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The absurdities of “men caves” and other “men-only” nonsense

A friend of mine, let’s call him Dave, has been really pissing me off lately (can I say piss off on WordPress?)

Anyway, everytime we hang out with him and a bunch of friends he wants the guys and the women to hang out separately. In the same house, just different rooms. And if we play games, god forbid women should play. Because not that women are not capable of playing along, but women don’t take the games seriously enough….. which yeah, it’s just a game, Dave and just because you win at it it doesn’t make you somehow a winner in real life. Akhem.

In addition to his segregated time spending between sexes he also has a man cave. Two men caves, technically. One glorious man room filled with his workout equipment, comicbooks and pheromone-based scents (I’m guessing) and his garage crammed with motorcycles which reeks of testosterone, or whatever that scent is. The rest of the house he is in is mostly decorated by his fiancee, Lindsey.

Now, every couple has their vibe but here’s what I’ll tell you about men caves and men only time.

  1. Men caves shouldn’t exist- women should compromise and not take over the whole damn house and decorate it upon her liking, it’s that simple. You’re a couple, you live together, you share things. Both parties should compromise.
  2. Girls time/guys nights- they are ok every once in awhile but the reality is- if you need some time away from your spouse/bf/gf, then something isn’t right. Because I can tell you that after I come home from work at cca. 6pm and I only get to see David for a couple of hours before we both hit the hay exhausted, I don’t have any desire to spend even LESS time with him. If anything, because I only see him for those few hours I actually want to see him MORE.

So this whole men only, girls only stupidity needs to stop. If we want men and women to have 50/50 relationships, have them work as partners, then compromises have to be made.

Because guess what, your partner is your team.

You both live in the house. You can both ride the motorcycle. You can both read comic books. You can both BBQ in the back. You can both fix the sink together. You can both wear boots and know how to use a jack. You can both play sports… etc. It’s common sense, Dave.

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Area dog more than happy to be a couch potato

“Would you look at her,” said Tanya with a hint of despise. She was referring to her dog Stella who was stretched out across the couch in the living room. “I think when she dies we will bury the couch with her.”

Tanya and I nonchalantly took a seat next to Stella. “Is it really that bad if a dog enjoys being on the couch?” I asked Tanya. “You love the couch as much as the next person.” “I do,” she responded and took a bite of the grilled cheese sandwich she made inspired by the one seen on America’s Test Kitchen. “But this dog, she almost abuses the couch. I’ve never seen anyone so happy just spreading across the thing in multiple ways. She lays on her back, her belly, her side- you name it.”

I looked at Stella. Her eyes gave away content and a sense of bliss. Soft cushions were supporting her big head as her butt was slowly sinking into the couch. This dog was happy, so happy to be a couch potato.

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Wife annoyed by having to be “the big spoon” all the time

Austin, TX- Spooning is one of the most popular ways for couples to share some tender moments, affection and snuggles. In most cases, men tend to be the big spoons since they are the taller or more masculine partner. However, in the modern age, spooning does not necessarily have to be done with traditional roles assumed based on gender.

Lilly Phillips, 34, has been the big spoon through the entire five year marriage with Francis and as she says, “she is getting sick of it.”

She is used to being the little spoon from her previous relationships but with Francis, it was different. “He always wanted to be the little spoon. I did it for a while but I want to be hugged to you know,” she shared with us. “I like his arms around me, I feel very safe. But when I am the one spooning him and I feel so awkward because of the size difference. He is a 280-pound man who is much taller than me so hugging him does not cover much. I just wish he would be the big spoon, you know. I deserve to be the little spoon sometimes, darn it.”

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Forgettable Wedding Day

After ten years of marriage, Sally still had to think which ring went on her finger first- the engagement ring or the wedding ring? “Wedding ring is closest to the heart,” she remembered her Mother’s words and put it on first. She fixed her hair and went to the kitchen. Her cravings for a peanut butter sandwich were strong for some reason. Her thoughts continued to lead her to the past… to the day she said yes to Michael.

The memory of it was very hazy. She remembered Michael drinking a lot because he was nervous. Her nervously walking down the beach. Not being able to eat a whole lot because she wore a waist cincher. It seemed so far away, a remote event which only marked the beginning of the adventures her and Michael experienced.

For a second, it almost seemed irrelevant. Wedding day almost had no special meaning to her. The other ten years spent together.. that was more important. Thinking back on their wedding day, she realized how little she knew Michael and how little he knew her. How much they have changed since. How many better moments they had together than that one day on the beach. “Funny how no one tells you this,” she thought and bit into the sandwich.

