<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591</id><updated>2011-07-30T13:18:57.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ask Kenny!</title><subtitle type='html'>Finally, a relevant person gives advice!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-84336070822031420</id><published>2010-05-25T15:05:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T15:32:19.911-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Passion faux pas</title><content type='html'>Is there a statute of limitations on infidelity?&lt;br /&gt;Before I met my girlfriend, she was in a three-year relationship with her previous boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About six months into our relationship, she broke a date with me because her ex-boyfriend contacted her, saying that he was leaving town for good and that he needed to see her one last time. She agreed, despite my opposition, and I went home alone that night as she went off to have coffee with him.&lt;br /&gt;I was rather upset. We talked about it at length, and she apologized for hurting me.&lt;br /&gt;This happened a little over a year and a half ago.&lt;br /&gt;We've since fallen in love and moved in together.&lt;br /&gt;Recently I've found out that she actually wound up sleeping with her ex that night. I feel used and neglected all over again.&lt;br /&gt;I have absolutely no reason to believe she has ever been unfaithful since, and I truly believe she loves me.&lt;br /&gt;But, Amy, if I had found this out that day, or even shortly after, I would have ended the relationship. Now I am burdened with these confusing feelings of sadness and anger, and I am afraid it is going to affect our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;I know I have a right to be angry, but how can I rationalize ending a relationship, or even bringing this up, when it happened so long ago and things have been great since then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;This is a feeling not many would want to have. I had an off again - on again relationship with somebody like that. May that cunt die in a grease fire ignited by her loved ones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;If you have the slightest thought that she has been unfaithful, lying, blowing the Sacramento Kings, etc., then you are probably right. When you spend a significant amount of time with somebody, there is a natural lie detector test that develops in your brain. Inconsistencies in behavior always set this off, and the people that get away with cheating, get away because their partner is too fucking stupid. However, women do have a better chance of getting away with a lie. Men are too ignorant to hold down a lie. Women are better at this because they are inherently evil. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;So, really all you are left with is the thought of that night your girl's ex fucked her like a monster truck crushing 6 cars at once. This is enough to cross a man's breaking point to the degree of robbing a bank, beating up their boss, or liking UFC. If there is still a night out of nowhere when she can build up that old passion with an ex, then you know this is not marriage material and will serve you better in the long run. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;The thing that concerns me is you are "worried how it will affect your relationship?" THE RELATIONSHIP SHOULD BE OVER THEN AND THERE! One cliche that rings true is 'once a cheater, always a cheater.' You need to either fuck one of your ex's or fuck one of her friends. If she has a sister, fuck her too! You need to let her know that her actions are more of a call to arms than a 'bump in the road' to your shitty relationship. If all else fails, you can pray that she gets raped at a party. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-84336070822031420?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/84336070822031420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=84336070822031420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/84336070822031420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/84336070822031420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2010/05/tuesday-passion-faux-pas.html' title='Tuesday, Passion faux pas'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3933940768665735102</id><published>2010-04-20T14:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T14:55:49.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Grass is Always Meaner</title><content type='html'>My husband and I are in our early 40s. We've been married for 10 years and have two young children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband constantly hates his jobs — he's had several in our time together. He has had some miserable experiences. I work part time and carry some of our benefits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninety percent of our time together is consumed with his looking for a job, threatening to quit his job and talking about money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to threaten him — and we've gone to counseling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, I'm sick of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can't put down roots. We can't renovate houses. We can barely commit to a dinner party six weeks out because we might be moving, we might be divorcing or we might be fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to be happy where we are, because we have two happy, healthy wonderful kids and a lot of really good stuff going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you get out of the "grass is always greener" phase, and how can I make my husband shut up and enjoy his life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Thank you for the 345th reason not to get married. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I, too, cannot stand when people just bitch and moan about their job. It goes farther than that. My cunt of an ex-girlfriend that I spent some of my glory years with would always make it a point to call me after work. In other relationships this was a nice and welcomed gesture. But my ex would just talk about her day as if I knew what the hell she was saying. I don't know who Steve in accounting is and I sure as hell don't know what an FGH file is. It got to a point where I couldn't take it. I would either press the 'fuck you' button when she called or I would make an excuse to get off the phone. Unless you are an astronaut or a foxy-boxer, I don't want to hear more than two minutes of your day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;For some reason I imagine your husband to be a bald chubby guy that watches a lot of CBS and outright hates his life. There is no easy way out of this "I hate my job" phase. Have you ever worked at the State? You will enter a bright young person looking to seize every opportunity and leaving that job thinking about all the paths you could have gone and wondering why you are paying for this shitty health insurance. Usually my answer to all these things are more sex. But really, you just married an asshole who also looks back at all the paths he could have taken. You're screwed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3933940768665735102?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3933940768665735102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3933940768665735102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3933940768665735102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3933940768665735102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2010/04/tuesday-grass-is-always-meaner.html' title='Tuesday, Grass is Always Meaner'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3944293184888084964</id><published>2010-04-13T14:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T14:27:13.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Sex can wait, Reciprocate!</title><content type='html'>I have been through two courtships and marriages that I thought were very happy but were not very romantic. These relationships spanned 57 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first husband bought me tea and chocolates as Christmas and special-occasion gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second husband bought dishes and kitchen appliances, and for my birthday one year he bought and installed a pair of windshield wipers on my car. For Mother's Day he bought and installed a muffler on my car. These were things I needed and appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither husband ever bought me flowers — not once!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am, nearly 80 years old, and I have met a widower. Let me call him "Mr. Romantic."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is sending me roses. What do I do with them? Do I just put them in a vase? Other than writing him a thank-you note, how do I reciprocate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a 16-year-old girl again, but I don't want to ruin this relationship or embarrass him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are having the time of our lives making lemonade from the lemons life dealt us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a widowed great-great-grandmother, starting over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Ugh. Please do not compare your 80-year-old self to your 16-year-old self. I am pretty sure "Mr. Romantic" will not finger you in a movie theater and steal beer from his Dad after. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;First off, what is so romantic about chocolate and flowers? It's a cliche that has gone on for way too long only to be egged on by shitty romantic comedies, where the guy shows up at the airport just in time to profess his love. What's wrong with guys getting you something you need? Is a state of the art microwave and two orgasms not enough romance, Grandma? Romance isn't material things, it's saying and doing things because you genuinely care for the other person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;In the grand scheme of things, you should be so lucky to have met somebody so late in life. There are only so many VFW halls, so I'm not sure how you swung a romantic moron that buys you candy. And you say your problem is not knowing how to reciprocate?! Your problem is, you are fucking 80-years-old. If I was a betting man, I'd put you in my death pool every year I knew you, because let's face it...you're going to eat it hard, and soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;You talk about romance, yet you don't know how to reciprocate? Maybe you were the one that isn't romantic. I hate to be such a "guy" but the best reciprocation is lady ass. With every north and south movement, we know we have made you as happy as you are making us feel right now. Now, I'm not sure if this guy wants to see your wrinkly, hefty-bag-of-laundry body on his twin bed at Hospice, but it's worth a try. Take out your dentures and go downtown (if you're hip and back will let you.) Other than that, just appreciate that somebody is keeping you company before you die relatively alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3944293184888084964?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3944293184888084964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3944293184888084964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3944293184888084964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3944293184888084964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2010/04/tuesday-sex-can-wait-reciprocate.html' title='Tuesday, Sex can wait, Reciprocate!'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6728781819775115572</id><published>2009-06-01T13:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T14:08:32.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Friend Zone</title><content type='html'>I am a 30-year-old woman who is deeply smitten with a close friend I'll call "Andy." He often tells me about other women he's interested in. As his friend, I am more than happy to listen to his troubles and offer advice. At the same time, it's not always easy to hear about these women because of my feelings for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think that once someone is in the "friend zone" it's possible to move beyond that? Or am I doomed to a lifetime of being "the friend"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Step by step game plan:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;1. Go out to a bar. Talk about what you normally talk about, whether it be that Mitch Hedberg joke you two always bring up, or how you cannot stand your friend Stacy and how she won't shut the fuck up about her meticulous details of her wedding plans. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;2. Make sure Andy gets drunk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;3. Tell Andy you like him. Even if he doesn't like you back, he will have alcohol in his system. Odds are he will at least sleep with you. This will soften the blow that you are in the friend zone FOREVER!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Men are more oblivious when it comes to  sending signals. So, if you are sick of hearing how many gals he bangs, tell him you don't want to hear it, or that you like him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Being friends is important first, so you got that out of the way. If all else fails, sleep with his twin brother, or best friend. This will make him speak up if he really likes you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Once again, I am right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6728781819775115572?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6728781819775115572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6728781819775115572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6728781819775115572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6728781819775115572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/06/monday-friend-zone.html' title='Monday, Friend Zone'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6773336827499045854</id><published>2009-05-12T18:35:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T21:11:48.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cosmo Comparison</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I couldn't resist. Cosmo is now pumping columns through MSN because all print media is dying. My writing is in the orange. This is my take on :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;title&gt;&lt;/title&gt;&lt;meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.3  (Win32)"&gt;&lt;style type="text/css"&gt; 	&lt;!-- 		@page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } 	--&gt; 	&lt;/style&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.17in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe UI,Times New Roman,serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Why Guys Dump Girls They Dig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-top: 0.1in; margin-bottom: 0in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.2in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Segoe UI,Times New Roman,serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nothing is more upsetting than when a guy you darn well know is into you pulls the plug. One man gets to the bottom of out-of-the-blue breakups.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Chances are, you've had at least one breakup that left you wondering, "What the heck just happened?" The guy dug you, you dug him, and the whole thing felt destined for a fabulous future — at least the foreseeable one. Then, out of nowhere, he bailed on the relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;So what went wrong? The sad truth is, maybe nothing. Here are five completely ridiculous reasons guys kick you to the curb. Warning: For the most part, it ain't pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;1. The Timing Is Off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women get serious when they meet the right man. Men get serious with whomever we happen to be dating when we're finally ready to settle down. That means after every other aspect of our life is in order — whether it's finishing grad school, finally pulling down a good-size paycheck, owning a car outright — or when our friends start dropping like flies (that's guyspeak for getting married).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you catch a guy before he hits that magical stage of his life, then he's liable to bolt — like Patrick,* 28, who dumped Bridgett after two years, then got engaged to the next girl he dated after only 10 months. "When I was with Bridgett, all of my friends were single and I was still an intern with nothing going on in my career. So every time she'd bring up our future together, it felt like she was jumping the gun," he says. "I didn't break up with her because she was wrong for me. I ended it because I didn't want to commit to anyone right then. But by the time I met Elizabeth, I was in a settling-down frame of mind."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;I have never thought about it like that, therefore, it’s untrue. Did you ever think that you got engaged to the next girl, because the one before it was a total pain in the ass? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;This should really be categorized as “By Comparison.” I have come out of terrible relationships to girls that were laid back, and thought holy shit, this is easy? Only to realize 8 months down the line they turn into a blurred image of the one before. