something not right with you.

Cadbury Creme Eggs.  Let's mold an egg out of chocolate and fill it with a gooey, sugary, concoction.  These things look like they replaced a chicken egg with a turd and filled it with a substance that resembles ejaculation.  Sounds scrumptious huh?  Go ahead and bite into one of these turd balls and look at it.  How did they get the yellow in the white?  And why?

Last but not least....

Black Jelly Beans.  No, no, fucking no!  The only people that eat black jelly beans are women over 70.  They turn your tongue black, stain your teeth and taste like the inside of a wombat's ass after it was deflowered by a horny skunk.  What brainiac concocted this wonderous tidbit of nasty-assness?  The only thing that could make the black jelly bean worse is to put it inside of a Cadbury Creme Egg.  That would be like a turducken except it would be called the what-the-fucken.

Oh and a carry over from last post, did I mention I'm a published author now?  You can download the book HERE and laugh your ass off...unless of course you don't have an ass, but that would just be awkward and how do you drop a stink pickle?  Anyway, in the next few days I will be coming up with a contest, trivia game or something because they gave me five downloads of the book to give away to my readers!  Yeah, boi!  So stay tuned....

A To Z Challenge: Books And Blogs

 How opportune is it that the book, Parenting Gag Reel - Hilarious Writes and Wrongs:  Take 26 comes out on the same day I am supposed to write with the letter B.  B is for book people, a book that I have two of my stories in.  Life Well Blogged has selected not one, but two of my Minion tales for their fourth book which is scheduled to be released today on Amazon for your Kindle.  In other words go and download, I promise you will literally laugh your ass off.  Not only is it short dough at $2.99 but some of the proceeds go to Autism Speaks.  Here is the link to order your e-book today from Amazon!  You will feel better with yourself because you have laughed and you have helped a great cause...plus you can show off my work to all of your friends.

Speaking of being published in a book, did I mention that I am going to be in a book?  It's true, it's damn true.  With my new found fame and fortune (OK, not so much fortune, seeing that the proceeds are going to Autism Speaks), I vow to you my faithful readers I will NOT get the Big Blog Syndrome.  I will stay true to my roots and I will not get a swelled head like some other bloggers we all know...cough, cough, Elf on the Shelf, cough, cough.

There was a blog that was bashing Life Well Blogged and criticized them for publishing bloggers without compensation, well I knew that going into this adventure and I'm OK with it because I'm not a money grubbing whore...oh and it seems like they have the Big Blog Syndrome.  Just because I happen to be a smaller blog doesn't mean I'm an idiot.  There are many smaller blogs out there like mine that think it's awesome to be noticed.

Speaking of not getting big, I've been meaning to pimp out a blog for a little while now.  I went to high school with this person and just found out that she does a parenting blog.  Jodi who writes The Noise of Boys is a friend of mine and one of the few all boy children.  She has gone through quite a bit in her life and her blog is a wonderful read full of great stories and tidbits of parenting information.  Do her a favor and head over to her blog and read the posts, you won't be sorry.

Once done there, head over to her Facebook page and her Twitter, like and follow her.  She is guaranteed to be a hit with the mommy bloggers that follow me.

Sorry for a cheesy letter B, but I wanted to make sure I paid it forward and let everyone know about Jodi's blog...oh and by the way, did I mention I'm in a published book?

Bossk

A to Z Challenge: Adoption

Holy crap on a cracker!  Is it April already?  I could have sworn that April was still a couple of months away...oh well, it's time for the A to Z Challenge and this is Day 1!  In case you're wondering what the A to Z Challenge is let me fill you in.  For the entire month of April bloggers from the world over write a blog post every day with the exception of Sundays...hey even God had a day of rest.  You are supposed to start with the letter A and finish with the letter Z, what a concept huh?

First and foremost I would like to start the A to Z Challenge off with thanking Arlee Bird, he is the founder and birther of the challenge, go and read his blog HERE.  It's also convenient that his name starts with the letter A.  Thank you Arlee for creating this beast from hell, I appreciate it....

So here we go, buckle up and enjoy the roller coaster ride that is known as April...

I have a friend and his wife who are looking to adopt.  They already have a nine year old son but can't have anymore so they have decided to start the adoption process.  I think it's a great idea and I have told them many times that I think so.  I mean, they are going to take a child into their home that has had a pretty crappy life and love them like their own.  It warms the cockles of your heart (there's that word again...cockles).

I understand how children end up in adoption and I understand that for the safety of the child they need to make sure the new family and their house need to be up to standard but I have simple question....

Why the fuck can a white trash pieces of feces be allowed to give birth to an innocent baby with no issue, licenses or inspections but two teachers, with Masters Degrees, married ten years and are respected in the community have to go through a process longer than moving to a different county?

The things they have told me they have to do in order to adopt a kid is crazy!  First they have to pay to apply to adopt...pay. to. APPLY. to. adopt.  Meanwhile Billy Bob and Carly Rae drink a thirty rack of Schlitz and fornicate.  They didn't have to pay for anything, even the beer, they stole that from Billy Bob Sr.'s fridge in the garage.

After paying the application fee, they have to wait more than a year.  Meanwhile, B.B. and C.R. wait about nine months and their "bundle of joy" comes barreling out of Carly Rae's deflowered slut tunnel.  In most cases the poor kid isn't finished cooking and they arrive a tad bit earlier.

