What's Your Damage? 2.0

Welcome to the very first edition to WHAT'S YOUR DAMAGE? on this blog. I did a trial run over at Change The Topic and it seemed to have gone over pretty well, so here we all are on a brand new day and brand new issue. If you still have zero idea what the hell I'm talking about, basically, someone writes in their problem and I will do my best to answer using my plethora of bullshit knowledge about useless things.

Dear Lady E,

I have been married for 5 years, 5 months and with my husband for almost 8 years. We are best friends and very happy together and have a 3 year old son. I have a friend, a guy friend, who I've known for a little over five years. We've always been good friends but in the last several months I have developed a raging crush.

My husband knows how I feel and, honestly, he feels threatened because my guy friend and I would make a good couple if I were single and my husband is afraid I'm going to leave him for my friend. I'm not going to ever leave my husband but I have expressed a physical interest in my friend and my friend has expressed the same about me. My husband is an amazing man and has been very understanding of my... needs? desires? ... in the past. 

I made out with a good female friend a few months before my husband and I got married, and I also made out with a female acquaintance last New Year's. I understand his reticence and I also understand that my interest in a long-term male friend changes things quite a bit. But it still remains that my friend and I have feelings for each other. 

All 3 of us may be going to a party next month and it's pretty much a given that if he and I start drinking that something is going to happen. I'm not sure what to do but I am now dreaming about him and it's really on my mind. I really need any advice you can give me.

Sincerely,
Wanting all the Cake

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Dear Wanting,

Dooooode! The first thing I have to say after initially reading this is WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL YOUR HUSBAND ABOUT THIS CRUSH? I mean, perhaps some might applaud the honesty that you have with each other, but I'm going to have to side with my very wise mother on this one and say that they are just some things that are best left as secrets; secrets that are to be offered up as sacrifices to the "marital preservation gods". No matter how great we think our relationships are, everyone has insecurities . . . especially men. It's mostly because of their egos, but whereas men are almost "expected" to have a wandering eye over the years, if they see that their wives are viewing other men as being sexually desirable, it freaks them right the fuck out! Holy hell, I made the mistake about telling my husband about a man that I had a thing for (who is somewhat local and obtainable) and it still bothers him and it happened before-we-were-even-together. Imagine if I told him about all the guys that I've literally ached to take a ride on since we've been married? Forget about it. I'm just pretty damn proud of myself for always calling out the right name during sex. Ahem.

A woman's heart is as deep as an ocean, and many things should be left to lurk through the darkest depths, like sea cucumbers. But since that ship has long since sailed for you, these are a few scenarios that you need to work though and consider.

Scenario A
Your husband realizes that this is just an itch you must scratch and gives you a "hall pass". Afterwards, everyone is happy and you go about thriving in your marriage. Your husband will never carry resentment towards you and everything will be perfect. Also, ice cream now helps people lose weight and a cure for cancer has been discovered.

Scenario B
Your husband realizes that this is something you need but still wants to be a part of it, so he agrees to a threesome, having you in the middle of a handsome sandwich and your new nickname shall henceforth be Fingercuffs. Also, ice cream now helps people lose weight and a cure for cancer has been discovered.

Scenario C
You need to put your big girl panties on and have a serious soul search within yourself about what you want in your future. This is made much more complex since a child will also be affected by your decisions/actions. Is having sex with this other man more important than keeping your son's family together? I'm not even being facetious when I ask that. Sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes it's no. There's a reason why over 50% of marriages end in divorce - they don't call it the "Seven Year Itch" for nothing - but you need to decide what is best for you. It seems like you do not want to leave your husband, so you're likely going to have to do what I do: Get a dildo and secretly name it after the other guy so you can scratch your itches that way. Maybe not seeing your friend quite as much would also help, which TRUST ME, when you have an addiction, it sucks trying to distance yourself from him, but it's really for the best - even if just for a little while. Marriage is (usually) for a long time and this probably won't be the only time something like this will happen, so you're going to have to learn how to deal with it when it does.

