I have a dirty, nasty, yet wonderful little secret (which is not so much a secret anymore): I enjoy reading romance novels. Trust me: it’s not for the good writing, character depth, or the random sex scenes that I read them. Frankly put: they’re dumb reads. After a long day of using my brain to try and figure stuff out stuff both logically (programming) and creatively (design) it feels good to sit down and let my mind stop thinking as I read of the antics of the characters in these books.

Now, I’m not hard-core addicted to them and have a collection to rival a bookstore or anything. I have a select few I have bought over the years that I enjoy reading from time to time though. I am hardly an expert at the “art of romance” novels so my list will be full of generalizations and meant to be funny (so don’t get huffy romance readers/writers).

Based on the books I have read and my deeper understanding I have gained from them, here are things I (and my friend’s) have learned from romance novels (split into two parts since obviously I have learned a lot):

• The heroine must be damn near pure as snow before they’re bedded. In the past women were prized for their virginity and being “pure” upon their wedding day. Although the “moral standards” of the past have loosened (heh), typically you see the heroine has limited or no experience in the sack. If she has had lovers they were few and far between. They were meaningless relationships being not that good, or the man betrayed her in some sort of way (cheating usually), or died tragically, thus making her unsure she can ever love (put out) again.
• The hero tends to be sex god who have been around the block more then once with surprisingly no STDs. What I don’t get it with all the heroes sleeping around with hundreds of thousands of women why they didn’t catch something along the way? I mean, STDs have been around for awhile. The heros are always the picture of health and pure sex godliness. Why, with all their aimless sexual encounters, doesn’t the heroine have that burning sensation when she pees after coupling with the hero?
• It is ALWAYS the BEST sex they have ever had when they (finally!) have sex. Throw out all you have ever known about sex before this. When the couple finally has sex if you look up “satisfied” and “earth-shattering” in the dictionary, their pictures will most likely be located there. When I was a teenager I once asked my Mom why she never read romance novels and her reply was simply this: “Because the sex is always the BEST they EVER had.”
• The heroine always has lots of pride, spirit, and isn’t too womanly while still being able to be a woman. The heroine will never shrink away from a good fight and will always be proud in all that she does. She is willing to do stupid stuff in order to save her pride and typically does not like to apologize when she’s wrong. That, my dear reader, would “ruin her pride”. This goes with the hero as well, however, in romance novels the word pride tends to be one of the adjectives most commonly attached with the heroine. Without this pride the couple would not have nearly as many misunderstandings and the books would probably be about 200 pages shorter.
• She’s never a common beauty. More often-then-naught, she will be an “exotic” beauty. Whatever the common “rage” of the Season is for beauty the heroine will not be it. If blonde and blue-eyed is the “thing”, she will have deep maroon/brunette/red/black hair with hazel/green/brown/aquamarine eyes. Mix and match as you choose. Her features will be different thus making her stand-out and often will become the new “rage” simply because it is “different.” 
• If she is not a beauty and is “frumpy” or “common” the hero’s love will make her beautiful. See the Cinderella story concept that has been done over, and over, and over again.
• They were “awkward” looking when young. This is not always the case but sometimes in their youth many of the heroine’s suffered from the “ugly duckling” syndrome. They were either too thin/fat, their ears/eyes/nose/something is usually too large/small, their hair sticks out funny/is an awkward shade of something. Basically, they’re normal and like the rest of us until they grow up when they blossom and become that rare beauty that we will never be.
• The heroine will always not believe in social castes and treat everyone equally. It is a rare case indeed in romance novels where the heroine will act within her station of life. Instilled in their very core of being is the modern concept of “equality” which makes them defy societies norm and befriend the “lower classes.” In many cases they’re close with the servants, confiding their hearts inner woes and becoming wonderful friends. But, even with the friendship, I don’t see them stopping their “friend” from cleaning their piss-pot. Just saying. 
• Both the hero and heroine will have some sort of dysfunctional family growing up which create emotional scars that need to be overcome. Usually together. Inevitably either the hero or the heroine will have a messed up childhood of some sort. From one or both parents dying and/or neglect (or sometimes abuse) they tend to carry the emotional scars along with them well into adulthood which give them issues with commitment and trust. Usually when they have found each other a life-time of emotional scars is cured through the power of ~love~ and not therapy. 
• Genitalia is magically beautiful, and bodily fluids taste like fine wine. I think this point pretty much speaks for itself.

to be continued…

He starts to sound like this after awhile.

You know it’s true.

And before your feathers (heh) get ruffled I showed it to my Democratic friends as well and they got a kick out of it as well.

This would be case one as to why it’s bad for me to have photoshop on the computer and free time on my hands.

