My greatest fear in life is that photographs of me wearing my headgear in public will surface. They are out there, and the thought of them gives me chills.

Last night John ordered a pineapple juice and dark rum concoction. I looked at him quizzically, it seemed a little odd. He offered only this, "It makes the ejaculate sweeter" and smiled at me. I poked him in the side, and the people next to us threw up on the floor or at the very least, they made distinctive gagging sounds (no pun intended).

John leaned over and whispered, "I just wanted to say that because it sounds really dirty."

Sometimes I wonder about that kid...but what can I say, it's better than an aspargus smoothie. Am I right?

I knew it! For what seems like years I've been telling people that Aspercreme used to have a jingle that said, "You bet your sweet Aspercreme!" and now John found it on Youtube last night. The demi-gods of Youtube, how I love you so!

Let me share with you...and you, stop wondering why I was so worried about it, will ya?

Busy watching John renovating the bathroom...

it doesn't make for good blogging material...oh and the fact that I have a 12 inch stack of papers that I need to deal with for work.

Be back soon!!!

I am sad to report to you that John and our alarm clock have now parted ways. It was not an amicable split. In fact, it was a woman who came between them. That woman was me.

This morning I woke up at (what I thought was) 7:30 and my heart damn near stopped beating. Why? Because I need to be at work at 7:25 am and there's no way in HELL that I can be late. I screamed to John, "JOHN! It's 7 fucking 30!" as if screaming would make time stop. John slowly rolled over and then recoiled at the sight of the time as if it were a snake about to strike him. Truth be told, I was about to strike him too!

Luckily, I am married to one of those annoying people who set the clocks ahead by 15 minutes than the actual time. Typically, I don't need this type of "crutch". I'm one of those people who say that if you're fifteen minutes early, you're late. I'm always early... Heck, I was born 6 weeks ahead of schedule!! Most people hate people like me, I can live with that; as long as I can continue being early. Most of the time I do not like John's 15 minute trick, however, today I loved him for it and I will be keeping this "fail safe". I also loved his quick moving as I was shouting out for help to assemble my wardrobe quickly as if he were part of my fashion pit crew. I was out of the house by 7:21 am. I got to work at 7:23 am ( I live thirty seconds from work...I could walk there...if I wasn't incredibly late).

Whew...

So yeah, because John has gotten all touchy feely with the alarm clock's on/off button in his sleep, they are no longer allowed to stay together on the same side of the bed. The affair is officially over. There's a new sheriff in town...who doesn't even like the snooze button. Good luck ol' Johnnyboy! (Only kidding, I'll still hit snooze for ya!)

Of course, of all days, today would be the day that a photographer came to my room to take my picture for an awards ceremony that I'm involved in (because I'm a winner!!!). Greasy hair/passion filled hair (read: cum from the night before...brushed out as I pulled out of the driveway) pulled into a pony tail? Check. Fairly bad outfit? Check. A Winter's worth of fat? Check. A roomful of 17 and 18 year olds watching me blush as I stand in front of them posed artificially? Double check.

My life is glorious, is it not?

The other day John and I watched Stranger Than Fiction and we both teared up at this...


I think it's nice to have an sappy husband, because now he sings it to me when we go to bed at night. I think that might be the cutest thing he's ever done. What about you guys? What sweet things are you doing for your significant other? What are they doing for you?

Now a very important thing in a monagamous relationship is to keep things hot...you know, like a big spicy pot of Jambalaya (you will understand the food reference soon). So the other night I did my best to turn up the heat with John--I'm awesome like that, I suppose.

We started out with some smooches. I whispered in his ear, "Mmm, you taste like salami, I like salami it's one of my favorite lunchmeats" because well, he did...and it was cool because it's true, I like salami. He looked at me like I was crazy, ignored me with a little giggle and kept at his kissing work. Then things heated up a bit more. Clothes came off, kisses went everywhere and you all know how the game goes...and if you don't? You shouldn't be reading this blog and you should probably go ask your mommy about the birds and the bees (while you're at it, ask what insects and birds have to do with sex and let me know, m'kay?).