Also, if you're genuinely concerned that you won't be able to control your urges while you are drinking, there is really one easy solution to that - don't fucking drink. "But baby, I was drunk!" hasn't been allowed as a valid excuse for sexual indiscretions since your freshmen year at college (or your 21st birthday, whichever came first).

And on that note, I wish you all the very best in your itch scratching, however which way you choose to do it.

Love and smooches,
Lady E

And you answered

Life can deal some terrible tragedies.

From that comes unity.

Community.

Love.

I want to tell each and every one of you

That have shown support and charity

To someone that they've never even met,

That you have truly moved me.

Life keeps moving,

We carry on and do what we must

But for some families, it freezes in a moment

And then everything changes.

When I first thought to raise some money

I was thinking in terms of weeks,

Not days.

You have amazed me.

It isn't much in the grand scheme of things, 

But it will surely help.

And with my utmost sincerity,

  I thank you all.

A special plea

Today I found out some news. The kind of news that punches you in the gut and burns your skin from the inside out. A friend of mine has been given 6 months to a year to live. She battled breast cancer in the past and won . . . but it's come back now like a vengeful whore.

It's not supposed to happen like this.

She is just like me - a young mother in her early thirties. Her son is my boys' best friend in their entire world. He knows that his mommy is sick and he's scared and sad; he's only 3.

And she has twins that just celebrated their FIRST birthday last month.

It's not supposed to fucking happen like this.

I have always claimed that I wish my father lived at least for a short while after I was born so we could have shared something, anything; 1 year, 6 months, 3 weeks even. These children will have had that time but it still doesn't make a damn difference. When they grow up, they will not remember who their mother was, and that wrenches my heart to the point where I can barely breathe. And I don't know how she can even get up every morning knowing that will be the fate of her own children.

They will have photographs and foggy segmented memories, but they will not have their mom.

She doesn't know that I have this blog or that I'm writing this, but I need to do something. I told her that I could have her son stay over whenever she needs a break; I need to do more. She couldn't even go back to work because what's the point? She just finished her maternity leave 3 weeks ago! GAH.

So here's what I want to do. I want to raise $1500 for her, which would work out to be 2 months of childcare for her eldest son, so he can continue to be with his friends, as well as alleviate some stress from her at home. It's not much, but I'm hoping it's what I can do for her and her family.

Now, after factoring in web server costs (etc), I've never made a dime from this blog (and I'm fairly broke) but I'm okay with that -- this just means that I need a favor. It will be the only thing I'll ever ask from you, my readers. Even if only 10% of you give ONE DOLLAR, I can reach my goal! All you have to do is click on this donate button and it will go directly to a PayPal payment page. Easy! I've also added one of those cheesy-assed thermometers to track my goal.

Sadly, time really isn't a luxury with this. 
Please help today!

Scratch is for suckers!

This is the first time I've ever posted a recipe on this blog (or anywhere, ever) for one main reason - I fucking hate cooking. I pretty much suck at it, except for the odd dessert. Imagine that. Ahem.

I'm actually not bad at taking a mix or instant food and altering it into something fabulous. Whether or not that can be deemed an actually skill or not is probably open for debate. In what will be most likely a VERY rare event (and because I've made this particular dessert 3 times now) I am going to share it with you; I call it . . .

"Better than a blowjob pumpkin cake with butter cream that makes you scream"

The first thing you'll need straight away is one of these puppies . . .

Shameless? Most definitely.

As it says on the back of the box, you'll need:
3 eggs
2 tablespoons oil
And even though it says 1 1/3 cups water, ignore that shit and only use 1 cup.

Why, you ask? Don't ask questions, just do it!

