Ten More Reasons Why Chuck Henderson Should Suck It

Remember last week when I wrote a post responding to Chuck Henderson’s article called
50 Things Every Woman Should Realize About Men, and I promised you I’d respond to it, 10 things at a time for the next 5 weeks?

Chuck:
11. He Wants To Try Anal

He might never ask for it, but he wants it. And odds are, most, if not all of his former girlfriends wouldn’t let him. Let him have it at least once, maybe on his birthday. It’ll be a bonding experience.


Jennifer June:

Chuck.

First, not all men want it. Some men refuse to do it. Some men even think it’s gross. I know, it’s hard to imagine a man who isn’t intrigued by poop but, as few and far between as they may be, they do exist.

Also: The anus is surrounded by a muscle, called the anal sphincter. Aggressive and/or repetitive anal sex often leads to the weakening of the anal sphincter.

And: The tissue inside the anus is not as well protected as the skin outside the anus which leaves it particularly vulnerable to tearing and the spread of infection.

I’m not saying that anal can’t ever be fun, or safe. But I am saying that not all women think that a man’s fascination with her butt-hole is worth the risk of intense pain, the increased risk of contracting hepatitis, herpes, HIV,etc… and/or a future of incontinence.

Out of curiosity Chuck, how many of those dudes do you think will stick around after he renders his woman diaper dependent?

Chuck:

12. He Wants To Bang Your Friends

I’m not saying he’ll do it, but he wants to. Don’t take it personally—he’s wanted to bang 90% of all the women he’s ever met. It’s really not that big a deal. Let him know you know and watch how red he gets.

Jennifer June:

She wants to bang your friends too Chuck. I’m not saying she’ll do it, but I am saying that she probably will bang your brother, if she hasn’t already.

Chuck:

13. You Should Learn To Play Pool

There’s nothing hotter than a chick who can beat you in pool.

Jennifer June:

We know how to play pool Chuck. We just pretend we don’t so you can feel like a man and “teach” us how. We know how much you guys like to feel needed and it’s such an easy way to boost your self-esteem…

Chuck:
14. He Wants You To Seduce Him

Yes, he probably likes sex more than you do, but you want him to be happy, right? Don’t wait for him to instigate every time. Surprise him every once in a while.

Jennifer June:

Likewise buddy. And guess what. We like sex just as much as you do. But scratching your balls, farting, and sticking our hands on your crotch to show us the boner you just got from seeing Sandra Bullock on TV isn’t actually considered seduction.

Chuck:

15. He Notices When You Don’t Wear The Jewelry He Bought You

If you don’t like it, for Christ’s sake, say so and let him try again. It seems ungrateful when you wear it once and then he never sees it again.

Jennifer June:

Jewelry?

Chuck:

16. He Wants You To Need Him

Sure, you’re an independent lady and he likes that. But he also wants to feel useful. So let him change a light bulb and open pickle jars for you. It boosts his self-esteem.

Jennifer June:

Uh huh, only we need the jar opened now, not in two weeks, if he gets around to it, which is why we let him “teach” us how to play pool last night instead.

Chuck:

17. You’ve Got To Watch Your Weight

Oh shit, did I really say that? Well, it’s true. Just because you landed him doesn’t mean you can eat whatever you want and stop going to the gym (and to be fair, neither can he).

Jennifer June: Screen shot 2014-04-11 at 8.53.39 AM

Chuck is never afraid to tell it the way he sees it. But he is apparently afraid to show his face for some reason…

Chuck:
18. If You’ve Been Living Together For Longer Than Three Years, He’s Not Going To Marry You

At that point, he already considers himself married, and the idea of a wedding is more of a hassle than the special day it is to you. You can try to force him into it if you want, but…

Jennifer June:

I’m thinking that if you want to keep your woman, you might want to show her that she’s worth the “hassle”. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to but…

Chuck:
19. Ultimatums Do NOT Work

Any time you try to force a guy to do anything, he WILL resent you for it. Try an honest talk about how you feel and what you want out of the relationship before you give him an “either/or.”

Jennifer June:

“Honey, we need to talk…”

Chuck:
20. He Wants Kids

It’s hardwired into his DNA. No matter what he says when he’s in his twenties, when he gets a little older, he’s going to want a legacy to leave behind. But please make sure he’s ready before you stop taking your birth control.

Jennifer June:
Is it also hardwired into his DNA to insist the kid is not his son, leave his baby-mama for a younger dumber woman, refuse to pay child support and/or show up on his days to see the kid, and tell all his friend’s and family that his (now) ex is a psycho-bitch who never lets him see his kids even though she secretly got pregnant all by herself just to try to keep him because he’s just that much of a prize?

Just wondering…

Tune in next week for 10 Reasons Why Chuck Henderson Needs To Get Gay

Jennifer June

Live Like The PQ Won The Election! But Please Don’t Breed…

Do you hear that?

