An Open Christmas Letter to...Pop Singers Who Use "Oh, Holy Night" as a Platform to Sing Their Faces Off!

(Celine Dion belts out a little "Oh, Holy Night")

Dear Pop Singers Who Use "Oh, Holy Night" as a Platform to Sing Their Faces Off,

Good for you guys! Rarely in modern pop music do we find the perfect song that let's us really blow our tops off, but you kids have found it. Thank you. Truly. You have taken the birth of our Lord and used it to your advantage. He was born to not only save you from your sins, but also to encourage you to sing so high that dolphins scurry to the surface to hear you proclaim the word of the Lord. 

When I snuggle into the Jetta for a warm winter drive through the snow, I shake out of my boots with excitement when I hear the first few notes jingle jangle from the radio. Here you are, your vocal chords sanded up for some hard work, your face loosened up with intensive Swedish massage...get ready world--you are going to sing "OH, HOLY NIGHT!"

I've employed a small man to be at your feet for today's performance of "Oh, Holy Night". I've equipped him with a small towel to dab the blood from your vocal chords, a sound-proof box to put you in, and a dust pan to wipe up your face from the floor after you sing it off! 

Keep singing, kittens. I'm really proud of you--and so is Jesus.

Merry Christmas!

xo,

Me

.....in case you doubt me.....here are some examples of mind-blowing "Oh, Holy Night" renditions, by some of Pop music's brightest and loudest stars...

(Mariah Carey screams her version "Oh, Holy Night")

(Carrie Underwood doesn't mess around on the high-notes in THIS version of "Oh, Holy Night")

...and finally, 

(Josh Groban...is NOT messing around)

HAPPY 100th BLOG, Madde! Love, Madde

HAPPY 100th BLOG, EVERY ONE!! 

WOOO!!!

A little less than a year ago in January of 2010, my dear friend set me out on a challenge. My new part-time job was to "Julie and Julia" my life and start a blog about my adventures in dating and the general absurdity that is my life. 

The last year I mounted my Sassy Horse to go on this massive blog-venture. I've run the gamut of topics including: MAN BABIES, An Open Letter to Muffin Tops and Flip Flops, and reveled my true feelings on SEXTERS. I've regaled you with tales of advice on what to do when a boy THROWS UP on you, Liz Lemon'd you with some definite DEALBREAKERS, taken you deep into THE MAN VAULT, reached out to the reader who found me by looking for GAY BLEACH, and proclaimed my love for all things CELINE DION and Adorable Animals on the Internet. All these topics while I attempted to get a date and steer-clear of my comfort zone, The Gay Bar: a one-stop shop for all of my Fabulous Ex-Boyfriends. 

So, what lies ahead for the blog? A lot more bloggin', I suppose, but just like Mariah Carey, I have a few Grown-Up Christmas Wishes for the Blogsicles. So here we go....

1. Do you j'adore the blog? Why don't you open your yapper and tell me... on the blog! 

The proof is in the pudding numbers, friends. I know you're reading the blog (I have a magical number counting thingy), why not share your thoughts on it? or give me an awkward date challenge? or make fun of me publicly?  Please and thank you! 

2. Sharesicles with your friendsicles! 

I'm pretty sure you have friends who would like to laugh at my expense too. Don't cheat them of that simple joy.  I'm a mockery of myself sometimes, others deserve to feel good about themselves. 

3. Just keep reading, just keep reading. 

Finally, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, and THANK YOU for reading my mindless blabber. It's a lot of fun to do'sies...now, a little less conversation, a little more awkward dating. Ready. Set. MAN-BABIES! 

An Open Christmas Letter to...THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY!

"THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY"

(The Little Drummer Boy being The Little Drumming A-Hole in some flick)

Dear The Little Drummer Boy,

SHHH!!! There's a baby sleeping, you moron! I don't know if you were aware of this, but the kid that was just born in that barn over there--is sort of a big deal. He doesn't need some rebellious pre-teen banging on the sheep skin drum he just got for his birthday! He actually would prefer some quiet so that he could reflect on dying for your stupid ass sins in 30 or so years. Got it? Get it? Good. 

Regardless of the social status of said baby, let's talk about the fact that someone gave you a drum in the first place. You're not fit to be PA-RUM-PU-PUM-PUMing all around town...that's evident by your behavior tonight. Hand over the drum and take up some soft-shoe jazz dance, this would allow you to get out some of that excess energy IN SILENCE!

Good luck, kid. 

Merry Christmas. (You'll figure out what that means in 30 or so years)

xo,

Me

I'll Be Your Girl for All Seasons...I'm Sorry, Change of Plans--Only 2 Seasons!

As I attempted to brush the 8 feet of snow off of the Jetta on my way out the other night, it hit me like a snowball...WINTER IS HARD WORK. It had taken me about 20 minutes just to assemble my winter ensemble of gloves, hat, mittens over my gloves, 4 pairs of socks beneath my boots, before I was even ready to go out into the world, and as I sat in the Jetta waiting for it to heat up from "frigid" to "freezing", I couldn't help but wonder (Thank you, Carrie Bradshaw)--was it even worth it to go out tonight? Winter is such hard work, couldn't I just stay home and snuggle in my bed like a hibernating bear? But I was late for a very important date (not really), and I was going to get my butt out into the world...mittens and all!

