Tag Archives: marriage

Daily Discussion with BQB – Hamster Marriage

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3.5 readers, a very important discussion today.

Should hamsters be allowed to marry?

Specifically…should hamsters have the right…

  • to marry other hamsters?
  • to marry people?
  • to marry cats?
  • to marry dogs?
  • to marry frogs?
  • to marry gophers?
  • to marry chimpanzees?
  • to marry platypi?
  • to have straight hamster marriage?
  • to have gay hamster marriage?
  • for three hamsters to get married?

This is truly the great question of our age.  And I don’t ask it lightly.  Frankly, I dont know where all the hamsters in the pet store are coming from, but I can only assume that all those hamsters are the result of some very hardcore hamster fucking and I am tired of these hamsters living in sin, having all kinds of freaky hamster sex without exchanging vows and making it all official in the eyes of God.

Further, and please, stop being a bigot, folks, OK?  It’s 2018, so I really think that if we are going to let straight hamsters get married then we should let gay hamsters get married to.  It’s time, folks.  OK?  It’s time.

If hamsters want to marry outside of their species, I’m fine with it.  If a hamster wants to marry a duck or a mongoose or something, that’s fine.  Who am I to tell a hamster that he or she can’t love a penguin?

And I’m not going to tell a hamster that he or she can’t love an inanimate object either, so if a hamster wants to marry a deck of playing cards or a bag of chips or a tasteful rendering of Wayne Newton, bare chested and riding a unicorn into outer space, who am I to say no?

Now, you might wonder, how could a hamster fuck an elephant or a goat or a donkey or a bucket of extra crispy fried chicken or a roll of wet paper towels.  While I applaud your inquisitive mind, I remind you that this is none of your business.  You don’t need to know.  Hamsters aren’t taking notes about your sexual habits so you don’t need to take notes about theirs, OK?  Sheesh. 2018 people.

Anyway, please let me know your thoughts on the important issue of hamster sex and/or more importantly, hamster marriage and whether or not you support hamster matrimony.

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Sologamy (Self-Monogamy or Should You Marry Yourself?)

There’s a disturbing new trend, 3.5 readers.

People marrying…themselves.

Can’t find the love of your life?  Do all your romantic conquests leave you disappointed?  Do you still want to walk down the aisle despite having no one to stand next to at the alter?

You’re in luck for  you can now…marry yourself!

Yes, marry yourself.  Propose to yourself.  Have a ceremony with yourself that you invite all your friends and loved ones to attend.  Go on a honeymoon by yourself and grow old with yourself.

After all, no one understand you more than you and no one will be there for you more than you because you’re the only one who physically can’t run away from yourself.

Anyway, I’ve been seeing stories about this popping up and I’ve never been able to tell if its on the level.  Some people may just be doing it because its funny, though I would imagine there are a few dopes who actually think this is the real deal and make all sorts of serious pledges to themselves.

In fact, there’s a website, “I Married Me” that will sell you a self-marriage kit that includes one, count ’em, one ring to put on yourself.

Something tells me that kit should include the number to the “Help Me, I’m Super Depressed” hotline.

Would you ever consider marrying yourself, 3.5 readers?

If you do, here are my questions:

#1 – If you masterbate, is that intimacy with your self-bride/self-groom or are you cheating on yourself with….yourself?

#2 – If you finally by some miracle meet someone who can stand you and you want to marry that person, will you have to divorce yourself?

#3 – If you marry yourself and have a one night stand with another person, have you cheated yourself?

#4 – If you divorce yourself, will you have to pay yourself alimony?  Will you have to write a check once a month to yourself?

#5 – If you are unhappy with yourself, can you go to self-couple’s counseling?

#6 – Is this that stupid?  I mean, don’t many marriages end in divorce, heartache and financial ruin, so much so that you might as well just sit at home and eat cookies with yourself?

#7 – Is this sad?  Is it disturbing that marriage has declined to the point where people think this is an option?

#8 – If you have a kid and you divorce yourself, do you have to split custody of the kid between yourself and yourself?

What questions do you have about sologamy, 3.5 readers?  Let me know if you plan on marrying yourselves.

 

 

 

 

 

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Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio, Motivational Speaker – Why Does My Marriage Suck?

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World Renowned Motivational Speaker, Anti-Suck Book Author and Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnist, Vinny Baggadouchio

Hello 3.5 Suckers.

