Fast forward thirty something years later and not much has changed. I still leave my shit everywhere and my jewelry still dangles from every available surface. My books are still raggedy and even my beloved shoes lay in heaps at the bottom of my closets. At this point I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll always be careless with my stuff.

But what I’ve noticed lately – and what I don’t want to accept – is that I’m not just careless with the things in my life, I’m also careless about the people in my life. If you polled my closest, most treasured friends asking when I last called them, or hit them up on gchat or sent them a Christmas gift or birthday card you’d be met with furrowed brows, screwed-up faces and “um….never?”.

It’s not that I don’t value or appreciate the people I love and who love me. I do. I love my friends and I’d like to believe I’d do anything for them. But just as I strew my belongings haphazardly around my home, so do I miss birthday parties, screen phone calls, and hide in gchat invisibility so as not to be  disturbed. Thankful though I may be for the people I love, I have a fucked up way of showing it.

But that’s the great tragedy of life and relationships, isn’t it? None of us are ever really careful about the people we love. For every time I’ve been careless or neglectful of a friend I can think of a corresponding time when they’ve done the same thing to me. It’s just the nature of life and love. When we have a new friend or a new lover we start out ultra-fastidious; afraid that one misstep will shatter the precarious budding relationship. But as friendships grow and relationships develop we get comfortable. We stop fearing that the person we care about will disappear if we look away for a moment and we start to just accept that they will always be there.

I’ve always believed that life would be better for everyone if we were all just nicer and more careful with the people we care about, but it’s easier said than done. There’s a fine line between vigilance and nonchalance – too much care is smothering and too little is hurtful neglect. I’m sure there’s a sweet spot somewhere in between, but I think I do a piss poor job of hitting it. I’ve always been really good at telling people I love and appreciate them, but showing that in my actions is another story altogether.

Am I alone on this? Or are you guys guilty of being careless with the people in your life? How do you find the right balance between being present in your friends lives and smothering them? Help me be great in the comments.

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Then suddenly he is on you. He’s kissing you hard, hands gripping your hair, deep moans escaping your throat. You’re pushed up against the wall and he is everywhere on you, his hands roaming over your body, pulling clothes away, his hardness pressed up against your softness. You’re gripping him wherever your hands can reach, pulling him closer to you, your head spinning so you don’t quite know what is happening.

And then he has lifted you up, carried you to the bed, thrown you down. He is looking at you devouringly, avariciously. He’s about to eat you alive.

And then he is fucking you. It is not gentle and reverent. Nor is it tender and worshipful. It’s not rough or savage. It’s not intensely teasing. He’s not asking you what you want or making you beg for it.

Instead he takes you in hand and puts you through the paces. Your legs spread wide and flung over his shoulders as he buries his face in your pussy. He’s flipping you over, your body contorted in ways you’ve never imagined. Before you know what’s happening, you’re squatting backwards over his dick, your quads firing as you pump up and down.

Quick as you can say fuck my brains out, he’s spun you around. You’re in a backbend with his dick in your mouth as his hands spread you over and he tongues your pussy from behind. You’re moaning loudly, nearly screaming, but you don’t quite know whether it’s from pleasure or exertion.

The next thing you know you’re in a handstand, straining to hold yourself up as he pounds into you from behind. As the orgasm builds in you, a small part of you gives a prayer of thanks that you haven’t been neglecting your shoulders in your morning workouts.

Your bed is sliding across the room as he flings you and fucks you. He’s giving new meaning to the word manhandle. You feel every muscle in your body as he bends you, twists you, pulls you. Never losing his rhythm as his dick pounds into you relentlessly.

You stop trying to grasp what is happening and you give over to the sensation of being fucked like you’ve never been fucked before. And when it is finally over, you collapse in a heap, panting heavily, your head spinning. Your pussy throbbing, your muscles cramping, the night’s events already a blur. There is only one clear thought in your mind: he put me through the paces.

I’ve never been much of a fan of acrobatic fucks myself. I’ve experienced it once and I liked it, but given the choice I’d much rather be teased and taunted than to be thrown and pounded and twisted like a playground toy. But what say you guys? Are you a fan of acrobatics in the bedroom? Got any good stories to tell? It’s Friday – overshare with me in the comments.

Related posts:

1. The Quiet Fuck

My mother is a Grade-A, first class, champion nagger. If nagging were an Olympic sport she would be an 18-time gold medalist. She has elevated the shit to an art form. And while I have to give her credit for coming up with a system that worked for her, I realized fairly early on that I never wanted to be like that.

