Introducing Amazon Prime’s Asshole Plan…

An acquaintance shared this on Facebook:

I only bothered reading the first 20 or so comments, so maybe someone said it beyond that, but I didn’t see anyone suggest maybe, um…NOT lying to your spouse about your spending habits?

One of the comments LEGIT advised using Amazon’s lockers so the husbands wouldn’t see.

*sigh* You go enjoy your very healthy marriage. I’m single, so what the shit do *I* know?

Also, “HA HA HA, we’re women and we love to shop and we do so irresponsibly and then lie about it, HA HA HA FUNNY HA HA.”

(I know, I know — it’s a joke and I’m a buzzkill.)

“Let me work it, put my thang down, flip it, and reverse it…”

Email to a male coworker: “I almost feel bad every time they bring a new male employee in, because my eyes automatically check his left hand for a wedding ring. But I DON’T feel bad, because at least I check.”

Then again, when I tell my other friend a man is married, he always asks, “Well, sure, but…happily?” But investigating that involves too many potential emotional landmines for me.

Another male coworker is married and just had a kid, and a female coworker (also married) told me earlier she thinks he’s “so sexy.” And I agree, I want to nibble his lower tummy — don’t judge me, that’s what comes to mind. And this woman said, “I’m married, not dead.” Damn straight, lady. Respect. Dude is STUPID good-looking — like, I don’t even understand how he’s walking among us mere mortals.

And there’s another guy who’s SO cute, and he has NO idea. Like, I met him and expected him to be a total pretty-boy douche, but he’s super nice. (And also probably below my age bracket, but… I mean, there are always exceptions… “And when I clock black hair, blue eyes, I drift off, I fantasize…”)

Fat-armed and dangerous

I’ll give my self-hatred credit: sometimes it gets really good with specifics.

I put on a sleeveless shirt, because whoo hoo, nearing 80 degrees in Philly today! Suck it, seasonal depression!

But then I got a gander at my upper arms, and… Jesus Christ, can you get arm lipo? I bet you can. I should look into that. Arm lipo sounds much easier than hoisting my fat ass off the couch, popping in a Shaun T DVD and actually, um, WORKING on it. Pfft. This IS America, isn’t it? Suck out my fat and then give me a snack.

Joking. FINE. I’ll do a pushup. FINE.

P.S. If I could do those pushups on TOP of Shaun T, I’d be far more enthused. I know, I know — he’s gay, and married. Like I’d have a shot if he weren’t. LET ME DREAM, people.

Please don’t give me the ick before I’m caffeinated

Woman near the office coffee: “Oh, I like your sweater, it’s so pretty!”

Me: “Aw, thank you!”

She leaves the room.

Man near the office coffee: “I can’t say anything about your sweater because that would be creepy.”

Me: “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Though, um…if you didn’t want to be creepy, maybe don’t bring it up at all? What with the wedding ring and all…maybe just shut up?

Also, I am apparently an asshole before I’ve had coffee.

I hope it’s cool that you’ll have be naked for your interview.

Another on office attraction…

Um, no, YOU’RE taking a former coworker’s LinkedIn post looking for a new job as an opportunity to lure him and his giant hands into your office, OR just to give him your phone number.

Shut up.

I met him at my last job, shook his hand, and immediately wanted to have sex with him. He’s literally the only person I’ve known on sight I wanted to sleep with — normally it starts with, “I can work with your face and body” and gets more/less intense with conversation. This guy, I don’t even care if he has a personality, as long as those hands do things to me.

This may or may not be influenced by the fact that my libido has been on absolute CRACK for the past 5 days. I think I need an actual person, one with weight, so he can, um…get the job done correctly. Silicone’s just not working for me anymore. 

I don’t THINK he’s married, but it’s been about 18 months since I’ve seen him, so who knows. He has my number now, though, so he can do with it, and me, whatever he wants.

He made me an offer I could absolutely, 100% refuse.

SO.

I just got an OkCupid intro message…from a 6’3″, “overweight” (his word choice) “Happily Married” man, with a single Photoshopped profile photo that obscures his face and shows none of his body, asking if I’d be into some “non-committal intamcy” (his spelling error).

This is his entire self-summary: “Happily Married, I just enjoy more, like any man.”

Hmmm… You know, enticing as you’ve made all this, I’m probably good on that for a lifetime.

I do appreciate the offer to fuck me and then go away — sometimes I think that’s all I need. But I’m a LADY, dicknuts. You have to come correct (heh) and supply me at least a few real photos of what I’d be working with before I’d even BEGIN to consider this. If I can’t see your face, how am I supposed to know if I want to sit on it?

Honestly. Whatever happened to chivalry?

Also…”non-committal intimacy?” You are a grody bastard whose wife won’t bang him anymore, possibly because you’re on a dating site hustlin’ for some strange. Own it.

NB: If that’s what you’ve agreed to in your marriage, you go ahead and get yours. I’ve actually briefly considered similar offers from other, more forthright men. This dude just had a bit of the sketch on him.

Also, nothing wrong with “overweight.” Half that weight is probably just his giant balls.

Nabbing some free-range dick.

I think I’ve met my soulmate at work.

I mean, he’s gay, and married, but I’m clearly unfuckable, anyway, so I think we could make this work.

(Kidding. I know I could catch a dick if I tried.)

Stream of Caffeinated Coital Consciousness

Last weekend I found out the farmers market coffee guy knows my name, and when he said it, it left me clitormented (clitterpated?) for the rest of the day. Dude is married, but he’s attractive enough, and when you add in the fact that he provides me coffee, I KIND of want to make out with him. I used to joke with my friends, because his wife’s name is also Smug, so he wouldn’t even have to change the name he mutters in bed.

But I was reading an article about the business, and I found out HIS name is the same as my ex’s, so NEITHER of us would have to change the name we say in bed!

I really think we should explore this. Sorry, y’all. I’m no longer Smug Singleton — I am Smug Wife-Swapped with my Coffee Dealer.

Also, this is disgusting, but it would be fantastic if caffeine were sexually transmitted. Can you imagine? You know how different foods you eat can affect the way you taste? What if all the coffee he drank added caffeine to his…um… contents, and I could either swallow it and get a jolt of caffeine, OR, OMG, what if I could get caffeine fucked INTO me?

Dear. Holy. Jesus. I need a government grant for this immediately. A caffeine-infused orgasm sounds like my ideal situation.

(Nobody harsh my buzz — I know that’s not how semen works. Well. Probably. I should really do the leg work…the open-leg work. OK, sorry, I’m done now.)

The Timeshare Dick seminar would be interesting, but not my scene.

For the record, I would NEVER hit on the married guy I work with. I don’t even flirt with him. I have zero interest in timeshare dick.

That said, I’m pretty sure he still knows I want to bang him. I can’t stop my face from flushing, and I tend to lose English and get a little flustered when there’s no blood in my brain.*

I’l get over it eventually, but for now, UNF.

* Upon further reflection, he might just think I’m an idiot who gets hot flashes. So that’s a bonus.