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and I am on a mission to rid the world of suck. Every night before I go to bed, I imagine the planet as one great big orange in the palm of my hand that I am squeezing and squeezing until every last drop of suck has been wrung out of it.

That’s how much I hate it when things suck.

If you didn’t suck at reading so much, you could learn how to not suck with one of my self-help anti-suck books:

  • Sucking Suckers and the Suckfaces Who Love Them
  • Journey to the Center of Your Inner Suck
  • Stop Sucking in Thirty Days
  • Five Things You Can Do Right Now to Reduce Your Suck Levels By Ten Percent
  • Whoosh Goes the Sound of Your Released Suck

Of course, if you suck so much that you can’t even afford one of my anti-suck books, then you can get some free advice on how to not suck right here on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

(Although let’s face it, if you’re reading this mess, you probably suck.)

Sucky people from all over the world are constantly sending me letters, begging me to solve their sucky problems.

People trapped in a marriage that sucks is a common issue faced by suckers.  In fact, here’s one letter I received in my bag of fan suck mail just the other day:

Dear Vinny B,

My marriage sucks.  Is it because I suck?  Is it because my husband sucks? Do we both suck? Do we just suck together?

Please explain why my marriage sucks so bad and what I can do to make it so that it does not suck anymore.

Sincerely,

A Lady Whose Marriage Sucks

I’m sorry to hear that your marriage sucks, Lade Whose Marriage Sucks, but despite being an obvious sucker, you have inadvertently identified the top four explanations as to why a marriage sucks:

  1. You suck.
  2. Your spouse sucks.
  3. Both of you suck.
  4. Together, you suck.

Let’s go through each one.

Marriage Suck Question # 1 – Do You Suck?

As I always say, if you actually have to ask if you suck, then you suck.  And if you suck, then you could very well be the sucky monkey wrench that’s stopping up the gears of your marriage machine.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of some things that you, as a person who sucks, could be doing to suckify your marriage:

  • Farting – No one likes to be reminded that their mate has bowels.  Stop sucking all the good air in the room up your butt and let it rip outside for a change.
  • Cheating – Your word is your bond and only people who suck go back on a promise. If you’re getting a little something something on the side, then you suck.  Sure, an affair may seem like fun, but it is really just you putting a temporary patch on the gaping hole of your inner suck. Sooner or later your sucky flood gates will open and you’ll spill your suck all over the place and the world will finally know just how much you suck.
  • Gambling – It sucks when you put your spouse in the position of having to pawn his/her possessions because you can’t stop playing poker, betting on the ponies, or getting taken in by that dude with the three card monty table. People who suck at everything should never gamble as this is a surefire way to lose money due to your sucky abilities.
  • Letting Yourself Go – Do your looks suck? Sure, you may think that you have landed a honey so you might as well put some extra cheese on your taco, but all that cheese adds up…to a big pile of butt suck.  True, time does a number on our ability to not physically suck, but you don’t need to help the process along.
  • Depression – You suck so badly that you’ve lost the ability to get joy out of life. That is completely normal for a person who sucks.  Frankly, you suck so much I’d almost worry there was something wrong with you if you weren’t depressed about it.  But keep in mind that second hand suck is real and that your suck particles can fly through the air and latch onto your spouse like so many invisible suck barnacles.  Please don’t hurt yourself or others just because you suck.  You’d just be letting the suck in.  Instead, seek the advice of a trained medical professional on how to cope with and overcome your depression.  You’re not the first person to suck and you won’t be the last. So look yourself in the mirror, forgive yourself for sucking, and learn to move on.  If your spouse doesn’t suck, he or she will be there for you to lean on as you make the journey to a suck free life.

Marriage Suck Reason #2 – Does My Spouse Suck?

So you’re absolutely sure that you don’t suck and in fact, it is your spouse who sucks.