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;2. We're Not Finished Playing the Field&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are natural-born one-uppers. If there's a possibility of upgrading what we already have for something better (that'll make our friends drool), we say, bring it on! So we wind up always wondering if you're really as good as it gets. (I know, scumbag mentality.) "Whenever I meet a new hot chick, I consider what it would be like to date her, even if I have a girlfriend at the time," says Andy, 30. "The grass is always greener. No matter how great his current girl is, a guy doesn't want to feel like he's missing out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to our opportunistic tendencies, most guys feel compelled to put as many sexual conquests under their belts as possible. "I admit it — I know the exact number of girls I've slept with, no mental calculation required," says Dan, 29. "That's how aware I am of how many notches I have. And I'd never commit until I felt like I'd experienced enough different women."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Every guy's definition of enough is different, so there's a chance he wrote you off just because you didn't come late enough on his own personal hit list. The moral of the story: Until we grow up, mark everything off our sexual checklists or have too many friends convince us that we can't do better than you, the flight risk is real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Um, sorry, but my dick does not have a bucket list. If I manage to find a girl that I’m compatible and happy with, I’m not going to get rid of her because my penis has a counter on the side like a fucking &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3218/3031059372_59e7279c60.jpg?v=0"&gt;Skip It&lt;/a&gt;. Women, stop dating frat guys that consider Dane Cook the next Richard Pryor.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;3. We're Fixated on the Worst-Case Scenario&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the times you chastise us for leaving a wet towel on the bed to those nights you rip through a pint of fudge ripple without stopping to breathe, we file each incident in a mental folder labeled "Evidence She'll Change for the Worse." We flip through that file whenever we're trying to decide if we want to hang on to the relationship. Blame our married friends who took the plunge before us, but many single guys are hyperaware of what could go wrong down the road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Even if we're crazy about you now, we panic that you'll pack on the pounds, want sex only once a month and nag us day and night. So we secretly flag certain things we're scared might be a harbinger of bad things to come. "I've seen it happen to too many of my friends," says Elliot, 29. "All they do is complain about how the sex takes a total nosedive after they get serious with a girl. So sometimes, even if the woman I'm dating is a saucy little minx, I freak out and bail."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;This one is true. A woman’s attitude will break down like Chris Mullin’s career. If I have gained any knowledge about women, it’s that they are ticking time bombs. The only difference is to what degree, and how long before you build a panic room in your house just to get five minutes away from somebody that lovingly points out everything you do that’s wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;After being in a worthless 5 year relationship I can almost sense when a girl is about to make a scene. Kind of like when Jeff Goldblum decided that a dinosaur park is dangerous a couple scenes before the &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://unrealitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/jp.jpg"&gt;T-Rex attacks the Ford Explorers in Jurassic Park. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;4.We're in Like, Not in Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's harsh but true. In fact, it's probably the most common reason we bolt. Just because a guy likes you a lot isn't a guarantee that it will evolve into love. And we're surprisingly intuitive when it comes to figuring out a girl's potential on this front. "I stayed with one woman for two years because the sex was great and she never pushed the issue, but I knew the minute I met her that she wasn't The One," says David, 30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do we invest any time in a relationship that we know will ultimately end? Because we're able to live in the moment for a while and chalk it up to a good experience. But once you show that you're way more into us than we are into you, we'll dump you out of guilt. "I dated this girl for about a year, but as soon as she started using the L word, I had to end it," recalls Jay, 29. "It was hard. I cared about her and didn't want to hurt her. But I knew that if I stuck around, she'd have been happier at first but miserable later on. After all, she deserved to be with someone who loved her as much as she loved me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;Also true. Women have watched enough Mandy Moore movies to know that if you are dating someone for three months, you will marry him!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;This is where I kind of get teased by my friends. Most of the reason I don’t date people for very long is that women are rushing to put a label on everything you do. Whatever happened to hanging out for awhile and seeing what it evolves to? Those are the best kind of relationships, because you actually get to know the person; so you can avoid surprises dropped on you like, “I know the Hawks are on, but this is when I watch The Hills.” If you have already jumped into a relationship it’s harder not to take away the remote and call her a bitch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;5. We're &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Too&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; into You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when you thought it was all bad news, here's a hard-to-fess-up admission: Guys are protective of their emotions. Translation: We're scared spitless of being hurt. So, if we start to feel like we're getting into a situation where we'll be destroyed if you dump us, we might launch a preemptive strike and yank the plug first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For Gary, 27, showing his girlfriend of two years the exit felt like the only choice. "She was the first girl I was serious with, and I didn't like letting someone have that much power over me. I was starting to feel emotionally needy, and that was uncomfortable for me," he recalls. "So I ditched her to save myself!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds crazy, but cut us some slack. Think about how vulnerable and paranoid you feel when you're nuts about a guy, and realize that we go through the same thing with girls we really like. But our friends aren't as good at helping us get over an ex as yours are, plus being openly heartbroken makes us look like wusses. Nope, it's better to act like a winner before you turn us into a loser, which is when our natural self-preservation may come into play. Before the real humiliation and pain assail us like a plague, ending the relationship seems like a good option.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess that works. I don’t know. If I’m really into somebody, I let them know that I like them and keep the rest to myself. There are times to show a gal that you like them, but going overboard scares them away too. Another technique is showing that you care, and then at other times like you don’t even notice. This drives women completely nuts and their confusion turns into obsession. The tables thus become turned. So anything you give her positive will feel magnified in her mind, and you still stay a dream boat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Side note: Nobody says “wusses” anymore. That’s so 90’s. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;Are You About to Be Jilted?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; Signs that your man's getting ready to bail:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;His cell phone is always off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; He might be spending time with someone he doesn't want you to know about ... or he just doesn't want to make himself available.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;I am one that believes if you are spending quality time together, I don’t want it interrupted. This is where technology sucks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;If I haven’t seen you all week and we are watching a movie together and you keep texting someone that is ruining our night, stay the fuck home. I either turn off my phone or keep it silent for the most part. I have been accused of hiding calls or texts, which is beyond ridiculous. I just have manners.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;He's reluctant to make plans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; If he hems and haws about committing to anything — even if it's in the semi-near future — he's thinking about making a break for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This depends on what the schedule is like. Mine is pretty busy, so if I can’t do one day I’ll try and make it another day……If I like the person. If I am not feeling it anymore, I’m not going to try. The excuse of “Different schedules” is french for “I don’t like you like that anymore.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;He's meaner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; The passive-aggressive breakup is a guy standby. Some men intentionally turn into a-holes to make sure you break up with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah...This isn’t fun to do. But it happens. Ignoring phone calls and texts is another mean way to go about it, but so effective. Girls do it too, so don’t think I’m a total asshole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;He's not into sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt; He doesn't want to feel connected to you — or he's getting his needs filled somewhere else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah...Cosmo got one right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en"&gt;In conclusion, men are shit sometimes. However, a lot of these situations are just the occupational hazards of dating. Rejection, overcompensating, meaningless sex. It’s kind of a nightmare. Dating is terrible, but to quote Patton Oswalt, “It’s a fun nightmare, and then there are boners in it somehow.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; margin-bottom: 0.3in; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; line-height: 0.25in;" lang="en"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I also learned that Cosmo got almost half of that right. They have been misleading women for years, i.e. Don’t grab testicles with kung fu grip. I don’t want my future accidents coming out as little &lt;a href="http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/corky.jpg"&gt;Corky’s. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6773336827499045854?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6773336827499045854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6773336827499045854' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6773336827499045854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6773336827499045854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/05/cosmo-comparison.html' title='Cosmo Comparison'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3841626952707243849</id><published>2009-05-12T18:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T18:35:26.304-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Kiddie Problems</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm in middle school. I've been having some troubles with a teacher. I told this teacher something recently and she has insulted me and made me feel dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She acts as if I am dumb in front of the entire class! I try to not let it get to me, but it's starting to really hurt me! Help!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you fucking shitting me?! This is your problem? Everyone thinks their teacher is mean to them, and sometimes you will get a vicious one, because they have real problems they are taking out on you. Real problems. Wait until you get a mortgage, or when your ex-boyfriend knocks you up right after high school because you thought that sex would bring him back to you. Wait until your landlord raises your rent, even though somebody got robbed at gunpoint ten yards outside of your front door. Wait until you are in the unemployment line just begging to God to give you the courage to do the car in the garage suffocating thing. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;And here you are bitching that your math teacher got mad at you once. I hope your future at Red Lobster is fulfilling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3841626952707243849?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3841626952707243849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3841626952707243849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3841626952707243849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3841626952707243849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/05/tuesday-kiddie-problems.html' title='Tuesday, Kiddie Problems'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-7113765175753159887</id><published>2009-05-12T18:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T18:31:58.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Good to be Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.jesuspaintings.com/pictures/big_way.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 703px; height: 472px;" src="http://www.jesuspaintings.com/pictures/big_way.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Sorry I have been gone. I blame being social, playoff hockey, and writing for other things. But I'm back in a big way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-7113765175753159887?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/7113765175753159887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=7113765175753159887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7113765175753159887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7113765175753159887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/05/its-good-to-be-back.html' title='It&apos;s Good to be Back'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-8679721730501100521</id><published>2009-05-12T18:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T18:33:01.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Cummunion</title><content type='html'>My husband and I have been married for more than 20 years, and I'm afraid he's cheating. Our love life has never been great, but several years ago it sunk to new lows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought he was just tired from his long work hours, but then I started to wonder.When I call his office after hours, he rarely answers. He'll call back -- sometimes on his cell phone, and he is always "getting coffee" or "in the vault" when I call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time I even confronted him and asked if he was seeing another woman. He looked as if he was about to burst out laughing and said, "I would never want another woman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is usually honest, so I believed him, but I've started to wonder if I just asked him wrong or missed something in his answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently took a trip with the kids and when I came back I found out from friends that he hadn't gone to our church while I was gone. I found a flier in his Bible from a different church, and because he has always been a devout Baptist, I can't imagine him visiting a church from another denomination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking it must be "her" church!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would it be appropriate to call the pastor of this other church and ask if my husband came to church with anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The body and the blood of Christ-ina!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I remember in eighth grade I went to CCD with a fun, lively group. We pretty much made fun of all the dorky kids in videos doing the "Right thing" in various situations. Then, we would have to go to confession every other week. I spent this time having my first makeout with a girl that developed way ahead of her time. Her boobs sparked my interest in going to CCD every Wednesday night, so you could say I had a religious experience. So, yeah I was confessing in to her face.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;What this has to do with you is apparently church makes people horny. I have even known a couple of people that have boned on church grounds which is a bit disturbing, even for me. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;If he is going to church with another woman, you are in trouble. Not only is he seeing another lady, but they are putting spiritual boners into it. Circle gets the square. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Like most of you whiny women that say "boo hoo, not fair," you need to sit down with this guy and talk about it. If your sex life is really suffering, dress up like see-through Mary Magdalene or have sex in a Howard Johnson's Inn (HoJo's) while the &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.detoxidaho.com/images/towel_guy.jpg"&gt;towel guy&lt;/a&gt; watches. Whatever you need to do to make that ship sail. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;If he is cheating, well at least you get the house and half his earnings. Which, I'm pretty sure is a Lifetime victory for all women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-8679721730501100521?