My dad, sisters, and I always did what my mother said. As quickly as we could and as well as we could. Anything to make her stop.nagging. For the love of God. There were times when we felt that if she said just one more word our heads would explode. And so we’d jump up off the chair and do whatever she wanted just to make her stop. We didn’t do what she wanted out of love, or to make her happy, or because it was what we owed her for everything she did for us. We did it so she would shut the fuck up.

Fast forward however many years and I’m a grown up with my own home and my own relationships. And like all girls I vowed to be different from my mum. So it was anything goes with me. Let people be who they are. It’s not my job to raise my man, he’s already grown. Give him the rope to do what he wants and just bounce when I couldn’t take it anymore. Like I told you guys, I was always the cool girlfriend. No matter what he did to me or didn’t do for me, I would not nag.

But after one too many men moving from smooth sailing with Max to rough waters with borderline harridans – and being happy as a pig in shit to be there –  I realized that my laissez-faire attitude wasn’t really serving me well.  My coolness was being mistaken for indifference and the rare times I did speak up I wasn’t taken seriously. I refused to adopt my mother’s style of relentless and punishing nagging, but I couldn’t be Ms. Laid Back either. I had to find the middle ground.

The truth is though that finding the middle ground between pushover and pain in the ass is hard as shit. Any woman in a relationship will tell you that on any given day her man will do at least one thing that annoys the entire shit out of her. And deciding whether or not to speak on it requires an algorithm more complicated than anything Google can come up with.  The thought process goes something like this:

“Well, yesterday when I asked him to call me and he didn’t I let it go and didn’t say anything, so I should say something about this. But wait, no – I gave him shit three times last week, I must be getting on his nerves. Oh but I’m really annoyed right now. I really should say something. Oh but he’s going out with the boys this weekend, I’m sure he’ll do something then that I’ll have to rip him for, so maybe I should save my breath til then? Oh but he must know he’s wrong about this – if I don’t say anything he’s going to think he can get over on me any time he wants. Okay I’m going to say something.”

And then once I do decide to speak on it I have to decide on a tone and the length of the lecture. Should I ambush him the minute he picks up the phone? Lay into him before he has a chance to come up with an excuse? Or should I play it supplicating and say “please babe would you mind not doing it again? I know it might be a bit irrational but it really annoys me when you let other women rub your bald head?”. Should I go for funny and make a joke that he knows is serious but is so funny he can’t figure out if I’m serious or not? Or should I Glinda the Good Witch him and go in with something quick and biting but instantly return to my pleasant amazing self?

Believe it or not dear men, but no woman really wants to nag her man. And smart women know exactly how annoying they are when they’re doing it. But we can’t help it. It’s what we’re taught to do and you have to admit that nagging does work.

But what about you guys? Ladies do you struggle with being a nag or have you accepted it as your birthright as a woman? Men are you involved with a nag? How’s that working out for you? Speak on it in the comments.

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I’m really great at obligating myself and really terrible at extricating myself from obligations. I don’t like to ask for help, I hate admitting that I can’t do something. An ostrich to the core, when I’m overwhelmed I just pretend that I’m not and hope that the situation will resolve itself. It doesn’t.

You guys know I’ve been getting my ass kicked by life. I know I’ve written about that. I have a job, a life, a blog, various and sundry issues I need to deal with, and a man to tend to (who knows the origin of that line?) and I just cannot keep up. I’m awesome, but not this awesome. And as much as I’d like something else to fall by the wayside (oh would that I could support myself without having to have a job), the blog is going to have to pay the price this time.

All of which is to say that I’m officially dropping down to three posts a week instead of five. For the foreseeable future I’ll be posting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Fridays will still be nasty but Mondays won’t be just advice anymore since I think those posts are pretty much only interesting to the person who asked the question.

And because I am lazy, this letter counts as today’s post. But I’ll be back on Wednesday with something more substantial I promise.

I’m hoping that this change will make the posts better, make you guys comment more get you all more engaged, and stop me from randomly missing posts as I have a tendency to do. But whatever you guys do on Tuesdays and Thursdays, don’t love it so much that you forget all about me okay? That would really break my heart.

