In this video sponsored by Cottonelle I talk about two, count ‘em, embarrassing things I do in the bathroom. Watch it and get embarrassed for me.
If you don’t see the video below, click here to view!
Holy jumping Jesusfish! It’s been over four months since I let you promote your crappy blog on my crappy blog!
And it’s time, like that ridiculous phoenix everyone talks about metaphorically (but nobody actually knows the story) and rise from the ashes.
Today, and for the next twenty-four hours, you get to pimp out your blog in the comment section of my blog. Get some new followers! Increase your internet exposure. Make friends with other bloggers!
Wait… not so fast, Turbo.
You gotta earn the free plug.
In the past I’ve made you write me poetry or reveal something embarrassing about you that nobody else knows. Let’s do something equally awesome.
In order to promote your blog, this time you must tell me something embarrassing about your father.
Maybe he farts in front of your friends. Calls your best friend Brent when it’s really Brett. Only tips out at 10%. Runs around the house in his underwear, and they’re not boxer briefs but tight whites.
My most popular story is the one where I saw my father’s donger as an adult. I’ve already done my work. Now do yours.
This is a great way to kick off Father’s Day next month. Or not a great way. I don’t know. Don’t really care.
So remember, start the comment with… My father is embarrassing because he ______________.
Then put your blog underneath and tell us what it’s all about!
Special thanks to oSex co-host Karen who came up with this concept. Watch our latest episode!
I miss writing.
For the past month I’ve taken time off and haven’t made the blog a priority. It’s a bummer because I miss my regular commenters. I also miss sharing my daily life. Quite frankly, outside of doing a lot of dating, not a whole lot has happened to mention. But not much happened last year and I still managed to write every day without a miss.
Let’s talk about wearing the same shirts on dates with different people.
I have determined that a uniform is necessary for the well-being of my dating.
If you’re going on a few dates a week then, I’ve learned, you have to always wear the same shirt the first time. Because you’re going to forget what you wore with who. Now, I’m not out galavanting with every young lovely I come across. But even with just a couple of dates now and then, you aren’t going to remember that you put on that silver dickie with Barbara last Tuesday.
Now, what if you wore the same outfit by accident to the same date twice in a row? Who cares, right? Not me – I don’t give a shit. But women do. I know this because I’ve asked a bunch of them. I’m not exactly sure what the big deal is, but they notice. I can’t tell you what any person I’ve taken out has worn. I hardly notice. I wish I did as my mom’s business is high-end women’s fashion clothing, and you think I’d be more tuned in, but I’m just not. This is embarrassing and try not to judge, but I can’t tell you anyone in my life’s eye color. I know I’m sort of blue. Couldn’t tell you my family, friends, or any girlfriend’s peepers.
On the positive side, I also don’t notice if you gain weight. I once had a girlfriend who put on like fifteen pounds for some reason. I think she was stressed about work or something. It never even occurred to me to pay attention to her expanding waistline. She was still as beautiful to me as ever.
The downside is that I don’t notice when you lose weight either.
So, I need to work on being more present for external factors like dress and appearance. I am very aware for internal stuff that you’re experiencing. Thanks to a shitload of therapy I’ve learned how to develop intimacy through paying attention to your feelings and junk. I’m present for you, baby! Now, let me turn on the Playstation and zone out while you do something that women do when their husbands are playing video games.
If you’re going to date me you’re going to have to love my purple striped shirt. Don’t worry, it looks nice. Yes, it’s been in front of other women who I was trying to impress. Yes I once spilled Ethiopian chicken all down the front. And yes, once it even came off in a heavy makeout session with a lawyer. And no, I didn’t see her “briefs.” Sorry, worst joke EVER.
Now I need to come up with universal second date shirt. Maybe the brown one.