Is This Necessary?

As mentioned before, I have severe “auto anxiety.” In layman’s terms, I get {really} nervous in cars. I’ve always been this way, but it was made worse when I was rear-ended a few years back. My anxiety can range from a jump and squeal to a full on panic attack and crying. I sometimes wonder if there is a more deeply rooted “control issue” at work here, because if I’m driving, I’m fine; only when my life is in someone else’s hand does my panic rear its ugly head. But that’s another issue for another day.

Most everyone who’s ever chauffeured me around believes they can “cure” me. They may tailgate other vehicles, or wait until the very last minute to stop behind a car at a red light, but alas this does not help, it makes it worse. I wish I weren’t this way, but I’ve tried , and I can’t change it. I have even dated guys, who, when angry or upset with me, would drive like maniacs just to upset me further. I rarely cry, but if someone’s wants to see tears, this is a sure fire way to do so.

I know it’s annoying. I know it’s frustrating. I know I can really freak out the driver, because they don’t necessarily know what I’m yelping about. There might be a red light or car with its break lights on 100 yards away, but if I don’t feel the car slowing down, I’ll grab the “oh-shoot” handle, bring my feet up on my chair and scrunch my face assuming the “I’m-bracing-for-an-accident” position.

The other night my BF and I had a date night. We decided to go to Pin Kaow, one of our favorite restaurants {yummy Thai food}. I was fiddling with my iPhone, looking up movie times, and glanced up just as he was pulling into a parking space. I shrieked, throwing my phone up in the air, grabbed the arm rest with my left hand and the door handle with my right, and put my feet up against the dash, closed my eyes and braced myself for disaster.

The BF lost his temper to say the least. Bless his heart. I {know} how much this guy cares about me, I’ve never once questioned it. My well being is honestly his number 1 priority. Knowing this is absolutely wonderful and something I’ve never before experienced. Enough mushy stuff, and back to my story…

Knowing this is wonderful, but it can often backfire. As he yelled “What’s going on?!” I began laughing… I explained that I KNEW he wasn’t going to hit a parked car {obviously}, but it caught me off guard to look up and see it right in front of us. The poor guy was clearly shaken and his blood pressure, I imagine, was through the roof. At the time he may have thought a number of things: someone was coming at us with a gun, we’d just run over a stroller carrying a baby, or something truly serious. It did not immediately cross his mind that I was worried about being inside an F150 and hitting a parked Jetta, going 3 mph.

We had a brief argument {“discussion” as I like to say, we’ve never actually argued}, and to make amends I agreed to eat his level 7 Masaman Curry instead of my usual “but-it’s-still-really-hot-to-me” level 3.

Last night he came over and brought me a gift. He explained that this gift, although mine, was to remain in his car at all times. I tore through the packaging and hurled out the pink tissue paper, and when I saw the present my one reply was, “Is this really necessary?”

What's Your Flavor?

Tonight the BF and I got to spend some time together, something very rare now days. We were at his house and I got a craving for Buffalo Wild Wings. I used to eat there once or twice a week, but it's been almost 10 months since I last enjoyed some wings. He happens to live right across the street from one, so we also enjoyed a nice walk.

We started with some Mini Corn Dogs, which I’ve never had before. I’ve eaten thousands of corn dogs, just not mini ones so I was excited {I love tiny foods, they are a close second to sparkly things}. I tried them with Honey Mustard, something else I’ve never eaten before, and found that I quite like it, especially when mixed with ketchup.

It was then time to order, I got my usual Honey BBQ and BF got 6 Asian Zing, and 6 Caribbean Jerk. When we got our food, his smelled wonderful! He went on and on about the flavor of the Asian Zing, I was almost jealous, but was hesitant to try his for fear of the spice. As I ate my Honey BBQ, my tongue started to feel the heat. My nose began running, my forehead perspired, and heavy breathing through my mouth commenced. All of these ailments occur whenever I eat something hotter than ketchup.

