Tag: Misc

Whenever I want to get in touch with my feminine side, I like to dip my body in a tub of Nair to get rid of all my body hair, rinse off and slip into something comfortable, preferably something silky, in either pink or purple, and with a white lace trim. The smoothness of the silk feels good on my skin, while the white lace provides a little bit of scratchiness, but both providing sort of a balance of pleasure and pain.

I’ll light warm vanilla scented candles around my bed, put some lavender body lotion all over and paint my nails either Steamy Red, Goth Purple or Pink Passion. Then I’ll lay on my bed with more silky and lace pillows than I have fingers. While I allow the nail polish to dry, I’ll pick up a Harlequin romance novel and read it from cover to cover, giggling every time the word “manhood” is used.

Then I’ll watch a marathon of The Facts of Life episodes on DVD, watching Blair’s spoiled tendencies, Natalie’s fun-loving ways, Tootie’s nosiness, Jo’s tomboyishness and Mrs. Garrett’s hot messy red hair. After the marathon I’ll enjoy a glass of red wine, while I prepare a light, yet delicious, meal from one of my Martha Stewart cookbooks with the Lifetime Channel playing the background.

After I’ve enjoyed my meal and cried a little from the movie that was playing on the Lifetime Channel, I’ll relax in the comfort of a warm bubble bath with another glass of red wine and a CD of ambient sounds playing.

As I sit in the bath, a mud face mask helps clear my facial pores and soaks up the toxins coming from them. Cucumbers are placed over my eyes to help deflate their puffiness. I take in deep breaths, hold them for a moment and then exhale.

After I step out of the bubble bath and rinse everything off, I’ll fart, burp and scratch my balls to return to my manly self.

As you can see, I do quite a number of things when I want to get in touch with my feminine side. But sometimes I want a quick way to bring out the X chromosomes in me, but I haven’t found anything to do that.

Recently, my twin sister picked up for me the new Bath & Body Works Pleasures Wild Honeysuckle Shower Gel for me to review, thanks to a coupon I gave her, which allowed her to pick up a free Wild Honeysuckle product when she spent ten dollars or more. I hoped that using it would help bring out the inner woman in me faster than my usual routine.

I’ve been using it for the past week and I have to say that its sweet floral scent is definitely not meant for dudes, like some other Bath & Body Works products are. However, let me just say if a woman had the Wild Honeysuckle Shower Gel’s sweet floral fragrance originating from her body she would smell so good that I would totally fuc…

(Editor’s Note: Sixteen paragraphs have been removed due to their extremely explicit XXX sexual content. They definitely weren’t fit for TIB reader consumption, although from those sixteen paragraphs many of you would’ve learned something new you could’ve used when making hard, sweaty lovin’.)

Okay, I guess the Bath & Body Works Pleasures Wild Honeysuckle Shower Gel won’t let me get in touch with my feminine side. Instead it does the carnal opposite, which I think is good for me, but bad for the woman I’m in bed with. I imagine it’s sort of like what Elizabeth Dole goes through when Bob Dole takes his Viagra.

Item: Bath & Body Works Pleasures Wild Honeysuckle Shower Gel
Price: FREE (Retails for $9.50)
Purchased at: Bath & Body Works
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Smells awesome on a woman and I would fuc…(Editor’s Note: Three sentences have been deleted due to their explicit sexual content). Sweet floral smell is really nice. Getting in touch with my feminine side. Mrs. Garrett’s hot messy red hair. Silk on my skin.
Cons: Its scent is not meant for dudes. Pricey for shower gel, but isn’t most stuff from B&BW expensive when not on sale. The use of the word “manhood” in Harlequin romance novels.

This review is dedicated to all the MILFs out there. Because without them, the population wouldn’t grow and the Fountains of Wayne song, “Stacy’s Mom” wouldn’t exist.

Let’s face it, MILFs. Raising children can be hard. Sure, conceiving children is fun, but raising them and pushing them out through your vagina…not so much. How do I know this? Because I was once a child that would cause my mother lots of grief.