You will also need:
1 cup canned pumpkin puree (Because really, like I'm going to get fresh pumpkin. Pssfft.)
2 teaspoons cinnamon (Plus a little extra for sprinklage on top of the icing.)
3 teaspoons nutmeg (I love nutmeg, but obviously you can use less if you didn't come out to play with the big kids.)
1/2 cup golden raisins (Raisins optional, although don't be a pussy and just add them, mmk?)

And of course, Duncan Hines Butter Cream Ready-Serve Icing.

1. Do all the shit it says on the back of the box. For real, I'm not re-typing it out.
2. Then add the pumpkin, spices and raisins.
3. Pour it into whatever tin you have available and follow the cooking times on the box.
4. Sit your ass down, watch TV and enjoy how your house gradually starts to smell seriously fucking awesome.

I feel you've pretty much got it from here, but anyway . . .

5. When it's done, let it cool down. Obviously.
6. Spread that butter creamy goodness all over the cake.
7. Eat the leftover icing straight from the container.
7. Sprinkle some cinnamon on top for a little pizzazz.
8. Stuff your face with way more than what's considered the recommended serving.

And there you have it!

Please let me know if it does, in fact, live up to its namesake and it gets you out of having to perform any oral favors. If it's anything like my house, the pumpkin will win. Every time.

Hard Lessons & Broken Records

I began writing this with a heavy heart since recent events have left me quite speechless — which I will be the first to admit that it doesn't happen often. It is one thing to bully someone to the point where they take their own life; it is an entirely new level of hell that one is striving towards when you continue to mock and disparage that person after they have died. What is the motherfucking point of spitting gas on a fire that has been extinguished? It's disgusting and sociopathic, if you ask me.

You want to know the one time I would slap my own teen? If I found out that he was contributing to that fucking mess, that's when. Just in knowing that we, as a generation, have raised these kids to hold such little value and honor in other people's lives makes me physically nauseous. And what does that mean for our future as a society . . .

I clearly remember incidents when I was in middle school where the "mob mentality" would take over and 4, 5, 6 people would bully and laugh at a single person until they cried or ran away. Can is still be called a "mob" when everyone is isolated in the comfort of their own middle class rooms, sitting nicely behind a computer? Fucking cowards.

I know there has been a plea for all these mindless douchebags to stop posting negative comments about the deceased girl and to "think what they are doing." But that's just it — they do not think. They believe it's all fucking hilarious and they won't see the err of their ways for likely another 5 years to even a decade. And for the REALLY thick ones, it won't sink in until they, themselves, become parents (which is ironic considering those are the people that give me a strong "pro" argument for involuntary sterilization).

And like a broken record, I am once again expressing that this is one of the key reasons I had to resign from teaching high school. SO MANY TIMES I just wanted to kick them hard in their asses and say, "You're a fucking asshole. Don't be an asshole!" These thoughts mostly came about while I was sweeping ripped out hair that covered the floor outside my classroom from the latest fight which usually involved two (or more) 12 year old girls trying to kill each other over the affections of a 12 year old boy who's balls hadn't even dropped yet.

I realize that it's a different social climate than 20 years ago (when I was 14), but mean bullies have been around for thousands of years – it's in our human nature – not one of our more admirable traits, but there it is. Call it insecurity; call it ignorance; call it over-inflated entitlement; hell, you can even call it Darwinian, but it's always been there - it's just the medium that keeps changing and evolving, each ugly head being more hideous and cruel than the last.

These are 5 ways to defeat a bully, and all five (in one way or another) are ways I have personally done to overcome the suck ass years that we have all had to battle though:

1. Ignore them. Getting upset is what gives them a hard on. Don't give them that pleasure! They'll likely be pumping your gas in 10 years (or doing nothing but playing video games and reminiscing about how  cool they were in high school and living in the basement apartment of their parents' mansion well into their thirties), so who the fuck cares if they call you a nasty name? Let them have their moment - it might be one of the few they get in their sad, little lives.

2. Beat them at their own game. They post something about you? Post something about yourself that's even funnier. This also goes back to #1. If you cause a stink about it, it will snowball into something that will get out of control until you feel you can't breathe. They will feed on that like starving vultures.