Winter is a lot of work and you know what? So is dating. This makes DATING+WINTER=DISASTER. 

There's a reason they call it a "SPRING FLING", people! Let's break it down for a moment, shall we? 

In the springtime, the world is full of rainbows peaking through the blue sky, unicorns joyfully leaping across the world to bring young love together. and bunnies encouraging us to do it! Just do it! ......Go on a date! DO IT! :)

The world is a beautiful, hopeful place in the Spring. No one can say "No!" to a proposed date on a beautiful rooftop patio, or a walk hand and hand around a freshly mowed park. (Mmmmmm.....let's take a moment and remember the smells of freshly mowed grass.....mmmmmmm.) It all sounds so beautiful, no?

As Spring and Summer wind down, we realize--was I dating the man, or was I dating the beautiful weather?  Most of the time, you're dating the weather. Don't believe me? Go sit in a stuffy coffee shop with the same dude come December and see if you're so euphoric! Go on...do it! Just do it. Go on that date! Do it! :)

They say a true Minnesotan can weather a winter storm, so maybe it's not too far off to believe a true Minnesotan can find love in the snow too! Bundle up in your warm winter gear, and walk hand in hand in a freshly snowed-upon park. After all, a couple that bundles together...stays together. 

An Open Christmas Letter to...FELIZ NAVIDAD

"FELIZ NAVIDAD"

(this unfortunate version of an even more unfortunate tune)

Dear Feliz Navidad, 

Go away. Get off of my radio. I don't like you or your trumpet solos. Go. Away. NOW!

Merry Christmas!

xo,

Me

An Open Christmas Letter to...BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!

Continuing in the spirit of Open Christmas Letters, today I present to you an Open Christmas Letter to....

"BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!"

(Tom Jones and Cerys Matthew's make me uncomfy as they sing "Baby, It's Cold Outside". Please watch for their awkward dance break at 1:40. Yikes)

Dear THE TEAM INSISTING THAT IT'S COLD OUTSIDE,

I'd like to talk to each of you individually, if that's alright? I'm sure that will be just fine, since this date is not going well. Cold Dude, meet me in the den by the fire place. Cold Lady, go grab your stuff. I'm giving you a ride home so that your Father will stop pacing the floor.

Cold Dude, what up with you? No means NO! It doesn't mean "Maybe I'll give her a half a drink more, get her wasted, and then she has to sleep over...in the nude!" It means NO! We have pitter-pattered about for over 3 minutes while this poor, polite, dim-witted gal attempts to let you down easy. She's just not that into you.

I don't mean to put you down. You've really put a great date together. A girl would be lucky to have you. You're so complimentary, this wine is great, the fire is really lovely, but she's just not that into you. If your buddies ask why you didn't seal the deal tonight, you don't have to say that she left because she wasn't into you, simply say it was too cold and she had some family emergency. Ok. Great. Have a good night.

Cold Lady, what up with you? You knew coming to his house for the first date would make things complicated. You're letting him down easy, I respect that, but you should just say NO...it's not that hard. I hate to say it, but here's bound to be talk tomorrow either way. You live with your family and as soon as you get home tonight they are going to look you up and down like a hussy. Your sister won't be suspicious because your Aunt not only has a vicious mind, but a nasty, gossipy mouth..and she just proclaimed to your whole family that she thinks you're a slut. That's what you get for staying so late at this date! Next time...meet at a coffee shop. Just sayin'!

Alright kids, you two have fun. And wear a coat.

Merry Christmas!

xo,

Me

A Christmas Open Letter to...THE GIRL WHO SAW HER MOTHER KISSING SANTA!

Woopsie poopsie, I haven't blogged in a while. 

Many people may be wondering where the eff I've been the last few weeks?

Well, kittens--don't you worry your pretty little heads about it because I AM BACK and READY FOR SOME BLOGGIN'! WOO!

Alright, for the month of December I have decided to dedicate some of my Open Letters to Christmas songs! (My favorite songs of all!) 

Let's dive into the snow head first, eh?

"I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS"

(The Cheetah Girls from their album "Cheetah-licious Christmas"...obviously)

Dear The Girl Who Saw Her Mother Kissing Santa, 

Wow, you really want to break up Santa's marriage, don't you? Maybe you don't understand the gravity of your choices, little girl.  Not only did you snoop on your Mother, but then you wrote a hit song exposing the dirty laundry of a very well-known and respected man. 

Snooping isn't a crime, but it will land you on the Naughty List. You know what else will land you on the Naughty List? Ending Santa's marriage, that's what. Next time you creep down the stairs to have a peek, you better be prepared for Mrs. Claus to be there with a big Christmas bag of whoop-ass for you. Don't say I didn't tell ya so! 

Merry Christmas!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING!

Yesterday my sister yelled at me for engaging in a "Wave-Off" on the road with some dudes right next to us in the car. They kept waving at me! I couldn't be rude! I thought they were friendly until she noted they were probably high because they were clearly smoking weed in the car. Today I offer an open letter to...PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING!

Dear PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING,

What the hell is wrong with you? Clearly you're an idiot, so let's get that out of the way, but seriously--what's the logic on this one? Oh, I'm sorry. Have I lost my "cool"? Am I not being "chill" enough for you "bro"? I'll lower my voice....It's cool man. It's cool.