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/8679721730501100521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=8679721730501100521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8679721730501100521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8679721730501100521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/05/tuesday-cummunion.html' title='Tuesday, Cummunion'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6389419469629221933</id><published>2009-04-16T18:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T13:16:34.488-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, Herpatitis C</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; I am trying hard to rebuild my marriage. My husband and I have three young children. Four months ago, I met a man (I'll call him "Jack") who made me feel like I haven't felt in a long time. We have not slept together. We tried several times to stop seeing each other, but unfortunately, my attraction to him was too strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week my husband and I separated. I saw Jack this morning. Before things went too far I told him that I had herpes. Dr. KENNY, he practically had a heart attack -- and ended it on the spot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, what I said wasn't true. I just could not think of another way to make him stop being available so I could concentrate on my marriage. I feel like such a coward, and I am heartbroken. Not only do I miss Jack terribly, I also can't bear the thought that someone who made me feel so happy would just turn his back on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would there be any point in telling him that I lied, or did I do the right -- albeit cowardly -- thing?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;You are one fucked up chick! Although, I think it exposes the good in you to not ruin your marriage entirely.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I really had to read this twice. And then something occured to me. You are the type that I date. Bear with me. Every girl I have ever dated has all these great qualities that makes me initially attracted to them. Then there comes a "There it is!" moment of insanity. Six months ago, I decided to start seeing this girl I met in the summer. I liked everything about her; she was funny, gorgeous, cute laugh, loved sports and had a decent taste in music. Before I could consemate things in the relationship she would tell me things she'd like me to do to her that sounded like dialogue in an episode of Oz or think Virginia Madsen's character in &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0099797/"&gt;The Hot Spot&lt;/a&gt;. When all these red flags started going off, I ignored her calls. Then, she broke into my apartment. After moving away, she would still send friendly emails. Every girl I have ever dated is collectively Margot Kidder. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;She kind of reminds me of you. You already ended things, and now you are trying to go back into the burning house. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;By the way, a man wanting to throw a pot of scolding water on you and run the other way when he finds out you have herpes is normal. Did you really think he would buy you a baker's dozen sack of Vagicil and hold hands walking into the sunset. He is repulsed by you, so move on with your life.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Stop being a temptress lil' slut, get back with your husband, fuck him more, and take care of your children. Prob.lem.Solved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6389419469629221933?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6389419469629221933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6389419469629221933' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6389419469629221933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6389419469629221933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/04/thursday-herpatitis-c.html' title='Thursday, Herpatitis C'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3292195799729861405</id><published>2009-04-14T13:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T13:58:55.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>5 tips to cure you children..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Before I delete my myspace, here is a blog that I posted over a year ago...Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"&gt;While i was doing some laundry tonight I happen to watch an episode of Supernanny. You know, the British chubbier version of Mary Poppins without the voice. Anyways, she had to deal with these two 7-8 year old boys. These kids acted like they escaped the portal of hell. They would throw shit at the nanny and kept trying to kick and punch their Dad in the balls. It was awful. However, I have a few of my own techniques of dealing with a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Good old fashion violence. &lt;/span&gt;Sure it’s looked down upon these days, but it needs to come back in a big way. These little fuckers run around the house like Marines that are on their third tour. Just vile, awful children who don’t have respect for anything. Let that kid know with a belt or a good hard spanking (The one that even stings your hand) that you don’t take any of their crazy shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let a clown chase them around the house. &lt;/span&gt;If there is one thing that a child fears, it’s clowns. I still fear clowns. Persuade some guy that has had some "hard times" down at the Boys &amp;amp; Girls Club with a 30 pack of Old Style to dress up like a clown and strike some fear in your child’s heart. Go to work feeling good knowing that your children will be like savages as they run for hiding spots dodging the clown that stalks hallway to closet for the next 8 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. Don’t buy them food. &lt;/span&gt;Kids love food. And when they don’t have it, they get weak like the rest of us. But children don’t have the means to provide for themselves. This is where you exploit their weakness. When their little systems shutdown, their last thought will be I wish i had cleaned up the toys I am lucky to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. Pitbulls love hateful children. &lt;/span&gt;Oh, so you like to hit mommy and daddy when something doesn’t go your way? Take it out on Bruno. Bruno likes to take his fun doggy aggression out on your eye sockets. You’ll wish you never refused to clean up the egg coloring kit you spilled on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Pretend you are dead. &lt;/span&gt;Get some fake blood and don’t get out of character. There is nothing that achieves clarity like a first brush with death. They will be wishing that you are alive and will feel sorry for everyday they were a little bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If these don’t work, I don’t know what will. I can honestly say I don’t want children. I just came up with 5 ways to torture your child! I’m sure I’m being flagged for some parent awareness group. The patience; I cannot imagine. My respect to all my friends and family that are parents. I can’t imagine the sacrifices, and to my knowledge your kids aren’t from hell. High Five!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling these new breakthrough methods will replace over prescribed ADHD medication. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3292195799729861405?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3292195799729861405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3292195799729861405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3292195799729861405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3292195799729861405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/04/5-tips-to-cure-you-children.html' title='5 tips to cure you children..'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2313182694652925203</id><published>2009-03-31T17:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T17:55:23.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, GloriAIDS</title><content type='html'>I have known "Gloria" for two years. We met at work, hit it off immediately and became close friends. I love her dearly, and I'm devastated by what's happening to her. Gloria is dying of AIDS and now has a rare brain infection that has caused her to lose most of her faculties. She goes in and out of dementia, and her prognosis is two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been by Gloria's side so frequently that her family has "adopted" me. I help with her care and am the only one of her friends and co-workers who has visited since she took this turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem is, since I have been around Gloria's family, I have learned that nearly everything she has ever told me is untrue. She has flat-out lied about many things -- big and small -- that weren't even necessary to lie about. I feel like I don't know my friend at all and never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As sad as I am to see Gloria suffering and dying, I am hurt and angry that I was repeatedly deceived by someone I thought was my friend. I keep telling myself it shouldn't matter now, but the more the truth comes out, the harder it is for me to go over there and help.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt;How can I get past this, forgive Gloria and get back to the business of helping her in her final weeks?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it bad that I was overjoyed for a second that I got my first AIDS question? Then you went and ruined it with some sad shit and being selfish...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Let me get this straight? Your friend is dying of AIDS, has a rare brain infection, is reduced to &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.sydlexia.com/imagesandstuff/ycdtotv/slime.jpg"&gt;Double Dare-sliming&lt;/a&gt; in her pants at least three times a day, and you are pissed because she told you that she was once a prom queen and actually wasn't? Hey asshole, two words, brain infection. This could be the result of her lies. Just because I talk in my sleep doesn't mean I want to ride a giraffe to Texas. (Apparently, I said that once.)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I think we need to give Gloria the benefit of the doubt in her last excruciating days. This is pain you are probably lucky to never have as long as you live. So what do you say to the family that was kind enough to adopt you as family-friend? "Umm.. Sgt. AIDS over here has been telling a couple of tall tales, I deserve an apology."&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Maybe you can get AIDS and an Ophelia headache, and then we can see who will give a shit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2313182694652925203?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2313182694652925203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2313182694652925203' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2313182694652925203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2313182694652925203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/tuesday-gloriaids.html' title='Tuesday, GloriAIDS'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4064995604710667488</id><published>2009-03-31T17:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T17:51:20.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Chil Exhange Policy</title><content type='html'>My son is 10 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got myself into a lot of trouble when I was 18. I am now 32.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the trouble I was in when I was younger, my probation was revoked 10 years ago and I had to turn my son over to my former in-laws. The boy's father had no interest in taking care of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been fighting my ex-in-laws for my son for the last seven years. During that time he has been bounced around from one ex-in-law to the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was under the impression that I would get my son returned to me after I had satisfied the sentence I received after my probation was revoked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have started school to obtain a doctorate in psychology. I have a 4.0 [GPA] and recently purchased a four-bedroom home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have changed dramatically from the way I use to be. My ex-mother-in-law, whom I have not had contact with for about seven years, does not want to look at what I have done to better my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can give me any ideas to express my thoughts to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not know what else I can do that would show her how much my life and my circumstances have changed. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that you think getting a child back is like returning something back to Target. It's quite a process. You have to pay for the shit you did, no matter how many "Grape Job!" scratch and sniff stickers you get on your psychology papers. If I were to go back and claim every girl that I broke up with just because I thought we were ready to give it a second go round, that doesn't mean they would want to see me again. (The flip side: I would be elbow deep in vag and would no longer be able to do this blog.)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;And let's be honest. This lil' ragamuffin has been bounced around to every family member that had a futon in a crawl space. Do you know how fucked up he is already? He will just get into trouble and cause you stress. So, my advice is, concentrate on your new life where everything is A+. Don't feel bad about your former son. Remember Jessie from Free Willy? That kid bounced around several orphanages and landed feet first as &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.abalonekids.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/madsen.jpg"&gt;Michael Madsen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;being his dad, and his best friend is a fucking killer whale. What a life! We should all be so lucky. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4064995604710667488?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4064995604710667488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4064995604710667488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4064995604710667488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4064995604710667488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/tuesday-chil-exhange-policy.html' title='Tuesday, Chil Exhange Policy'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4459559452206264664</id><published>2009-03-17T00:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T00:57:00.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Kenny vs. MSN</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Whenever I (rarely) go to my Hotmail account to see emails from people I have written off, or links to Amazon begging me to buy Sister Act 2, I happen to notice the MSN links that are on my front page. There is alot of relationship garbage. So I was curious to see what my competition is up to. Today, they had this attention grabber: 8 THINGS GUYS SAY THEY HATE ABOUT WOMEN BUT SECRETLY LOVE. Boy was this a lob down the plate. To preface this, I have to say that MSN relationship writers might be on a par with Teen Beat. Just sayin'. Yours truely went to the trouble to copy all of the responses. So here goes....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;8 Things Guys Say They Hate about Women But Secretly Love&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blond Ambition&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I hate when my girlfriend works late, but I secretly love how motivated she is and how much she cares about everything she does."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Alex, 24&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Yeah, I totally don't. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;A. I don't want to hear that "I'm really tired" excuse when it comes to boning. If that's the case take a five minute nap, and I'll make love.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;B. Who's going to pay attention to me? I'm a man, I have to be desired. You never saw James Bond watching Rock Of Love on his couch waiting endlessly for you to come home. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Provider&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I tell her I hate it when she whines, but it's actually cute. It makes me feel needed and important and manly — like I can provide for her and that will stop her whining. I should add that it's a once-in-a-while pleasure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Matt, 27&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; That makes you feel manly? That makes me want to kick a baby deer in the face. When I hear things like "Can you go make me a drink?" or "I wanna cuddle" in the whiny voice, it makes me think that the Jon Benet family caught a break. Both of those are okay, just not in the whiny voice. Whiny voice is only ok when...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;A. You have the flu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;B. You are begging for sex at 4am after you just got back from drinking Jameson with your friends all night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tabloid Scammer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I would be bummed out if she canceled her &lt;em&gt;Us Weekly&lt;/em&gt; subscription. I hate having to see Spencer Pratt's ugly mug all the time, but it turns out to be the perfect magazine to read in the bathroom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Scott, 33&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would be bummed out if my girlfriend read US Weekly. And Scott, I'm pretty sure you have a tribal tattoo or secretly whack off to Keanuu Reeves. The perfect things to read in the bathroom are Sports Illustrated, Rolling Stone, a book, or a laptop. I prefer the laptop because it is an endless source of reading.