3. Punch them in their fucking face. OK, so this is probably frowned upon the most, but I gotta say, it worked for me . . . twice. Same dude; he wasn't so bright. And he grew up to be a Minor League hockey drop out and date rapist, so really, I don't regret assaulting him for a single moment.

4. Leave. Strategically, it's not the easiest solution, but if you're simply just fed up with their douchebaggery, change schools. It's best to not make a public event about it or else it will just follow you to your next school. And obviously, having a car helps. The further you can go, the better, because assholes have spies. I moved schools twice, although it wasn't from a specific bully per se, but there were a lot of asshats that just really annoyed me.

5. Become a fabulous success. I'm still working on this one, ahem, but success as revenge is (I think) just about the best incentive/motivation to do good things in your life. Take something negative and let it be the driving force to do something positive! Rise above their stupid, juvenile bullshit and take solace in knowing that after you graduate, you will be stronger because of it. You have the choice to close that door behind you and never look back. Killing yourself accomplishes nothing. Start over with a new phase of your life and have some goddamn fun. Blog about it, for fuck's sake!

Whatever we need to do to help process the fact that we lived through the bullshit and came out the other end . . . a little dirty but still alive - kind of like when Andy escaped through the raw sewage and into the fresh water in Shawshank Redemption.

Yup, that's high school.

The Whitney Season 1 DVD is available now folks and people who were mean to me in high school.
— Whitney Cummings (@WhitneyCummings) October 9, 2012

Yes, Whitney, exactly this.

I think a show on NBC prime time is just about thee very best way to tell your bullies that you are absolutely awesome. Everyone else can suck it!

And to all the victims and their families that have had to experience a tragic ending, my heart truly aches for you because it should never have to end like that.

My Top 10 Soundtracks

I did my Top 10 Albums before, but there were a few that I purposely left out of the list and even from the honorable mentions because I believe they deserved an entirely different list: Soundtracks. They are usually an eclectic arrangement of songs that embody the movie; it is an art form all by itself. There are many that have one or two songs but the rest can be a bit vague, but some are simply brilliant, from beginning to end. Here are my favorites:

10. The Crow - It's dark but has some pretty awesome songs from The Cure, Stone Temple Pilots, NIN and Rage Against the Machine, to name just a few.

9. Mallrats - I don't know what I like better, the songs or the dialogue segments in between them. They all consist of "deep and meaningful" observations from Jason Lee, JEREMY LONDON (cough, cough) or Jason Mewes taken from the movie.
"But they're engaged."
"Doesn't matter. It can't happen."
"Why not? It's bound to come up."
"It's impossible. Lois could never have Superman's baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle his sperm? I guarantee she blows a lobe like a shotgun right through her back."

8. The Lion King - I had to put one in here, and although I have most of the Disney movies' soundtracks, if I had to choose just one, it would have to be this one. No contest. Hakuna Matata.

7. Dirty Dancing - The odd thing about this soundtrack is that practically all of the songs, on their own, I would NEVER have listened to, but since they're in this movie, all I can picture is Baby & Johnny and my heart melts. Sylvia? Yes Mickey!

6. Singles - Two words: Seattle grunge.

5. Pump Up The Volume - Wave of Mutilation. Picture it: It's the late 80s and Christian Slater is on top of the world.

4. Bram Stoker's Dracula - It seems as though I could never study with music that contains lyrics because I just start singing along and lose all concentration, so I used this soundtrack all throughout University as my study music . . . and for some sexy times, of course.

3. Pulp Fiction & Reservoir Dogs - Sorry, but these two go together; they always will.

2. William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet - Some pretty awesome songs on here - a really well put together, kick-ass album that pounds throughout the movie like hallucinogenic drugs screaming through your veins.