BF laughed and taunted me, saying that Honey BBQ wasn’t hot at all, and I was a wimp. He told a story of his friend who did the BWW challenge and ate 12 Blazin’ wings in under 6 minutes. He even got our waiter in on the fun. I explained that I’ve only ever eaten this flavor because my brothers told me it was the mildest. The waiter took my side pointing out that Sweet BBQ was actually the “least hot” and that Honey BBQ was a level 6, in the medium category! He also pointed out that Asian Zing and Caribbean Jerk (which weren’t “hot” to the BF, but “comfortable”) were only 2 spots above my sauce.

After gasps of air to cool my mouth, a whole basket of celery and ranch, and two full glasses of ice water, I was able to finish my wings, and make enough faces of discomfort to entertain BF through our meal.

Frankenstein Was Onto Something

"If my head weren't screwed on..." is a phrase that I personally feel was invented specifically for me. I honestly say this statement at least once a day. It has become a sort of personal slogan.

Saturday Night

The BF came to pick me up for a date. He had gotten off work early, and so a Saturday night date was quite a treat. We had planned on swinging by his brother’s house to visit the M’s, eating at Buffalo Wild Wings (more to come on this experience), and then watching Last of the Mohicans {. he's never seen this movie either}.

I was just finishing getting ready when he arrived at my house. I did one last “go over” with the Big Sexy Spray & Play Harder, and then got his opinion on 3 different pairs of shoes. I slipped on his favorite pick and we headed downstairs. “Oh, I need to grab the movie” I stated, and went into the living room to rummage through our CD cabinet. Once I found it I headed for the door, only to notice my s hoes were missing. “Hunny have you seen my shoes?”

“You just had them on your feet,” he replied. “I know, but now I can’t find them” I said. I ran upstairs to check my closet {maybe I hadn’t really put them on}. Not there. “Babe, you had them on when we came downstairs,” he yelled from the foyer. I ran downstairs into the living room and asked two of the brothers if they had seen my shoes. “No” they methodically replied not breaking concentration from the television. {UGH!} I ran back upstairs to check my bathroom, my mom’s closet and my room one more time. By now the BF was frustrated, as he often is with my irresponsibility. He went into the living room and shouted, “They’re right here!”. When I came into the room, he was pointing at the floor right in front of the DVD cabinet, and coincidentally right at the base of Evan’s feet. “Thanks for looking Ev, I appreciate it,” I snarled. “I couldn’t see them, my legs were in the way,” Evan replied.

The BF gave a loud sigh, and rolled his eyes, and made a face as if to tell me, “Hey, it’s your gene pool.” And with that we were off.

Sunday Morning

Because of the state of the economy, the BF had to start working Sunday’s which I hate!!! Sunday’s are supposed to be our day to relax and hang out with the families. He picked me up Sunday morning to hang out with him for a little bit before church/work. Saturday he had been given a key to his work and had put it in his pocket. We both heard it fall out and clink-clank-clunk somewhere in his car, but at the time it was late and dark and so we decided not to look for it. Sunday, when play time was over we headed to the car to search for the key and go about our business for the day. Because I’m small I was sprawled out over the passenger seat with my head on the floor under the steering wheel. BF stood outside looking between the metal and under carpeting. Searching, searching, we finally found the key!

We stopped to grab a quick breakfast since neither of us had eaten and were both pretty hungry {shh don’t tell the bishop}. As we parked, I went to slip on my shoes. {I never wear shoes when I’m in a car. I usually have my feet up on the seat or am sitting in a pretzel so I take them off}. “Hunny, I can’t find my right shoe.” I stated. “What do you mean you mean? Check under the seat”. I turned upside down to look under the seats, emptied my purse, checked under the floor mats… No shoe. “Babe, are you kidding me? We JUST went through this yesterday,” BF said, clearly frustrated. “I know, but it’s a shoe, and we’re in a closed 4 foot by 4 foot cabin, it couldn’t have gone far,” I defended. BF is always prepared and had an extra pair of shoes in the car which he slipped on and lent me his flip-flops. I stood nervously in the parking lot like a little kid in trouble, while he tore through the car like a tornado. He keeps his car very clean, so it wasn’t hard to figure out my shoes were not in the car. “How did you lose one shoe? You had it on when we got in the car, it didn’t jump out the window.” I shrugged and just started laughing. This happens to me way too often.

