Tuesday, April 10, 2012

I'm the Best Girlfriend Evar

Justin is always telling me what an awesome girlfriend I am, and asking me how it's possible that I became so amazing and awesome. It wasn't easy, let me tell you. But after he asked me enough I thought that I should probably put together a blog post so that other women may follow in my footsteps in an attempt to be amazingly awesome as well. It's worked really well for me so far, so it must be good, right?

1.) Make sure you have some kind of alcohol in your system at all times.

1a.) For those nights that you have a LOT of alcohol in your system (which should be most nights), make sure you either a.) break down and cry about something REALLY stupid, b.) get angry and start a fight over something REALLY stupid, or c.) get so inebriated that your boyfriend has to get you off the kitchen floor to go to bed. Having to take care of you makes him feel super manly and protective.

2.)Insist on going out to eat almost every night of the week and then complain about how fat you are. Men love getting the opportunity to reaffirm you and build your confidence up. You should complain about your body once every hour or so; more if you're eating.

3.) Belch, pretty much nonstop. Make sure to do so in the middle of a conversation, while watching a scary movie, or while talking with his grandmother on the phone. He will appreciate your willingness to be gassy in front of him cause it shows you're being 'real'.

4.) Do not cook anything. Ever, ever, ever. If you do slip up and cook dinner one night make sure that it tastes terrible. Your boyfriend be endeared to you because you are such a dumbass in the kitchen. That's super cute.
That is a real pancake I tried to make last year. The dog won't even eat it. 
5.) If he's a computer geek like my boyfriend, force him to download such artists as Avril Lavigne, Lady Gaga, and Miley Cyrus. Then sing to them LOUDLY while you are driving somewhere together. He loves to hear your singing voice and will probably fall more in love with you.

6.)  Speaking of driving, make him drive everywhere. He'll feel much more manly when he's chauffeuring driving you around town. Don't give him any gas money either, he'll feel like you're emasculating him.

7.) Instead of letting him play video games at night, insist on watching a romantic movie, or perhaps a movie from your childhood. I just bought The Last Unicorn on Blueray but I think I'll wait until the next time he wants to play Call of Duty to spring it on him. He'll love your spontaneity and girly soft side, even if he pretends not to.

8.) Shower two or three times a week at best. Your man loves your 'natural smell'. After two or three days you'll have natural smell in SPADES! Bonus points if you go for a week at a time.

9.) Bring home a 118lb dog with a brain the size of a walnut and all the commen sense that implies. Do a poor job of training him as a puppy and let your boyfriend handle him when you're out in public so that if your dog acts like an asshole the boyfriend can take the blame for it. Of course he'd never want you to look bad so this is totally cool with him.

Obviously the pick of the litter. 

10.) Don't shave your legs from September to April. Let those gams grow some hair. This will make your boyfriend feel manly and primal when he sees your silky leg fur blowing gently in the breeze. If your legs do not resemble small pine trees you are doing something wrong.

Good luck ladies! Please, if you follow this guide, send me your pictures / success stories! A system has to be proven to be accepted!

picture source
picture source

Flashback 1

In order to get you up to date, I need to go backward a bit. A flashback, of sorts. So, to shed some light on this .endtransmission. character that a few of you have come to enjoy, allow me some latitude to put this together in a way I feel will be right and true. Truth, for a change.
What follows is a true story. (Linda, I've added a bit here for the minions so they can understand all of it.) It was first written last year to my dear childhood friend Linda. (She visits here and is an amazing writer, as well as a lovely human being both inside and out. I cherish her friendship. So here goes.....

I got divorced in June of 2010. Bad idea to get married in the first place, but 3 wonderful teenagers needed a good role model, so I felt I could be 'that guy'. It's not necessary to go into this further, it's old history, and factors not into this story. So 2010 was my "Summer Of Freedom". You know the stuff, free living, wanton lusting after girls who's name you forget the next hour, walking around your place in your underwear because YOU CAN, eating fast food for every meal, and most importantly, riding my vintage motorcycle that I rebuilt with my own two hands ANYWHERE I WANT.

While riding to work one Thursday morning, a young man who felt he needed to text his fiance' while turning left in front of me changed my summer plans..... I broadsided him doing 45 mph. The bike went down on the right side, and as it went down, I realized I didn't need to hold onto it anymore. My black beauty went skidding off like a rocket, and somehow I remembered that I needed to relax my muscles, and rolled like a rag doll. 20 or so yards later, I came to rest in the oncoming travel lane. I rolled off into the grass, pulled off my full face helmet, (thank God I'm not an idiot) and cussed like a sailor who'd just shot himself in the foot with a flare gun. I lifted my head to see my vintage ride lying on it's right side, steam and dust rising from her engine, spilling fuel. She was some 30 yards down the road from me.

My right arm was bleeding from wrist to nearly my shoulder. I couldn't really feel my right knee or foot. I bent my ankle and figured it was still attached, and then as I rolled onto my back I found that my right knee would move enough that most of it wasn't still lying on the blacktop somewhere. My hands hurt, too, but thankfully leather gloves did their job. They were shredded enough that I could see skin through the double insulated palms. Somehow, I never lost consciousness.

"You just had an accident.", a voice said from behind my head. I looked up to see a woman in purple nursing scrubs looking down on me. Knowing that I never lost consciousness, I was puzzled as to why there was a nurse looking over me in the moist freshly cut grass. She went on to say, "I almost stopped you yesterday for riding too fast through traffic." Um, not for nothing Nursie, but if I was passing YOU, I doubt you were stopping me. By the way, I was probably trying to GET AWAY FROM YOU AND YOUR BAD DRIVING.  I looked up at her, from my bloody resting place in the roads' shoulder, and said, "You can go now".

The medics arrived minutes after my accident. They were nice, professional, and attentive. They also understood that I was in a rather jovial mood, because I was still alive. We joked all the way to the ER. They made me feel comfortable and calm, and truthfully, kept me from bawling like a little kid. I was in severe pain, as my right knee had impacted the car and the pavement, then the bike landed on it. My right arm was one big raspberry from forearm to shoulder. It felt like someone took a cheese grater to my arm. Bloody, but still intact.  The toe of my right boot was severely dented, and I ended up with just deep bruising on the outer side of my right foot.  I had my clothing cut off of me, down to my Hanes His Ways, and collared and boarded, before being put on the the gurney.  My helmet had scuffing on two places on the front chin area, one on the forehead, and a nice scrape on the rear.  I did not have a concussion.  So yeah, I’m hard headed.

I left the hospital later that day. My wounds wrapped, my Mother in tears, and my head spinning, trying to grasp exactly how I was going to enjoy my summer. I was walking with a full leg brace and a set of crutches. I guessed that I wasn't going to be hittin' the clubs and riding to bike nights any time soon. The big shame was, I had just got my old vintage bike finally running the way it was meant to run. Loud and proud I took those corners on that big steel monster. Dragging your foot pegs through corners can be exciting. Dragging pegs have a whole new meaning when you do it because of someone Else's negligence.

The nurses asked me how I hit a car at 45 mph and didn't break a single bone..... I told them I was Wolverine.  Must have been the morphine drip.  I guess I’m just*really lucky. I personally thanked my helmet, gloves and boots at a later time. But for now, I'll just dwell on the fact that I'm a really lucky person. Next summer will be here soon enough. (Written Winter, 2010)

Thanks for sticking around.