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Quality chocolate for .50 cents

Alright, alright. You can’t get it in the American stores. For many reasons, chocolate in U.S. is not only expensive but the presence of cacao is terrifically low and sugar content abysmally high. But that’s how we like it I guess.

I liked it that way too until I discovered a German store called Lidl (Lidl is pretty much a copycat of Aldi or kind of like Dollar General with better quality products). There are many things in my life that bring me joy and finding great chocolate for the price of a hamburger at McDonald’s on Wednesday’s is one of them.

Lidl is/was a shabby-looking store with a strong warehouse feel. Nothing fancy or classy about it- but Germans love it. Almost instantly as I walked in, a 100 g (3.5- Ounce) of chocolate caught my eyes. Wrapped in an appealing, yet simple wrap tempted me from the shelves. Milk Chocolate for 50 cents. (Mind you, this was like two years ago so the price really hasn’t gone up at the time of writing.) This chocolate wasn’t expired or poisonous. It didn’t give you painful diarrhea. It wasn’t like godawful Hershey’s with their butter substitutes and whatnot. This was genuinely good chocolate. Because it was so cheap, I had to hoard it. I couldn’t pass on such a deal! I bought different kinds: the alpine milk one, the one with nuts, raisins, the white chocolate kind. I thought I died and went to heaven.

Needless to say, all that chocolate was gone before I could bring back any to the States (so I had to go back to the store and buy more). I miss that chocolate. I genuinely miss it. It crosses my mind specially as I wander down our Publix section or when I shop on Amazon. Good chocolate for little money does exist. It exist in the world of the good ole Germany. Now, who in Germany is reading this and is willing to ship some over to me? 😀

P.S: Thanks for reading my post! Leave a comment on what product you miss! 😀

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Link to my book on Amazon (since I haven’t posted one in like half a year 😉

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Santa Claus and our parent’s lies

I hear loud arguing between Anna and Tim. We were given a recess, but instead a horrible fight broke out and everyone stayed inside. As I came closer, I could hear what the arguing was about. Anna was determined: “I know what I saw. It was my Mom who put the gifts underneath the Christmas tree. Not Santa! That’s because Santa doesn’t exist!” My heart stopped. My belly jolted. “You’re lying,” Tim accused her. “No, I’m not!” she cried. I was in shock. My developing brain was struggling to comprehend what had just been said. How could Santa not be real? I’ve been writing him letters for years! He’s been bringing me gifts each year; with Rudolph leading the way to my house. Why would my parents tell me about Santa if he wasn’t real? Why would my parents lie to me?

To this day I am hurt by the lies my parents told me about Santa. Why does it matter, you ask? It matters because despite the joy it brought me, it also brought me horrible devastation. For a young kid like myself, who spent hours reading and imagining different worlds, the non-existence of Santa was like a slap in my face. I could not believe people I trusted put on a charade, a show for Christmas. They made me write letters… they made me put cookies down for him. They made me believe he was real.

I do not have children of my own just yet, but I still struggle whether or not I should lie to them about Santa too. It gets even more problematic if I tell them from the start that Santa does not exist. Then, other parents will complain that my children ruined Santa for their children.

I don’t know why this lie has to continue. I know children are happy to hear it, but when you realize your parents lied to you and that it was them the whole time…. well, it kind of shows that even those you trusted lied to you. So, on the flip side, is Santa actually supposed to be a life lesson? As in, do not count on those you trust because they are not trustworthy either?

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Name of the rose (Je suis Charlie)

Cowardly killings that took place yesterday in Paris triggered absolute shock and horror in me. As someone who lived in France for almost a year, it was surreal to see the video which was replayed over and over again on all the news stations.

Amid the initial reaction, I remembered a book I read in my teenage years. The book is called “Name of the rose” by Umberto Eco (and I highly recommend it). The reason why it came to mind was that the people that died in the book were also killed in the name of “comedy.” Laughter. Ridicule. As a teen, I couldn’t fully understand it. How is laughter so powerful? Is it really this powerful?

As I grew up, laughter is the only thing one has left. It is a cure for everything and without it, world is horrific and scary.

William of Baskerville: My venerable brother, there are many books that speak of comedy. Why does this one fill you with such fear?

Jorge de Burgos: Because it’s by Aristotle.

William of Baskerville: [Chasing after Jorge who runs with the Second Book of Poetics by Aristotle intending to destroy it] But what is so alarming about laughter?

Jorge de Burgos: Laughter kills fear, and without fear there can be no faith because without fear of the Devil, there is no more need of God.

William of Baskerville: But you will not eliminate laughter by eliminating that book.