Just then BF called his roommate, Scott, and asked if he could check the street out by the house. Sure enough my shoe was on the curb. It must have come off when I was looking for the key. He laughed, gave me a kiss and told me he still loved me but was going to start stapling my shoes to my feet.

Play Time is Not Over

This afternoon I was reading “Homophobia as a Weapon of Sexism” for my women’s studies class. As I read, I was continually interrupted by the giggling and shouting of children in the front yard. This caught me off guard for two reasons:

1. There haven’t been “kids” in our neighborhood since I, myself, was one. Not enough to cause a disturbance anyway.

2. I longed to be young again playing outside on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

I remember when I wasn’t boggled down by that horrible word: “responsibility.” During that glorious stage of life the only thing to occupy my time was the limitless borders of my imagination. I wanted more than anything to go outside and climb a tree. Or run for running’s sake. I even wished that I could fall and scrape my knees {but only for a minute}. Instead I’m stuck indoors reading about dreary economics and obligatory patriarchal ideologies.

By 5:00 pm I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed a bucket, slipped on some shoes, headed outside and played.

Signature Scents ;

We all know that scent is the strongest of the 5 senses linked to memory. Isn't it fun when you smell something and are instantly reminded of something, or someone? I love shopping for perfume/cologne and stumbling across one that smells like someone I know! I own about 10 bottles of different perfumes, but I definitely have a "signature scent".

I am Ralph Lauren Romance.

Even with all of the other perfumes I wear, whenever people I am close to smell this, they are reminded of me.

My mom is Estee Lauder Beautiful.

She hasn't worn this perfume in about 10 years but to me it will always "smell like my mom!" It brings back memories of when I was little and my mom would get ready for church. For some reason I remember her in her slip and pantyhose. Now she has about 30 different bottles and wears a different perfume almost everyday, but none of them really smell like her...

My Grandma is Elizabeth Arden's Red Door.

Again, she hasn't worn this in about 10 years. She started wearing stuff from Bath & Body Works, and even my Romance, but whenever I'm in the mall and catch a whiff of Red Door, I smell my Grandma, and my memories take me back to her house in Albuquerque with Randy Travis music playing in the background.

These are just a few "signature scents" I know and love. What's yours? Or, for that matter, your loved ones'?

(PS remember, it's not your favorite smell, but the one that others recognize as "you".)

Dear F.B.U.

Dear FBU,

While other girls are shamelessly gallivanting about town covering their lady parts with dental floss, around here I feel the need for a certain amount of coverage. You know, a certain level of support that just can’t be provided by going au natural.

Most days I wear something I can move in, something that’s comfortable and a little sexy. There are times, however, when I find myself longing for “laundry days.” I know those will be the days when you’re all that’s left. I love the way your elastic fits snuggly around my thighs, the way your soft cotton caresses my skin, even the tacky VPL

you show when I work out. Yes Full Butted Underwear, I secretly love you.

I try very hard to keep my moral compass pointing due north, especially when I sleep. I like knowing that you will keep everything neat and orderly, and tucked in its proper place, and not strewn about the bed like a jiggling-fleshy mess.

F.B.U. we’ve had our share of tough times. You were once a reason a boy broke up with me, well one of the many reasons he listed anyway.

But when I choose to wear a skirt or dress, knowing that there is something between the world I live in and the world of gynecology is information for which I am truly grateful.

So let others go “commando.” Let them make fun of your full coverage. And while I may not don you all the time, don’t be sad, but take pleasure in knowing that I look forward to laundry days.

Your Secret Admirer,

Morgan the MotorerIs NoRosie the Riviter

The great thing about having {2} brothers currently working as mechanics, is that I get discounted if not free auto maintenance… Right?

