I Want A Mail-Order Bride..How Much Do You Charge?

There's a lot of controversy in modern society about arranged marriages. Some people call it “oppression” whilst others crack jokes about “women in the kitchen.”

I confess, I've always belonged to the latter group.

It's not necessarily because I'm all for gender based oppression, but rather because I really just can't be bothered to cook or clean for myself.

I recently watched an episode of the popular television series “The Family” featuring an Indian family who repeatedly pressured one of their younger sons to get married, telling him that they'd “take him to India to find him a nice homely wife.”

After watching a single episode of the show, I've gotta say, I wouldn't mind joining the youngest son on his quest to find an Indian wife, either.

From what I've seen they cook, clean and basically do everything you tell them to do. Kind of like a House Elf from “Harry Potter,” but (and unfortunately this isn't always the case) without the squeaky voice.

I've never been much of an avid traveller, though..Travelling to India to find one seems a bit of a drag.

..They really should sell them on E-Bay. Hell, I'd even be willing to pay postage and handling.

WANTED:

Indian wife. Must do EVERYTHING I tell her.

Cooking and bondage cleaning is non-negotiable.

Apparently though, E-Bay doesn't sell Indian housewives online...SEEK don't exactly seem happy for me to post advertisements for one, either.

A pity, I was really excited for a moment there.

Seriously though, people: Why's everyone getting so up in arms about gender equality in countries like India? The women like to cook and clean for their husbands. That's no crime. Hell, if you ask me, a lot of us could learn something from them.

It's a real pity they don't sell them on E-Bay.

Sigh. I guess I'll just have to fantasize about Dobby the house elf and maybe one day..If I wish hard enough, I'll end up getting lucky.

And if all else fails, I guess there's always euthanasia.

There's A Little Bit Of "Slut" In All Of Us.

We're all saucy little bitches looking to get a root. There, I said it.

Let's face it, despite society telling us otherwise, a short trip to reality will quickly prove it wrong.

Why?

Frankly, I don't know.

I suppose it's human nature. In the case of honey bees, their genitals actually explode inside the body of the queen bee.

I'm pretty sure that's also something that, in the case of humans, we all try to avoid.

What I'm sick of, though, is people pretending they aren't attracted to each other. Why do people have to pretend that they don't like each other, when in reality they'd like nothing more than to hook up?

Personally, I'm sick of having to dance the typical pretend-that-I'm-only-a-friend-when-I-don't-really-want-to-be, skirting around the real issues behind a facade of niceties and badly disguised flirting.

The other day, a girlfriend who I've known for quite some time was telling me about what a “good man” I am.

Men, when the woman that you've fallen for tells you that you're a “good man” you know that you're in trouble. Under no circumstances do you want to be a “good man.”

You probably think that you're doing the right thing treating her nicely whilst Brad the footballer treats her badly, and her father beats her at home. Yeah, you are if you want to be her friend, but here's the unfortunate reality: it's more than likely that, when she breaks up with Brad and you swoop in singing victorious songs of your choice, you'll be turned down and she'll get back together with Brad the footballer within a week.

I'm sorry guys, but that's the unfortunate reality we live in. I'm not telling you to be a dick, by any means, but if you want to be “more than friend” do not solely allow yourself to be seen as a “good man.”

I'll tell you from personal experience that it's even worse when the person you've been in love with for years takes your friendship for granted and tells you “how good it is that you aren't just after the one thing that all the other guys are after” and what a “great guy” you are. (Seeing correlations between this and what I said earlier? Good, you're learning.)

The other week I was talking to a girl who, frankly, I'd admired for quite some time. In the middle of our conversation, she told me just that: that it was so good to see a guy not after the “one thing” that all guys are after, and what a “great guy” I am.

Let's be honest – up until thirty seconds after she'd said that, the majority of it hadn't been strictly true.

But I've learnt my lesson. From then on, I decided to take my lesson from the Bonobo, a chimpanzee. Believe it or not, Bonobos use sex as greetings, a means of solving disputes, making up for fights, and as a favors in exchange for food.

Guys, I don't know about you, but that's a world that I could happily live in until I reached the ripe old age of rampant erectile dysfunction.

After that, I guess I'd just turn bitter and wish the world would go back to how it used to be, where women showing their ankles induced chronic fainting.

Woman who don't disagree with me, and I know you're out there – you're in denial. You may find it disgusting, but you have to admit it'd be a better place: less fooling around, much more up front. Never again would you have to deal with a guy who you thought was “different” when he was really a jerk..No longer would there be wars or mass genocide.

The facts are there - If we'd all adopted this policy only a few decades ago, it's likely that Nazis would have been too busy penis fencing (and yes, Bonobos actually do that) to actually bother with mass genocide. We'd live in a more populated world with next to no crime, genocide or wars.

The only thing that would really remain unaffected would be poor, third world countries, and let's face it: that's not going to change in a hurry, anyway.

So, without further ado: I challenge you, reader. I challenge you to be a better man or woman. I challenge you to abandon society's notions and take up a new mantle: the mantle of the Bonobo.

Hell, I know I'll certainly be smiling.

Guys And Girls Alike: Boobs, Miniskirts, Trimming The Hedge And Taming The One Eyed Monster – I’m Just About Sick Of It All!

It’s nearing the end of the Saturday morning, and we all know what that means.

 Oops. Oh right, I forgot, only I know that shit. 

You’re probably wondering what I’m on about right now, huh? Or, for those who know me personally, what I’m actually “on” might be a more appropriate question. Rest assured though, thus far the only substance I’ve taken thus far today is a cup of tea with honey.

 Saturday mornings are generally my prime time as far as ranting is concerned. So…What’s on the agenda today, you may ask?

 Fair question, I’ll allow it.