I would cry over spilled milk. I would sob when I pooped in my pants. I would weep when I wet my bed. I shed tears when I stepped on a Lego piece. I would wail and call out for my mommy when the big girls in school would push me around.

I was a wuss and I’m probably still one, proving right the message I once received from a fortune cookie. It said, “You are what you come out of,” and I came out of a pussy.

Growing up, I was not only a wuss, I was also a curious child trying things that caused my mom stress, like attempt to dunk a basketball using a mini exercise trampoline, play catch with a prickly pear fruit, and undress my sister’s Barbie dolls.

My youthful curiosity also caused me to ask way too many questions, which was also something that probably irked my mom because she might’ve not known the answer or how to answer the question without corrupting my innocent young mind. Questions like: Why can’t I have ice cream for breakfast? What does “shit” mean? Why does Mr. T always pity the fool? What does beer taste like? How can Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble have such hot wives? Why is the horse trying to ride the other horse?

Back then, to relieve the stress that I was giving her, I think the only options she had was to soak herself in Calgon or cry on my dad’s shoulder. Today, MILFs have more options to relieve stress, like the new Bath & Body Works Aromatherapy Eucalyptus Spearmint Body Wash.

I picked up this particular Bath & Body Works body wash because I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one. I’d list all 99 problems, but listing all of them would give me one more problem to worry about and I don’t want 100 problems, but I’ll just say that I need to find out what came first, the chicken or the egg and I REALLY need to get out of my head the same continuous loop of wailing that’s in the House of Pain song “Jump Around.”

According to the bottle, in order to help me relieve stress and temporarily forget my problems, the Bath & Body Works Aromatherapy Eucalyptus Spearmint Body Wash contains:

The fresh essence of pure Australian Eucalyptus oil is greatly valued for its clarifying and relaxing effects. It is blended here with a complementary balance of American Spearmint essence, renowned for its calmative powers.

The bottle goes on to say:

Feel stress fade away as you lather this relaxing skin cleanser and let its calming blend of eucalyptus and spearmint essential oils comfort your soul and soften your skin.

So did it help me relieve stress and forget my problems?

The Bath & Body Works Aromatherapy Eucalyptus Spearmint Body Wash’s clean, menthol-ish smell was kind of weird and kind of nice as I lathered it all over my wet, naked and dirty body. I guess its scent was a little soothing, but not strong enough to relieve my stress.

Also, since almost everyone rinses off in the shower once completely lathered, which takes about a minute or two, they won’t be able to appreciate its aroma for a very long time. I don’t think there are many people who stand in a shower all lathered up for extended periods of time, except shower singers and masturbators.

Yes MILFs, it’s stressful raising a sperm and egg and turning them into a contributing member of society. There are lots of ups and downs along the way, but as long as they stay out of prison and your house after they graduate, it will be all worth it.

Item: Bath & Body Works Aromatherapy Eucalyptus Spearmint Body Wash
Price: $13.00 (10 ounces)
Purchased at: Bath & Body Works
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Gets me clean. It’s scent was a little soothing, but was kind of weird smelling at the same time. Some green tea to help cleanse and soothe the skin. Finished product was not tested on animals.
Cons: Really pricey for a body wash. Clean menthol-ish scent was kind of weird. Can’t appreciate aroma for a very long in the shower unless you’re a shower singer or masturbator. The world without the Fountains of Wayne song “Stacy’s Mom.” Your children ending up prison. My 99 problems.

Just like anger turns Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk and alcohol turns Mel Gibson into a ragin’ racist, I recently found out that driving a convertible turns me into an asshole.

Although thankfully it didn’t turn me into a super prick asshole, like Simon Cowell is with tone deaf American Idol hopefuls.

I didn’t choose the convertible, it chose me, thanks to the free upgrade courtesy of Budget Rent a Car. It was the first time I’ve ever driven a convertible, and it wasn’t just any old convertible, it was a RED Ford Mustang.