The little sticky on my windshield says June 21, 2009 under “Date of next oil change.” In case you didn’t know, it is now September 15. Yes, this is bad. I have asked both brothers at least twice, and hinted numerous times to change my oil. I’ve given options of switching cars, so they’ll already have it work, or offered to “be in the neighborhood” when one of them is on duty so that my poor car can get a nice drink of grease.

Because my complaints have not amounted to progress, I decided to take matters into my own hands, á la Rosie the Riveter. I heard a Pep boys commercial advertising 5 quarts of oil for only $9.99, so I decided to swing by and pick some up. Any damsel knows that as long as she has the tools, she can find a prince charming to do the work for her (why else would we have brothers, dad’s and boyfriends?).

I arrived at Pep boys and found an incredibly large sign on the back wall that said “maintenance”. {Sigh of relief} I congratulated myself on the ease at which I was able to navigate my way through a store I’d never been in. When I reached my destination, I saw the entire back wall was covered with motor oil. “What brand should I use? What kind of what brand should I use? Synthetic or not?” So many questions flashed through my head. {Cue boy-on-white-horse} I called my brother, and he assured me that I would first need to find the oil that was on sale (5 for $9.99), and then find one that said 5W-20.

Success! After only about 30 seconds of looking I noticed it was literally right in front of me. I grabbed the oil and took it to the counter. The very large, masculine, She-man behind the counter informed me of the 5 quart for $9.99 promotion that was going on. “Yes, that’s why I’m buying 5 quarts,” I replied as politely as I could even though there was a slight hint of callous sarcasm to my tone. She then informed me that in order to get the deal I needed to also purchase a filter. “Well, what kind do I need?” I asked.

She looked at me like I was a complete idiot, and asked with annoyance in her voice, “year, make and model of your vehicle?” Vehicle. It sounded like I was being interrogated by the police. But, this was an easy question, so I told her. She then informed that she also needed to know the size of my engine. “Uhhhh…” I told her I didn’t know and when she listed the options (V4, V6, V8) I realized that V6 sounded the most familiar, so I went with that one. She told me that there were two possible filter types, and asked something about thread size.

It’s been a few years since I’ve sewn or crocheted anything, {let’s see, if the needle size is H, then that would make the thread size…?} But I couldn’t see how this applied to an oil filter. I could tell she was becoming aggravated, so I said, “If I don’t know the size of my engine, I can tell you I’m not going to know the thread size. I don’t even know what a thread is.” She repeated the question, more slowly, and emphasized the words, as if to imply that I REALLY DID know the answer, but it wasn’t clicking because we spoke different languages. As if saying things slow and loud was going to all of a sudden force my brain to decide that I did in fact know what a thread is. {I apologize if I’ve ever done this while talking to someone who doesn’t speak English very well.}

I replied, slowly, drawn out, and emphasized, “I dooon’t knooow what a threeeaaad iiiiissss.” I left this reply open ended, like a question, in case she decided she wanted to explain it to me. She didn’t.

I was tired of feeling like an idiot, so I asked if there was someone who could look at my engine and solve the whole problem. Apparently they don’t do that at Pep boys unless you pay them…

Hmm, I thought of something else! I would call the Fabulous Freddy’s I always take my car to and ask them what filter to buy. The sweet little boy on the other end of the line told me that they use model “P, as in pet. Z, as in zebra. 42,” his exact words. I told She-man the good news. She said she didn’t know what PZ-42 meant, and I needed to ask him the thread size. {What is with her and thread size?} I did, and he replied he didn’t know what thread size was. GREAT!

I told She-man that this is more trouble than it was worth, so I was just going to leave and forget it. She then suggested that I just pick one of the filters to purchase with my oil in order to get the promotional price, and if it turns out to be the wrong one, I could bring it back.

Oh-em-gee! This has to be the best customer service solution I’ve ever heard! “I don’t know, so why don’t you waste your time, energy, gas, and money because it’s no skin off my nose if you have to make another trip down here.” {Awesome}

With that, I informed her that she would need to put the 5 quarts of oil back on the shelf because I’d had enough, and walked out of the store.