This is quite possible and here is a non-exhaustive list of things that you, as a person who does not suck, should not have to put up with from a spouse who sucks:

  • Cheating, farting, gambling (as discussed above) – But seriously, be a spouse who doesn’t suck and help your spouse overcome his/her depression.
  • Alcoholism/Substance Abuse –  Addictions suck, not just for the addicted but they can also drag a non-sucking person down into the depths of sucky depravity.  Perhaps as a person who does not suck, you can be a good role model for your spouse and help them get on the path to quitting an addiction that sucks. Alas, if your spouse is too far gone, you may have to make a sucky decision to move on.
  • Abusive Behavior – Even the greatest, least sucky marriages, fights in which unkind sucky words are exchanged are bound to happen. But if they’re happening daily and your spouse is using you as a verbal punching bag, you shouldn’t have to put up with that.  Heck, even a person who sucks shouldn’t have to be told constantly by their spouse that they suck. That’s what reputable anti-suck coaches like me are for.  Needless to say, whether you suck or not, you should never have to be a spouse’s physical punching bag either.
  • Being Sold to Foreign Businessmen – I don’t care how flattered you are by the high price you fetched in the underground sex slave auction your spouse signed you up for against your will, you should never have to put up with being sold as an international sex slave.  That just plain sucks.

Marriage Suck Reason #3 – Are We Both Sucky People?

This is entirely possible.  One of you could be an alcoholic farter while the other is a fat abusive gambler.  Perhaps you are both no-good cheaters who are constantly trying to sell the other into a life of international sex slavery.

In this case, you both suck.  Could you both make a pact to help each other mend your sucky ways? Perhaps…but as long as you both keep making excuses for your sucky behaviors, you’ll continue to drag your marriage down the suck hole.  If you’re both determined to suck things up forever, then you may have to consider going your separate ways so at least you can only suck up your own lives.

Marriage Suck Reason # 4 – Are We Non-Sucking People Who Just Suck Together?

Ahh, this is perhaps the saddest scenario in which a marriage sucks.

On your own, neither of you suck, but together, you suck like a Roomba stuck on autopilot.

Here’s an example:

You’re both alcoholics who have kicked your addiction long ago.  On your own, neither of you sucks at not drinking anymore. Alas, when you’re together, you become drinking buddies who party hearty.  It is a lot of fun at first, but without one non-sucker to flip the party switch off, things will eventually start to suck.

Yes, it is possible that the two of you suffer from any kind of addiction (from shopping to ice cream) and without one person to say enough is enough, then the two of you could end up in a suck spiral.

There’s also the potential of personality clash.  You’re a nerd who likes comic books.  She’s a supermodel who likes purse dogs. On your own, you both have your good, non-sucky qualities, but together, you have nothing to talk about or bond over and therefore, your conversations will suck.

Conclusion

ATTORNEY DONNELLY DISCLAIMER:

Vinny B. has no official credentials of any kind and therefore is not qualified in any way, shape or form to advise you about your marriage, your problems with depression or any problems you have whatsoever. If you suffer from these or any other problems, seek the advice of a real, trained professional and DO NOT rely on statements made by a dumb blog like this one.

Yes.  That disclaimer is true. Obviously, if you honestly believe that your marriage sucks, then only you can help you figure out what is the best thing to do.  Don’t rely on me.  Seek professional help.  Don’t be a dumb sucker who relies on dumb blogs.

Also, and I can’t stress this enough, please stop trying to sell your spouse into a life of international sex slavery.  Liam Neeson is only an actor and he won’t be able to save your spouse the way he did his fictional daughter in Taken.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 48

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With Reverend Cavanaugh between them, Slade and Sarah faced one another. Sarah gazed longingly at her man. Slade did his best to appear interested but in his mind he was mapping out the best possible escape route as if he were about to rob a bank and make a run for it.

“Dearly beloved,” the Reverend said. “We gather today to join this man, Rainier Slade and this woman, Sarah Farquhar in the bonds of holy matrimony.”

The Reverend opened up his bible, peeped at a card with some notes scribbled on it, then carried on. “For as Enoch said unto Elijah on the road to Damascus, ‘There is surely no act more pleasing to our righteous God than for a man to lie with the same woman day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, until the end of time comes and the glorious rapture returns all who are pure to their much deserved glory.”

In the pews, Doc swilled back his medicine.

“Gimmie some of that,” Annabelle whispered. “I didn’t know this was going to be so preachy.”  She took a big gulp then handed the bottle back to Doc.

“And ye, it must be known to all,” the Reverend said. “That marriage is truly the noblest of institutions…”

“My Mavis used to say anyone who wants to get married should be in an institution,” Gunther whispered to Ophelia. She frowned and shook her head disapprovingly.