Ok, cool. We cool? Cool. Alright. Awesome. Rad. Mmmk...So,  I digress--you're so goddamn enlightened, so why don't you enlighten me on this little ditty? Why are you smoking weed in your car...WHILE IT'S MOVING?? Seriously.  First off, you couldn't wait until you were at least pulled over to pass that pipe around? I'm no square, but this is where I draw the line! I get it, someone likes the mary-jane! More power to you, but when you're driving? Are we being for serious on this one? Seriously bro, it's not safe, you'll probs get arrested, and well...you look like a moron when you're high and waving at two sisters as they drive in their automobile. 

Put the pipe down and stop waving at me, I can't help but wave back! So really, you're making ME look like an idiot. I resent you for that, bro. 

xo,

Me

Damaged Goods

I love to shop. There, I said it. The first step is admitting you have a problem. Ugh. That felt good. Now let's get this blog written so I can go shop some more! :)

I've always been a sucker for bargain shopping. I love vintage shopping and clearance shopping. I love the possibilities of finding something fabulous to love forever. I can be found heading straight to the clearance rack to find that one piece of clothing that is missing a button or has a small mark on the bottom, something fixable on an item with flair!  Many people see these things as "damaged goods", but I just see them as an opportunity on something I simply can't give up!

After bearing witness to one of my famous disastrous love interactions, a  love mentor of mine, or a "LOVE-TOR" if you will (and I do hope you will), recently told me that as I got older she hoped I would learn to avoid "damaged goods".

Hmmm...."Damaged goods"..."damaged goods"...I haven't been able to stop thinking about this. When I sat down to reflect on this concept, it dawned on me, at the end of the day..........

 ...aren't we ALL damaged goods?

I'm pretty sure I'm missing a few buttons up in my mind-grapes, why shouldn't everyone else have the opportunity to have a few loose too?

I guess the level of damage is important to think about though. For instance, I would never buy a sassy polka-dot shirt with a rip in the armpit because that is a damage to the shirt that is pretty much beyond my abilities of restoration, but a missing button on the front? Shoot, I can do a little cross-stitch button action to get that baby up and running again. The same can be said for a man. We've all had a heartbreak or two, we can sew a button on that! No problem! But if the last relationship he was in left him homeless and wandering the street searching for the love of a passing stranger, I'm pretty sure I don't have a sewing machine that can deal with that rip.

We're all searching for a deal, but when it comes to matters of a mate perhaps one should stay out of the clearance bin and simply buy off the rack at a Vintage store. True, we're all damaged goods, but what about finding a fabulously pre-loved and cared for item that you will cherish as your own forever.

An Open Letter to....MUFFIN TOPS!

It's almost wintertime and they have reared their ugly selves. Today I offer an open letter to....MUFFIN TOPS!

Dear Muffin Tops,

Whatchu doin' out this time of year? In fact, whatchu doin' out ANY time of year? Muffin Top, as I stood on the street corner last night (hangin' with my pals...not workin' it! Je promise!), you came sauntering around the corner like you owned that place. I was in shock. I was in awe. I was in...vomit. Muffin Top! Stay inside where you belong! This is for your own good, I promise. Muffin Top, you aren't cute, you aren't fun at parties, you bring a frowny face to my face. Muffin Top, do we need to talk? I think we do. 

We've all got a part of you inside of us, Muffin Top, but the smart peeps don't let you wander out onto the street unsupervised. Muffin Top, you suffer from inflated sense of self. This may be offensive to you, but it's time for some tough love. Muffin Top, you shouldn't feel as good about yourself as you do. This is for your own good, get off the streets and into a loose-fitting tee. The air is a drug to you, I know.

 I found a really helpful Muffin Top Rehab for you to go to, I've stuck the brochure in your belly button. Read it over. Consider getting some help. After all, the winter time is coming and I shan't say "I told you so!" when you catch a cold on the top of your Muffin. 

xo,

Me

The Lady-Besties Revolt

There has been an increase in my dude-friends getting these things that they like to call "girlfriends" lately. It's a very confusing concept to me. These women have creeped in right under my nose and BAM! dude-friend=gone!

You see as the "lady friend" or "token girly bestie",  one of two things happen when this "girlfriend" comes into the picture (both are equally as unfortunate). The first thing that can happen is he will turn to you for advice. In one situation dude-friend had been quietly dating the new girlfriend and not mentioning a word of her to me, and then suddenly...BAM! he's in love! Of course he's in love....of course he is. Plagued with the feelings of new love, he turned to me for some love advice. Uh-oh.

When dude-friends ask their lady-besties for advice about their new girlfriends, things can get sticky. You see because girls usually don't like other girls...for the most part. It's hard to be impartial in a situation in which you think that other girl is a tad on the skanky side, or smells like trouble. If you are a lady, you know this is true. I went to all-girls school so the scent of girly trouble has been beaten into my nostrils my whole life. So there he is, sitting with a pouty face, and he asks "What should I do about my new girlfriend?"...and what do I do? I roll my eyes and say "Get over it. Move on." Not cool, self. Not cool.