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Garbage Duty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I always complain about how my girlfriend expects me to do all of the 'man stuff' around the house, like replacing light bulbs and taking out the trash, but I secretly like it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—Mat, 25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ah. You spell Matt with one 'T.' Euro trash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I actually like a self sufficient woman. Men like confidence and independence as well. Men also like when women take out the trash in boy shorts and a see through 80's shirt. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guilty Pleasures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I hate when my girlfriend watches shows like &lt;em&gt;The Hills &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;The City&lt;/em&gt;, but recently I find myself secretly loving Monday TV nights."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Jake, 26&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might as well say fuck you to Mom and Dad for paying for your MBA. When you watch those kind of shows, you are actively turning into Terry Schiavo. And who is this girl that makes you watch this shit? Oh, you met her at Hooters? Ok then.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mother Nurture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"My girlfriend has a tendency of stating the obvious. What I mean is that she will tell me to do something that I am clearly either in the process of doing or going to do. See, you girls always assume that we are eventually going to screw up and do something stupid, so you feel obliged to remind us at every opportunity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;It drives me nuts, but I guarantee that the moment she stops paying attention to what I'm doing or  if I'm doing it the way it should be done, I start feeling like she just doesn't care! So after a grunt or two, I go and fetch her to ask her opinion. Go figure!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—James, 25&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Yeah, I just love a nag. I'm pretty sure I would not miss nagging. I'd rather have a bad hangover, because I know that will eventually go away. This is a really bad myth that MSN is trying to spread. On behalf of the male race: This is bullshit. James has to say this stuff so his girlfriend will  give him oral sex every Christmas. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date Planner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I would be bummed if my girlfriend stopped planning out our evenings several days in advance. It makes it easy for me because I don't have to plan anything, but it is annoying sometimes how organized a person can be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Brian, 24&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This would be complete hell. You like that your girlfriend controls your life like the army? &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"Honey, go see Sex and the City with your friend, I'm going to stay here and masturbate with my own tears."&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why All of the Questions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I'm around a lot of women who are very worried. It seems as if everything you do is followed by a question: Why did you do that? Are you all right? You sure you're not hungry? I always talk about how I hate these incessant questions, but I know deep down if they stopped I would feel less important. It's good to know that people care about you enough to ask those questions, even though they might be annoying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;—Ben, 25&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This is like being followed around by a 5 year old. This is the most annoying during a movie...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"Guess what? I can't answer anymore of your questions because you made me miss most of the plot and I'm as clueless as you are." &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Or when you just want quiet. Every stupid thing that comes out of her mouth that ends in the question mark, makes me dream about how I could shrink myself and live in solitude inside the Lincoln Log cabins I built when I was little. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"Whatcha thinking about?" What's your favorite color? Do you fantasize about less maintenance girlfriends that you foolishly broke up with by comparison everytime my mouth looks like it's run by an engine made of Red Bull?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4459559452206264664?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4459559452206264664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4459559452206264664' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4459559452206264664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4459559452206264664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/dr-kenny-vs-msn.html' title='Dr. Kenny vs. MSN'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4555807715873839281</id><published>2009-03-17T00:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T00:42:46.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks and Bare with me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This week is a make or break week for Dr. Kenny. So just bare with me my sweet loves. But I left one for all of you, and I'll be back after this hell week....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Also, I can not say thank you enough to my friends, family, anonymous, people that have sent in questions... Your kind words lately have been overwhelming. I'm glad that people can get joy as they virtually watch me punch my ticket to hell. Love you guys, need you guys..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4555807715873839281?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4555807715873839281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4555807715873839281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4555807715873839281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4555807715873839281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/thanks-and-bare-with-me.html' title='Thanks and Bare with me'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-5866567093356634559</id><published>2009-03-03T17:43:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T17:46:02.323-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Cheat to Win</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Our 10-year-old son, "Harry," is a sore loser. If we play a sport or a board game with him, he ends up in tears if he doesn't win. Sometimes he will cheat if he thinks it will help him win. He even becomes upset when his favorite hockey team loses a game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have told Harry repeatedly that games are supposed to be fun, but he seems unable to grasp the concept. We do not know what else to do. Can you help?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I sure can. I can help you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Let's get something straight.. I was Harry...I still am Harry. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Look, mother that is worried about anything and everything, your son is becoming a man. It sounds like he has a do what it takes attitude. And quite frankly, I'm more proud of your son than you are. You should be ashamed of yourself. You probably don't know what it takes to win. You probably tried to start a small business selling pet supplies when you got the start up capital because your Father died of a Viagra induced heart attack and it failed. So you don't go for it anymore. If you want your son to succeed, you will encourage his behavior. To lie, cheat, kill...whatever it takes..is the blueprint to becoming a winner. End of story.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You really think it's a problem if he gets angry over hockey? No. And I'm glad this question came up. Here's why..(coming from my point of view):&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I take all sports seriously, but for this demonstration lets use Notre Dame football. When the Irish lose, I lose. It is good for a person to invest their soul in something they cannot control. It's fucking romantic. To love under the best and worst circumstances. Is there a better man than that? Answer: Sure isn't! When the Irish lose, my Saturday goes out the window. I'm a dick, and sometimes I throw my stuffed football as hard as I can into the kitchen. When they win, you will never find a more charming, nicer guy than Dr. Kenny. Some people just love sports. At least he doesn't love cocaine and HIV filled sluts.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;So, really mom? You don't want him to be a romantic? You don't want him to have a passion for something. You want him to be like you? Some woman that sits in a recliner all day in nothing but tube socks and a mustard stained robe. You are worse than that mother that drove her kids into a lake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-5866567093356634559?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/5866567093356634559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=5866567093356634559' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5866567093356634559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5866567093356634559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/tuesday-cheat-to-win.html' title='Tuesday, Cheat to Win'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-619118076656440169</id><published>2009-03-03T17:42:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T17:42:52.938-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sister Act 3: We don't disagree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have been dating a wonderful man I'll call "George" for the past 14 months. We have never had an argument or even a disagreement. We both have good jobs, like doing the same things, and we see each other every weekend. Our co-workers and family members have commented that we seem remarkably happy as a couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. George and I know what we like and dislike in life. We talk about things, have serious discussions and deal with whatever comes our way. But for some reason, my sister insists that by now my boyfriend and I should have had at least one good argument. She thinks it's weird that we haven't, and says we are "trying too hard" to make each other happy. She says George and I are ignoring things that could cause unhappiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is younger, married, works full-time and has three kids. I think she may be secretly jealous of our relationship. So I ask you,  DO all couples have to argue or have disagreements?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Blah. Sisters. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Sounds like she is a bitter, jealous woman that is just mad that her vagina looks like an M.C. Escher painting after pumping out three kids in a row. Your love life is kind of new-ish and exciting, meanwhile she can no longer get off in the shower because her hopes and dreams have been dismantled by a poker obsessed father, and three children that won't stop saying "mommy!"&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Though, I still have to give her a point. 14 months and no argument. Does this guy not drink? Do you not drink. There hasn't been a single girl that I have ever dated where we didn't once or twice have a misunderstanding that led to an argument induced by alcohol. Try that one and see what happens. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Besides that, arguing is human nature. I don't know if you two are the most boring people in the world, or you are always fucking, but geez louise. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You mentioned that you only hang out on weekends. That could be it. You two should move in together. See how long your streak will keep up then. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Whether you fight or not, your sister will always be a sloppy bitch. And at least you have that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-619118076656440169?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/619118076656440169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=619118076656440169' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/619118076656440169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/619118076656440169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/03/sister-act-3-we-dont-disagree.html' title='Sister Act 3: We don&apos;t disagree'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4336477557947176536</id><published>2009-02-27T17:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T17:42:52.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday, Preyfesser</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;p&gt;My daughter is an intelligent, attractive and outgoing college student. She has lots of friends, but the party scene at school does not fit her personality. She's a more down-to-earth type. She has dated but has never had a serious long-term boyfriend. She says most guys her age seem too immature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are very close, and recently she confided in me that she has been having a relationship with one of her professors for more than a year. He is a single, never-married man, more than 15 years her senior. I have made it clear to her that I feel this relationship is a big mistake. The fact that he was willing to enter into a romance specifically forbidden by the university is a big red flag for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter feels that she is as much to blame as he is for this connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is in love with him and believes they will have a life together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt;How can I warn her about the pitfalls of this situation without having it come between us? Should I inform the university of the romance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would never forgive me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A case of &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/that_professor_lasky_from_saved"&gt;Jeramiah Lasky&lt;/a&gt; v. Kelly Kapowski!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I have known people and heard about plenty of women that date their proffesors, teachers or whatever you want to call them. There is good news and there is bad news, Mom. The good news is, that it will never last. The bad news is, they are having naughty, Vivid Entertainment, pleted skirt sex anywhere and everywhere. He is tudoring your daughter in "How much the vaginal wall can withstand 101."&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;The part that makes me laugh is, when women use the excuse that ALLLLLL the guys their age are immature. Please. The guy you are now dating is immature, because he has to lower his standards into dating a naive, impressionable 18 year old. Yes, guys at her age are a bit intense (&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://i1.iofferphoto.com/img/item/483/564/21/freshman_fall.jpg"&gt;With all the drinking and raping that all college young men do. Source: Lifetime&lt;/a&gt;), but to assume as a whole that they are all like that is ignorant. I was way more of a gentleman in my younger 20's. Now I ride a motorcycle and enjoy fast women. Woooooo!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; I'm pretty sure this guy preying on a young hot piece of ass is a much bigger red flag than him being her teacher. At the very least, she will probably get an A in the class leading her to a more promising future. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;To blow your teachers for grades is one thing, but falling in love is completely nutty. I'm guessing she is looking for a Father figure ever since Dad touched her under the covers, went drinking and never came back. She doesn't sound so intelligent to me. She just sounds like any other fucked up girl that age. This is really not a problem in the long run. She will wise up one day and date a guy from &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.ftek.com/img/CBOE060501.jpg"&gt;CBOE&lt;/a&gt;. Then, she will have problems. Real problems. I guess I'll be talking to you soon!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4336477557947176536?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4336477557947176536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4336477557947176536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4336477557947176536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4336477557947176536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/friday-preyfesser.html' title='Friday, Preyfesser'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4016461385085239536</id><published>2009-02-24T21:37:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T22:09:19.860-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Handicap Stop</title><content type='html'>Because of a medical condition, my husband of 30 years can no longer drive a car -- so now he is driving ME nuts. Not only does he tell me how to drive ("You're too far to the right," or "Watch out for that car!" or " I'd go this way," etc.), but he feels it is his responsibility to remotely lock/unlock the car doors, remotely start the car -- anything having to do with the car but drive it. We end up "cancelling" each other out when I try to start the car or lock it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me how to solve the dilemma about who should control the functions of the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BaHHH! I can't stand those people. Whether it's been my Mom or girlfriends, they never shut up. They think that running their mouth will run the car. "Hey girlfriends from the past, didn't you back up in to a lawn mower and pulled into traffic because you were putting on your makeup? And you want to tell me not to do a U-eeeee?"