Archives For Marriage

penis enlarger

 

This is one of the most sought after subjects on the Internet, so I thought I’d ask renowned humorist, Rodney Lacroix, about it. We also talked about his latest book, “Romantic As Hell.”

 

Samara: Your book was really funny. It might have been the peyote I ate, but I’m pretty sure I would have laughed anyway. How do you manage to be so funny?

Rodney: I’m an only child so I’ve had plenty of time to myself growing up. This usually meant I was either perfecting my comic timing or fondling my genitalia while staring at my Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders poster. Or both. My upbringing was mainly just me alone in my room trying to make pictures laugh so I could get a boner, essentially.

 

Samara: I love the cave man scene. How can I get a man to cover me in pine needles, a dead sloth, and feces?

Rodney: I’m pretty sure you’d just have to ask. Guys will do anything to get laid.

 

Samara: Of the five “typical romantic” gifts, JEWELRY. That is all. It’s not even a question, just give me jewelry.

Rodney: I’m okay with giving a woman jewelry if it’s just not, like, “Oh..I’ll just get her earrings because (a) I can’t think of anything else and (b) I’m pretty sure she has ears.” I’m also okay if the jewelry she wants is a pearl necklace because I know you write about a lot of sex stuff so this answer seems to fit in with your modus operandi (which is Latin for ‘labia,’ FYI).

 

Samara: Thank you for letting men know that a vacuum cleaner is not a present. However, I DO believe that lawn equipment is a suitable gift for a man. Am I sexist? ‘Happy Father’s Day, now go do yard work!’

Rodney: There are probably guys out there who are, like, “OH MAN SHE GOT ME THE BEST WEED WHACKER FOR MY BIRTHDAY” but I am not one of those guys. I don’t enjoy yard work or cutting shit up or hunting Sasquatch so shit like that isn’t for me. I used to get power screwdrivers all the time as gifts. I currently own 37 power screwdrivers.

 

Samara: You write that men are powerless against the “bitten lip” technique. Any picture I’ve taken of myself biting my bottom lip makes me look like a stroke victim. What am I doing wrong?

Rodney: You’re supposed to bite the guy’s lip. Seriously, it’s like I have to tell you everything.

 

Samara: You tell the story of dating a girl in high school who was missing her pinky finger and you didn’t even notice.

Does Kerri have all 10 fingers? Are you SURE?

Rodney: I’m pretty sure Kerri has all ten fingers.

I’m mostly sure Kerri has all ten fingers.

Probably.

Great. Now I have to go check. Sonofabitch.

 

Samara: You were getting a couples’ massage with Kerri, and you “farted away a boner.” That’s fascinating. For the sake of science, can you please elaborate?

Rodney: I’m 47. Erections at this point are hard to come by.

I’ll give you a moment with that one.

I also have adult ADD which means anything I’m focusing on like sex, maintaining a boner, maintaining a boner during sex, making a sandwich, the plot of any single episode of Game of Thrones, etc. can be gone in a flash if my attention is dragged elsewhere. So, for me, a fart completely deflating my manhood isn’t out of the question.

Also, “Deflating My Manhood” sounds like it would be a Kenny G single.

Ah. You’ve witnessed my ADD in action right there.

 

Samara: You and Kerri honeymooned in Vegas. That story had poop in it. Lots of poop, everywhere. Just wanted you know how disgusting that was.

Rodney: I LIVED IT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TELL ME HOW DISGUSTING IT WAS.

Omg thanks for fucking reminding me now I have to go shower OMG THE SHOWER HAD POOP IN IT TOO. I hate you right now so much, FYI.

 

Kerri and Rodney Navy

Rare photo of Rodney and Kerri

Samara: Were you and Kerri in the Navy together?

Rodney: No, but [insert semen joke here].

 

Samara: The chapter where you are trying to make Kerri an elaborate gift spelling out the word “LOVE” and you’re exhausted after the first two letters, and decide to nickname her “LO” so you can just be done – that was one of my favorite parts.  I thought I’d share that with my readers.

 

Rodney: Hey, Lo

Kerri: The hell?

Rodney: I’m going to call you “Lo” from now on because I like you on the down, Lo.

Kerri: No you won’t call me that at all.

Rodney: Sometimes I wish she’d just play the hell along to make my life easier. This was not one of those times, sadly. That actually would have been a good nickname, too.

“How about getting on the down Lo.” See? Works on several levels (two..it works on two levels).

