Update #2

In case you were wondering how my spam box was doing, I just received this from everyone's best friend, Jingtao Schrader. (You remember Jingtao Schrader--from band camp?)

Wats up La Yen holy (poopy)! can you even (potty) out of that thing? Jingtao Schrader.

I don't get it--do we want to have the biggest anaconda or a functioning prostate? Can we not have both? How can we decide? It is like Sophie's Choice, I say. Or Back to the Future. Do I pretend to be all into my mother so my father will get angry and get over his fear of Biff? Or do I just play with Otis Redding?

Update

From this post.

Apparently both George and James can help "turn the gardener snake in your pants into a python."

Thank heavens.

Because I have been really concerned about my reptilian situation.

What it must be like to be a dude

My email address has my husband's first name in it. So spammers think I am a guy, I guess. Even though the first name is followed by the word "wife." This is what is in my bulk box today:

"Step up with the big boys and give her a big toy to play with"

"Hitler Youth Northern Jersey Buttons"

"Regards! I always wanted a bigger schlong"

"Take the Manster challenge. In a few months you'll notice results."

So, what I am learning is that being a man involves the following:

1. Obsession with a pulsating tumescence (I got that phrase from my grandmother's Harlequins. Don't you love it!?)

2. Nazi apparel (Dear Spammers: Mi Esposo es Cubano. No es Anglo. Los Aryans no lo quieren.)

So if you were looking to become a dude, these would be the things that you would need to master. I will let you know if there are any more qualifications. (Stew--is it more complex than this?)