&lt;br /&gt;Yet, when my friend Lauren drives, I'm very handsy about music, constantly switching the knobs so it doesn't feel like  the temperature is at Backdraft degrees, and I'm twitchy and ornery that I'm not driving.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;But, I'm allowed to be hypocritical. I rule these pages.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If your &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.metapeeps.com/images/famous_images/Joe_Swanson.jpg"&gt;capper husband&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; can't stand the way that you drive, tell him to ride the Pace Bus. They have a van special for crips that bitch. On top of it, a reduced fare. As a guy that shells out $4.50 a day riding the CTA, I'd say that's more than fucking fair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If that doesn't work, buy a motorcycle. I'm pretty sure his medical condition won't let him ride on a motorcycle. This will confine him to his home and he will probably turn into the older father (Robert Duvall) from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117666/"&gt;Sling Blade&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;. You know, that part where &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.imdb.com/media/rm146839808/tt0117666"&gt;Sling Blade Bob Thorton&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; confronts his Dad for killing his little brother all them years ago. The point is, he will just rot for being an asshole that bitches more than drive time radio. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If all else fails, get divorced and become a cougar. I dunno, whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4016461385085239536?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4016461385085239536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4016461385085239536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4016461385085239536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4016461385085239536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/tuesday-handicap-stop.html' title='Tuesday, Handicap Stop'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3263117226742325148</id><published>2009-02-17T17:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T17:25:35.107-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Sharing Chores</title><content type='html'>My husband has been retired for a number of years, and I hold a full-time job. We share household chores and are comfortable with our arrangement. For example, he does the grocery shopping, I do the cooking and he'll do the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both pitch in and do laundry, housework and yardwork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because he is so helpful, we are able to spend my days off together. This arrangement seems fair to both of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that we are good friends with another couple, "Jim" and "Jane," both retired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jim rigorously adheres to the "man-of-the-house" role, with Jane handling all household chores. In other words, he is retired, but she has a full-time job keeping house, which she sometimes grumbles about. When my husband mentions that he has plans to grocery shop or do laundry, Jim makes taunting remarks and tells him he is a "traitor to his sex."&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;Apparently Jim believes that I should handle all the household chores when I come home from work and my husband should spend his retirement being waited on hand and foot. How should we handle this irritating situation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Maybe it's because I've had three hours of sleep, but I'm already irritated by your question. All I can picture in my head is this sweaty face physically murmuring words out in some drastic tone that sounds like dolphins communicating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Yes, I believe Jim is your ordinary caveman that probably chokes his wife during sex. If Jane doesn't like the way their golden years are going, maybe she should wait until he is asleep and drop a car battery on his sack. &lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;The reason I don't like your squawking...&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Why do you give a fuck what some old Vietnam veteran says to your Husband? Apparently, it isn't effecting him wanting to be equal around the house. And if this guy is such a fuckface, why are you friends with him and his enabling wife? So you can have something to complain about? Go to the VFW Hall or a square dancing class, or wherever old people go to chillax, and make some new friends. Chances are cancer will eventually hand out a pink slip of health, so don't waste it hanging around the guy that hates "colereds."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3263117226742325148?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3263117226742325148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3263117226742325148' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3263117226742325148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3263117226742325148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/tuesday-sharing-chores.html' title='Tuesday, Sharing Chores'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6089047582914134189</id><published>2009-02-13T17:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T17:36:54.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday, Spider Conference</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear Dr. Kenny,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recentlty I attended a news confrence that my friend was speaking at. Half way through the speech my friend was giving I noticed a spider on his shoulder. Now, knowing that my friend is extremely allergic to spider bites I instinctively threw my shoe at the bug and ruined the news conference. Later I found out that the video of the conference was all over the internet , making my friend look like a total d-bag. Dr. Kenny how can i mend this relationship???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signed,Al-aquiar Habizidannit &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Finally, my first question from Al-qaeda. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Where was this conference taking place? A Cracker Barrel? A Cracker Barrel in the Amazon?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;And another self imposed question, who decided that&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OM3Z_Kskl_U"&gt; shoes are the number one choice of items to be thrown at a press conference?&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;While spider bites are a terrible terrible terrible thing, being so deadly and all, I'm sure you were just trying to be a friend in your own redneck way. Explain this to your d-bag friend. If he cannot accept an apology from his banjo/jug playing, meth using, Davy Crockett hat wearing buddy, then you will have the satisfaction of knowing he really is a &lt;a href="http://robertd.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/kerryfootballv4.jpg"&gt;douchebag&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You get bonus points for instinctively throwing shoes. I'm glad that's the first thing you think to do. I'm also glad you were not a firefighter on 9/11. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;(Insert picture of man throwing Keds into a blazing fire)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6089047582914134189?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6089047582914134189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6089047582914134189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6089047582914134189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6089047582914134189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/friday-spider-conference.html' title='Friday, Spider Conference'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3306405755643846757</id><published>2009-02-01T14:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T14:05:59.739-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday, Prop 8 Jerk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id=":gz" class="ArwC7c ckChnd"&gt;&lt;div&gt;After nearly 15 years together and two children, my partner and I were married in California, prior to the passage of Proposition 8. We created a gift registry so our friends and family could provide us with tokens of their esteem and good wishes. During a light political discussion with one of my co-workers, before the election, it became clear she did not support gay marriage and intended to vote yes on Prop 8, because, as she stated, marriage is strictly "one man, one woman." In order to maintain workplace cohesion, I refrained from further discussion. After my marriage, when opening the wedding gifts, I discovered that this same co-worker, who was not invited to the wedding (I did not invite anyone from work), had sent a lovely item from the gift registry! The quandary: What do I do with this gift? Should I return it, write a sarcastic letter of thanks, or take this as a "teaching moment" to enlighten her on her crass hypocrisy?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ungrateful train, alllllllllllllllllllllllllllll aboard!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;First off, why you'd talk about an issue like that at work is beyond me. I can barely keep still when somebody stupid at my work (Sox Fan) makes some stereotypical comment about the Cubs. So, gay marriage, politics, sex, war...Save em' for happy hour when you can back up your statements with fisticuffs. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You were wise to let it go, because you can't change anyone. Unless you're me. "She'll never strip again, you'll see!" Ok, getting off track.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Maybe this was that person's way of saying, beliefs aside, I wish you the best. Take it for what it's worth, or be prissy. I don't give a shit. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Why you'd want to cause a war at your workplace with something that is unrelated to your workplace is tacky, and shows that you are immature. You're a complete bitch, and I'm glad I wasn't invited to your wedding because I would have ruined it. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I don't know how gay divorce works, but I hope it's just as painful as the regular kind. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3306405755643846757?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3306405755643846757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3306405755643846757' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3306405755643846757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3306405755643846757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-prop-8-jerk.html' title='Sunday, Prop 8 Jerk'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6117083728977460812</id><published>2009-02-01T14:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T14:03:38.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday, Bitch - in - Law</title><content type='html'>My brother recently got engaged to a woman who can be incredibly fun, kind, generous and gracious. However, at a moment's notice, she can become offended and become very passive-aggressive and refuse to admit that anything is wrong (much less tell us what offended her).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was married before, and I know she has wounds from that relationship. This makes me want to be as understanding about her reactions as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that she snaps at my parents, my brother and me, but will not (even when directly and sensitively asked) disclose what is bothering her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, she will continue to make it clear that she is angry. These tantrums (for lack of a better word) make everyone uncomfortable, but we (my parents, my brother and I) are afraid to approach her openly for fear of causing permanent damage to our future relationship with this woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She makes my brother happy, and I certainly don't want to alienate them from my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a win-win situation that can clear the air without burning a bridge?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Oh God, this is probably a woman that I'll be tricked into marriage someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You need to stop being so understanding. This woman is ball busting bitch. The only reason your brother probably married her is because she brings that attitude into the bedroom, and now he can have porno sex for the rest of his days. But that isn't a good trade off. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You need to be firm.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"Just because you are the cunt that my brother married, doesn't mean you can spew out whatever the fuck you want to our family. Sorry your first marriage didn't work out, but it's probably because you keep acting like Ophelia whenever anyone wants to have a nice moment. Stick it up your dripping love canal and eat your spaghetti."&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Good luck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6117083728977460812?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6117083728977460812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6117083728977460812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6117083728977460812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6117083728977460812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-bitch-in-law.html' title='Sunday, Bitch - in - Law'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-1862542502934722769</id><published>2009-01-27T17:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T17:29:54.784-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Slutty Virgin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Is it possible to be a slut and still be a virgin? I am 20, and I am good at attracting boys, but I'm still a virgin because I have never had an actual relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I "hook up" with many guys, sometimes two in the same weekend. I bring them home from parties, but they aren't strangers. I know them from school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my best friends and I moved into our apartment, I have brought five different guys home with me, but I have not had sex with any of them. The other day, one of my friends told me I'd better be careful that I don't get a reputation. I was surprised because I thought you had to actually have sex with a lot of people in order to get a bad reputation. I'm just having fun. What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;A slut and a virgin? Quite the oxymoron. You, my dear are in a different category.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You are the epitome of a tease. And a mass tease at that. It sounds like a harsh word, but it's not.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If you are doing everything but sex, then you are a slut with training wheels. Quite the norm for your age.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If you are just taking guys home and making out with them, to address your hormones, wants/needs etc. no real problem there. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; If you are a woman that gets off to not giving into guys then you are a total tease. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Not that any of these are wrong, just giving you the liner notes to your teasy 20's. It's quite respectable that you are waiting for a meaningful relationship even though you are aware of your hotness and willing to take home the latest guy with a striped shirt and a lacrosse hat. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Find that relationship, because if you give in now...you will end up being that slut that your jealous friend warns you about. When you have sex for the first time, nothing is the same after. You have a period where your genitals go Rick James crazy and you fuck a handful of people. It goes with the territory. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Try not taking guys home, or fool around with one of your girlfriends. It will get you more attention from men, and it will cross off that girl on girl experience that almost every woman EVER has on their bucket list. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-1862542502934722769?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/1862542502934722769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=1862542502934722769' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1862542502934722769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1862542502934722769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/tuesday-slutty-virgin.html' title='Tuesday, Slutty Virgin'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-5582251329343571024</id><published>2009-01-27T17:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T17:28:45.