“In fact, it was Aaron who said unto Jeremiah who in turn, spread the message to the Sumerians, ‘When a man lies with a woman not his wife, or a woman lies with a man not her husband it is considered an egregious sin in the eyes of our Lord and don’t even get me started on when two men or two women lie with one another…”

Blake and Townsend sat in the back, mostly to trade snide comments about Slade but also in the hopes of free eats.

“You told me there would be sandwiches,” Blake said.

“I don’t know,” Townsend said. “Every wedding I been to they usually put out a little something. Usually not until after the ceremony though.”

“Shit,” Blake said. “I bet Slade’s too cheap to shell out for sandwiches.”

Townsend started a thought. “Well if he’s half a good a host as he was a marshal…”

Blake finished it for him. “…I’ll starve to death.”

The Reverend kept preaching away. “I’ve had the good fortune to perform many wedding ceremonies in my day and the one piece of advice I never fail to offer to a couple is this. ‘Be true to one another.’”

Slade audibly gulped.

“Yes, ” the Reverend said. “Husbands and wives must be honest with one another at all times for a marriage built upon a foundation of lies will never provide a happy home but rather, serve as a sanctuary for the devil.”

Slade’s heart beat faster.

“No matter how painful it may be for a couple to share their deepest, darkest secrets with each other, they MUST do so, for even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant fib is still a falsehood with the potential to boil over into tremendous sorrow.”

Shit,” Slade thought. “If this is going to piss off God maybe I HAVE to say something.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Reverend said. “It is my understanding that the couple has written some vows that they wish to share with each other.”

We have?” Rain thought.

“Sarah,” the Reverend said.

Sarah took Slade’s hands into hers. “Rain, all my life my choices have been made for me. First by my father, then by Josiah. In effect, I’ve never had a choice about anything at all until today. I choose you because I love you. When you hold me I feel safe. All my cares wash away and it is as if you and I are the only two people left in the world…”

No one told me I was suppose to say anything,” Slade thought.

“…and should I die tomorrow,” Sarah continued. “My life will be complete, for having known the joy of being your wife. I vow to spend all my days thinking of new ways to make you as happy as you have made me.”

Annabelle was so touched she cried. Doc took another swig of his Cure-All then handed it to his new love interest.

“It will calm your menstruations, my dear,” he whispered.

Slade may have been madly in love with Miss Bonnie, but as far as he was concerned, what Sarah had just said was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. God would have to be disappointed with his lack of honesty.

Sarah looked at her groom with big brown eyes.

Shit,” Slade said. “When she was babbling away on the ride in. That’s probably when she said to have something to say.  Damn it.

The guests grew silent. Slade coughed.

“You’re special,” Slade said.

Slade looked around. Everyone waited for more.

“And pretty,” Slade said.

People were still waiting. What did they want?

“And I promise to be a good husband and wipe the shit off my boots before I come in the house.”

Silence. Sarah cried tears of joy. Even Gunther had a little moisture in his good eye.

“That was beautiful,” the old man said.

“Such lovely words,” the Reverend said. “Before we carry on, I ask now, if any one should object to this union, I bid you to speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The church doors swung open, a gust of wind blew in and the whole room got a whole lot…smellier.

Smelly Jack stomped down the aisle with his brother-cousins behind him.

“I OBJECT!!!”

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Pop Culture Mysteries: Smeller vs. Denier (Part 3)

Monte Carlo

June 1952

I was having a ball.

Muffelia

Muffelia “Muffy” Bordeaux aka the Second Mrs. Hatcher

No really, I was in attendance at an actual, bonafide ball.  I was wearing a fancy white tuxedo and everything.

Toward the front of the room, a conductor whirled his baton about, back and forth, leading strings, winds, and all manner of instruments in a breathtaking waltz.

Meanwhile, the second Mrs. Hatcher and I were cutting a rug on the large, luxurious floor.

“You dance divinely, mon cheri,” my partner whispered in my ear before nibbling ever so suggestively on my lobe.

“You’re not too shabby yourself, my little creme brulee.”

Muffelia “Muffy” Bordeaux.  She was a sultry Cajun coquette, the type of woman who made men’s hearts overflow with passionate lust.  Like the bayou she was born and bred on, she was mysterious, mischievous…and oh so dirty.

Sorry 3.5 readers.  I didn’t mean to scandalize you.

