Thanks

Hi gang. Thank you for all of the great comments, emails and calls. The stalker situation seems to have gone away. I am undecided as to what to do about my blog. I have recently signed on with the good folks over at “Sex, Lies And My Space” and I am having fun. Check back here as you’ll never know what you may or may not find

Critique of the Obiquitous Goatee

Warning: This Critique contains no intelligent subject matter, faux-profound political insights, or tips on how to have sex with the mentally challenged.
As a recently single woman I have been utilizing every resource available (Match,com, Friendship Network, tying a six-pack around my neck), to help locate a suitable man for dating or a possible relationship. The dating scene is much different than it was in Chicago during the 80’s and 90’s when I was in my teens and early twenties. Perhaps it is not that the Valley is a less “social” and outgoing community, though the dearth of hotspots might indicate otherwise, perhaps it is dating in your late 30’s/early 40’s that is truly the issue. I have been contacted by some seemingly honest and nice men (the other category is a rant unto itself!}, but there has been very little in the way of physical attraction. The number one attraction killer, so far, is the goatee. It seems like many of my fellow 30 something’s have not been able to let this fashion statement from the nineties die. I have a few theories on this grooming observation. 1) is the above stated wanting to go back to the nineties to be 20 somethings again. 2) a futile effort to hide the growing chin line that has come with the ten plus years 3) a desire to be perceived as a little “edgy” and hip despite the off-name polo shirt, pleated khakis, and minivan. As I read this, I am appalled at how shallow and vain I sound but I would like to think of this as a “Public Service” announcement and shed some light on a possible reason why “chicks don’t dig you like they used to”. Try something new and set your own trend; perhaps it is time for the Hitler moustache renaissance.

Nip & tuck

I starting to notice more and more each day the effects of getting older. I have heard the old adage of “Everything Heading South” as we age, but I really never took much stock in it. I had always written it off as another thing for a woman to complain about. After all, there is more of them to head south if you know what I mean.
Recently however I received a rude awakening.
I was totally exhausted and was glad to be home. It was one of those days where I just wanted to be alone in my own space. Away from people, noisy and life in general. I needed to get into the zone, relax mode if you will.
I showered and slipped on a pair of loose boxer shorts and headed for the kitchen. I reviewed the bottles in the liquor cabinet and decided I would pour me a nice scotch. Normally I am not one to drink such a thing, but after the day I had I decided I would pour my drink, grab some bread and cheese and head to the couch and hopefully catch a good movie or maybe a game. I removed the chilled glass from the freezer and poured a nice shot. I sliced my bread and retrieved the cheese. I laid the bread and cheese out onto a large plate. “Presentation is everything”, I thought. I grabbed the plate in one hand and the drink in the other and ventured out to the living room where I would finally put this day behind me. Being mindful not to spill I went to sit down in on the couch.
That is when it happened.
As I descended downward towards relaxation I sat upon my sack.
Never in my life would I image this possible. When the hell did the sack sag such that I am now finding myself sitting on my nuts? It is not a pleasant feeling. Much worse than a swift kick in the crotch.
I screamed. The plate flew from my hands and the Scotch poured out over my body. Once the tears subsided and I could once again stand I headed to the bedroom and stood in front of the full mirror. I dropped the shorts and stood in amazement. I am not sure of which I was more taken aback from. The size of my throbbing nuts or of how far the once snug sack had dropped. Will this continue? Will I one day find that my sack will drag upon the floor toting my balls along behind? What is the rate of which one sags?
I surely do not remember mention of this in “the talk” with my father. Is this common or do I have some sort of “sudden sack sag syndrome”? Is there a special “push up” sack bra out there? I am very disturbed over this and must seek professional help. I wonder if there is such a thing as a “Sack Lift”. I shall investigate and get back to you.
I would like to introduce myself, or rather re-introduce myself. I am the other “Mike” or “Michael” who originally stared this monster that is “I’m Not Touching You”. After the first few weeks I felt that I didn’t want to be out there in the blogsphere and that I would lay back and participate behind the scenes. Friday is the one year mark and Mike has asked me to take over for a while. It is his feeling that he needs a break. Personally I think it is a ploy to spend more time on my space.
He will still participate as always, but he will do it from the back row. All along we have both been contributors in the writings and posts. None of that will change. You will see changes however to the layout of the BLAH blog. I will now be behind the wheel, so bear with me as I get back into the rhythm. I am hoping to get to know all of you and maybe meet new visitors. As for the HNT’s, I am not sure if I am ready for that, or better yet, if you are. But I am sure Mike or Michael will drop in from time to time to keep his ego charged. In fact I believe starting tonight PST you’ll find him and this weeks HNT over at Andrews



He could not resist