Do you have a hotdog or a hamburger in there???

In my professional opinion about 1% of the general public are androgynous. This is a really polite way of saying I don't know if they typically urinate from an upright or seated position. When I encounter someone like this I find myself staring. Are those breasts or simply man-maries? Is that your wedding tackle in your pants or a well placed item in your pocket? Either way, I hope that you're happy to see me....

I saw someone yesterday who could have easily convinced me that s/he was either a man or a woman. I just had no idea. So I found myself staring. I become so engrossed that I think my mouth opened a little bit and just kind of hung there. (Now you know yet another ugly truth about me. When I think hard I become a mouth breather. Tres sexy, non?)

Anyhoo, after a while I realized that s/he saw me staring and was openly staring right back at me. I wonder if s/he knew why I was checking him/her out. Ok. Let's call her/him Pat so that I don't have to keep worrying about the fucking pronouns. So, I wonder if Pat could tell why I kept staring about crotch level. If it was a man he was probably thinking, "Jeez. Take a fucking picture. These soccer moms are so sad...."

If it was a woman she was probably wondering if she had forgotten to zip her fly. Just like when someone is looking at me and they wipe their nose I immediately wipe mine thinking they are trying to tell me that I have a bat in the cave. And then they, of course, wipe their nose again thinking that I was trying to tell them that they need to hit it again. Back and forth, back and forth until one of us summons the courage to ask, "Do I, um, have something on my nose?" And then the other one will say, "No, do I?" And then we'll both laugh. Good times.

Back to Pat. What I'd really like to know is if Pat actually knows if s/he appears androgynous and enjoys the anonymity that must come along with it. People don't know if they should expect you to play football or to knit doilys so you spend your days doing whatever the hell you want to without worrying about gender expectations. Hmmm.

Here is my humor-blogs link. Click it, please? For me, the annoying mouth breather???

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At...

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke...

Protesting at Funerals: A Look at the Deranged and Demented

I normally like to write about funny things. (At least they are things that I find funny.) They are usually attempts to be funny in a ha-ha kind of way, although sometimes I will throw in something that's funny in a weird way, just to shake things up. But what I want to write about now isn't funny at all. It is shocking and horrific. There was a girl from my home town who was murdered at Auburn University last week. Her name was Lauren Burk and she was 18. She went to our local high school and although I didn't know her many of my friends children did. She's being buried today. Her family is, naturally, heartbroken. It was a random, tragic and violent attack. That's really bad enough. My husband drove by the funeral home yesterday and noticed that there was a small army of Harley Davidson riders holding American flags. They appeared to be guarding the memorial service. It turns out that they were asked to be there to protect the family because a group called the We...

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