1. Moulin Rouge - I quote movies in my every day vocabulary... a lot. But this is a movie that recycles songs to express their feelings? Oh my lord, that's just taking it to a whole new level. Plus, Ewan McGregor is singing - I can't see anything else topping that; neither can Mr. Purple. AHEM.

Honorable Mentions:
If Lucy Fell - They used the entire album by Marry Me Jane as their soundtrack. If you like Alanis Morrisette and Sheryl Crow, Marry Me Jane is wedged nicely in between them. Fabulous!

Shine - If I'm ever in a Classical mood, I'll put in the soundtrack to this movie. I thought Geoffrey Rush was brilliant in this movie, and the piano solos took my breath away, especially the 'Flight of the Bumble Bee' scene in the restaurant.

Heathers - Yes, there is a soundtrack. It is all instrumental and completely consists of 80s synthesizer riffs. If you love the movie, as I do, (that especially means you, SAHMlovingit) you will laugh so hard at all the dramatic tsh-tsh-tsh...ka-ka-ka's throughout the arrangements. I must admit, I don't really listen to it, but it's one I'm glad that resides in my collection.


Which ones would make your list?

Bay-bay. May-bay?

I have a confession. When I shop alone, I often go to the "family planning" section to parooze all the flavored lubes and massage oils that I can't afford. It's just something I like to do – maybe to keep myself in the loop, I don't know. Anyway, the other day I was in the shop doing what I do when I came across a product that I hadn't seen before. It's called Zestica and it's meant to help with fertility. The product itself wasn't what caught my eye (because seriously, I don't need fertility help) but it was the main product benefit that raised my eyebrow. See exhibit A that I found on their website:

Umm, yeah. So, sperm collection, eh? I thought that was done into a sterile plastic cup, or, hummm, I don't know... A VAGINA? Could you imagine walking into a fertility clinic with a knotted up used condom and saying, "Here ya go, Doc. I'd like to make a baby with what's in here." Eww.

The other issue I have is . . . why are they talking about condoms at all?

Using condoms while trying to conceive is as dumb as, ohh, I dunno... USING CONDOMS WHILE TRYING TO CONCEIVE? Snort.
— Lady Estrogen (@ladyestrogen) September 28, 2012

As far as I'm concerned (or maybe it's because I watch too much television), but there's only one other "logical" reason why this product would ever be used in conjunction with condoms, and it looks a little something like this... 

Yeah, that's what I thought.

First World Problems & Some Crack

Holy hell! The last seven days have been a flurry of craziness. First, there was my sexting drama, experiencing racism in my town, and getting my boobs squished. Then we lost cable, including 2 whole hours of television watching that I'll never get back; and finally, tipping the balance was when I found out that these pants are being sold to the general public - and NOT in a Halloween'ish, ironic sort of way . . .

If I had to choose, I would actually prefer if every woman on earth wore tights as pants than to see one woman wearing these (and that's saying a lot), especially with those hooker heels. I think my exact words were:

And now I'm seeing leopard print Peggy Bundy pants in the new arrivals. What the fuck ass year is this?
— Lady Estrogen (@ladyestrogen) October 2, 2012

So while I'm busy recuperating from these horrendous crimes against my senses, please check out my guest posts this week. I'm in TWO places, so pick your poison or if you really love me, choose both!

1. I'm In The Powder Room today, talking about my post "multiples pregnancy" body and all the glorious ways it's fucked up . . . in the most humorous way possible.

2. My good friend Q over at ThankQ is basking in the sun right now and asked me to hold down his virtual fort. I am ranting about teen pregnancy, but more specifically when they are barely teens themselves. My boxing gloves are thrown down and it's bare knuckle time. Gah!

And to all of my Canadian homies reading this, I hope everyone has a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend, full of gluttony and complete invasions of personal space by drunk relatives. I shall leave you with a special Thanksgiving message that can only be expressed properly by Adam Heath Avitable. (Warning: You might never be the same after clicking this link.)

Enjoy!