I Do Believe in Fairies

I have a friend.

We'll call her J.

J has a sister named T.

When J and T were little, they shared a bedroom.

T was very clean, but J was very messy.

T would get so sick of J's messes that she she would clean J's side of the room.

Until J was in her late teens she thought the Cleaning Fairies were responsible.

I desperately need the Cleaning Fairies!

Girls Who Write in Diaries+Boys that Write in Diaries

This is Colby's bestie, Steve:

The other day, Steve sent me the following text message:

I told him I had not seen it, but I'd check it out.

I TiVo'd it last night and watched this morning.

Not as good as Twilight

But a million times better than True Blood

(which is not hard, anything is)

I think I like it. I hardly ever have time to watch TV anymore (sad), so it will be TiVo'd every week and sit in the queue until the semester is over and I have time to watch.

For a slightly embellished episode synopses, check out Busy Bee Lauren, she summed it up pretty well (and added a few scripted lines of her own).

Bits & Pieces

{1}

Did anyone catch the Season Premier of Glee last night? Neither did, but I TiVo'd it. I never saw the first season, but after all of the hype, I had to see what it was about. I watched this morning, and overall it was very different from anything on TV right now which I LOVE! The music was fantastic, and I found myself actually giggling (not quite laughing) through most of the episode. The only negative is Jayne Lynch. Does anyone agree with me when I say that every character this woman plays is absolutely repulsive? If you didn't catch it, check out Glee on Wednesday nights 9pm PST on Fox. Bonus: Mr. Schuester is totally hot!

PS. Sorry about the not-so-great quality

{2}

In August of 2008 I pre-ordered The Twilight Saga: The Official Guide. After pre-ordering I discovered it would not be available until December 2008. Well my friends, it's now September 2009, and I still have not seen my book. In fact, I forgot all about it until in today's mail I received a letter. This letter was from Barnes & Nobel thanking me for my payment and informing me that due to an apparent Law Suit against Stephanie Meyer, the book will not be released until December 31, 2010!!! Are you kidding me? by then my fascination will be over... Not really, but come on. At least put the $11 (I had a coupon) back in my account until then. Thanks.

{3}

Evan and I are both running for CSUN Senate office. Basically every Collage at UNLV has a chance to have representatives in the student senate. Apparently the collage of Life Sciences NEVER has people run, so our chances of winning are pretty good. Wish us Luck, and if you're a student, "Don't be mean, Vote For Green(s)!"

{4}

I am in serious need of new make-me-beautiful-products. I'm out of just about everything I use daily, but I currently can not afford everything I need because I'm trying to pay my $3000 Fall tuition. I found a website called BlushBeauty.com and I think I'm in love. Normally my Dermalogica face wash is $42 a bottle, but I found it for $25 and thanks to Kendra over at The Angarolas Dirty Laundry for telling me about RetailMeNot.com, I found a coupon for 10% off so I also got the face lotion!

I also am also running low on my Bare Minerals make-up... all of it. Foundation, Warmth, Bisque, and Mineral Veil! I only know of two places to buy it, the Fashion Show Mall or ULTA. I was reviewing prices online, and the trip was going to cost me close to $100 with tax, YIKES! Again thanks to Retail Me Not I found promotion by Glamour Magazine for 20% off the order! If you shop at the Bare Escentuals website between now and October 5th and use Coupon Code: GLAMOUR for your discount. I also had a coupon from a previous order which was very exciting. For both my Dermalogica order and Bare Minerals order I saved $98!!!