If dude-friends aren't coming to you for advice on their new girlfriends, it's because they have turned to the next option....DROP OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH. This is where most dude-friends go when they have their new girlfriends. You see, new girlfriends are threatened by his lady-besties and have asked that he spend less time with them, and more time with her...doing nothing. It's sad when the dude-friends drop off the face of the earth, lady-besties tend to miss them a lot when they vanish. A bit of advice to dudes to vanish when the new girlfriend comes into town...that's not cute. We forgive you for your stupidity, but it's not cute. Seriously. We didn't want to date you before, this new girlfriend isn't going to eff up our mind-grapes and make us think we're in love with you...calm down and call the lady-besty back every once and awhile. Yeesh!

Being a lady-besty can be a tough job, but they exist for a reason. Lady-besties are the perfect situation for a dude-friend because they offer the giggles of a lady, without the inevitable mundane boredom of the new girlfriend. At the end of the day, this new girlfriend is fleeting, but lady-besties are forevesies.

FREE KISSES!

FREE KISSES! 

So last night I partook in some smooching (the innocent sort, of course). As the face of a very dashing gentleman was pinned up against my own, it suddenly hit me..."Kissing is sorta weird, right??" Right.

Of course, I have shared many a kiss with many a fellow in my years, but it wasn't until last night that I realized what a bizarre behavior kissing truly is. I mean seriously...what the eff is it anyway?

Don't judge it, just listen up. Let's just talk about the logistics of kissing for a moment. Mmmk...When we human beings are attracted to one another we put our face ON another person's face, and sometimes, when we're feeling sassy, we lick each other's mouths. Humans do this for hours, sometimes DAYS, at a time. This is called "a kiss".

Why is this our instinct as humans? To press our faces on each other sounds bizarre, yet 90% of the world's population (this is a true fact that I googled) puts their faces on each other. Animals put their noses on each other to smell the other one out, but when was the last time you were kissing someone just so you could smell them?

As I reflected on this kissing phenomenon further, I realized that surely kissing is something that cavemen must have come up with, and I'll be honest with you...kissing is not the wheel. Caveman FAIL.
Imagine if they had picked a different body part to push together to show signs of affection! I propose our BUMS!

Here I display my proposed kissing idea. It is called "a Biss"--a bum-kiss. Whenever you're into someone you just go in for the bum touch! 

Positive things about "A Biss": 

germ free! 

fun for the whole gang! 

you can have a conversation with another person!

Long-story short, kissing is strange, but 90% of us are into it. Deal with it and put your face on another person's today! 

An Open Letter to....DUDES WITH MAN-PONIES!!

As I have wandered through life these days, I'm noticing a new fashion trend in the male world: man-ponies. Today I present some of my advice to the man-pony wearers of the world in my open letter to....DUDES WITH MAN-PONIES!!

Dear Dudes with Man-Ponies,

I commend you for making a fashion choice. A lot of men don't even bother to pay attention to their appearance and just walk around the world lookin' like a slob. Man-ponies have the potential to be very alluring. I mean we've all seen what David Beckham and Gavin Rossdale have been able to pull off with their Man-Ponies! Rock it out! 

With that said, Man-Ponies also have the potential to go horribly, horribly wrong. A few simple problems with the Man-Pony can make you go from spicy sex-pot all the ladies want to pounce on, to homeless man I feel I need to run away from.

Here are 3 simple tips for the Man-Pony: 

1. Length of the Man-Pony: A shoulder-length Man-Pony is good enough, boys. At the shoulders we get the point..."Oh, look! He has a Man-Pony! Coolsies!" Anything past the shoulder has the potential to get creeper.

2. Find a good conditioner to rub up in the Man-Pony: Nothing ruins a Man-Pony more than dryness. Gentlemen, I can not express this enough! If you are going to have a Man-Pony that you use to entice the ladies and gents of the world, condition that shit! No one wants to run their hands through a pile of straw! Spend that extra money you use to buy weed this month, and buy some deep conditioner. You'll thank me. 

...and finally...

3. "How vulumptious and enticing is my Man-Pony?": This should be a question all Man-Pony wearers ask themselves before engaging in a Man-Pony. Don't know what this means? Here's a simple test. Stand in front of a mirror with your Man-Pony intact. Turn on Seal's "Kissed By a Rose". Seductivly remove your Man-Pony. If what you see in the mirror is similar to an Herbal Essences commercial, you are a good candidate for a Man-Pony. 

Carry on bravely with your Man-Ponies, gentlemen. When done well, they can your secret weapon. Spiderman had his webs that sprung from his hands, Batman had that fancy car, YOU have your Man-Pony. Wear it with Pride....and condition that shit! 

xo,

Me

You're stupid...Oh, I'm sorry...I meant... "I like you".

In the 2nd Grade there was a boy who routinely pushed me over and called me "Moron Madde". It sorta made me sad. One day on the school field trip to the History Museum, he took me inside the life-size Wigwam Tipi and kissed me directly on my face region. Apparently he liked me. It was a surprise. It was a gross. It was surprisingly gross.

Girls are told as children that if he hits you or calls you names, that's only because he likes you. Sometimes that's true, but what a ridiculous thing to teach the young girls of the world, "Don't worry, girly...some day you'll realize how lucky you are that a man even talks to you at all, let alone push you down on the ground and call you an idiot! Enjoy it while it lasts..."

Those crazy, effed-up messages from my youth must have seeped in somewhere in my being, because today I realized something alarming! When it comes to matters of love, I've sorta become a 9-year old boy! AH! RUN!

