Men are from Mars, Will you touch my penis?

Sarah P: Honey, will you help me try to zip the top of this bridesmaid dress?

PHubby: Sure.

Sarah P: ...

PHubby: ...

Sarah P.: ... Well?

PHubby: Um, stand up a little straighter. I don't want to rip the dress.

Sarah P.: Oh, sure. Yeah. Of course. Gingerly!

PHubby: ...

Sarah P.: ... Is it working?

PHubby: Can you maybe suck in a little bit?

Sarah P: ... *whooooossssshhhhh* Shit. I was.

PHubby: Um, maybe if you try to reach your elbows behind your back.

Sarah P.: Oh, hahaha. Very funny. I fell for that one in eighth grade.

PHubby: No, I mean, if you do that, it might give me a little more slack for this last inch-and-a-half.

Sarah P.: Oh. OK. God, I hope it fits.

PHubby: ...

Sarah P.: ...

PHubby: *perspires* *grunts*

Sarah P.: Well ...?

PHubby: Um. Well. Hm. *suddenly upbeat* How do you feel about back cleavage?

Sarah P.: I don't feel good about it.

PHubby: It could be exciting! *pervy eyebrow waggle, tongue hangs out*

Sarah P.: You would leave me for a wet bagel if it let you hump it.

PHubby: Not if you let me back-cleavage-hump you.

Sarah P.: God!

PHubby: *defensive* What?

Sarah P.: *big, affectionate hug* I love you. You are the most supportive husband ever. Thanks for making my grotesqueness feel sexy.

PHubby: *joyful, hopeful, happy puppy* Does this mean I get to get nasty on your back fold?

Sarah P.: No, but here's a kiss on the forehead.

PHubby:

C-U-Next-Tuesday: Honoring the Tuesday, only on Wednesday because that's how I roll and you can suck it

Editor's note: I wrote this weeks ago, but didn't think it was worth a post. I can barely keep my eyes open, so I added a photo to this old post. Phoning it in.

C-U-Next-Tuesday, formerly a semi-regular feature on this blog, was all wrong.

I'm reworking this bitch into something we can respek. Respekkit. I stole that from somewhere, but I don't remember where, so I'm claiming it. Respekkit.

Anyway, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with the C-U-Next-Tuesday idea. I just needed to reverse my approach. (I just spent six hours rewording that sentence to make it into some sort of approach-from-the-rear joke, at which I failed and which I think is sadly telling of my current level of brain power and motivation to clean.)

C-U-Next-Tuesday should be all about honoring those who deserve the title. Honoring the cunt.

Indeed.

As my friend Jilly wrote when I first announced my love for Nancy (on my birthday, after PHubby requested Nance wish me a Happy Birthday):

This woman needs a fanclub. STAT. She ranks 2nd (right between Anna Wintour and Gwyneth Paltrow) for my all time favorite C U Next Tuesday faces. This woman brings her A Game Bitchface to the news everyday and does not receive the proper appreciation for it.

Amen, Jilly.

If you already watch Nancy, you know. If you don't, allow me to break down the cuntyness for you.

Normally, I watch Nancy for one of two reasons:
1. Exclusive interviews with major players in a crime that has made national headlines.
2. I become hypnotized by a gigantic necklace and a shiny shirt.

I get pissed at Nancy when she covers worthless crap, like Jon-and-Kate drama or Michael Jackson's death - not that I wasn't interested in those stories. I was! Nancy excels in other areas.

Nancy is a former prosecutor with a record of wrist-slaps for shady practices - quite obviously all in the crusade for victims. Bitch, WHAT? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Occasionally, though, Nancy covers something pointless and I watch anyway, because I've already seen this Law & Order, and I just can't devote another minute of my life to Two and a Half Men. (Charlie is a whore, Alan is a mooch, the maid is a bitch, the mother is a sociopath, and the kid is stupid and farts a lot. I get it.)

This happened last week, when Nancy was discussing the latest news of Jon Mark Karr, a completely delusional fuckwad of a person who, a few years ago, falsely confessed to killing Jon-Benet Ramsey. Long story short, Homeslice has some issues.

Discussing Karr's possible sex change (because apparently, he might be in hiding as a woman, after being accused of stalking a young girl), Nancy was confused about where on the sexual spectrum this guy lies, and she straight-up got snarky with one of her contributors:

"I'm a JD, not an MD. You need to break it down for me."

YES! Nancy-watching pay-off! She's all, "Break it thefuck down. Does he or does he not have a penis, a vagina-like hole, or breasts?"

She gets to the bottom of the issues.

Also? Nancy Grace has a contributor named Jean Cesares, which when you're not paying attention to the TV, and Nance calls to Jean Cesares for information, sounds exactly like Jenkasaurus ... and you think for a split second Holy Shit! Nancy Grace has a contributing dinosaur! Nancy Grace is King of Everything!

Anyway, I do follow a lot of true crime news. Any time Scott Peterson writes a letter to Casey Anthony, or scuba divers have a picture of Natalee Holloway's remains, you can find me over with the other crazies at websleuths.com. I'm awakewriter. Friend me, yo!

Morning glory

Sarah P: *emerging from the bathroom in morning radiance, full of beauty and love, the picture of grace and loveliness* Honey?

PHubby: *pausing on the staircase, on his way to fetch coffee for his gorgeous wife* What?

Sarah P: *rounding the corner* Will you still love me when I join Whitesnake?

PHubby: Do you want to dance on my car?

Sarah P: *shrug* Kinda.

*a few minutes pass* Gorgeous wife lounges in bed, radiating beauty and femininity, awaiting the coffee that will be served to her by a very attractive, shirtless man.

PHubby: *handing wife coffee, staring at her, probably amazed he is lucky to have landed such a looker* I'm not sure whether to call you Blair or Mallory.

*a few minutes pass, nothing really happens*

PHubby: Maybe you should reconsider Whitesnake. I think you'd fit in better with Mr. Big.

Sarah P: How dare you.