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Height Advantage</title><content type='html'>My man is 5 foot 6 inches, the same as me. When we kiss, I love that I can look straight into his eyes. He's also balding, by the way, so I guess he should have two strikes against him. But I think he's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. &lt;div&gt;He's affectionate, straightforward, patient, very funny, intelligent and hardworking, and he treats me with the same love and respect and delight with which I treat him. He's not the first short man I've ever gone out with, but he's the last. He's a keeper. What drives women away from short men? I don't understand it?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Well good for you. I'm glad that you look for character instead of basketball height and wallet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;As much as I rip on women for being vein, selfish, mean-spirited, or materialistic, there is certainly a flip side. I have know plenty of women in my life that can love or be more attracted to a guy's character. Mostly, nice guys, and sense of humor can get you pretty far. I'm not sure I can say the exact same for men. With most guys the 'attractive' has to be there. I can say for myself I have to be attracted to somebody before deeper feelings ensue. That's the only time I can be more attracted to someone's character. I agree that's bullshit. But that's how it is. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I'm no Lebron James myself. I'm 5'10 but have a hell of a jumpshot. Just kidding, no I do. I'm no ladies man or anything, but i have had quite a few girlfriends. In fact that should probably tell you right there that not all women go for height. Or maybe their type is a foul mouth irish guy that thinks it is hilarious when people trip and fall in front of a huge crowd. I dunno.  I can honestly say I don't give a shit about my height. Nor have I ever complained about it. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;So to any guy that is Spudd Webb small, that's insecure about their height: Make Terry Schiavo jokes and don't give a shit. If some girl passes you up because of height reasons, they are probably a man, or some materialistic bitch from the Gold Coast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-5582251329343571024?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/5582251329343571024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=5582251329343571024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5582251329343571024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5582251329343571024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/tuesday-height-advantage.html' title='Tuesday, Height Advantage'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2338119980515227308</id><published>2009-01-26T17:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T17:47:40.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Eating Disorder Disarray</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm 20 years old and have a best friend whom I care for a great deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend has an eating disorder, and she also has a mother who tells her and her sisters that having a flat stomach is extremely important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also struggled with my own body image, but I have learned to embrace my flaws (plus, I was raised differently).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she criticizes herself, how do I as a friend tell her to start loving herself more? Her behavior is starting to bring me down, and it makes me sad that she's so negative about her body.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This 'friend' is really you, isn't it? Don't lie to me. It's the oldest trick in the book. But I don't really care.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;It would help me alot more if you specify which eating disorder you/your friend has. In my preference of judging pretty girls, bulimia is the meal ticket (ha ha ha) of the eating disorders. Anorexia just makes you super weak, and Africa looking. Let's look at the facts about bulimia:&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;1. You can still feel good about eating, and throwing up isn't as scary anymore now that you do it everyday.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;2. It's easier than working out.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;3. You will get instant results and more dates!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;   3a. Guys will be more attracted to your smooth stomach and waist.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;   3b. Holy fuck that ass is tight. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Look, the world is not crashing down. Everyone has body issues in some capacity. Especially women. All women think that they need perfection in everything. And I'm sorry they feel that way, because some girls are so cute that a guy won't care. Plus, they will love you for your mind or some shit.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; I, however don't have these issues. I have a modest 6% body fat, I can eat anything I want, and can easily burn all that off by running a mile. It's fucking great. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Furthermore, my cat throws up alot. She is a small, thin cat. Even though, it can be a pain to clean up her little kitty throw up, I respect her. I respect her more than our President. Conclusion: Everybody compliments how cute and small she is.&lt;br /&gt;Stop blaming your (Good attitude) friend for bringing you down. Only you can control how you feel. You are probably a big fatty that wants your friend to chow down at Arby's with you. Go back to the ocean, Kirstie Alley. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2338119980515227308?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2338119980515227308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2338119980515227308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2338119980515227308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2338119980515227308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/monday-eating-disorder-disarray.html' title='Monday, Eating Disorder Disarray'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2238755760747199942</id><published>2009-01-21T17:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T17:52:37.931-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Tammy Temper</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I am a 16-year-old girl, and I'm pretty popular in my high school. I'm blessed to have several close friends, and we always have a great time together. My grades are good, and I get along well with my mom, dad and little brother. So what's the problem, you're probably wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an argument with my girlfriend "Amber" recently. It was over a "guy issue." I won't go into details because we did end up working it out, but Amber said something during the blowup that has me worried. She said that sometimes my anger gets out of control and concerns her. Two other girls who were with us at the time agreed with her. That floored me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the first time I've heard about this. I mean, Mom sometimes calls me "Tammy Temper" -- and has accused me of "throwing fits." But my friends never called me on it. In the fight with Amber, she said my fists were clenched and she was afraid I might hit her. (I didn't think so.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to scare people. I value my friends. I look forward to going to college and making new friends and having new experiences. I don't want to have a reputation as a hothead. Can you help me?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELL, you also have an ego problem too. Ohhhh, you're so popular. That will change. Wait until you try and join a sorority and the initiation is to drink a coffee cup of urine from the fraternity around the corner. Hope you feel popular then, big shot.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Anywhoski... At the very least, you know that you have problem, because everyone is getting in your (popular) face. As a person that has dated lava-tempatured hot heads, and one that flips out about sports, I feel like I earn my Blog P.h.d. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You are still sixteen years old, so you are probably the bitchiest girl on the planet. I have two younger sisters, one that went through that, and one that is currently the same age. They both threw fits on the par of &lt;a href="http://members.tripod.com/%7EAmityvilleHorror/Kathy.jpg"&gt;Margot Kidder&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://img2.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/071029/horrormovies/exorcist_l.jpg"&gt;Regan&lt;/a&gt; . Your hormones will pretty much consume you for the remainder of your teens until you go off to college and learn to suppress it with Captain Morgan and cock. Until then, a couple of exercises or things that you can do to calm it the fuck down:&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;1. Tell 'Amber' that she is projecting. This flips it back on her. Make up a rumor about her to get your friends and back on your side. Now, she's the troll of the group.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;2. Cut your wrists. Not the right way, but the way that all teenagers do to act out. Physical pain should replace the emotional pain. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;3. Go shopping... you rich, popular fuck. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;4. Date a verbally abusive boyfriend. Your temper will seem light years away when Brock chastises you about the short skirt you wore to Dirk's G.I. Joe's and Army Ho's party. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;5. Start doing cocaine. This makes all  girls CRAAAAZIER. But it will eventually wear you down when times get tough, i.e. trading sex for blow, selling possessions, fighting your landlord in his sleep.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Look Tammy Temper, we all have anger. You stick to the advice I give and you will be back to your old sugar and spice popular gal routine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2238755760747199942?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2238755760747199942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2238755760747199942' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2238755760747199942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2238755760747199942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/wednesday-tammy-temper.html' title='Wednesday, Tammy Temper'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6119069913909993921</id><published>2009-01-15T17:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T17:48:28.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, WHINE and Cheese</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;After many years of being single, I met a woman I'll call "Trish" on a blind date. We're both in our late 40s, and we hit it off. We have many things in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I was at her place when she received a phone call. Trish made it short and sweet and hung up. A few minutes later, I asked who it was, and she told me it was her boss.  I know how she answers the phone when it's her boss -- and it wasn't him. When I said, "That was NOT your boss," she admitted it was one of her boss's clients, but said nothing was going on between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first met Trish, she mentioned that a client had come in one day, had wine and cheese, then leaned over and kissed her. It's the same guy that called -- and he's married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very hurt. We have both been cheated on. I don't think she has cheated, but she lied to my face. My first instinct is to dump her, but I love her. What should I do?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Plain and simple. Leave. Get out of there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Anybody that lies to you once, will lie to you again. Take it from me. I have been a total bastard in relationships, and I have dated women that are James Brown crazy. It's probably therapy that I write this blog.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;But let's disect a little. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;The fact that you point out you have been single for awhile, shows that you will accept whatever is given to you. Bad Idea jeans. Just because Ginietown has seldomly played your town doesn't mean you have to put up with a bunch of lying bullshit. At least when you are single, you don't have to worry if she is blowing some guy at a board meeting. Saying that you love her though is just an excuse. Like it's your last chance at having anything. I'd rather die alone then be with some lying slut. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;And who eats wine and cheese at work? Is she a lawyer or an oil executive? If it's yes to either of those professions, you have the right to steal her credit card and pay for sex. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6119069913909993921?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6119069913909993921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6119069913909993921' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6119069913909993921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6119069913909993921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/thursday-whine-and-cheese.html' title='Thursday, WHINE and Cheese'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-7314984153766347293</id><published>2009-01-06T17:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T17:10:55.566-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Marine ex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;p&gt;I'm happily married with four wonderful children. I have a great husband and a great career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I received an e-mail from my ex-boyfriend from high school. He is an officer in the Marine Corps. He broke up with me 16 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is now married to the girl he dumped me for all those years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened up my e-mail and was surprised to learn that he has been looking for me all this time and wanted to apologize for what he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that he was sorry for pushing me away and wanted to find closure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This man broke my heart when he left me for another girl and enlisted in the Marines. My life changed after that, and I am totally over him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, after 16 long years, he is apologizing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have talked on the phone several times. I know I shouldn't talk to him, but I think that he is trying to get back together with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking with him brings back memories. I realize that he hasn't changed, and I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;If you are soooo over him, why are you talking to him on the phone? And judging from the amount of children you have in that 16 years, it's easy to tell that you love sex. Just don't be that whore. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This guy actually did you a favor. He went off to the Marines. Which in all likelihood means that he hates brown people, wants to fire a weapon, be  around a bunch of sweaty dudes, and loves Kid Rock. Not to mention you would have to be a lonely Marine wife where you are stationed, alone, and probably pregnant. My cousin is married to a marine, and I'm not afraid to say that he is a cocksucker. Every family Christmas party that he's around, I dream of introducing a folding chair to his sweaty double chin. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Be an honorable dame and stop talking to this jarhead. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-7314984153766347293?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/7314984153766347293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=7314984153766347293' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7314984153766347293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7314984153766347293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/tuesday-marine-ex.html' title='Tuesday, Marine ex'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-33573520786014575</id><published>2009-01-06T17:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T17:09:00.158-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Asteroids</title><content type='html'>My boyfriend of two years and I have been living together for four months. I uprooted my life and moved 2,000 miles to be with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I need to talk to him about something affecting our relationship, he gives me the cold shoulder that lasts for days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really in love with this man, and I gave up my home, friends and a great job to be with him. I am not sure how committed he is to me, and I wonder if I am wasting my time on a man who is just not capable of appreciating or loving anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always tells me there is a possibility that he might be with another woman. He likens it to the odds of an asteroid hitting Earth—not probable but possible. This just doesn't seem like what a committed boyfriend should tell me. He even went as far recently as to tell me, "Under certain circumstances, I could be with another woman." I got really upset and asked him to explain the comment. He shut me out and gave me the cold shoulder for days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is 56 and has never been married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He makes me feel so insignificant in his life and tells me that I should know how he feels about me because he let me move in with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I walk away?