Let me give you a run-down of the sitch today: A seemingly normal afternoon progresses, then cute man approaches. We've never met before. He is there meeting with my friend to go over some very official-looking paperwork. They are giggling. I'm awkwardly standing on the side. My friend gestures for me to come over. I stumble over, eyes glazed with attraction intrigue, also, this can't be verified, but surely drool dripped from my face. Cute man: Smiles. Me: "Who the eff is this person? I've never seen you before...you have something on your face..over it!" I proceed to ignore him the whole time.

Apparently this afternoon, I thought I would win this poor fellow's heart through a series of insults! I'm sure if  he had been a tad closer to me I would have pushed him down into the gravel and found the nearest pile of dog poo to shove up his nose...You know, because that's what you do when you like someone! Today I lived up to my childhood name, "Moron Madde".

Had today been an isolated incident, it wouldn't be cause for concern, but this seems to be a habit for ol' "Moron Madde". Without getting into gory deets, I was recently told by a gentleman caller that I had a biting tongue...and not in a hot way. Apparently my blunt observations about the way he lived his life weren't sugar-coated enough for him. So either I'm just super observant and good at pointing things out, or I'm a meanie-pants. Woopsies! My bad! Guess this habit is gonna be a hard one to breaksies.

9-year old boys insult other 9-year old girls because they are nervous that their affection will not be reciprocated, or their love will ruin their rep on the playground as a badass. The 9-year old boy stuck inside of me...(wait..nope..can't say that.....let's try that again.....ummm...)....My newest bad habit is caused from those same fears and insecurities shared with the male peers of my youth. If I show my cards of affection right up top, there's a chance he will go running in the opposite direction of my own personal jungle gym...and that would make me sad.

When faced with an age-appropriate gentleman caller, I shall try and say something nice from now on. There is a chance my badass reputation on the playground of life may precede me, but hopefully word hasn't gotten out yet! :) See ya on the swings!

An Open Letter to...THE SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS

As Halloween quickly approaches this Sunday night, girls and boys all around the country are putting their final touches on their 2010 costumes! Many adults hope to make a stir at their office Halloween party dressed as a very topical Chilean miner , while others hope to give a friend a giggle with their ridiculous (and outdated) Spongebob Square Pants get-up, but a large fraction of lady-people have ONE thing on their minds this Halloween....TO BE SLUTTY SOMETHIN'.

I now present to you, dear ghoulish readers, an open letter to.....THE  SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS.

Dear THE  SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS,

Ladies, ladies, ladies. What the eff? Put some clothes on. Your costume is neither logical, nor cute. Here I am at the Halloween party in my giant 3-headed dragon costume, while you stand there dressed in 2 small pieces of glitter-filled fabric you like to call a "Slutty Unicorn". Tell me, ladies...when was the last time you were face-to-face with a "Slutty Unicorn"? What made him so slutty? Did he wear see-thru pasties as well? If so, more power to you! Also, if Slutty Unicorns truly exist, I'm positive that his unicorn horn is NOT placed in the place you have placed it. He has it on his head, you have it on your lady bits. VERY different places. 

Ladies, I respect your eagerness for the holiday, but I must ask...are you chilly? You must be! I wonder only because it is 30 degrees out and you seem to be wearing close to nothing. If you're ok with that, that's cool, just know I'm over here with a sweater stuffed in my dragon crotch for you to pop on in case of emergencies. I come to parties appropriately dressed and prepared for emergencies! 

For me, Halloween is a time for good ol' fashioned fun. A time to watch "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" and trick-or-treat until I throw up from sugar poisoning. If you can't respect the good nature of the Halloween I take great pride in, you should have it taken off your calendars, Slutty Halloween Costume Girls. Put your pasties and short skirts away for your wedding night...or for other fun slutty times! 

3-headed dragon and I are going to go carve a pumpkin in the shape of a good-natured unicorn. Put some underwear on.  

xo, 

Me

An Open Letter to...USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS!

A few days ago I fell into a toilet. Here's my story. I present to you an open letter to...USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS!

Dear USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS,

See the toilet in that picture?? Take a long, hard look at it....Do you recognize that fine piece of porcelain? You just happened to be with it in that bathroom right before me. Do you know what happened after you left? I FELL INTO THAT TOILET! Do you know why? Because you didn't put that seat down when you left! 

I respect and appreciate the beauty of the unisex bathroom, but with the beauty of the unisex bathroom comes great responsibility. No longer will I live in a world where I run the risk for falling bum-first into the pool of germs. Gentlemen, put the seat down. Ladies, don't clog it up. Simple as that. 

If I fall into it again, we're in troubsies. For seers. 

xo,

Me

Pick-a-little-Talk-a-Little

See this dude? He's awesome. We're besties, jealous? 

Meet my best friend, Nick. 

We like to talk. We like talking. We talk to each other, we talk to ourselves. Heck! We even talk to walls! Whatever we do..we can be found in the middle of a talk. 

We can talk for hours at a time. About what. you may ask? About anything and everything, I say! Whether it be a run-down of the latest episode of critically-ashamed sitcom, "Cougar Town", or even hours of talking about our mutual adoration for Destiny's Child. 

Our friendship knows no end. Even though Nick has moved across the country, the love our chatting chatter never ends. We can talk 'til we're blue in the face, or even 'til when we get sleepy and need to take a little chatty break. 