I love it when a broad wears her hair up, mostly because I spend the whole evening in anticipation of when it comes down.  And Muffy was the Queen when it came to finding out what made my blood pump.

Her lips were red, full, and so very kissable.  Her hair was blacker than a coal miner’s boots and that night, she wore a silver gown with dangly earrings to match.  Men aren’t that hard to please, ladies.  We like shiny things.

For the first time in my life, I was on top of the world.

I’d left the LAPD and put up my own shingle.  Hatcher Investigations was in full swing and in the City of Angels, there was no shortage of wealthy folk with problems that required a man with my special skill set.

My secretary, Connie Connors, who I swiped away from my former boss, Capt. Thaddeus Talbot, was back home holding down the fort.  I owed my success to her.  She kept the business running like a well oiled machine, did all the filing, filled out all the paperwork, and most importantly, played nicey nice with the clients

Thus, all I had to do was the sleuthing.

My bank roll was fat, my car was sporty, and best of all, I had the type of wife who, with just one look, could make a man pitch a tent faster than a master outdoorsman.

Today, at ninety-five, I realize that’s not the only quality a man should be looking for in a significant other, but forgive me, because back then I didn’t know any better.

In my defense, the Muffster excelled at switching off a man’s brain.

Her accent made me putty in her hands, and she never missed an opportunity to bend me any which way she wanted.

She insisted on calling me Jacob, but she pronounced it, “Zsa-Cob.”  “Zsa,” like Zsa Zsa Gabor, the actress from Green Acres, and “cob” like what you hold when you’re eating corn.

“I want you to hold me in your arms forever, Jacob.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, baby.  You make me feel like a million bucks.”

SPOILER ALERT:  I’d later learn that the “forever” Muffy had in store for me was a mere six months and coincidentally, she’d shoot me six times and leave me for dead over the same amount of money, not to mention run off with Roscoe, my lousy excuse for a kid brother, God rest his soul.

But put all of that out of your mind for now, 3.5.  That night, I was convinced we were both happy.

And why wouldn’t we be?

We were on our honeymoon.  A free honeymoon.   A glorious fortnight in Monaco, the tiny European principality where all the beautiful people of the world gathered to hob knob, rub elbows, trade gossip and measure each other’s bank accounts.

We were the guests of Count Fabian Rickard, heir to a lavish Hungarian dynasty, and between you and me, a bit of a gullible old goose.

He’d managed to get nearly his entire fortune tied up in an elaborate real estate swindle and hired me to track down the fraudulent huckster who bilked him.

The nogoodnik was hiding out in LaLa Land and yours truly located him, put him behind bars, and most importantly, reunited the Count with his cabbage.

He was so grateful that when I mentioned I was about to tie the knot, he insisted that the new Mrs. Hatcher and I be his guests at his chateau, a vacation home he visited quite frequently.

The Waltz wrapped up and the band took a powder.

Our benefactor strolled up to us with a bubbly champagne flute in each hand.  He offered them and we accepted them gladly.

“Ahhh, young love,”  Count Rickard said.  “What I wouldn’t give to return to the days when the Countess and I gazed at one another the way you two do.”

The Count had a devilish black beard that came down off of his chin in a point and a heavily waxed mustache that curled up on both ends.

“Come now, Fabes.”

Fabes.  A little nickname I had for him.

“I bet whenever you’re gone, the little woman counts the seconds until you return and stir her goulash.”

Count Rickard looked at me, trying to figure out what I meant.  Then he let the guffaws fly.

“Oh Mr. Hatcher, you are a card.”

“He is an ace!”  Muffy added.

As jokes go, it wasn’t that funny, but Muffy was hotter than the surface of the sun, so we laughed anyway.

“Come my boy,” the Count said as he wrapped an arm around me.  “You must try your luck in the casino.  Are you a betting man, Mr. Hatcher?”

“Oh, I don’t know,”  I replied.  “Pa Hatcher always told me that games of chance are the devil’s work.”

Muffy looked at me with those dark, hypnotic eyes and straightened my bow tie.

“Come Jacob.  It will be fun.”

Yep.  All it took for me to ignore the sage advice of the wisest man I ever knew was a coy pout from a Southern belle.

Oh well.  Men had done worse things for far less.

“Lead the way, Fabes. ”

Copyright (C) 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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