I don’t know about you, but I think a red Ford Mustang convertible is a total chick magnet, although not so much when I’m driving it and definitely doesn’t even come close to attracting the women as effectively as either Brad Pitt or George Clooney in a loincloth, or if they’re a lesbian, Angelina Jolie in a loincloth.

The only other memory I have with a convertible was the time when I was with an ex-girlfriend in high school and we threw a couple of live crabs onto the back seat of a tourist’s convertible who conveniently left their top down while shopping. I guess even being around a convertible will turn me into a prick.

Anyway, once I placed myself into the driver’s seat of the convertible, I instantly had the urge to be an asshole. As I revved the engine, it sounded like it had the enough power under the hood to easily make up for my physical inadequacies and insecurities, like most assholes have.

I thought about using that power to burn rubber in the rental car parking lot, which would’ve caused a cloud of smoke and an aromatic “fuck you” in the scent of burnt rubber, but I couldn’t do it because my car had an automatic transmission, which makes it kind of hard to burn rubber. Although, even if it did have a manual transmission, just like my penis when I’m in bed with a woman, I wouldn’t know how to use it.

Since I couldn’t burn rubber, the next asshole-ish thing I wanted to do was pick up chicks and finally be able to use the pick up lines, “Hey baby, I just put the top down on my ride, but now I’d like to put your top down” or “Hey cutie, how’d you like to ride something red, smooth, and fast, but I’m not talking about my car.”

Unfortunately, after driving around for a little bit, it seemed like all the chicks were at work, which reminded me the reason why I needed a rental car in the first place, because had to travel to another rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for my job. My destination was only a few miles away from the airport, but because in the convertible I’m an asshole, it felt good to take a little detour so that I could be stylin’ AND profilin’.

As I drove with the top down, my sunglasses on, and a smug look on my face, I wanted to play some slammin’ music that would make everyone look in my direction and see how much of a badass I was, but unfortunately I only had my Slow Jamz CD with me.

Even my hair was being a prick and wasn’t taking shit from no one. My stiff gelled hair did not waver as the wind tried to blow them down like the big bad wolf facing the pig’s house made of bricks. The wind huffed and puffed but could not bring my Viagra hard hair down since I use enough gel in my hair to make it meet U.S. Consumer Products Safety Commission standards for bike helmets.

Sure driving a convertible turns me into an asshole, but there are some positive things about driving one, like not needing to use the air conditioner, being able to let the sun’s rays tickle my skin, and possibly being able to drive around Miss (insert beauty pageant name) in a parade.

Item: Driving a Convertible
Price: FREE
Purchased at: Budget
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Total chick magnet. Free upgrade to convertible. No need for air conditioner when top is down. My hard gelled hair. Stylin’ and profilin’.
Cons: Turned me into a smug asshole. Having only a Slow Jamz CD. Possible sunburn. Rain when driving a convertible with the top down. The smell of burnt rubber. My pick up lines when driving a convertible.

(Editor’s Note: Thanks to all the readers who participated in yesterday’s Vote To Torture Me Election. The results were very surprising and in a landslide vote, you readers chose to save my ears and save my soul. So I won’t be reviewing K-Fed’s attempt to take over Vanilla Ice’s reign as the biggest rap poser/wannabe ever. Thank you.)

The Shopping Cart takes a quick look at things that I’ve bought, but am too lazy to write a full review for.

What I’m Eating That Possibly Tastes Like The Rotting Crushed Corpses of Gingerbread Men

At the slow rate of deliciousness these Lucerne Limited Edition Yogurts are going, I believe in 2010, they will be so delicious that little old ladies will either steal them from your shopping cart, violently fart in the yogurt section to prevent you from getting close to it, or assault you with their walkers at Safeway for them.

But right now they suck.

The other week I tried the Lucerne Limited Edition Chai Latte Light Yogurt and it made me gag hard. Although not as much as I did watching the video of Anna Nicole Smith giving birth via C-section on YouTube (Warning NSFW and NSFTWHMGW*).