See youse Wednesday,

Max

Related posts:

1. I Just Don’t Give a F*ck
2. Ask Max: Should I Give a Player a Chance?

But oh wait! Flag on the play! Last night, after a particularly epic session, Mr. Man asked you to do _____. Wait, what?

You’ve never done ___. You don’t even really believe that other people do _____. And you never considered yourself the kind of girl who would do ____.

So you begin to pepper him with questions:  ”You really want that? Have you ever had it before? You have? And you liked it? Really? Huh. Well….let me think about it.”

For the next few days you’re fixated on ___. You can’t believe he really wants you to do it. It freaks you out, and the more you think about it the more freaked out you get.

For a good girl, this is a sexual quandary of the highest order. A wack girl – a selfish girl – will just dismiss her man’s request out of hand. He wants ___, I don’t do ____ so he’s shit out of luck. Those are the girls who get their asses cheated on and then act surprised. But a good girl remembers what Max always says – it is not okay to unilaterally take reasonable sexual acts off the table. And so she mulls it over.

Near-nympho though I may be, I’ve struggled with this situation before. I’m pretty adventurous, but there are certain acts that I’m just not comfortable undertaking. But when the man who is fucking my brains out on a regular asks me to do something I don’t really want to do, I don’t feel right refusing him.

Sidenote: what I’m talking about here is reasonable requests. And if you really don’t  know what I mean by reasonable, here is a rough outlline: swallowing is reasonable, bukkake is not. Anal is reasonable, dirty sanchez is unreasonable. Salad-tossing = reasonable, snowballing? not so much.

So what’s a girl to do? Like I said – if you’re the kind of girl who just refuses to do it and refuses to discuss the matter further, you’re wack and you need to get off my blog. But if you’re like me and you strive to achieve plutonium pussy status (word to @drjayjack) you need to find a way to wrap your head around what your man wants you to do. “But I don’t want to do that” isn’t going to cut it.

Confession time: there has been a time or two in the past when I’ve promised to do something and then choked at the finish line. Where I’ve run away squealing at the crucial moment after promising to be still and let it happen. Then the man is disappointed and I feel like a flopshow for not keeping my promise. That was probably not the best strategy.

But what is the right thing to do? If he really really wants it and you really really don’t feel comfortable doing it, who should prevail? My policy has always been if you’re not doing it you’re giving out passes for it, but that’s a bit of a letdown for me. My primary goal in my relationships is to dazzle my mr. And giving out passes is like outsourcing the dazzle. And who wants to do that?

So I put it to you, dear readers: the first ever Nasty Friday pickle. When your man (or woman) wants you to do something you really don’t want to do, how do you handle it? Do you tell him he’s shit out of luck or do you suck it up (pun intended?) and take one for the team? How do you psych yourself up to do something you think is…kinda gross? Overshare – and use examples – in the comments.

Related posts:

1. Mind Sex – A Nasty Friday Guest Post
2. Mind Sex (A Nasty Friday Throwback)
3. Oral Fixation (A Nasty Friday Guest Post)

Sidebar: I’m currently loving Shit Toronto People Say and Shit Toronto Girls Say. But my yanks out there probably aren’t going to think they’re funny.

But one video you won’t find on YouTube is Shit Max Says. Partly because I am way too lazy to make such a video but mostly because I – actually let me stop lying. It’s 100% because I am too lazy to make such a video.

Come out of my panty draw

My most frequently-used avoidance technique. “You need to come out of my panty draw”, “Why are you in my panty draw”, “I don’t know why you’re in my panty draw” is what I say when I don’t want to answer questions. For those of you who don’t get it, panty draw = panty drawers; i.e. my private business. And when you say that to people they either get confused or start laughing and completely forget that they were trying to get all up in your business. Truss me. It works!

….eh?

Yes I am Canadian and yes I say eh? All the time. “I know eh?”, “I’m always right eh?”, “you think you’re funny eh?”, “really eh?”. I say it all the time eh?

interesting

Interesting is my catchall phrase that works for every occasion. Sometimes interesting just means interesting. Sometimes it means “what you just said is actually not interesting at all”. It can mean “I’m done talking about this”, or “you’re lying and we both know you’re lying but I don’t feel like getting into it right now”. If I wasn’t listening to what you were saying but it’s clear you’re expecting a response, “interesting”.

RIGHT?!?

This is my highest form of agreement. If I only kinda agree with you I might say “I know right?” but when you are talking truths I’ll interrupt you to exclaim RIGHT?!? – half question half exclamation. Because I’m equal parts surprised and delighted that you actually know what you’re talking about.