Once they are approved to adopt, they have to child proof their house and have it inspected until the adoption services deem it ready for the child.  Now, Billy Bob and Carly Rae pop the kid out, leave the hospital and stop at the packy on the way back to the trailer (not that there is anything wrong with living in a trailer).  They celebrate the home coming of Billy Bob III by downing the same thing that got them into this predicament to begin with.

After they pass the inspections, they are now instructed to go back to school.  They have a Master's Degree in education and they have to go back to school to learn how to raise another kid.  This is being done when B.B. and C.R. don't even have a G.E.D.

Even after they have completed the adoption process and have welcomed their new child home, they have to go through a few after adoption inspections.  Guess what?  No one checks in with Billy Bob and Carly Rae while they leave Lil' Billy Bob in the truck while they go into the bar.

What the hell people?

Ackbar

Well I'll see you tomorrow for letter B and by the way, I'm linking up with Mod Mom over at the I Don't Like Monday's Blog Hop.

Somebody Open A Window - I Smell Testosterone!

Welcome to a very special guest post AND the link up to the I Don't Like Mondays blog hop.  The guest post is from none other than The Trophy.  After a few requests and needs for wanting to get to know The Trophy and how she deals with the Minions and myself, she has agreed to do a guest post.  Also on top of this plethora of excitement, this is also my 200th post!  Enjoy!

My illustrious husband wanted me to write a blog about living in a house full of males. In a word, it stinks! No I really mean it. It STINKS! Now just to clarify, I grew up in a house with 6 brothers and 6 sisters (yes that's 13 total and yes we are all full biological brothers and sisters). I'm #10 and the last girl. We also had almost every farm animal you can think of at some point in my life (happily not all at the same time), so I'm not a stranger to smells. But being as I haven't lived in the house I grew up in in over 15 years, the current odors that have taken up residence in my home are not something that I've gotten used to (nor, I think, will I ever).

Part of the problem is that it's snuck up on me over the last 10 years. Now Kevin has never been anything close to being shy about his bodily functions. We had been dating less than two weeks when he first "blew up" my bathroom and has always been inordinately proud of his prowess at (of all things) farting. The joy he gets from gagging everyone within a five-mile radius is downright criminal!

The Minions (coming one at a time) have all taken after the Fart Master and now (3 boys later), I've looked into buying stock in Febreeze and Yankee Candle. The two elder Minions, being on the same school schedule and both refusing to crap in a public bathroom, are often blowing up BOTH toilets at the same time after returning home from school. This alone would not be a problem, but neither of them have yet figured out how to turn the fan on BEFORE they sit down to do their business and, just to add to the problem,the spray that sits conspicuously next to the toilet is apparently, to them, just a decoration. Combined, the grey cloud that escapes once they're done is enough to chase a skunk out of the house.

Number three, not to be outdone, is heard exclaiming, "Mommy, I'm done!!", on an average of three times a day. Not wanting to redecorate the bathroom and bathe him an equal number of times in a day, this translate to, "Mommy, wipe my butt!!" The only upside to this is that he is at least potty trained. The diaper situation was out of control this time last year. He also seems to be on a mission to empty every can of Febreeze that I have stock-piled, trying to make up for what the others DON'T use.

In addition to these recurrent clouds emanating from the various rooms of my house, Minion #1 has entered the preteen phase of his life. The showering problem (for more details read Kevin's blog CSI: Bathroom) being satisfactorily resolved for the moment, the most current development must have something to do with the males of the species showing off for the females. Me being the only female in the house, means that I am REQUIRED to have a front row seat. Now, keep in mind that I have been assured by every single one of his teachers, that #1 is "brilliant". The game he has taken to playing with Kevin usually plays out as follows...

"Alpha-Male, let's play lightsabers!"

"Ok, Boy Genius, just let me strategically place myself as close to Mommy as possible so she is the one to get hurt, urr I mean so she can see that I'm still the alpha-male."

"Cool! I'm going to keep attacking you even if you hurt me. I won't stop until you've got me crying."

"Only if you agree to follow Mommy anywhere she goes. This game is only fun if she can observe us and be within striking distance! Collateral damage adds an extra element of fun, don't you think?"

And so begins a sort of slow-motion game of tag. They beat on each other, all in "fun", while I go from room to room trying to escape from them. As stated by the "rules", they don't stop until someone is hurt and crying. This being a weekly occurrence, you would think that the Boy Genius would stop instigating and/or the Alpha-Male would learn his own strength, but sadly no. That apparently is not part of this particular male-bonding experience. The times that I've suggested this to them, they've both given me looks as if to say, "Mommy, you dear, sweet woman, what then would be the point of playing?" The odor that  lingers after all hostilities have ceased smells like sweat and, dare I say it, testosterone.

As this game is, as I said, a regular occurrence AND as Minions 2 and 3 are seen to be participating from time to time, I can only expect this male-bonding experience to expand in the coming years to something bordering on open warfare. I can only imagine the cloud of testosterone that will mushroom over our once peaceful home as the minions mature into Alpha-Males in their own right.

So if you ever drive by our house in the middle of winter and all the doors and windows are open, don't be alarmed. It's only me, trying to air out the odors that are produced in my 80% male household.  I ask only this; say a prayer for my sanity...and maybe send a can of Febreeze.