(Recently on one of our weekly Skype dates, hour 2 of "Nick and Madde Chat Time!" was spent napping!)

I bring Nicholas up for a reason (not only just because I wanted to share this ridiculous picture of us napping together on skype), but because Nick is a rare breed of professional chatter from Chattiapolis, Chatisota. 

 Conversation is something to be cherished, but not a lot of people know how to keep it up! Those people are what we like to call "losers". Je hate them.

Conversation is a lost art. 

Hey readers! Snuggle in...it's story time! Woo!!

Once upon a few weeks ago, I could be found hanging out with a man named...well, let's call him... "Gentleman Caller". After spending quite a lot of time together, Gentleman Caller and I hit a wall. I like to call this the...

"WHY ARE YOU SO BORING AND I NEVER REALIZED??" WALL.  

After I recovered from the love concussion caused from hitting the "W.A.Y.S.B.A.I.N.R" wall, I had to do some serious self-reflection. I realized that my Gentlemen Caller and I had never really had a significant conversation. We spent our time going to movies or out with others... or my personal favorite, watching him play Soccer video games! None of these situations required us to have to communicate if we didn't want to.  Whaaat? How is this possible? I'm a chatterbox! I love to chat! I'm the Mayor of Chattiapolis, Chattisota! I live to chat! I was spending a significant amount of time with a person who's conversation with me consisted of the following gems:

"Sup?"

"Hey"

"Cool"

"Call me"

"Good movie"

...and my personal favorite:

"You're sorta weird, aren't you? "

 As I dug deep in the history books of my brief encounter with Gentleman Caller, I had enough of the boring. I made the executive decision to put an end to our silence make a move toward greater inspired conversation with a man who spent most of his time with zipped lips. 

My dabbling in conversation ended up blowing up in my face. It ended with another one of his classic one-liners:

"Jesus, what's with you and talking?"

At the end of the day I realized something very important, Gentleman Caller and I were vastly different. We were doomed from the start, and no attempts at conversation about critically-ashamed Courtney Cox sitcoms is going to save us from ourselves.  I'm the Mayor of Chattiapolis and he's simply a City Councilman from Snooze Paul. Simple as that.  I care to communicate, he cares to be a mute. To each their own, I suppose. 

Until then...I get to chat up a storm with this:

....jealous?

"Dating is like a dance..." GUEST BLOGGER: LAURA BUCHHOLZ

Well, it looks like I'm growing up as a human being. No longer am I selfish, not only have I removed the giant picture of my face from the front page of my blog, but I'm sharing the spotlight now too!

My Guest Blogger today is the beautiful Ms. Laura Buchholz. Laura ranks in my top 5 fave peeps..ever. She writes a lot of funny stuff for a lot of funny people. Sometimes we do improv together...so that's fun.

I typed Laura's name into Google...and this is what I found.  What an awesome picture of her to share with you! Doesn't she look fun? Read on...

"Dating Is Like a Dance..."

By Laura Buchholz.

They say that dating is like a dance, and maybe the reason we all have so many problems with dating now is because dancing has changed.

I think when people liken dating to a dance, they have a very specific kind of dancing in mind:  namely, couples dancing of the sort that is just not done anymore, except in the slow-dance portion of the prom, which isn’t really dancing anyway, just an extended hug accompanied by music. 

If you go back to, say, the 40s, dancing was facilitated by two things, both of them initiated by the man.  Here is the series of events:

A)   Man asks a woman to dance.

B)   Man leads.

Easy, right? 

Yeah.

So fast forward to today.

Dancing is hip hop and house and the man and woman are equal, mainly because nobody initiates, everybody is just sort of there jumping around in front of each other but not touching.  Most of the motions are sort of violent, fist-pumping, jerking around, moving from side to side.   In fact, there is not a huge difference between what happens in the dances of today vs. what might happen in a step aerobic studio, (if that even happens anymore) with the lights off.  Instead of dancing WITH each other, people now just dance NEAR each other and we get a pretty good workout and then we get in our separate cars and go home. 

There’s a problem of initiation, and a problem of follow-through.  If we apply the old-timey dance model to dating, here is a simple model of how an ask-out might have happened in the past:*

A.   Would you like to go to the Stag Supper Club on Saturday at 8?  With me?

B.    Yes.

A.   Okay, I’ll pick you up at 7:30.

B.    Sounds great!

Easy, right?

Okay but here is the modern equivalent, and can you just hear the thumping bass in the background?

A.   I’m not doing anything Saturday night.

B.    Oh cool, me either.

A.   I’m off work at 7.

B.    That’s great.  I’m off work at 8.

A.   So.

B.    Yeah.

A.   I was thinking about going to the Stag Supper Club.

B.    Oh yeah?  I’ve heard good things about that place.

A.   Me too but I’ve never been there.

B.    You haven’t?  Huh.

A.   No. Have you?

B.    No I haven’t.  My sister has though.  She said she liked it.

A.   Oh.  I didn’t know you had a sister.

B.    Yep.  She lives in Arkansas.

A.   Hot there isn’t it?

B.    Yes, pretty hot.  Winters aren’t bad though.

A.   There’s a prime rib at the Stag Supper Club I’d like to try.

B.    Me too.  I’ve heard about it.

A.   That’s awesome.  Maybe someday we’ll go together.

B.    Sure, maybe someday.  Like Saturday?

A.   Oh wait I just remembered I had something else going on on Saturday.

B.    Oh, great.    See you later then.

A.  Take it easy.

Are you sweating?  Because I am.  And nothing has even happened yet.  Can someone just turn on the slow music so we can just stand here and hug for a while?  Thanks.