I.am.getting.OLD

This is my answer for everything. I don’t want to go out tonight because I’m getting old. I forgot to pay my rent because I’m getting old. I punk out and avoid confronting someone because “I’m getting old eh?”.  I didn’t do any housework this weekend because I’m getting old and tired. There are more uses for this phrase but I’ve forgotten them because I’m getting old.

S/he could get it.

High praise in my book. The more times you can get it the sexier you are. For example, Lance Gross could get it from me once. Idris Elba could get it from me 9 times. But Minka Kelly could get it from me any way she wants. As many times as she wants.

That’s the shit that I say. What do you guys say?

Related posts:

1. Shit Girls Say
2. Don’t Do Girlfriend Shit
3. Don’t Do Boyfriend Shit

“The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man’s determination.”

“Know what you want to do, hold the thought firmly, and do every day what should be done, and every sunset will see you that much nearer to your goal.”

Don’t they just get you all fierce and determined and shit?

Whenever I encounter quotes like this I get all fired up. I write them down or email them to myself and I read them over and over and each time I do I’m filled with this beastly fire that makes me want to jump up and just devour life.

For about fifteen minutes. Then I just lay on the couch.

It’s not that I’m lazy per se, it’s more that I’m…charmed. I’ve always been smart enough or resourceful enough or blessed enough to do a good job at life without breaking a sweat.  I have this uncanny ability to produce work that is about a 10 in terms of quality but only requires about a 4 in terms of effort.

Until now that is.

I don’t know if it’s old(er) age or a sign that the apocalypse is near or what but lately life has been throwing me into situations where coasting is not enough to cut it. My wit and my smile are not carrying me through like they once were and I have to do ugly things like try and put in effort and work hard. And my God is it annoying.

Take my job for example. Before I had it I really really wanted it. And while I wouldn’t say it exactly fell into my lap, the truth is I didn’t really break a sweat to get it either. I showed up for my interviews, I dazzled people with my smarts and my personality, and I sent suitably obsequious thank you notes. Nothing more than I’ve ever done for any other job I’ve ever wanted.  And now that I have it it’s as good as I thought it would be but there’s one thing about it that frets me.

It’s hard. I can’t smile and coast my way through it like I always have in the past. The right answers don’t magically appear in my brain the moment after a question is asked of me. I can’t slap a slide together and have people praise me for my brilliant work. I have to think.  I have to analyze. I have to actually work. 

And then there are my workouts. For the first 35 years of my life I exercised sporadically or not at all. And then one day I realized that my “I don’t work out” days were over and I started doing it. Just like that. I didn’t struggle for motivation, I just got up and did it every day. Back then I was a skinny wisp of a thing so it only took about 2.5 seconds for me to see results. And because I was a complete weakling when I started it didn’t take long for me to get stronger. Boom! Easy.

Fast forward a year and a half and I guess I’ve reached a plateau. Just getting up off my ass and doing something isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m not getting stronger or more defined. I don’t get that wicked soreness that you bitch about and secretly delight in.

Now I have to put in work. The days of shoulder-pressing 5lbs dumbbells with a smile on my face have been replaced by anguished grunts as I use everything in me to press 15′s. No more happy peppy DVD’s that leave me slightly panting but with dry roots. Now it’s the awful wretched infernal (but so effective) Nike Training Club app that leave my face purple (no small feat for a Black girl) and my entire body dripping with sweat. I can’t coast anymore. As that evil psychopath Bob Harper would say, I have to earn it.

I’d really like to say that this phase of my life is teaching my the value of hard work. I’d love to drop some uplifting words about how much more satisfying it is to put your blood, sweat, and tears into something than it is to have it fall into your lap. This would be a really dope post if it ended with me saying how much more I appreciate the things I work my ass off to get. But all of that would be a lie. Because the truth is I want my easy breezy sail through with a smile on my face life back. This shit is for the birds. Because I don’t like to work hard!

But what about you guys? Anyone feel me on this or are you all super dedicated and beastly and love putting in hard work for awesome results? Speak your piece in the comments.

Related posts:

1. Hard Time Blues
2. Ask Max: Do Long Distance Relationships Work?

I am caught between a rock and a hard place. I want to go out and have fun, but my heart is stuck on a very good friend of mine.[We had a convo] about becoming an item [but her told me] he’s not reliable enough to commit right now. I totally understand. But there seems to be a swarm of fish after the bait I have yet to fully cast and I don’t know if I should give them a chance.

