Oh! Me So Horny!

Recently, Michael Noer of Forbes Magazine ejaculated an emmision article warning men not to marry career women. The article was retracted, but not completely forgotten, in what could've been a cowering common gesture of editorial interruptus. Wisely, after wiping the sticky jizz of his keyboard with Windex -- really, Windex works wonders! -- the piece was reinserted with a counterpoint from his colleague, Michelle Corcoran.

Manola Blablablanik responds to this intellectual frisson with a tender missive to Michael Noer, not delicately mincing her words as usual, but slicing them thick with a machete and frying them in garlic!

Dear Sir,

Just because you feel intimidated by a woman who has the potential to out do you in everything you held sacred as a testicle-carrying member of the human race, doesn't mean you aren't worthy of love. Yes, love. I'm talking tough love, baby. Let-me-get-all-medieval-on-you love, baby. I mean, just because you barely hung on to your fragile macho identity until the little itsy-bitsy spider that chewed on your ego spit it out into oblivion -- SPLAT! -- let me tell you that another one of your kind, Sir Luther Campbell -- that bastion defender of women's rights -- was being "nice" with ME SO HORNY until you started getting "nasty" with ME SO GINY.

I don't care if you write for Forbes. Know what? Forbes, Shmorbes. MY BIG FAT CUBAN ASS! What did you expect out of life? Weekends a la Eyes Wide Shut? Kids safe at home while you engaged in some secret society ritual, fucking sluts trapped in a mafia prostitute ring? Did you dream about tennis with the neighbors followed by port and cigars with high-falutin' perverts who think all women should be chained down to the sofa provided they serve their pussies and the breakfast oatmeal warm while kissing your proverbial ass with "... oh, me so horny ... oh, oh ... oh so horny ... oh me so horny ... me love you long time ... ?"

To be fair, I know the tables have turned far. Women with balls are only as good as their hearts and if they're not in touch with their hearts they are no better than you, testosterone power-weilding junkie!

I, Manola Blablablanik, oracle of South Beach, know all too well. Some women use their heels simply for walking and some puncture aorta and ventricles for amusement. But not all women are of the latter kind. Some women do have it all -- brain, heart and soul. You sir, clearly haven't met the fair, brainy and well-shod maiden to melt your heart into a sweet puddle of love. So be it and good riddance.

And what of men? Some men poke and prod until there is nothing left on the other side of the bed but a leaking sack of silicon!

So play fair in the game of love-cum-war, oh soldier! Yeah, get off your fucking high priest man pedestal and put your penis where your mouth is, you spineless worm! You millenary misogynist!

Want love? You gotta give it.

I hope you're not looking for tail, because with this deeply humanistic approach you've taken to the topic of coupling, the only tail you're going to chase is your own!

Proudly,

Manola Blablablanik

partner in crime

Tipped by the utterly lovely, keenly observant author of Back in Skinny Jeans. Who else in the world gives a voice to ovaries? Ovaries with balls, even?

at least this asshole tells it like it is