(KEY:  A = man, B = woman)

An Open Letter to..MAN WALKING DOWN THE STREET WHILE READING A GIANT ENCYCLOPEDIA!

...Somehow I run into the craziest things. This is just an example of this week's run-in.

Dear Man Walking Down the Street While Reading a Giant Encyclopedia,

HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE? I am in shock.  Sir, I had to stop the Jetta and watch this madness happening in front of me. True, Minneapolis is known for it's cooky and sometimes questionable behavior, but you have really outdone it.  Bravo!

I shan't hate on you very long. Actually there are a few things you are to be commended for, my friend. Firstly, pure arm strength. What gumption you have to carry that giant encyclopedia down the street whilst doing a little, shall I say "light" reading?  Not only are you a wise, wise man, but you must spend some time at the gym to have guns like those. Uh-oh...Bravo!

Secondly, your thirst for knowledge is inspiring, young buck. When I was a student in my schooling days, my studies tended to cease the moment my little feet hit the pavement outside of my education facility, but clearly that is not the case for you! No, no...you are a life-long learner, with a thirst for knowledge like a camel in heat. You shan't be confined by the limits of a classroom wall, no, you will bravely march into traffic with your head in a book larger than your head. Carry on bravely, and make sure you look both ways!

Bravo! Kudos! Cheers!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...MARATHONS!

The Twin Cities Marathon ran by my house on Sunday morning....let me share with you some of my thoughts on it.

Dear MARATHONS,

Yesterday when I woke up at noon (yes, noon!), all I could hear was screaming coming from outside my window. Of course, my initial thought was that there were people outside that were really excited that I had survived my wild Saturday night, alas..I was wrong. It was for you, runners! Woop-de-frickin' do!They were outside on a Sunday morning screaming for you as you waddled on by.

Good job, you made your point. You've sufficiently made me feel badly about myself, thank you. As I am sleeping in my bed on a Sunday afternoon, cursing the Sun for being so bright, you are showing off and running around. Don't get me wrong, I support your healthy efforts, but couldn't this be done in the countryside somewhere, why do I have to hear it from my window?

Don't you run away...I have another bone to pick with you, Marathon! When I finally peeled myself out of bed and headed out for my day, I wasn't able to leave my neighborhood in the Jetta! It seems that on Marathon day people that drive cars to Minneapolis are chastised. I'm SOOOOO sorry I don't have the time to "run" or "speed-walk" to the matinee of "The Glass Menagerie" that I have tickets for this afternoon. Some people have cars for a reason. It shouldn't take me an HOUR to get to Minneapolis, it should only take me 10-15 minutes. I know you are really into this running thing you are doing, but that doesn't mean that my life has to be put on hold so that you can run down the street. I go on the elliptical at the gym in the morning time, but do you see me shutting down the city so that I can do that? No, you don't.

In conclusion, Marathons, reconsider your methods next year. Perhaps opening up a street for me to drive down would be the first step I would take. The next thing I would do would be get muzzles for the yelling morons sitting on the street. Wanna cheer on the runners at the Marathon next year? I will provide you with a muzzle and a sign that says "Way to Run Fast", this will ensure that I will be able to sleep in next year.

xo,

me

The "Cut Off" goes Awry.

I think we've all been there. A romance has gone awry and you must never speak to the other person again. Perhaps it was too painful, too miserable, too awkward. Whatever the reason, you'd like to pretend like they never existed.

In this age of uber-technology, we are at the beck and call of every person at all times. If they can't reach us by snail mail or yelling our name out a window, in hopes that we come scurrying... they can try our cellphone, text message, facebook wall post, facebook message, facebook poke, BBMing us, G-chatting, Skyping, Tweeting at us, twatting at us, tooting at us. Somehow they will find a way to reach us.

So when it's time to cut all ties from a person, there's going to be a lot of work. It's exhausting. I haven't had to do the "CUT OFF" to many people in my life, but there are a select few who had become so toxic in my life, it was really best for us both to not communicate anymore.

So what do you do when it's time for the "Cut Off", well I start with Facebook. Defriending someone is harsh, but it keeps establishes some boundaries reaaaaal quick. When do you do the "Cut Off," it's important not to do it with malice, rather, it's important to do it with a pure heart. If you truly know that having the other person so prominently in your technological life is toxic/destructive to you, it's probably best to just go back to square one with them.

Here's the problem with the "Cut Off". When you cut a person out of your life because they have been so awful to you, you sometimes forget they exist. That's where you run into the problem I had recently.

While out on the town with a bestie of mine, we walked into a restaurant and there "he" was. "He" had taken me on a wild goose chase of teenage-like love months before, and ensured he stomped all over my heart as he made his swift exit from my life. (That sounded so dramatic...I'm aware. I just love an extended metaphor..It really wasn't so bad. Let's continue with the metaphor for drama's sake though..) After he stomped off into the night months before with my naive heart clutched in his devilish paws, I ensured he was "Cut Off". (See? Didn't that metaphor feel good?)