I am confused between the guy who was a horrible one night stand, but aside from that is a cool dude; the persistent sweetheart who seems to have gotten too comfortable and doesn’t try as hard anymore, and the sibling of a good friend who I can’t take too seriously because of a few red flags.

My question is do I give either of them a chance, if not what should I do with each, or should I just enjoy the company for what it’s worth and have a good time? I just don’t want to end up wasting time in things that wont become prosperous or fruitful.

What a problem to have! Is your wallet too small for your $50 bills too? Are your diamond shoes too tight? My heart just weeps for you poor Miss Irresistible-With-Sooo-Many-Men-Sweating-Me. I’m sure you’re really suffering.

Hahahaha I’m totally kidding. I feel your pain girl. Having a bunch of men riding your ovaries when they appear to be of no use is not an enviable position.

What you should do about them depends on where you are in your life and what your objectives and priorities are.

If you’re young and unencumbered and aiming to keep it that way, I say have fun with this situation. There are many people out there who advocate dating multiple people at one time so if you can pull it off I say go for it. My personal feeling is that you shouldn’t fuck more than one of them in any given 30-day period, but that’s just me. If you’re not trying to settle down right now, have your fun with these dudes but remember three things:

1. Be honest
2. Be safe
4. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. That completely defeats the purpose of being single.

However. If you are older and you are trying to mate or breed, you need to clean house my love. You’ve got a crop of duds here. Except maybe Mr. Persistent Sweetheart who seems to just need a kick in the ass. But you should throw him back anyway and make him earn his spot back. But the one night stand dude is a throwaway just by virtue of the fact that you already had a one night stand with him. Good friend isn’t ready for a relationship so he’s useless. And good friend’s brother seems to have some issues.

As you mentioned in your question, if you’re trying to get serious it’s pointless to waste time with men  who aren’t ripe for the pickings. So go out and find some real viable prospects that suit your purpose. And since you’re apparently irresistible, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding them.

That’s my advice, what say you guys? Is it okay for Ms, Cherifurieux to have her fun with these dudes if she’s not trying to settle down? Or should she cease and desist anyway? Anyone see potential in this group of candidates? Weigh in with your take in the comments.

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But however cute and endearing my scatterbrain might be, the reality is that I’m an adult and I have business to take care of. And it can be a bit difficult to get shit done when you’re distracted by shiny objects whenever you try to do something. Or when you can’t remember from one moment to the next what said shit is. And that sick realization at the end of the night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep that OH SHIT I FORGOT TO PAY MY PHONE BILL! is a real vibe-killer.

After years and years of being chronically dizzy, I’ve come up with a few strategies that go a long way to helping me stay on top of most of my shit. And since I know I’m not the only one out there with the curse of the scatterbrain, I thought it was only right that I share them with all of you. So here we go – the dizzy girl’s – or guy’s, although I don’t think guys are really scatterbrained are they? Why is that? I think that when men are scatterbrained we think of them as being creative geniuses or something like that and it’s not considered to be a bad thing. Huh. That’s not fair is it?

Whew! Scatterbrain moment! Anyway. As I was saying, here we go: The Dizzy Girl’s (Or Guy’s) Guide to Succeeding at Life:

1. Everything in its place. All the time.

Now I’m not talking about useless practices like keeping your apartment tidy or your purse organized. While those are worthwhile and admirable endeavours, they’re not going to do much in the way of unscattering your brain. What I’m talking about here is coming up with the most logical place to keep the things you use most often and then forcing yourself to keep them there all the time, no matter what.

Let’s use my parka for example. First of all, part of the reason I chose my parka is that it has four important pockets that are big enough to keep the shit that I know must be kept in my coat pockets at all times. And so things like my cigarettes/lighter, phone, change purse, chapstick, and tissues each have a specific pocket  that they must remain in. I can take them out to use them, but I must immediately return them to the right pocket. You know how us scatterbrained types love to just hastily shove shit in our pockets thinking that we’ll put it where it belongs later? And then later never comes and next thing you know you’re standing in the middle of a busy intersection with a soggy cigarette between your lips, desperately searching for your lighter? Yeah that doesn’t happen if you train yourself to always put your lighter back in the lighter pocket. Every.single.time.