Moving on.

So just as things were getting supremely hot and I was all like, "Yeah! I'm gonna get me some of this husband of mine" (I talk to myself in my head like this sometimes, is that so wrong?). However, I say out loud, "And now I get to have some of my favorite of all lunchmeats!" in a really weird voice because I was still fixated on the salami comment, you see?(see the bottom of the post for an example of how I spoke...I'd be the green guy) I blame all of this, as well as the rest of my weirdness on the fact that I fell down sixteen stairs when I was two and landed on my head. Well, the martian voice and the off the wall lunchmeat statement got both of us laughing incredibly hard to the point where John just wasn't focused on his task at hand. Never fear, while laughing hysterically, I redirected him with a sharp heel to the back and all was well...aside from the mini crack ups throughout.

Later I thought he was leaning over to kiss me but instead he said, "So, we're resorting to weiner jokes now,huh? That's your foreplay script these days?"
"Of course not", I replied, " I'm not immature." He nodded and jabbed me in the ribs,
"It was going to be a joke about ring bologna, wasn't it?"

The man is a freaking mind reader.

My voice sounded like this:

Right before bed last night I raced upstairs to beat John to the bathroom-- and beat him I did. When John came in to brush his teeth he found me laughing and saying, "Uh oh" to myself. He did what any person would do when they find their significant other cracking up on the toilet in the dark, he asked, "What's wrong with you?" And with that, I presented to him my panties that I had forgotten to take off before sitting down to pee. I don't think I've done that since Kindergarten.

I think this is a true indication that I'm losing my mind, quickly rather than slowly.

In a totally unrelated story I would like to talk about how John's crazy too. See, because I can do that and he can't, because he refuses to blog with me. I've mentioned before how John talks in his sleep and he's really creepy about it because he sits up with his eyes open, grabs me and babbles about something strange and completely off the wall. Well last night he grabs me, shakes me awake and points in horror at the corner and asked me, "Is that a 20 lb rat or is it a 20 lb rabbit?" (as if it would really matter which 20 lb creature it was). Seeing nothing I groggily decided what to reply with other than, "Why are you waking me up!" I decided that telling him it was a rabbit would be more soothing so I said, "Babe, it's a 20 lb rabbit and it's not going to hurt you." He responded by pulling the covers up over his head and saying, "That's what you think, I'm getting the hell out of here!" and then he burrowed deep into the bed so that he was completely covered. His final muffled cry was, "Good luck!"

It's good to know that I'm going to have to be the hero when there's a 20 lb rabbit in the room!

So I was checking my sitemeter and reading the keywords that brought people to my little corner of the Internets and some of the queries just made me giggle so I wanted to share. Let's call this the "Funny, Yet Somewhat Perverted Keyword List". Some of the keywords are puzzling, some are funny and some are just plain strange. Let's get started, shall we?

1. Melina Boobs. First of all, yes let me start with the fact that I do indeed have mammary glands and thusly, boobs. Second of all, John said to me on Saturday, "Let me look at that rack" (as I was trying on shirts braless to see if I wanted to keep them or not. He continued by saying, "Damn you have great boobs for being thirty...hell even for an eighteen year old." Because he says smart and truthful things like this, he gets regular sex and all of my love and affection. Continue praising my breasts John and you will remain in good favor of the queen (me). Although it's not hard to compliment them...they are pretty nice. Even my favorite friend from work Jackie could tell you that. Don't ask.

2. How to tell if a man is playing games with a woman. The easiest way to tell if someone is playing a game is to look around to see if there is a deck of cards, dice, Monopoly board, Twister plastic dot thingy, or some other game component. If you don't see any of these things then you are not, I repeat, not playing a game.