That’s the sound of anti-separatists exhaling, ordering another poutine, and streaming How To Lose A Guy In 10 days on Netflix. Again.

3 days ago people were packing their bags, booking flights, staging family escape drills, and threatening to live out their wildest dreams.

“If the PQ wins I’m moving to New Mexico! and that’s final!”

“If Quebec separates, I’m going to start my own political party and give this province a wake-up call!”

“If the Liberals lose I’m going to start breeding Bengal tigers once and for all!”

But then guess what.

The PQ didn’t win.

The threat of a referendum died.

And so did your dreams.

Granted, those of you planning to take job offers in Mississauga were probably only leaving the province for political reasons.

But the rest of you. You were using the election results as an excuse to do what you have been dying to do for ages and a lifetime, but couldn’t give yourself permission to do without justification.

Here’s the thing.

THIS IS YOUR LIFE.

You only get one of them.

Move to New Mexico.

Start your own political movement.

But please don’t breed anything. There’s enough of everything on the planet already. Well, except for North African Elephants, Dodo birds, and Malagasy Aardvarks, but still, animals aren’t hobbies. They’re living beings.

Honestly, don’t even breed people if you can avoid it. There are tons of those too, and millions who need loving passionate parents like you. Buy some of those.

“I guess we don’t have to move to Hawaii anymore…”

WRONG!

We totally NEED to move to Hawaii! You know why?

Because “WE” NEED to eat fresh mangoes off the trees, and play ukelele, and go surfing every day, and live in a place where racial and ethnic lines are often blurred or deemed irrelevant, and there is no Daylight Savings Time!

What I’m trying to say here is:

Don’t get comfortable.

Don’t let the wind out of your sails.

Live like the PQ won people!

Only less angry and discouraged.

Give yourself permission to do the things you were going to do (on April 6th) when you thought that life as you know it was about to change forever.

Go! Now! That’s an order!

HawaiiJen

Jennifer June

Vote For Phoebe

So yesterday was election day here in Quebec Canada and after a painfully long and intensely controversial campaign season, it is finally over.

Last night, the evil racist, narrow-minded, inbred scociopath, otherwise known as Pauline Marois, leader of the Parti Québécois, not only lost the election in general, but even lost in her own riding, before less than gracefully resigning.

As a passive aggressive protest of the PQ’s obsessive discrimination against all and any language that isn’t French, manifested for example, by an attempt to ban the word Pasta from the menus of Italian restaurants –

We (and by we I mean myself, Thing 3, and a gang of some of the coolest people I know) ate not one, not two, but THREE kinds of pasta.

Pasta

And we called it PASTA.

And we said it in a super non-French totally Italian accent.

So yeah… things got crazy here last night. We laughed, we cried, We spoke French, English *gasp* AND Franglais,

AND. We like it. Ohhh how we liked it.

We voted, we waited, we ate sugar pie, we wore red and white toques, we hooted and hollered and stomped our feet, and we all jumped up and sang the Canadian national anthem when it was announced that the insanity was finally over.

We hugged, and kissed, and tossed our ḥijābs over our shoulders, throwing our arms in the air and ululating with joy, knowing that the Liberals being elected a majority govenment would mean, by default, the retirement of the PQ’s proposed power tripping, fear mongering, blatantly racist charter of “values”.

Okay, we may not actually have sung Oh Canada.

And only one of us was wearing a toque.

And not even one of us a ḥijāb.

And there was no pie.

But still.

We rejoiced. In a polite, apologetic, all Canadian way.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Liberal.

I’m not naive enough to believe in Government, or to think for even a moment that a non-corrupt political party exists, but this election felt like an emergency.

But it’s over *deep breath*.

And hopefully now we can go back to bitching and complaining about our totally corrupt but not quite so urgent or agressively violating politics for the next four years.

After which, I can stop voting strategically, and go back to voting for what I truly believe in.

Vote for Phoebe - Photo by Nat

Vote for Phoebe – Photo by Nat

P.S. you know what other non-French and totally Italian stuff happened last night?

Vegan Tiramisu Cupcakes that were so freaking good I ate about 286 of them all to myself and if I hadn’t eaten all that was left of them this morning, I would eat more of them for supper. In fact I may make more and eat nothing else until I get sick of them.

Which will be never. Yes, they’re that good.

TiramisuCupcake

And because I LOVE you SO MUCH MUCH IT’S CRAZY, I posted the recipe for you on Sweet Vegan so you can make, eat, and love them with me.

Jennifer June

Color Me Whatever Rhymes With Rad But Means I’m In Big Trouble…

Okay so I did it. I told you all that I wanted to. I resoluted to do it. And I’m going to do to it. For real.

I registered for the Color Me Rad 5K.

I did.

And I’m scared half to death.

And I don’t care that you all think I’m a bebe lala because it’s only 5k and it’s not like it’s a marathon, or even a half, because it pretty much is a marathon. To me.