But there he was. Sitting at a table with a friend. He noticed me first, I couldn't help it. He invited us to come take a seat. Here's the thing about the "Cut Off," not only do you forget they exist, but you also leave yourself vulnerable when a possible run-in occurs. We sat down. I had forgotten how adorable he was....until he opened his mouth. And I remembered how obnoxious he IS.

That evening taught me something important. I'm not exactly sure what it taught me...perhaps my affinity for vodka soda's with lime (this was after I left the table in a huff..remembering WHY things had not gone well with us months before..), or perhaps the "Cut Off" was done for a reason. We were toxic in each other's lives. Simple as that.

It happens. Romances go awry all the time. Now let's gallop into the sunset with our IPhones and update our statuses telling the world how we are better off without him...

An Open Letter to...SEXTERS! AH!

Lock your phones and protect those all those with a weak stomach! 

We are all at risk! 

Are you a victim of...SEXTING??

Dear SEXTERS,

You know who you are. All of you. Please leave my innocent friends and I alone. Whitney Houston said it best when she proclaimed, "Crack is whack". Well I'm here to proclaim the same sentiment..."Sexting is WHACK!"

UrbanDictionary.com defines "sexting" as such: "The act of text messaging someone in the hopes of having a sexual encounter with them later; initially casual, transitioning into highly suggestive and even sexually explicit". 

Tell me something, Sexter, what was it about ME that fits that definition? Because I'm pretty sure your "highly suggestive and even sexually explicit" words in that sext, make me want to vomit and laugh at the same time. Sexting me would assume that we are engaged in a relationship of some sort, when in reality we've only hung out a few times. Let's turn the tables for a moment, shall we? If I were to sext someone I had only hung out a few times with, I would wonder if perhaps they thought I was being a bit forward? Did this go through your mind? Or were you too busy trying to take a cellphone picture in your bathroom mirror. This "turned table situation" wouldn't happen though. Do you know why that is, Sexter? BECAUSE SEXTING IS WHACK! I know it. You know it. The American people know it.

One of you Sexters sent my best friend a picture that was neither casual, nor suggestive. In fact this picture was just plain GRAPHIC. A picture of your man bits saying "Look who wants to say hi!" is....how should I say this....umm...WHACK!

I think I can speak for most recipients of a Sext when I say, we appreciate your efforts, but if you wouldn't say that to my face, don't you DARE send it to my IPhone! Many a gentleman caller has accused me of not being a very good recipient of romance, but I can tell you that what you Sexters are sending to our phones is not romance...it's just WHACK!

And some advice, if the recipient of your sext responds with a "haha" or "awky turtle!" or even "wtf?".....you've misjudged the situation. Try again.

xo,

Me

Butt Sniffing, The Situation, and "The Incident": A Cautionary Tale

I think our canine friends have it all figured out.

When dogs first meet they sniff each other's butts. Butt sniffing just gets it all out of the way right up top. Smelly butt? Smelly future with new dog friend. It's as easy as that. 

Human butt sniffing practices have gone out of style recently. Since it is taboo to sniff the anal region of a new friend when we meet them, we are left only with our first impressions. 

Let's take a moment and talk about first impressions, shall we? Let me tell you a story, kiddies. Snuggle in with your goldfish crackers and get ready for a tale.

The other night I met a strapping young gentleman. For the purposes of this story, let's call him...."The Incident" (like The Situation...but a six pack of beer, not of abs). "The Incident" had the charm. "The Incident" had the smarts. "The Incident" had the cutes. Immersed in our first conversation, I couldn't help but think how lovely this new friend was. He got a lot of points right up top from me. Sense of humor? Check! Similar interests and passions? Check! Not the last few nerd nightmares I've had to spend my time with recently? Check!

Now let's travel ahead in time, shall we? 2 hours later. The party is bumpin'. I'm feelin' fine like red wine. "The Incident" has clearly thrown a few too many back in the whole black hole of his mouth region. Time to go home. While riding shotgun in my beloved Jetta as I gave him a pity ride home, "The Incident" declares that he'd like to take me out for a drink sometime. I oblige politely and tell him when he's sober we can chat about that possibility. "The Incident" tells me I'm pretty. I smile demurely like a lady should. Then....."The Incident" PUKES. ALL. OVER. THE. JETTA. Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a SITUATION AND an INCIDENT up in here.

For all you gentlemen looking to pick up a lady-friend out there...some advice: 

PUKING IN A GIRL'S CAR IS NOT CUTE. 

Forgive the expression, but this puking incident put a bad taste in my mouth. All of "The Incident's" positive traits I had gathered from the evening went flying out the window with his vomit (the amount that actually made it to the window, at least). This was an example of a BAD first impression. 

Nowhere in my future friendship with "The Incident" will I ever be able to forget that on the first night I met him, he called me pretty and vomited all over my beloved Jetta. Apparently my beauty made him ILL?!? We don't bounce back from this. 

I wish I had known a few hours earlier that this incident was a possibility, but HOW?? Society says the butt-sniffing practices of our canine companions may not have pin-pointed "The Incident" and my future problems, but it may have...we'll never know because society tells us to keep our noses to ourselves. It's too bad. I'm going against the societal norms. Beware of your butts, I may have to sniff out our problems. I'm apologizing in advance.