This week I tried the Lucerne Limited Edition Gingerbread Light Yogurt, which had a slightly better spicy taste than the Chai Latte version…very slightly. It tasted somewhat similar to the Chai Latte version, but this time it didn’t make me do any pubic-hair-stuck-in-my-throat gagging.

It was decent enough for me to be able to finish an entire cup of it, which I couldn’t even come close to doing with the previous limited edition flavor. But I would not eat another one unless someone forced me to choose between eating another Lucerne Limited Edition Gingerbread Light Yogurt or watching the Anna Nicole Smith C-section video.

*Not Safe For Those Who Hate Money Grubbing Whores

The Shopping Cart takes a quick look at things that I’ve bought, but am too lazy to write a full review for.

What I’m Addicted To That Comes From Thailand, But Isn’t Heroin or Male Prostitutes

When I think of Thailand, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t, I wonder many things, mostly its popularity as a sex tourism destination and if it’s a great place to get Thai spicy eggplant in garlic sauce.

Recently, Thailand pineapples have been on my mind, because I’ve been eating a lot of bags of the Mariani Pineapple Tango, which are dried mango-flavored Thailand pineapples. According to the all-knowing, but sometimes incorrect, Wikipedia, Thailand is a major exporter in the world rice market, and it’s also a big producer of tapioca, rubber, grain, sugar, and pineapples. It’s also a major importer of middle-aged, creepy, horny Caucasian men, looking to be loved long time.

Although the Mariani Pineapple Tango has an artificial mango taste, it tastes pretty gosh darn good. It looks like dried mango, tastes like dried mango, but it’s not mango, which sounds like some of the prostitutes in Thailand, which look like a woman, smell like a woman, but it’s not a woman.

With no fat, no cholesterol, and two grams of dietary fiber, it makes for a somewhat healthy snack. But the 25 grams of sugar per serving is a good reason to eat the Mariani Pineapple Tango with moderation. However, if you’re on a sex tour in Thailand, please do not use condoms in moderation, because where you go, is probably where dozens, possibly hundreds, have already been.

At $3.49, it’s a little pricey for a six-ounce bag of dried fruits here in the United States, but in Thailand that same $3.49 will get you a $3.49 hooker, unless it’s a male hooker, then it costs wayyyy more.

How do I know this?

Um….Wikipedia?

What I’m Eating That I Wish I Weren’t Eating

There are times that I regret being a quasi-product review blog editor.

One of those times happened after trying the Limited Edition Lucerne Chai Latte Light Yogurt, which I purchased from Safeway for 60 cents. After being disgusted by its horribly gross tangy spicy taste, I thought about walking away from the quasi-product review blog game, because I didn’t know whether my taste buds or my stomach could handle the punishment of another shitty product.

But after recovering from said shitty product, I thought if I’m not around to protect the innocent from horrible products, then who will?

Who will?

At first I thought the Limited Edition Lucerne Chai Latte Light Yogurt would be decent because its smell kind of reminded me of egg nog. However, a spoonful later, I really felt like gagging and going to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain gods.

As you can see on the packaging, it says “Chai Latte with other natural flavors.” I tried to figure out what those “natural flavors” were by dipping my spoon into the yogurt again and again, trying to consume as little yogurt as possible. Believe it or not, the taste was actually familiar to me and I began going through all the “natural” things I’ve put in my mouth over the years, including tree bark, pine cones, grass, dirt, leaves, twigs, and berries.

As I continued to ponder what was so familiar about the taste of the Limited Edition Lucerne Chai Latte Light Yogurt, I noticed the car air freshener that my friend Lana gave to me, which says, “Donating Blood Makes ‘Scents'” After the hamster in my head started running in its wheel, I quickly realized that the horrible spicy Chai Latte yogurt tasted almost exactly like how that car air freshener smells.

Sure it’s fat-free, has low-cholesterol, low-sugar, is a decent source of calcium, and contains live and active cultures, but it’s also got Splenda and it tastes like a car air freshener. I bought two of them, but both will be either thrown away or given to my worst enemy in a brown paper bag and set on fire on their doorstep.