(excerpt from the Name of the Rose)

There will always be cowards, murderers, terrorists who think they can kill the freedom. Freedom of laughter. Freedom of ridicule. Freedom of life. But we have to fight them back. #JesuisCharlie #CharlieHebdo

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The Ex in the present and the future

If you dump someone, should you really stay their friend? What if you move on, have a wife/husband, kids? Should you still talk to your ex?

David has an ex. He doesn’t talk to her much but every once in a while they go for a beer. What is that he gets from occasional meet up, I don’t know. Perhaps they are reminiscing the old days? Perhaps it is so he can brag about how good he is doing? Perhaps he wants to know how she is doing… but I just don’t get it.

People dump each other for the fact that they can imagine being WITHOUT that person in their life. So why try to stay a part of that persons life?

I know. Some exes are just “the good person type.”  And they make great friends.They will knit a special sweater for your future wife, or will bring Uggs for your kid. Save a kitten on the way from church. They will even listen to your problems and nod like it was the most important thing they ever heard. But despite that, I just don’t get it. Why stay in contact with an ex?

What are your thoughts? Comments? Like or dislike, share your opinions with me…. 🙂

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What to do with a Christmas hater?

I love Christmas!! But not because of the presents, or the Christmas music. For me it is all about the tree. I love to decorate the tree and then read on the couch next to it. I love to just look at the beautiful sparkle decorations and shimmering light. It is truly something special, perhaps because it reminds me of the time I still believed in Santa and I used to wait for him to bring presents. Or because I still remember how homey it felt with the tree in the living room and my Mom in the kitchen making chocolate cookies as I was cuddled up under a blanket and watched cartoons.

Since I met David, however, every year I get more frustrated and end up in tears fighting with him. He hates Christmas. I mean, he REALLY hates Christmas. He hates the Christmas season so much that he is willing to ruin it for me. I don’t know what happened to him that he is so staunchly against it but he will go out of his way to make Christmas lame for everyone.

First we argue whether or not we should have the tree, then whether we should buy new ornaments for it or not. Then he won’t help me set up the tree (which is half the fun) and then he hates on the lights. When the time comes to go Christmas shopping to buy stuff for everyone, he makes the shopping miserable. Or if I go by myself, he complains about spending money on “stupid gifts.”

It’s hard, it really is hard to deal with it every year because it makes me want to not do it anymore. The arguing is just not worth it. I get it that Christmas should be about spending time with the family, but who ever died because a tree was set up and some gifts were bought?

Do you have somebody in your family that kills the mood each year? Please comment, I can’t be the only one with a Christmas hater in my house?

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Five different Titanic love stories

I’ve probably seen Titanic too many times. So have you. Don’t deny it. We’ve all sobbed, cursing the guy who didn’t spot the iceberg on time and blamed the vain, fame-seeking captain. We’ve all cried our eyes out when Rose was letting go of Jack, and felt a sense of strength and hope when she blew on that high-pitched whistle to alert people she was still alive.

I watch Titanic every so often; the story, as cheesy as it is, still appeals to me. It is the good kind of romance, the good kind of passion and the good kind of how something changes your life forever. However, I noticed that as I age, so does the way I view the love story changes.

AGE

15-ish- As any teen, I above all believed in love. The obsession they felt for each other, how they secretly met up and stole kisses and enamored glances, how they lied about Rose’s slip. It was more than romantic, it was what life was all about. Finding that one person… He was there to save her, and he ultimately saved her in the end. Love conquers all, and heartbroken Rose will forever be devoted to him, despite him laying at the bottom of the ocean. Oh, and I got a little embarrassed by the sex scene.

19ish- Starting college in my real life, I wondered how did Rose know he was the one. I had yet to meet someone so special that I would run away with and leave everything behind. The question became how can I meet the one? Is Jake the one because he is the one or because he is the only one that turns her world inside out and based on that she thinks he is the one?

24ish-  What will they do when the passion fades away? Is Rose really equipped to survive in Jack’s world? I, for one, would not leave her world just so I could wear those beautiful dresses. OK, OK, just kidding. I get it that she’s crazy in love, but having had a guy or two at that point I learned passion is not the same as love.

28ish- Marrying a rich guy who seems to want to make her happy doesn’t sound so bad. He is not even that horrendously bad-looking. He could provide for her if only she accepted him. Aren’t arranged marriages known to be very successful? People learn how to love one another and Rose should probably learn how to love the rich guy. Instead, she is messing around with the “artist” who can kind of provide for himself but could never provide for her…. And omg, is there really a future with someone who is an artist? Can’t he get a real job?

32ish- I miss the simple view of their love that I had when I was 15. Even if it was just passion and reckless thinking, for them at the time it felt like it was real. More real than imaginable. When was the last time I met somebody so special I wanted to run away with them? When was the last time I looked at something with pink, and not realistic glasses?

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