 

Samara: Kerri made you an actual book for Valentine’s Day one year. Was that really necessary? I usually just gave my husband blow jobs. Pretty much for all occasions – his birthday, New Year’s Eve, Columbus Day, the Jewish holiday Tu B’Shevat…

Maybe that’s why we’re divorced? Wait, what?

Rodney: I think Kerri felt the need to try to keep up at that point, I think. That being said, she obviously puts up with a LOT of shit as you can well imagine so I never fault her for giving me ANOTHER POWER SCREWDRIVER JESUS CHRIST ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

Wait. Back to the blowjob comment. Are you suggesting you only saved them for holidays? THAT’S why you’re divorced. If I had to wait for a holiday for every BJ I’d be Googling “National Holidays” all the time.

“Hey honeeeeyy…did you know it’s National Drink Water Day?”

[drops pants]

[farts]

[loses boner]

 

Story of my life.

 

———

Rodney loves to make jokes about how small his penis is, so he provided NO insight as to how to make your penis bigger. I searched it on Lady Google but MY GOD trust me, you don’t want me to share.

I really don’t know if he’s joking about his penis, since he’s one of the few men on the Internet who hasn’t sent me a dick pic.

You can buy Rodney’s books (and please do, so he doesn’t have to keep giving his wife handmade gifts) here:

Publisher’s Website (signed copies available from here) : http://www.rcgpublishing.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rodney-Lacroix/e/B00ANN9ZVE

 

Follow Rodney (don’t let life get in the way of social media):

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/moooooog35

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RodneyLacroixAuthor

Website: http://RodneyLacroix.com

Rodney

Rodney Lacroix is just one of those guys. He’s one of those guys that make you say, “You know, I’m glad I’m not THAT guy.”

Rodney Lacroix lives in southern New Hampshire. He is the proud biological father of two amazing children and step-ological father of two stepamazing stepchildren.
He also likes to invent terms.

Rodney Lacroix has been writing about his misadventures for years. He’s done stand-up comedy, emceed charity events and has hung out with many celebrities. He is worshipped in most third-world countries and is known as “El Chupacabra.’ Perhaps you’ve heard of him.

Maybe you shouldn’t believe anything he says. DO read his books, though. He’s hysterical.

 

Do you know Rodney? Don’t you wish you did? Have you ever heard of farting away a boner?
Talk to me. I’m listening. If you buy me jewelry, that is.

guys-flirting-with-girl

Why is a married man out on a Saturday night, drinking and talking to me, instead of home with his family?

 

Saturday night, I went out with Donna, who I met in a Facebook group, lives near me, and is awesome.

We went to a new local place and sat at the bar. We’re both single moms but we weren’t specifically on the prowl for men. However, we have pulses and don’t look like Quasimodo so I assumed men would talk to us.

They did.

Initially, Donna and I got involved in conversation with two other women. Eventually, three men joined us. It didn’t take long for the men to split up and focus on the women separately (or in our case, on Donna and I together.)

The man talking to us was super nice. He was not inappropriate in any way. He made it very clear that he was married, and spoke about his wife in glowing terms.

She’s a stay at home mom to their three kids, which he acknowledged is a tough job. But he also spoke of how his wife gets to go to the gym and shop, every day. And how “nice” her closet is. He presented this as a way to justify why he goes out on Saturdays without her. That, and the fact that he puts in very long hours.

Like the majority of the men where we live, he’s very successful. Because I work later in the day, I used to go to the gym at prime “stay at home mom” hour – 9 am. Many of these women spend their days grooming – gym, hair, nails, waxing, facials, tanning. They have people who clean their homes. They spring into action between the hours of 3 pm and 9 pm, when the have to supervise homework/activities/dinner/bedtime.

Those six hours are hard, and if they choose to spend the six hours prior to that grooming, it’s their prerogative. I would spend that time writing, but I have the “Lindsay Lohan on drugs” chipped-nails look and I think It was February the last time I washed my hair.

 

I wasn’t sure what this man’s agenda was. He had taken his family out earlier. Now, he needed his going out time. Why didn’t he want to go out with this wife? Or stay in with her?

I posted this query on Facebook, and it opened up a debate that went on for two days.

 

Perhaps he’s just a hard-working guy, who enjoys time away from the family. I get that. But why not just go to a baseball game? Or play poker with the guys, like my Ex used to? Should a night out include going to a bar and talking with women who are obviously single?