 Boobs, miniskirts, trimming the hedge and taming the one eyed monster.

 Nope, you didn’t misread it.

 Now, before you jump to the wrong conclusion and assume I’m about to throw you into the deep end of a long, pornographically revealing story involving incest, candles and a picture frame, I ask that you take a deep breath and read on.

 

 I promise that I’ll try not to soil your mind too much.

 Over the past few years, boobs have been something that have been continually in my face. Literally.

 They’re not necessarily there just to taunt me, they’re also there for a biological reason.

 But guess what? Personally, I don’t give a shit about the biological reason. I just want to look at and touch them.

 Yup, I want to stare at and touch boobs. If you’ve got a problem with that, you may as well put me in cuffs and put me into the cruiser right about now. If, however, you think that you and I may share a like-mindedness in this area, then I encourage you to read on. If you’re a girl and you think that I’m a creep, read on anyway, I may just surprise you.

 Incidentally, before I launch into a long-winded rant, have you ever wondered what boobs would say if they could talk? Personally, whenever I envision it, I picture them apologising to me.

 Okay, yeah, I’ll agree with you on that. That’s slightly creepy.

 But still, think about it. They’re not exactly going to be discussing the global financial crisis, are they? If anything, they’re most likely to say something along the lines of

 “Sorry we look so sad and droopy ”

 That’s okay, boobs. I understand. Shit happens from time to time, as I’ve told you numerous times before.

 Let me give you, the reader, a classic example about why, despite my love of boobs, I also hate them:

 Recently, I was talking to a friend of mine about boobs, (for the sake of anonymity, we’ll call him Jerry.) Jerry described a situation he’d been in a few days earlier that was just typical.

He and a friend were at a party. And, as often happens, drinking ensued. Now, it didn’t take long for a small argument to take place, and the dialogue went something like this.

 Jerry: John, I’ll do what I want, okay?

John: No dude, it’s not okay, you’re doing it all wrong.

~Random girl wades into the conversation~

Random Girl: John, let him do what he wants.

John: Okay.

 Now, why did John fail to listen to his best friend but manage to listen to Random Girl? Well, inside John’s head, dialogue such as this probably ensued:

 “He wants me to stop.”

-Monkeys are clapping-

“A girl wants me to stop. I’ll listen to her, because she has boobs.”

-Bubble pops-

 ..I mean really guys, what happened to the old “bros before hoes”?

 And that brings me back to my point. These days, guys are all too concerned with boobs that they’re losing perspective. Sure, they’re nice to look at..But letting them take over your day to day life is just stupid and irritating.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 ..And now for the ladies.

 Don’t worry, ladies – I haven’t forgotten you, either. As much as I’d like to, I’ve gotta admit..I’m pretty sick of you right now, especially the way you’ve taken it upon yourself to try and look “hot” at school.

 Girls, two main lessons for you that I want you to take away from this:

•  Rolling your sleeves up on that shirt of yours doesn’t make you look like a fairy princess. It makes you look like a prat.

• Rolling up your skirt to the extent that it’s camel-toe galore whenever a breeze picks up just isn’t working. You might have nice legs and it’s completely understandable that you want to show them off…But please – it’s a school, not a brothel.

 Every time you bend over, jump into a hug or sit down, you know that your assets are being flaunted to the world, this doesn’t mean that you have to or need to put them on display even further.

 I’m sick of those girls who decide not only to bring UP the ends of their skirts but the girls who’ve then taken the next step and decided to wear G-strings or ride up their underwear so far up their arse that it looks like they’ve got nothing on at all.

 I’m not going to mention any names, but for those of you that are reading, you likely know who you are better than I do.

 You may think I’m a pervert.

 Yeah, so what? I look. Isn’t that what you want me to do? Isn’t that why your dress is so short, why you wear G-Strings why you sport Victoria Secret bras?

 Exactly. So don’t go condemning me for it.

If I still seem like a pervert to you, I’ll tell you right now that I’m not. I’m not waiting for the chance to look at your body, nor do I have a particular wish to rape you; I’m just annoyed that you have to flaunt your shit at me every day.

Now, if you must wave your crotch to the world like a golden ticket, then please..PLEASE..Take it upon yourself to trim the hedge and give it some regular maintenance!

It’s one thing having to see your underpants, but it’s quite another to catch some hair hanging out of the side, staring at me like a lost puppy-dog in the window of a fucking pet shop. That’s just torture!

An experience that my aforementioned friend “Jerry” regaled to me the other day was a prime example of this. A girl sitting down on the floor in class, with everyone in view, decided it’d be a great idea to re-arrange her underwear.

Now, at this point, if you don’t know me personally and haven’t heard this story before, you may be thinking; “what’s wrong with that?”

 I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that.

 It’s wrong when she pulls her underwear to the side revealing to the world an untamed, hairy one-eyed monster.

 …SURROUNDED BY A FOREST THE SIZE OF THE FUCKING AMAZON!

 Jerry’s head was in a spin for hours to come. Blue-balls and hormones mixed with disappointment and anger. Thanks for that.

 I mean really girls, you drive me crazy, but not in the cute, lovey-dovey way. Instead, you drive me crazy in a way that makes me question your intelligence, capacity for rational thought and personality, not to mention your morals and compassion for the countless men you’re torturing while trying to look sexy.

 So, with that rant over, I think a little bit of credit is due. I couldn’t have completed this article without the helpful insight and storytelling of the infamous “Jerry” whose stories have dominated and supported many of the smiles of readers as they devour this, and many of my other articles.

 Readers, as always, I thank you for reading. If you like what you’ve seen so far, I encourage you to subscribe via email or manually stay tuned by checking in on my blog once or twice a week. I try to post fairly regularly!