{5}

I took my first Organic Chemistry Quiz today. As the girl sitting next to me put it, "What a Joke!" And not in a good way... First of all our professor only gave us 10 minutes to do 30 problems!!! Are you kidding me? When I'm doing homework it takes me 10 minutes to do 1 problem! Secondly this quiz was only on 2 chapters, and let me tell you, I know these two chapters. I've studies so much that if I wanted to I could repeat Chapters 12 & 16 of the McMurry Organic Chemistry 7th edition to you... Verbatim! However when we got our quizzes, I didn't recognize any of the material... Well parts of it, but mostly everything was new to me! I actually answered 4 problems. By that I mean I read the question, sort of knew what it was talking about, then got lost so I put the answer I thought was best. Just as I got to question #5 time was up and test was over! As my professor yelled at us, for the 3rd time, to turn in our quizzes, I hurriedly penciled ABCD consecutively for the remaining 26 questions. I swear, I hate O-chem.

The Bros, the BF and I had a Trilogy Tuesday this week b/c the BF has never seen LOTR, looser. Anyway, I loved it so much it inspired me to create my own ring! It's an "aromatic benzene Ring" with Elvish writing that says "I hate O-Chem" and it really does have dark powers. I am pretty sure I will look like a she-Gollum by the end of the semester!

What's going on in your life this week?

The Sparrow

This weekend at the cabin the BF's Sister-in-Law had brought a few movies to keep us entertained in case of rainy weather. One of the movies was called, "The Uninvited." My BF's neice who is turning 3 on Monday, was infatuated by the movie cover.

Through out the weekend she brought me the movie cover and would repeatedly ask the same questions regarding it:

"What hims doing?" (42 times)

"What hims name?" (17 times)

"Hims a monster?" (6 times)

Each time she would ask a question, my initial reaction was that of annoyance. However I remembered something my mom e-mailed me a few weeks ago, and so, rather than brush off this little girls inquisitions, I answered every time.

"It's a girl Hunny, and she's looking in the window, like this..." (I would go outside to the deck and shut the screen door which also had lattice work, hold my hands around my face and peek in the house to show her)

"Her name is," I hadn't seen the movie so I quickly read the back cover of the case, "Rachael".

"No baby, she's not a monster, she's just a girl, but the pictures makes her look scary, huh?"

If you're wondering how I was able to keep my cool, and answer the questions EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY CAME UP, here it is:

I know movies can be a pain to watch, but I promise this will warm your heart.

Labor Day Weekend

Labor Day Weekend could not have come at a better time.   With the onslaught of school, homework, volunteering, photography, work, etc. I was need of a serious holiday! The BF was able to take the weekend off of work (which never happens), and so we joined his family at their cabin   in Duck Creek, UT. I have never been to a “cabin” so needless to say I was excited. We packed up the car   Saturday morning and headed to southern Utah.

During a quick “princess-needs-a-fountain-Pepsi” and “BF needs to pee” break in Cedar City, we both took note of the air. It was so fresh! Cool and crisp, and everything Las Vegas air is not.   {Sigh} I took a BIG breath in, as if I were never going to breathe again, to appreciate it one more time before getting back on the road. Next Stop,   Strawberry Point!

While driving up through the mountain, I couldn’t help but gawk at the cabins all around us. Some of these “summer homes” were amazing! We pulled up to our destination, and I was quite impressed.  It didn’t at all resemble the small Lincoln-log abode I had pictured in my mind. It was situated on a large plot of land surrounded by evergreens. There was 2 story cabin, a guest house and a garage housing the “toys” (snowmobile, ATV’s, snowboard equipment, etc.)

After a quick tour, we were able to settle in. It was quickly brought to my attention that a 24 pack of Pepsi   had been brought and was waiting in the refrigerator for me! What great hospitality! I was eager to relax and spend some time with the BF’s family. After about an hour we all started to get cabin fever. The living room wasn’t small, but certainly too small for 9 people   and 4 dogs. I, along with the BF, his brother, and sister-in-law decided to go for a ride on the ATV’s.