First off you might as well consider all links in this post NSFW. Heck, it might melt your machine since as the post title tells you: a sex god is going to be talked about.

Remember this stud muffin I posted his video and the parody awhile back?

Yes. That is Gunther (NSFW). I have the soundtrack I proudly admit. I have a morbid fascination with this man for some reason. I think since he’s so ridiculous and seemingly full of himself that I find myself under his hypnotic spell of sex.

Plus, the mullet helps.

Not everyone sees eye-to-eye with me on this matter, unfortunately. Plus, I think the invention of google was bad purely for moments in which I am bored and doing random internet searches.

Me: [link to demotivational poster of gunther]

B: NO JUST NO

Me: OH YES

Me: GUNTHER IS SEDUCING YOU WIF HIS EYES

B:: Ummmmm

B: no

B: sorry

Me: Points at profile pic [note: which I had set to Gunther's picture]

B: I hope he does not do it for you.

Me: His mullet amazes me

B: haha

B: magic powers be in dem locks

Me: [picture of Gunther]

Me: Yes. 

Me: Obviously else he wouldn’t get such puss

B: does that say lol?

Me: Probably love

Me: Gunther is pure love

B: well I will assume it says lol

B: like what people do when he expects them to take him serious

Me: He smolders them with his sexy gaze

Me: and invites them to touch his tra la la

B: ohh his ding ding dong?

Me: While he’s looking for some fun

Me: and looking for some — bleep –

B: stop it damn it lol

It’s pretty much a given that all my friends and I like giving each other a hard time. We always doing it in the most loving ways possible, of course, but if you’re an outsider hearing us you might think that we’re kind of jerks. It’s our humor and, oddly, our way of showing we care. Two of my brothers and I are the same way; we call each other horrible names all in good fun as a way of showing we care. Don’t ask me how we got into doing it this way but most likely it has to do with the fact we’re all kind of smart asses.

With this in mind, a few months ago I was feeling sick one day. That tends to happen once a month. I don’t know why my cramps decide to manifest themselves into making me sick to my stomach but when the divine goddess of menstrual cycles was handing out ways for us women to suffer I kind of got the short end of the stick in some regards. I have learned to deal with it by drinking plenty of water and dealing with it. And avoiding chocolate. I think I’m one of the few females alive that does not like chocolate, especially during that time.

Anyway, I was feeling kind of sick one day as I was working away at the computer. My friend N and I love to give each other endless grief, especially if it makes one of us blush and embarrass each other thoroughly. The more people around to laugh at the other? The better. So, as I was puttering away on the computer thinking of the various ways I could end my suffering she notices my distress and inquires as to why I was looking under the weather. In telling her I felt sick to my stomach I seriously got this reaction:

“Oh my GOD, are you PREGNANT!?”

Yes. Because automatically me being sick to my stomach defaults to a baby. All that I learned in my sex education classes is a LIE. Of course it had the desired effect I think that she was seeking:

1. I turned BRIGHT red.
2. ALL the girls in the area started freaking out, badgering me if I was pregnant and not believing me.

I was pretty thoroughly embarrassed to say the least. However, I am not the youngest of six and the only girl for anything. I get even. For the rest of the day whenever she commented about anything pertaining to herself the conversations kind of went like this:

N: I have a headache.

Me: You know, that is the first sign of pregnancy.

N: No it is NOT.

Me: Same with denial. That is a sign you’re pregnant.

Or:

N: I’m hungry! It’s about time to take lunch break.

Me: Yes, especially since you’re eating for two now.

Even better and not related AT ALL:

N: My computer is acting weird!

Me: Sympathy pains to your delicate state.

Needless to say I think she kind of regretted suggesting I was pregnant. Especially when by the end of the day I got her so psyched out she ended up taking a pregnancy test.

Realize this is after we’d be chasing each other around the apart throwing bouncy balls at each other and trying to tickle the other (like the mature adults we are):

Me: Mack, come here, I want to give you a kiss.

Mack: No! You’re trying to lull me into a false sense of security!

Me: I am not! I just want to kiss you!

Mack: NO! I WILL NOT BE LULLED!

As I was reading through some blogs I frequent the other day I came across this piece of brilliance I just had to share:

Sarah Haskins (very good article that gives more background on her) is very, very entertaining with her Target Women series. You definitely need to watch them all. Mack and I eagerly await each week to see what she’ll talk about with “women” and proceed to laugh until it hurts.

Me: So what do you want to do?

Mack: I don’t know.

Me: Yes you do. Just tell me so we can get it over with.

Mack: Wow. Thanks for making whatever I suggest sound like you want no part of it.