It could be that he enjoys the ego boost of talking to women. A few people on Facebook mentioned that you can’t get everything you need in a marriage, and if you go outside it for some innocent validation, no harm, no foul.

Is there something inherently missing in a marriage if a man needs to spend a lot of time talking to other women? And is it okay to continue to look for that missing element outside the marriage, instead of investing energy IN the marriage to address this?

I’m not sure.

 

I’m an incorrigible flirt. My Ex used to say I would flirt with a piece of wood. But I’m an equal opportunity flirt. I flirt with men, women, grandmas, little kids, dogs. When I was married, I was more likely to flirt with a man in broad daylight in a supermarket than in a bar at night.

I went out without my husband, but my ‘girls nights out’ did not include drinking and flirting with men in bars. That seemed like a bad idea. My super ego is solvent in alcohol, and many of my bad decisions have been fueled by drinking.

 

I’m really not sure where I stand on this issue. My marriage had problems, but having fun and feeling very attracted to one another was never one of them. While we were married, my Ex was my favorite person to go out with – AND my favorite man to flirt with.

 

Saturday night, I was definitely buzzed. I appreciated this man’s attention to both of us. He made no overt moves on me, but I felt a definite vibe that he found me attractive.

Which is why, just before midnight, my fairy godmother whispered into my ear to get the fuck out of there. I wasn’t comfortable bantering with a 40-year-old married guy  who lives 5 minutes from me, who made it clear he had TONS of disposable income. It smelled of “looking for a little something on the side.”

I’ve been propositioned many times by wealthy married men who would like to spoil me and “keep me” on the side. If it’s Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, oh hell yes (he sleeps with 22-year-old models, so there goes that idea.)  Rock stars fuck women all over the country, so I wouldn’t feel guilty. I would just be his New Jersey piece. (Ugh, I hate that I would be anyone’s ‘New Jersey’ anything)

But if it’s Joe Shmoe who owns a contracting company, no thanks. I’m not interested in scratching some married guy’s itch.

 

Before Donna and I left, our friend asked us to meet him back at the same place in two weeks.

I’m such a trouble maker. I almost want to go to see if he’s there…

 

Should married people go out and banter with people of the opposites sex?
Can it be purely innocent conversation, or is there always a subtext?

Should I go back to that bar?
Talk to me. I’m listening. 

Join me on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter  so I can have friends without leaving the house. 

banana (2)

My friend and her husband are ending their marriage over the most banal of issues – sex.

“But Samara, your marriage didn’t work out. Should you be passing judgement?”

Shut your pie hole! My marriage didn’t end because I wouldn’t blow my husband!

They’re ending their marriage because they are “sexually incompatible.” He wants her to do certain things that she hasn’t done since they were dating. He’s angry that she’s being “withholding.” She’s angry that he’s a “sex addict” (whatever THAT is).

Essentially, they are ending their marriage over blow jobs.

I do not profess to be a sexpert. However, If I were to write a manual on how to have a successful marriage, I would name it,

“Put Your Mouth On His Penis.”

Perhaps the ladies are not digging this. The guys probably are. Of course they want to read about how I’m ‘pro blow.’ But hear me out. This is not for them. It’s about keeping marriages alive.

For some reason, in the marital bed, blow jobs seems to go bye-bye. Not initially, but eventually. Life is stressful. The tub needs to be recaulked. The dog has gingivitis. You have to bail your kid out of jail.

Women work 24/7. Outside the home, inside the home – it never stops. The last thing some women feel like doing, during sex, is more work. And there’s a reason it’s called a “job.”

With intercourse, you can lay there and get intercoursed in a rather non participational way. And he’ll still be happy. What does he care? He just needed the valves cleaned out, even if you were reviewing the Christmas shopping list in your head. But a good blow job requires much more participation.

When you were first together, you used to bob some knob. Sex with him was new, and you were turned on enough to do just about anything. Now? Sex with him is predictable. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The one thing I liked about The Ex was that he always knew how to get me there.  Almost as good as I could myself (I said almost).

But old sex lacks the fire of new sex. There is a quality called New Relationship Energy (NRE) that makes women do things they stop doing, eventually. You CAN’T. You just can’t stop smoking the pole because you’ve been married forever.

Here’s an analogy. Let’s say, you adore shoe shopping. Putting on new pair of shoes makes you feel limitless. Sexy. Powerful. Now imagine, every time you want to shoe shop, your husband says, “No.”

