Why do only women have guilty pleasures*, like watching Grey’s Anatomy or eating a cup full of peanuts with chocolate sauce poured over it, having sex with the UPS guy, spitefully viewing America’s Next Top Model?

Is it that men don’t feel guilty about pleasure?

Or am I wrong about the gender difference?

So what’s your guilty pleasure? What fun, food, cheap fiction or flight of fancy do you like to indulge in? (God, I love alliteration. Sorry about that.)

Me? I like to go into the kitchen and sneak marshmallows from the cabinet and pop one in my mouth when I’m passing through. I suppose what does it for me is the sneaky secretiveness and the eating something that has absolutely no nutritional value, real or imagined.

*I did a google search for “guilty pleasures” and found that a lot of people, by the way, are very close to mentally ill and I don’t think, technically, that being obsessed with weighing your own poop is a guilty pleasure. I was going to link to the place I found that, but on second thought… umm… no, I won’t. I tell ya… google is a scary place sometimes.

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             A guy named Mitch Altman invented  the gadget of our dreams that he calls “TV-B-Gone” — countless frequent travelers before him have surely wished for a way to turn off all those obnoxious TVs yammering away at us in bars, lounges, and waiting rooms.

            Remember sitting on a sticky plastic couch, near death’s door, eyes running, head throbbing, chest aching—in the doctor’s waiting room only to be assailed by “The Jerry Springer Show” featuring two fat women from Arkansas or Tennessee pulling each other’s hair, whilst revealing a bit of butt-crack during the fracas, arguing over who done whom wrong with whose “man?”

           Or, you’ve nicely handled the news that still another flight had to be cancelled due to whatever, decide to console yourself with a small drink and nice meal, only to view–in living color–an autopsey on one of America’s proliferation of CSI shows. (How they can scheduled them to fit the dinner hour is uncanny.)

           Well, it had to happen! Mitch had all he could stand, marched right out to the garage, down to the basement or the workshop and whips out a “TV-B-Gone.”

           Manufactured by Cornfield Industries and available through Amazon.com and your nearby Target store.

           Life just doesn’t get better than this (unless, of course, all masters of all Jerry Springer-like shows vanished into the ether….as though someone had invented, say, the “Garbage-B-Gone.”)  Imagine how much fun it would be at home – if you happen to be married to a Remote-Hog–even if you can’t change the channel with it, you can turn it off.  Failing that, just buy yourself a universal remote, program it and keep it behind that little pink cushion you use behind your behind. He’ll never find it there.  Cheers, girl friends.

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From my last article where I mentioned control freaks, I found there was at least one person who disagreed that such a concept was bad. Then I ran across this, and just had to share it with you.

I can’t decide if it’s funnier that this is listed on a site for Valentine Gift Ideas , or that it was actually my husband that showed it to me.  Oh and if you’re serious about wanting one, it IS a British site, but I checked.. they will ship to the US. 

The buttons are a tad hard to read.  According to their site, they say things like:

• Listen,
• Stop Snoring
• Talk about Feelings
• Tell the Truth
• Propose

Personally, I’d like one that was a tad more universal, because if I was going to get to push buttons that would make people do things, I wouldn’t limit it to men, and I’d want to say things like:

• Shut up
• Ummm, shut up
• But mostly: shut up.

If I could control just those three things about people, I’d be in heaven.

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Although we’re technically Blogging for Bitter Women, this one is for the guys.

Quick Tip #3: There is NO Bank

Women might indicate otherwise, for motives I wouldn’t care to speculate on, but when it comes to earning “points” with the woman in your life, there is no bank.  The credit you earn now is the credit you have.   You can’t point back to a good thing you did a week ago and say “But hey I did the dishes without being asked last week.”  It don’t work that way.

Now some might consider this cruel, but it’s not… it’s just simply the way it is, and the sooner you understand the truth of the Chick Point System, the sooner you will be able to achieve the happy status of understanding you so desire.

Let me give you an example:

1. Monday:  Buy flowers for her.  + 10 points
2. Tuesday: Do dishes without being asked +5 points (Assuming this is a point of contention or something you don’t normally do.) Note: This gets fewer points than flowers because you dont’ have to leave the house or spend money to do it.
3. Wednesday: Give her fantastic, thoughful, multi-orgasmic sex. +10 points. (Although you don’t have to leave the house or spend money for this one… hey.. it’s good orgasms.  Shut up.)
4. Thursday: Remember to put gas/diesel in the car on the way home, knowing that she’s going to be using the car first thing in the morning and won’t want to have to stop.  +15 points.

Now.. the quiz… On Friday morning, how many points does he have?

The novice would look at that and say, “Easy… 40 points!”  Oh, you poor, dear soul.  

The correct answer: 0 points.

Don’t cry to me about it.  You should thank me for explaining this.  You got credits for what you did on Monday-Thursday, no doubt, but just remember.. there is no bank.

Remember this, and your life will get easier.  Promise.

(My apologies, by the way, for all the contextual Google  “Get Cheap Credit” ads that are undoubtedly going to be appearing for this one!)

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Mercy me! While pondering the situation recently posited for our Bitter Readers, I decided to drop in on Bubbaworld - who seems to be a fellow keeping track of some of the stranger goin’s-on in Oklahoma. That could turn into a full-time job.

Bubba reminded me of “The Case of the Masturbating Judge.”  It seems that Creek County (OK) District Judge Donald Thompson used to, er, entertain himself whilst trials were being held before his bench.

“The Case of the Masturbating Judge takes Oklahoma’s Law and Order reputation to new levels, unfortunately very low levels. Creek County District Judge Donald Thompson “retired” while facing proceedings to oust him from the bench on allegations of using a “penis pump” to masturbate during both jury and non-jury trials, including those for first degree murder.  Thompson now stands a convicted felon following a jury trial in which he was found guilty of four counts of indecent exposure, sentenced to four years in prison, fined $40,000 and required to register as a sex offender.”

Ah, yes, that should be sweet enough, BWs; but, there’s more.

Before the matter came to trial, Thompson sent a letter of resignation to Gov. Brad Henry, which–if accepted–would allow him to retire with a full pension. Somewhere, sanity prevailed and the pension was revoked. Naturally, time on his hands (sorry), the incarcerated Thompson appealed the decision. (Lord knows that a man of his age, what with being a convicted sex offender–thus unemployable–needs the income.) According to THE TULSA WORLD (March 7, 2007):

“A hearing to determine whether to reinstate the state retirement benefits of former Creek County District Judge Donald D. Thompson has been continued indefinitely. “

Wahoo! Applause for the good guys.  Once again on June 21, 2007, THE TULSA WORLD reports:

“The Oklahoma Pardon and Parole Board on Wednesday unanimously voted not to grant former Creek County District Judge Donald D. Thompson parole.”

Sweet Jesus–sweet Justice…..

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