Our weekend carried on the following manner:

• 
  
  Eat a ridiculously large breakfast of eggs, toast, waffles, pancakes, bacon, fruit, etc.
• 
  
  Ride ATV’s
• 
  
  Eat lunch
• 
  
  Spend time together on the humongous back porch
• 
  
  Watch the wildlife come eat out of the feeder set up under the balcony (deer, turkeys, squirrels)
• 
  
  Ride ATV’s
• 
  
  Prepare dinner over the fire pit
• 
  
  Roast Marshmallows
• 
  
  Watch a scary movie
• 
  
  Go to bed, and appreciate that I could actually see stars

I had a really good time and am so glad I got to go and get away. I always love spending time with the BF’s nieces and think it’s so cute that Margarita Mallory no longer calls me “Mon-kin” (pronounced Moh-n-kin), but now refers to me as “Beh-beh”. She’s heard the BF refer to me that way so many times, she thinks it’s my name!

Now I’m home. Back to studying, back to blah. When is the next 3 day weekend?!?

♪ Tried to focus my attention...

♫ But I feel so A.D.D.

I need some help

Some inspiration

But it's not commin' easily ♪

Enlarge Picture to see why!

Listening to: These Words

Are you having trouble getting motivated for something? What do you find helps?

Dear Trendy-Tools,

I see you, walking around campus just screaming for attention. Oh you’re getting attention alright, but not the kind you want. While you think you look smoking hot in your plunging neckline, all self-respecting women are quietly making fun of you.

I am not sure who decided that it was ok for men to wear such low cut clothing it requires weekly chest waxing, but it’s not. V-neck t-shirts should only allowed to be worn as undershirts by Grandfathers the world over. Just because yours is purple does not make it cool.

Besides looking ridiculous, you make me uncomfortable. I worry that at any minute your nipple will pop out and create an embarrassing “wardrobe malfunction” incident. This in turn makes me more uncomfortable and a little self conscious as I wonder why seeing a male chest pepperoni would make me uneasy.

I personally believe it is the context of areola-peek-a-boo. Were I at a public swimming pool, or other venue where it is socially acceptable for men to remove their shirts I would feel no discontent. However, when I am strolling to Mammalogy, between the BEH and MSM, I do not want to be bombarded by your man cleavage.

To the heavier set men; V-necks do not “create a slimming effect.” In fact, they make your man boobs more obvious. I feel the need to take off my bra and give it to you; you clearly need the support more than my A-cups.

To hairy chested men; don’t get me wrong, I love chest hair (as long as it’s manscapped and kept under control), but when it is spewing out of your Deep V it is reminiscent of a bikini-clad woman who needs a waxing.

Wearing your top with a blazer does not make it “smarter”. Wearing it with jeans does not make you look “cool and laid back”. Lastly, pairing a V-neck with a cardigan makes you look like Mr. Rodgers.

You’ve all seen VH1’s Tool Academy and you look like one of its contestants. Please find something else to wear.

Your friend,

Dr. Hova

The following is a conversation I had while trying to eat lunch in busy cafe. As I was walking to my table I heard a man shout:

Stranger #1 (obviously in the medical field or an appreciator of fine art): "Oh-em-gee! Look at her nose!"

Stranger #2 (clearly enthused): "Uh huh".

Meanwhile I just stand there looking like an idiot with an are-you-talking-about-me-face.

Stranger #1: "You have the most amazing profile! Turn sideways, let me get a better look."

I obliged him for curiosity's sake even though my face exemplified total humiliation.

Stranger #1: "Man! The degree of slope is almost perfect. You have a great nose."

Me: "Well thank you, I've always been a little self conscious of it."

Stranger #2: "What? Why?"

Me: "A girl in high school used to make fun of me. She said it was big and knobby..."

Stranger #1: "No, it's great, and it goes really well with your face..."

Just as I was about to thank him he asked,

Stranger #1: "Who was your doctor?"

Say whaaaa? (Short pause...)

Me: "Dr. Hova."

Stranger #2: "I don't believe I know him, what's his first name?"

Me: "I'm not sure, but I think it started with a J..."

Stranger #1: "I'm sure you don't, but do you happen to have his business card?"

Me: "Nnn..."

I started... But then I remered, I did have HIS card. I handed him a Pass Along Card and with that, I returned to my table.

PS. If you're interested you can click here for free media about Dr. "J. Hova". Some of the videos are really good.