2. Get a life manager.

This is so key. And it’s not as hard as it sounds. See every dizzy girl in life has one of those uber-disciplined friends that kinda makes you want to barf. You know the type I’m talking about – the ones that only say they’re going to do something once and the next thing you know they’ve done it. The ones who make lists and actually cross things off them? Yeah – those assholes. What you do is you throw yourself at the mercy of one of those types and beg them to help you remember shit. And they’ll do it, because ultra capable people like that love helping our kind. They want to see us become great like them. So get you one of those and beg them to please remind you to do the basic shit you can’t remember to do.

And speaking of reminders…

4. Learn the art of the reminder.

There’s a science to reminder alerts that most scatterbrained  people overlook. You know how the default reminder time on most calendars is either 5 or 15 minutes? You need to rage against that. 15 minute reminders might work for the capable types who don’t need alerts to help them remember things. But for our kind? You need to match the reminder to the task.

For example, if I need to remember to bring a book to work with me tomorrow, I set the alert to go off at the moment at which I’m packing my purse before leaving for work. If the alarm goes off while I”m working out, I’ll either forget by the time my workout is over, or stop my workout to get the book and then forget to finish the workout. Either way I lose. What you gotta do is set the reminder to go off when you have both the time and the opportunity to act on it. Trust me, this works.

5. Know your limits.

No matter how helpful my handy dandy guide may be, at the end of the day a scatterbrain will always be a scatterbrain. That’s the hand we’ve been dealt. And so while trying to be better is a great thing, don’t bite off more than you can chew. Never ever get yourself involved in a situation that hinges on your ability to remember shit. Don’t say to yourself “oh I will definitely remember to do this – it’s too important to forget”. That’s poppycock. Nothing is too important for a scatterbrain to forget. Don’t ever be the cornerstone of any plan because you will flop the show and people will want to kill you. When you get out of your depth, you gotta be honest and say to yourself and others – yeah I’m probably not going to remember that.

I definitely had more things to put on this list but I didn’t write them down and now I can’t remember #scatterbrainlife

But what say you guys? Any scatterbrains out there feel me on this? What do you do to stay on top of your shit when your mind is all over the place? Speak on it in the comments.

know your limits. don’t be the pivotal person who has to remember something or the whole thing will fall down. you’re not that guy. stay in your lane.

Related posts:

1. How to Argue (A Guide for Women)
2. Good Looks for Girls
3. (Toronto) Hip Hop You’re the Love of My Life

Now before I tell you my question, let me just say this for the record. I know we’re not supposed to question God. I know that He is beyond comprehension and He has a reason and a purpose for everything and I’m supposed to just have faith in Him and not ask why. And if you know me in real life you know I’m pretty awesome at that most of the time. But I have just this one tiny question that I just have to ask Him.

So if I could ask God one question it would be this: why so many headaches? I mean really. I really want to know why He filled my earthly life with sooo many headaches. Scarcely a day goes by when I don’t have some kind of headache, and I get a headache for every occasion.

I get headaches if I get sunlight in my eyes. Headaches when I’m dehydrated. Headaches when I get too little sleep and headache when I get too much. Barometric pressure headaches. Shit is um…backed up, if you know what I mean headaches. I’ve been sleeping too much on my sofa bed headaches and I walked around too long without my glasses headaches and I haven’t had sex in over a month and I’m getting antsy headaches.

Okay I’m kidding about that last one. But holy shit I get a lot of headaches. And I just want to ask God why.

Like I said I know that God has a reason for everything. And I truly believe that there is a great cosmic reason for every headache I have ever or will ever have in life. I’m sure that each and every one of the headaches I get – headaches that make me miss work, and keep me in bed for 14 hour stretches and make me miss Thanksgiving dinner and birthday parties and be late with my blog posts – have spared me from certain disaster. I’m quite certain that is the case. But still I just would like to ask why.

My theory is that headaches are what the devil uses to stop people from being great. Because really, most of the best people I know in life get their ass kicked by headaches on a regular basis. I think it’s the tool that Lucifer uses to make us rail against the heavens because it’s hard as fuck to believe that God loves you when your brain is trying to burst out of your skull through your eyebrow. But that’s neither here nor there.

So yeah I have to make it to heaven. Not because I want to float on clouds and strum harps and eat lots of cream cheese, but because I have just one question that I’d really like to ask God.

What about you guys? What one question would you ask God if you had the chance?

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