3. Blow me in stockings. If I didn't know better I would thought that John wrote this keyword, if we could just substitute stockings with knee high socks. Poor kid, I'll have to buy more of them...our dog keeps burying all my socks in the back yard (still) and when I do wear knee high socks for John one's a green argyle and the other is a white sock with flowers running up the side. Tres sexy, no?

4. "my first time" plant. I didn't realize that people celebrated their first sexual experience with plants these days. Who gives this plant to you? The person you had sex with? Your mom? I think I want a first time plant!

5. "back seat" bra pill. I think the same person who introduced me to the "first time plant" is now introducing me to the "back seat bra pill". Now I'm not exactly sure what a back seat bra pill is but I'm going to take a stab in the dark. So, you're in the back seat clumsily making out with someone and you just can't seem to get her bra off. So you pull out a Braoff (patent pending) and pop it into your mouth. Instantly you become dexterous and are able to remove the cumbersome garment (an aside: John can get my bra off faster than I can! Seriously, I've never seen anyone able to do it simply by twisting his thumb and forefinger and it is off! He should patent that little move).

6. Daddy's Little Slut XXX. This is only funny to me because I think John and my dad look alike, particularly when John wears his (new! replacing his missing) aviator sunglasses. This creeps John out sometimes (not that I blame him)...and because of this, I don't think he ever really wants me to call him Daddy. Because of this, I doubt I'll ever be Daddy's Little Slut...fine by me.

7. Playgirl Men. On my 16th my dad purchased me a copy of Playgirl and a box of condoms. The condoms were in case I was thinking about having sex and the Playgirl was just for a laugh. Well, it sure was a laugh...there is nothing sexy about Playgirl. I remember lots of flaccid penises and posing in junkyards. Hott.

8. And the keyword that wins for the most random..." Molson Golden lion being sucked off by a seal". I am apparently the number two website for such a query. I am honored. When I tried to find something on Google images using this exact query, this is what I found.

John and I made a pact not to go out and blow all our money at the bar during this holiday weekend...and we followed that pact, however, I came out of the weekend with $58 in my checking account. Catch-22 right?

We did go out, we just did it on Thursday (not the weekend, you see?!?). We met up with John's brother ER at one of the three bars in town that he's not banned from. Sadly, he can't come with us to thitwbar...but we're working on that. If John and I aren't banned from there, neither should ER. From there, we went to thithwbar to play some pool. We thought in some naive way that we could go in there, play some pool and then go home...not so. We ran into EVERYONE there! So of course, we grabbed bar stools and stayed awhile...probably too long.

Friday was a day of recovery for the two of us. In our drunken state we agreed to host an after party for another one of our friend Tony's drunk bus tours (his band plays somewhere and he rents a bus to bring along a crowd). Again, we were proud of ourselves for not partaking in the night's activities but I guess at the time (Thursday night's drunkeness) we wanted to still be included...not so much on Friday night. We planted our butts on the couch and began watching Black Christmas. Within seconds John was snoring happily while I watched the incredibly stupid plot of a spree killer with yellow skin killing people on Christmas Eve...oh, and he really likes to eat eyeballs. Whoo! As I alternated between watching dumb movie #3,900,432 of my lifetime and watching my slumbering husband (who was, by far more entertaining), I realized that in a few hours there were going to be lots of drunken people in our house. I was tired. I didn't want to host anyone at my house anymore. The idea seemed so perfect after several drinks but it seemed pretty damn flawed when sober. I got up off the couch and announced to John's prone body, "We are not having an after-party here!" and I marched over to the door and locked it. Now, I would've had a tough time explaining this to the disgruntled post party goers but as luck would have it, I fell asleep watching Law & Order on the couch and never heard their phone calls.

At around 3:30am, John and I both awoke (John having slept for 8 hours and I having slept 5) and we were wide awake. So we did what any fun couple would do...we decided to go to an all night diner and have some breakfast! Well...except for one thing. When we arrived at the diner (fun fact* it was the first place I ever puked from drinking as a teen), I realized that I had left my cash at home. We turned around and John tried to continue to love me and we ended up at a different (much better) diner after we stopped at the house for the forgotten cash.