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;My God. This is the kind of shit that makes men not respect women. And sorry to say, but it's your own damn fault. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I liken this to my parent's cat. My Dad can't stand it, but she always comes to him. The more a guy doesn't respect a woman, the more the woman eats it up like Godiva chocolate. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Should you walk away? Yes. If he is comparing asteroids to hitting the earth, I'm pretty sure his Viagra prescription is aimed at another woman. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Refusing to talk about the relationship is THE telling sign that it's in trouble or the electoral votes are being projected that it's already over.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Leave with some dignity. Wait until he goes to work or plays tennis or whatever he does and take all your possessions and leave. It will give him a lifetime to ponder his decisions. Fortunate for him, he is 56, so he could die relatively soon. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;By the way, your name wouldn't happen to be Stacy Peterson would it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-33573520786014575?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/33573520786014575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=33573520786014575' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/33573520786014575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/33573520786014575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2009/01/tuesday-asteroids.html' title='Tuesday, Asteroids'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2794810738833944931</id><published>2008-12-17T16:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T16:39:38.090-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Bisexual Gal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My 14-year-old daughter, "Melissa," is bisexual. Most girls her age have sleepovers, but my husband says that any girl Melissa likes should be considered the same as a boyfriend, so it is not appropriate for her to spend the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disagree. A girlfriend is not the same -- mainly because Melissa won't end up getting pregnant after spending the night with a girl. What do you think? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Congratulations retard. You have won the award for "People I'd like to punch in the face- of the week." Dad is totally right. Would you like to bring ice cream down into the basement just to have it shatter when you witness your daughter's mouth glued to her best pal's vagina?!Yeah, I didn't think so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;But I can't get past a fourteen year old already thinking she is bisexual. "Mellissa" probably barely has boobs, and the fern is starting to grow into spring still- if you know your metaphors. This leads me to think:&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;A. She is confused, which all teenagers are as their body turns into a transformer.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;B. She has already been sexual with both a male and a female which makes me think you are terrible parents.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;C. She has been molested. If this girl lives in Florida or Texas, circle C for sure.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;D. She is probably looking for attention. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Either way, your daughter is trouble. My only advice is to build one of those creepy praying rooms like the one in Carrie. With that in mind don't let her go to the prom either. Nothing worse than seeing your daughter post-drunk, post-sucked off 6 guys in a night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2794810738833944931?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2794810738833944931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2794810738833944931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2794810738833944931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2794810738833944931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/12/wednesday-bisexual-gal.html' title='Wednesday, Bisexual Gal'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3190318076173402205</id><published>2008-12-17T16:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T16:38:32.728-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Bad Hair Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As the years have passed, my brown hair has slowly been replaced by threads of silver. Friends and relatives have teased me about it. I don't let their remarks bother me, but certain individuals do irritate me with their remarks. So I came up with a comeback to address their comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell them with a smile that each of my white hairs represents a "seed of wisdom" in my "field" of knowledge. I love seeing their expressions when I say this. Perhaps this will help other seniors. What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good comeback, Tony Danza. You are old and are going to die soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3190318076173402205?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3190318076173402205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3190318076173402205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3190318076173402205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3190318076173402205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/12/wednesday-bad-hair-day.html' title='Wednesday, Bad Hair Day'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4729989033251956099</id><published>2008-11-14T21:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T21:42:27.955-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday, Fantasy drunk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Last weekend I drank a little too much and passed out on the floor of my room. Normally, your friends would take this as an opportunity to write on your body or put shaving cream on your face. Not my friends. They noticed that my fantasy football league was open on my computer and proceeded to release every player on my roster. Add to it that there is significant money involved, and I was in first place. Is this the most unforgivable "prank" that can happen to guy? Really, they could have slashed my tires and I would have been less mad.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;That is fucking hilarious. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Throughout time, men have abused other unconscious men who fail at drinking. It's almost a rite of passage, and we have all been the abuser, or the abusee. This, however, takes things to a whole new level. First of all, you always close something as valuable as your fantasy football team especially when you have friends as roommates. You kinda have yourself to blame. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;If anyone ever did that to me, they would always pay for it. Suggestions for revenge*:&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;1. Get on their email and write a family member pretending to be the person that you are out to ruin. Tell them you went out to a gay club, and that you liked it. That it felt dirty. Sexy dirty. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;2. Wake them up in the middle night and tell them that police were called, and that their parents are dead. You can use the cold sweat that will ensue to water your plants.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;3. Buy a ton of exotic ants. Cover their room to the point where somebody would ask them if they are the Keymaster. (This may backfire depending on how close your room is)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;* Revenge may lead to counter-revenge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4729989033251956099?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4729989033251956099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4729989033251956099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4729989033251956099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4729989033251956099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/11/friday-fantasy-drunk.html' title='Friday, Fantasy drunk'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2860041980774614331</id><published>2008-11-12T19:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T19:59:39.618-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Flirty.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been dating a guy for about six months. The issue I am trying to deal with concerns the number of his female friends. He is a single dad who raised his daughter on his own. She is involved in sports, and so he became friendly with a lot of the mothers of his daughter's friends. Most of these women are single, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have met one or two of them, and they seem very nice. I believe there is nothing going on, but there are one or two whom I have not met, and I have overheard him being very flirty with them. I have asked him about it, and he gets defensive, saying it is playful and innocent. He also meets these women now and then for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am becoming more and more uncomfortable with this, and so, in return, he is keeping things from me. What do I do? Can men and women really be just friends?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This is a good question, because every guy ever that has been in a relationship has had to listen to the whining, skull-numbing, verbal beating women give when they get insecure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Men and women can be just friends. Dr. Kenny has many of them in fact. And sure every now and then, it can lead to a night of Led Zeppelin II, billion shots of patron, and panties in your laundry. But that is when you are single.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;When you are with somebody, that factor goes away, unless you are an asshole and probably shouldn't be dating somebody anyway. The simple fact is this: If you were friends with them before, it is unfair to be asked to change the way you treat that friend because your girlfriend watched an Oprah special that day that made her feel like she had to be batshit insane. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;And as far as a guy just talking to them at a social event involving their children, well what do you want him to do? Call the woman a slut because she complimented him on bring the orange slices at halftime? &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Women are into confidence. It's a wide known thing. But men are too. If a woman constantly bitches about being jealous, that insecurity will turn into weakness. Weakness is a turn off. So, unless you want to go back to square one with your vibrator, just quit your bitching.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2860041980774614331?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2860041980774614331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2860041980774614331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2860041980774614331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2860041980774614331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/11/wednesday-flirty.html' title='Wednesday, Flirty.'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-7970996504688118650</id><published>2008-11-12T19:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T23:42:51.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Can I call you a whore?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id=":d4" class="ArwC7c ckChnd"&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do you think of a woman in her 40s who uses the word "whores" to describe 7th-grade girls? The girls in question are schoolmates of this woman's daughter and have limited to no experience with boys. One of them is my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman considers herself to be a good Christian, and she attends church regularly. I am just astounded by this behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I think everyone has the right to use the word "whores." Have you seen teens today? They dress and act like whores. I personally blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;THE &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;MTV with all their bad programming, and that it is ok to be stupid and trashy. However, that's a two way street. If we didn't have teenage whores, we wouldn't have girls that: A. Know to swallow. B. Show you the magical uses of boobs C. let you fuck them in a parking lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I'm getting a little off track here. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I'm not sure why Miss Christianity would call your daughter a whore because you didn't explain all circumstances. Chances are your daughter is a whore. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-7970996504688118650?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/7970996504688118650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=7970996504688118650' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7970996504688118650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7970996504688118650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/11/wednesday-can-i-call-you-whore.html' title='Wednesday, Can I call you a whore?'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2585501292933295965</id><published>2008-10-28T17:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T17:28:11.632-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Electronic mail cheater</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have been married for five years, and we have a wonderful daughter, who is 3 years old. My wife and my daughter are my life, and I consider myself a very happy man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, my wife left her e-mail account open and I noticed an exchange of messages to and from a previous boyfriend of hers. This man cheated on her, then dumped her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned that he e-mailed her one night when he was drunk. To my dismay, she replied to him in a very warm tone, encouraging him to get in touch more often. They have exchanged a few messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is married, too, but along with exchanging information about mutual friends he also includes many compliments to my wife. She replied to him, saying how happy she is that they are back in touch. Several times she encouraged him to keep writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion there is an honorable, responsible way to do things. If he wants to hear how she is doing, he should do it in the open, and his wife and I should be aware of it. I feel destroyed and emotionally betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I overreacting?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;No. You are under reacting.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Emotional betrayal cuts just as deep as physical betrayal. She must pay.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Start by sitting in the dark for hours until she comes home. When she gets home and turns on all the lights she will be uber frightened to see you coldly, and human-less-ly glaring at her. Ask her who she has been talking to on her email. Before she has a chance to respond, break that fine china her Aunt Patti gave you for your wedding. Make sure your body language says "I'll waterboard you at any given moment." Make sure she cannot type again, and when neighbors ask her why she has a cast on her hands, you say that she has carpel tunnel syndrome. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Find where this guy lives, and beat the shit out of him in front of his family. Take his wife, because your wife can't be trusted anymore. You could even be trading up. Now you both get what you want. Compromise, it's what it's all about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2585501292933295965?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2585501292933295965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2585501292933295965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2585501292933295965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2585501292933295965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/10/tuesday-electronic-mail-cheater.html' title='Tuesday, Electronic mail cheater'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-7826955971083430176</id><published>2008-10-16T17:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T17:26:00.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, Smelly Parents</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My husband and I have decided to sell our house and move south. We plan to purchase a mobile home. I asked our adult children what they thought of our decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One son made a quick trip home. Most of what he had to say pertained to issues from the past. One remark stung: He said that my husband and I had not showered or used deodorant on the day of my mother's funeral. True, we didn't shower that morning, but we had the night before. Because we depend on well water and had three extra people in the house, we wouldn't have had enough for all five of us to get a warm shower. We did use deodorant and cologne, and my husband put on aftershave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were crushed by our son's comment. I no longer wish to be an overnight guest in his home because I know they will be watching my every move. I would be preoccupied with worry about whether I have body odor. I love my son and our daughter-in-law, but the thought of being around them now makes me uncomfortable.