When Sexting Goes Bad

If you follow me on The Twitter, you might see me dropping a "sexting" joke every now and then, and you might be surprised (or not at all surprised) that it's usually coming from truth, not make believe smartassery. The truth is, I enjoy sexting. And a hipster can come over and fellate my USB stick, because I've been a sexter before it was called "sexting". I began this hobby over a decade ago, when I first started dabbling in online dating and it was then called "cybersex". After the initial flirting went well, good old MSN handles were exchanged and often things turned into some steamy internet chats.

AND I LOVE IT.

I simply enjoy expressing my sexuality through words. I realize that many people don't get anything out of it, and some find it repugnant, but I think it's fabulously good, clean fun.

There's always been the on-going debate about what constitutes "cheating" when you have a spouse and what doesn't. Meh. Obviously, I'm on the "doesn't" side (there's bigger fish to fry in this life as far as I'm concerned), but I realize that my view isn't gospel, so whatever. Chacun à son goût. I will say that that whole scandal with Anthony Weiner was laughable to me . . . and not just because of his unfortunate last name.

I just hope that if I ever run for public office that all my sexting photos DO come out because for every one that I've sent, I've taken at least 10 to get just the right angle, so I know they all have my boobs looking smokin' hot, so bring it on! "Vote for me. You've seen my DD's. Yee-haw!" I mean, isn't that why people bother listening to Jenny McCarthy? Ahem.

Anyways, this means that over the last 10 YEARS or so, I have had (needless to say), many online/virtual friends. M-A-N-Y. Some lasted for a few weeks or even months, and some were one time anomalies, kind of like in real life relationships, really. Things in my personal life would change or get hectic and I wouldn't sext anyone for months, but everyone had been cool with boundaries and space and above all . . . HINTS of nonavailability . . .

UNTIL LAST WEEK.

It started out like any other sexting exchange and it was great! And then he texted again the next day. And again. And again. And again at fucking ridiculous times in the middle of the night, which I had told him once before wasn't cool with me. Here's two vital tips for all you guys out there:

1. If a woman doesn't respond to 3 texts in a row, just stop. 3 is good number. She either isn't interested or she's dead. Either way, you ain't going to get to see her posing her supple breasts for you, so just drop it.
2. When a woman gives you one simple rule, don't fucking break it. Period. 

In the nicest way I possibly could, I told him he was coming on a bit strong and I just can't be available for sexy times as much as he would like me to me. I mean, com'on! I know I have an overly active sex drive, but between work and family and my seemingly constant illnesses, my window for opportunities are slim, to say the least. (And this would mark the SECOND time I had had to tell him this as well, apparently not stopping his daily texting frequency whatsoever.)

That is about the time when he went off on a tangent that would rival both my 3 year olds put together, and mentioned to me that I had slipped into "cunt mode" and that I was nothing but a "fat, unhappy housewife".

A. It's MRS. CUNT DRAGON to you, douche muppet. Buy the fucking mug.

B. I replied with, "Actually, I'm a fat, moderately happy professional wife, to be clear."

And then I blocked him from my life, because HELLO, CRAZY. I could very well have shot back with personal attacks about him (which would have been eeeasy), but I wasn't going to lower myself to that or waste my time with a Stage Five Clinger. I guess I should feel lucky that it's taken this long for someone THAT thick to come into my virtual life and get all psycho up in my beh'ness. 10 YEARS. This is my first cray-cray in ten fucking years. If by some off chance he is reading this, I think you need to chick-it-y check yourself before you wreck yourself!

Also, being my very first peer to verbally abuse me by stooping so low as to making fun of my weight SINCE I HAVE BEEN IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, I feel like he really deserved his own award, don't you think? Something like this . . .

And I made another one, because they were actually quite therapeutic

and I couldn't choose between the two.

I though the "housewifey" rubber glove giving the ASSHOLE sign was rather poetic.

I have no idea why this guy is still single . . .

Anyways, all the best!

Smiting you,

Lady E