Saturday was spent in two ways--cleaning/organizing and drinking. I've mentioned it before but John plies me with alcohol so that I will be productive in the cleaning process and so I won't pout. It actually really works...and I actually worked too! We sorted my clothes, washed countless numbers of laundry loads, made a gigantic pile for Good Will and filled my IKEA wardrobes (yes two...I had to steal the one that was meant for John) to the brim. Eventually, John declared that we had done enough work and we set about to do as many Jagerbombs in our kitchen as we could. There's still an enormous amount of work to do in our back bedroom but shockingly, there's no Jagermeister left...funny how things work like that, isn't it?

Yesterday we saw Grindhouse and I thought it was amazingly good! My favorite parts were the fake trailers that came in between the two movies. John swears that he would really go see Machete but I think I would want to see Thanksgiving.

This movie, looks pretty exciting to me too. What could be better than killer sheep?

Well, my decision is made...after making two other blogs (the one I may keep), I decided to plant my feet like Keri Strug and stick it out. Obviously, if I have a blog and I write about myself in a space as vast as the Internet, there's a level of expectation. I expect, I hope that people read my thoughts...so be it. I'm sure everyone with a blog has a moment where you wonder and worry--what you wonder and worry about varies on any given day.

So whatever, I'm back and here to stay.

On a totally different subject. Here are some marital questions for you that stem from recent discussions while snuggling on the couch:

1. Is it wrong to make your husband list all the people he's had sex with, including first and last names while you count on your hands and tsk, tsk him? How about when he forgets someone and you put her on the list for him because you've made him make the list before?

2. Is it wrong to be proud of your husband for not being a total slut, like...ahem...some people were at (brief) points in their lives?

3. While he's making said list, is it ok to make gagging noises/dog barks/and/or snickering sounds at the mention of some of the girls' names?

4. Is it wrong to declare that you are like Grover Cleveland in that you served two terms in his sex life, just not consecutively, to prove that you "won" and that the girl in between your "terms" is stupid and gross? (R, if you still read this...I'm not talking about you!)


5. Is it wrong that when your husband grabs you (and pokes you painfully in the ribs like you do to him ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME) for being a smartass and says, "Ok let's hear your list..." to declare that you were a virgin before him...even though you know that he's read your archives.

6. Is it wrong for a husband to ask you to define what a "tear" is. As in, "After so and so broke up with me, I went on a bit of a tear through men." Tear= However many men it takes to get over the last relationship. (As some wise woman once said, "The best way to get over a man, is to get under another one")

7. Is it wrong that your husband is convinced that you've slept with over 100 people! Even though you try to allay his fears that the number is much, much lower. C'mon John...I had to work every now and then, I couldn't lay around in bed all the time!

8. And finally, is it wrong that when your cute husband asks you if you need anything before he leaves for work (because you are on vacation!), that you say sweetly, "A nice hard cock would do me nicely" knowing that he would love to crawl back in bed with you but he has to begin his long commute into the city and he knows what you'll be doing...if you remembered to buy batteries!

Sorry kids, it wasn't an April Fool's joke...but I still haven't made up my mind what I'm going to do. In the immortal words of the Clash the question is, "Should I stay or should I go now?" I started a new blog but I hate it, and my one true love is this blog right here. So, we shall see. I've never been one who like to pack up and move. I may have been too rash in my decisions.

I wish blogger would let me password protect certain blogs rather than make me privatize the whole kit and caboodle (speaking of which, didn't you all just love caboodles back in the day? I carried all kinds of makeup, fake jewelry and crap in that thing!). Hmmm...WordPress keeps looking nicer and nicer.

...in a week or so. This blog is getting deleted. It's time for more anonymity .
Send me your email, if you've been with me for a while, I'll tell you where I went poof...

my email : melinalovesjohnny@gmail.com

Give me a little time to figure out where I'm going to go, but I will definitely keep you all in the loop.