I was just about to tell you that if you’re so cool and you think it’s so easy, then put your money where your mouth is and sign your ass up for the run yourself!

Then I was going to apologize and ask you nicely if you wanted to join our team.

Because our team, The Lady’s Lounge, currently consists only of

Things 2 and 3, both of whom party so hard that the race basically starts 5 minutes after their bedtime and also they smoke like fiends and probably couldn’t even run to the bus stop to get there, let alone run the actual 5k –

Jo, who has been practicing “coming down with something” since the day we signed up.

And myself…. who will probably running it alone. Scared and alone. Scared, crying, lonely and alone.

But when I went to the site to grab the registration link for you I was presented with a “sorry you’re too late, the race is full” message.

So I guess you’ll just have to come cheer me on and take tons of super sporty flattering photos of me, all fit and glistening with sweat, muscles ripped and workin’ it…

Old-runner

But here’s the thing. I had set a goal for myself, of what I thought was entirely reasonable, to run the 5k in 30 minutes, and as it turns out, I may have overestimated my abilities a tad.

A really big tad.

A couple of days ago, I found it it was actually going to be .5 degrees above zero and I got so excited, that I decided to run OUTSIDE for the first time since the fall, which, by my calculations, was about 18 months ago.

I bundled up, strapped on my pedometer and hit the road.

I ran and I ran. I ran so far away. I ran for what felt like an eternity.

I ran even though I felt like an asthmatic elephant lumbering and thundering and heaving along the bike path.

I ran a kilometer, then 2, then 3. I ran and ran and ran until my iPhone said

“Distance, 4.5 Kilometers”

And then I phoned it in. I did. I figured that was pretty freaking awesome and I started walking.

I had taken about 3 steps walking when a beautiful thing happened.

A giant white flatbed truck pulled up slowly beside me and the driver screamed

“Aweille! Fini la! T’es capable!!” (translation: Go on! Finish it! You can do it!”)

And I looked wayyyyy up at the driver and smiled.

And I picked up the pace, and he rode along slowly beside me for a few more minutes, cheering me on.

And even once he had driven off into the distance, I kept running. I ran and I ran.

I ran until my pedometer lady said:

“Distance – 5 Kilometers”

I am overjoyed with pride in announcing that not only did I run. Outside. Without walking (more than 3 steps) or dying

(although I may have broken both my knees and 1 of my ankles doing it) I ran 5k.

And it felt amazing.

Sort of.

Like an “Oh my god, that hurts, ow ow ow my knee, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop coughing? Ow, ouch. I can’t breathe”

kind of amazing.

I may however, want to to adjust my 30 minute goal just a smidge. Because my amazing 5K practice run took me 40 minutes and I think shaving off 10 minutes in a month might be a little over ambitious.

Maybe.

2014-04-04 11-11 AM - 2014-04-04 11-50 AM

Jennifer June

Dear Horny Stranger

Yeah you.

The lady in the audience on Friday night who screamed at me right in the middle of my song….

YOU.

You know what? As artists, we put an enormous amount of thought into every last detail of our performances.

Our costumes, our choice of music, our talent, our practice, our craft, our art.

Granted, my costume the other night was a skirt I’d fashioned by taping Velcro to a table cloth that I’d found in a thrift store the night before.

Okay sure, I chose the music earlier the same week and it’s a song I’ve done so many times I could sing it in my sleep.

Alright fine, maybe I didn’t even practice once before the show.

But you know what? It’s still my art. It’s still my passion. That I share. With you.

And having you cat-call me while I’m FULLY clothed, lumbering back and forth across the stage like a bear on stilts, singing my little song, minding my own little business…


“Sexy?”

Are you serious?

As a woman, as a feminist, as the mother of three daughters who I am fiercely protective of in every imaginable way, as an artist who has spent a lifetime honing her craft, pouring her blood sweat and tears into every word she sings, ever step on stage she takes, ever sentence that she writes, and every creative breath that she takes…

Thank you. Thank you so much for that because honestly, I’ve been thinking about giving up Burlesque entirely these days. There are so many younger, perkier, sparkle-ier, performers out there these days, it’s a little unnerving unveiling my flabby thighs and windsock mom-boobs to an audience of drunken hooligans night after night.

At this point, it doesn’t matter how much glitter you pour on yourself, or how many pairs of pantyhose you try to disguise your veins and cellulite with, there comes a time where a performer asks herself.

“who want to see this?”

And then somebody like you comes along and re-inflates her ego and all is well with the world once again.

So I just wanted to take this moment to say that I appreciate your encouragement and the love.

I know you were wasted and probably couldn’t see straight.

I acknowledge that your feeling may even have changed after I actually started taking my clothes off. but still…

just know that there will always be a special place in my heart for you. And that your drunken little self is a part of what makes all of this worth while.

Also, my next show is this Saturday night… feel free to come scream your guts out.

BLBAvril2014

Jennifer June