But, you tell him, “I need that. It makes me feel good. Plus, I earn my own money so this is a moot point.”

And he says, “No.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“It’s not my thing.”

“I don’t enjoy picking pubic hairs out of my teeth.” (just go with it.)

Just accept the fact that even if you’ve been married forever, you have to slurp the gherkin once in a while. His birthday. New Year’s Eve. Columbus Day. Passover. Penguin Awareness Day.

Ladies, just suck it up. Pun intended.

Pretty much anything you do down there will work. But The Ex claimed I knew how to operate a joy stick – so, I will share.

This is not about oral as foreplay, but blow job as main event. An entire five paragraph persuasive essay – with an introduction, body paragraph, and a conclusion. The kind where you swallow.

FIRST:

MEN- CLEAN UP DOWN THERE!  We don’t need a big whiff of nasty undercarriage! If you want us to put our mouths on your penis, be hospitable!

Consider yourselves warned. Let us proceed:

 

1. A little eye contact goes a long way. Pull your hair back so he can watch. Put on a show. (Don’t roll your eyes and look aggravated. This is a mood breaker.)

2. Get your hands in on the action. The average mouth is 2-3 inches. The average penis is 5-6. Do the math, and call in for back up. And for Christ sake, wet your hands a little. Don’t dry rub the guy. You’re not at a Boy Scout Jamboree, trying to start a fire rubbing 2 sticks together.

3. It also helps to eliminate your gagging reflex completely. Of course, this is physically impossible. But a girl can try. Practice deep throating a cucumber.

4. NO TEETH. I know that some women do the whole “let me just graze it with my teeth” thing. HELL NO. Keep the chompers OFF. The perfect blow job would, in fact, be given by a gorgeous woman with removable dentures.

5. Have some idea of what kind of intensity your guy likes. Not everyone wants to be sucked like a Dyson upright (but a surprisingly large percentage do).

6. Don’t forget the twins. Cup them. Fondle them. Gently. Don’t throw them around like you’re rolling dice in a Vegas crap game.

7. Hum. Why do you think they call it a hummer? Hum a little tune while he’s in your mouth. Nothing complicated. I like “Ave Maria.” Go for seasonal. Maybe some Christmas carols.

8. Swirl your tongue around on the coronal ridge – the part where the shaft meets the head. It’s extremely sensitive. Covered in nerve endings. So, go lightly. Otherwise, it’s like clamping two jumper cables to his tender sack.

9. If you’re feeling really adventurous, go for the perineum. The taint. The little area just past the family jewels. This is dangerously close to Butt Stuff, so take it slow with your man.

 

I strongly advocate the Power of the Blow Job. When I was married, I could pretty much get The Ex to agree to do anything after I’d blown him.

Me: “Honey, would you mind replacing the roof and repainting every room in the house?”

Him: (post blow job) “Sure, babe.”

And the whole gift thing? Pfft. Forget that. Every other wife is running around, pushing through crowded department stores trying to find him the perfect birthday gift for the umpteenth time. I NEVER had to do that.

I just had to brush my teeth.

The Ex always tells our son he fell madly in love with me because of my cooking. I love to cook. I own tons of cookbooks. I’m very domestic. I know – totally incongruous with many aspects of my personality, but true, nevertheless. I actually own an amazing collection of Julia Child videos from her 1960’s television show “The French Chef,” which I got on Amazon.

The first time I cooked dinner for the EX, I agonized over the menu. It had to be perfect. For dessert, I made Julia Child’s internationally famous chocolate souffles. These exuberantly rich gravity-defying bites of chocolaty heaven are an ambitious endeavor. And painstakingly intense to time. I wenmaking sure the souffles would come out of the oven at the precise right moment.

And where do you think they ended up? In the bedroom, all over us. Him, specifically. I basically licked the damn souffle off Mr. Winky. All that work was WASTED.  I could just have easily bought a few Dunkin Donuts and played “Ring Toss the Boom Stick.”

Incidentally, I don’t really think he married me for my cooking. I think that’s something he tells Little Dude. Cause it’s not nice to tell a 12 year-old, “Son, Mama sure can suck the chrome off a tail pipe!”

But –  maybe it was my cooking. Either way, whether it was my cooking, or my blow jobs, as Julia would say:

Bon Appetit!

Do couples forget to please each other after they’ve been married a long time?  
Is Julia Child not the wackiest broad on television?
Talk to me. I’m listening.