If there's one thing I've learned, it's that an inappropriately exposed wiener really sucks the oxygen out of a room.

My bulldog Bruno’s red rocket is no exception.

I thought neutering my precious baby boy would be a sure fire way to avoid unwelcomed “run ins” with his genitalia, but I was ill prepared for the unexpected red rocket attacks that would seem to hit at terribly awkward times.

Maybe it’s payback for my toddler years. One time my mom had a group of girlfriends over for a fancy lunch. They were all cackling at the kitchen table having a great time carrying on, until I entered the room. Naked. Casually scooting across the kitchen, riding a watermelon. My mom, suddenly blotchy chested and flushed, awkwardly joked - “I’ll be sure to wash that watermelon before serving ...” then trailed off to quickly call out to my sister who was supposed to be watching me.

Is Bruno’s frequently exposed red rocket my naked watermelon ride?

The first time Bruno flashed unexpected guests in our home it took us all by surprise. English Bulldog’s are pretty ridiculous animals and are usually able to conjure a smile from even the most indifferent dog person, so like a newborn baby, I often show off my baby Bruno with intense nostril flared pride.

As I welcomed my pastor and his wife into our home, knowing they’re big dog people, I allowed Bruno to greet them as they came in.

“Hi Bruno! What a big boy!” As the three of them fell into a pleasant state of mutual love and respect, I gave them a quick tour of our loft. As we rounded the corner to have a seat in our family room - we met Bruno on the couch.

“Oh my! There he is!” said my pastor’s wife. But, what she meant to say was, “MY EYES! My God, what is that? It's terrifying!”

This morning he casually mentioned he had an extra ticket to an art gallery opening; I think I accepted before he’d even asked me.

Finally, I was getting my chance with Cute Guy Tim. I paired my name with his and twirled it around in my mind...Tim and Shelly. It had a beautiful ring to it.

We planned to meet at the gallery, but he texted asking if I could come to his apartment; he was running late – something about a problem with one of his pets. “Animal lover” – definitely on my future husband list.

First, say “Don’t look me in the eyes!”

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

A few weeks ago, I attended a conference in New Orleans. During one of the session breaks, a colleague and I decided to go make a run for some beignets. 

We found some alright. After two bites my entire face was coated with powdered sugar and my black pants looked like I had a white blanket across my lap. I tried to get it off, but it mostly smeared, putting me in a mild panic. After beating my legs like women used to beat stains out of their dresses with rods, I managed to get to my pants to the “Eff it,” stage where I just didn’t care anymore. My conference friend and my powdered sugar pants were off to do something fun.

There is a dark side - or incredible side - to figure skating my friends. It's these faces.

Turns out, the face some people make while spinning at lightening fast speed is the same face I make when I'm PMSing and trying not to cry because my husband loaded the dishwasher wrong AGAIN after I showed him how to do it the right way and I just don't think he even listens to me or cares about my feelings!

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Vagina with Teeth/Bear Sleeping Bag

via

When I first saw this, I thought, "Finally! A vagina sleeping bag that has a woman emerging from it - obviously perfect for Valentine's Day!"

Then I thought, "Is this woman emerging from a vagina with teeth?"