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Ewwwwww. You are a disgusting pig. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Your excuse for not showering is pretty awful. Growing up, my house depended on well water, and guess what Angela Smellsbury? It was quite enough. In fact, most of the time I take two showers a day. One at night and when I wake up in the morning. I pride myself in taking care of my body, unlike you, the walking European corpse. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;To show up at a funeral smelling worse than the dead body tells me you live in the mountains or the south. Or you are really fucking old, and either way you smell. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Your son was just trying to help you. The fact that you get defensive at your son being truthful also tells me you are old. Old people get sensitive easier. Now you are taking it out on him and refusing to go to his house? You should be lucky if he lets you in smelling like a yeast infection from the civil war era.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You are selling a house for a mobile home?! Strike three you old fucks! Are you trying to suck before you die? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-7826955971083430176?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/7826955971083430176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=7826955971083430176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7826955971083430176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/7826955971083430176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/10/thursday-smelly-parents.html' title='Thursday, Smelly Parents'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-8964348224224558886</id><published>2008-10-08T17:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T17:57:31.699-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, College lame-O</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My daughter, "Christie," just started her freshman year in college. She's a little overwhelmed and trying to adjust. She is smart, focused and mature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christie's biggest problem is it seems that all the other students in her dorm want to do is party. They buy alcohol with fake IDs and sneak it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christie has told the others that she's not a partyer, and has been focusing on her work while her roommate and suitemates drink and miss classes. This makes my daughter not only unhappy, but also feel isolated. I talk to her every day to reassure her that she will find "her" group of friends. Is there anything else I could advise?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My gosh, Christie sounds lame and flat chested. Don't tell me she is studying classic music.. Christie should embrace the spirit of Yom Kippur, and reflect back on going to a tougher school if she really wants to study until she perspires. Drinking, fucking, and getting fake ID's is what college kids do. What the hell did she expect? With this kind of attitude, she will be alone all four years and eventually become a lame Sue in some office building. But as a doctor of everything holy, do not fret.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Buy Christie birth control. Tell her to brag about it in class, dorm rooms, or whatever function is going on. Phrases like "Not only does this make my tits bigger, but it kills all your baby Phelps," are sure to get people interested.  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Purchase her Southern Comfort. Every college kid has had some whacky adventure with Southern Comfort. From your legs going in the back of your head, to seeing what the bathroom floor feels like after a night of upchucking pan-seared pea snaps, Southern Comfort is a TA away from the classroom. &lt;br /&gt; Get acquainted with somebody that is 21. Nothing says 'IT GIRL' like the one that can hook up booze. We all went through that as youngans. I respected people that got kegs, cases, and 40's more than I respect Martin Luther King.  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;So, don't worry. Fitting in to college is easy, because most college kids are merely extensions from high school. Some of dumbest motherfuckers you will ever meet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-8964348224224558886?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/8964348224224558886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=8964348224224558886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8964348224224558886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8964348224224558886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/10/wednesday-college-lame-o.html' title='Wednesday, College lame-O'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3690731683587936153</id><published>2008-10-06T18:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T18:26:00.029-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Vegas cheater, stupid girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm 24 and have been dating my 29-year-old boyfriend for the past five years. We have been very happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once or twice a year my boyfriend has a guys' trip to Las Vegas. I have fully supported these trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out a few days after his most recent Vegas trip that my boyfriend had kissed a girl in a club. The following week my boyfriend actually went back to Vegas for a one-night stand with this girl. Two days after this one-night trip to Vegas, we were leaving for the Bahamas, where he was going to propose. He had the ring and planned to ask my parent's permission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm crushed, and he is disgusted with himself. He has lost tons of weight and went to counseling to find out why this happened. He's never hidden from this, never once trying to minimize the severity of what he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I spoke to the counselor who is seeing him to discuss my feelings, and she said that he exhibits no signs of being a "repeat offender."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are working through this, but a deeper problem lies with my parents. They are completely done with him. They do not approve of me working this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father says he would refuse his request to marry me, and my mom says she does not ever want to see him again, much less have him as a son-in-law. I feel completely torn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in an adult relationship and can make my own decisions, but my family finds this unforgivable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What should we do?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;This is a golden question for Dr. Kenny. It's "Stance" time. Anybody that stays with somebody that cheats deserves all the bad shit coming to them.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; You said that this counselor said he shows no signs of being a repeat offender? Didn't he kiss this girl once, and then go back and fuck her? That's called cheating twice, kitten. Anybody that has it in them to fully know that something is wrong and do it anyway will do it again. I'm glad he has lost weight, because he's a major douche, and also the reason that when I go do something with my friends, my GF's ask "Was there any girls there?" I hope he never eats again, or gets a 2 foot tapeworm. If he is having dirty Vegas sex before proposing to you, I'm pretty sure we would understand how that marriage would turnout. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;When you met, he was 24, and you were 19. So for two more years you couldn't go to bars while he was out at Barleycorn, STD-ing it up with Kara who works at Lover's Lane. He probably has had alot of tang under our watch. You just happen to catch him this time.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Your parents are the only ones making sense in this picture. Your dad should beat him with wooden shoes. It's completely unforgivable what this guy did. In fact, they should be mad at you for staying with such a retard. You are young, lose the guy and be that girl that guys cheat on with. It's way more fun that way. And in a way, it would be like thrusting out your revenge. Or go another route. Contract herpes or HEP C and fuck your boyfriend. If he ever thinks about getting some road-trip-with-the-guys-tang, he will have to remember that his penis is battered down like a New Orleans levee. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3690731683587936153?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3690731683587936153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3690731683587936153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3690731683587936153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3690731683587936153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/10/monday-vegas-cheater-stupid-girl.html' title='Monday, Vegas cheater, stupid girl'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4929905955924772183</id><published>2008-10-06T18:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T18:26:28.552-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, In Laws shoot 'em up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Our first child is nearly a year old, and I am planning his first birthday party. My in-laws and my parents do not get along, and my in-laws have threatened not to come if my parents are present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I have made it clear that we do not agree with this. We feel they should be able to put aside their differences for one day for the sake of their grandchild. Should we bend to their stubbornness and have two separate birthday parties, one for each side of the family? &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;No fucking way. If your senile in-laws and bratty parents can't come together for something that is not about them in anyway, they can suck a cock in Fire Island. Or plan B, You can have them do a taser-off in the backyard. This includes lining up 30 feet away from each other and just tasering. The one that can come out of the twitching fast enough, or the one that doesn't suffer a stroke gets to be there while the other one goes home. Or the ER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4929905955924772183?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4929905955924772183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4929905955924772183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4929905955924772183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4929905955924772183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/10/in-laws-shoot-em-up.html' title='Monday, In Laws shoot &apos;em up'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-8448256902722777701</id><published>2008-09-29T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T16:56:11.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Boring woman has no life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; I am a 28-year-old wife and mother. I love my family very much and do not lack the essentials in life. But I can't help feeling my house isn't clean enough, my home isn't good enough and I'm not good enough. Nothing in my life is up to my standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see people all around me who have all of these wonderful things. They travel and have fun. I have nothing of any real worth, and I can't remember the last time I truly had fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to take anti-depressants to cover the problem; I want to feel better. I have considered hiring a life coach to help me find the basis for my feelings, but I am not sure if coaching is for real or where to find it. I do not live in a large city, and money is limited. I want to feel like I, and the things in my life, are enough. Help!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Well gee wiz. Sorry to say, but that's what happens when you decide to not have goals. Getting married and having kids is what 20somethings do so they can talk about it at their 10 year reunion. You aren't having fun because you probably have a sucky husband also. Not only that, you choose to be pathetic. Taking ant-depressants doesn't cover up the problem. It is a sign that you actually want to be happy. Hiring a life coach would be the world's biggest neon sign to tell everyone that you are a fucking loser. You are so bad at life that you would hire a life coach? Move to a city. Buy a gun. Find a drug habit. Start an affair. Kidnap a child. Five things off the top of my head that you could do. All else fails, clean your duplex again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-8448256902722777701?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/8448256902722777701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=8448256902722777701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8448256902722777701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8448256902722777701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/monday-boring-woman-has-no-life.html' title='Monday, Boring woman has no life'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6341695415887503762</id><published>2008-09-24T07:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T07:44:58.495-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Socks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I need help!  I am a 30 year old professional male with my own condo in the city.  I have a bunch of friends who are girls and are constantly trying to set me up with their friends because of what a great guy I am.   But even with all of their opinions leading towards me being so "great" eventually the latest girl will leave me the same as the rest.  The last girl left because I kept asking her to wear tube socks while we are making love, which I don't think is good reason to leave!  (Jennifer you know who you are!) There are people out there who like to wear full animal costumes while doing it, tube socks are not that bad!  I just really like them, I mean they have been around from when I first figured out how to please myself through the movie flash dance and at every sexual junction in my life!    It's not like I only like purple ones either, nope, I will take any color, green, black, white, striped, even argyle!!! Is it so wrong to love their elastic goodness so much?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Throughout the whole question I deeply sympathized, and maybe empathized a fact or two until you brought up Flash Dance. But, since I'm a lover and not a Street Fighter, I will pretend I didn't read that. Setting yourself up as the 'good guy' comes with expectations. Like, you are going to be there for your gal pals when Bruno breaks her heart. Or maybe that you aren't afraid to say you like The Notebook. Or maybe you get salty-er than an ocean and say that you wish your voice sounded like that dude from Matchbox 20. In any case, women have already categorized you as a vagina with a dick extension. So, when you pull out the whole sock thing, the surprise hits them harder than Hurricane Katrina. I, too am down with the whole tube sock. And even for good measure, those black lines baseball players put under their eyes. Enough about my sporty fucks... You are totally natural in liking something particular. Women like a huge bank acccount and nobody is double penetration deep in their business! What the S?! Keep doing what you are doing, and I'm sure the  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strike style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;ass-to-mouth ho&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;  right girl will come along.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6341695415887503762?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6341695415887503762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6341695415887503762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6341695415887503762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6341695415887503762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/wednesday-socks.html' title='Wednesday, Socks'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-2832563901671434373</id><published>2008-09-22T17:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T17:20:39.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Grandma Revenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Please help me. Several years ago, my granddaughter -- age 17 -- beat me up. It was awful. She beat me all over and broke my knee. I have forgiven her, but somehow it eats at me. What should I do? I will never forget that beating, which happened because I wouldn't let her drive my car.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you get it on video? Because that's the only way it would kinda be funny. Other than that stop being a whiny old Grandma. First of all, what the shit did her parents do, and why weren't they there? Second, I hope you called the police on that cunt. Third, you should have organized a 'family party' only for it to be a setup in which you beat your granddaughter mercilessly. I'm talking 2x4 with nails on it. Or, find out if she has a  boyfriend;  send her pictures of you giving him fellatio. I'm pretty sure teenage girls hate seeing their boyfriends sucked off by Grandma. If you don't stand up for yourself, you will look like every other weak ass elderly person, and meanwhile your granddaughter is racking up money by being a guest on Maury. Also, is your granddaughter a dangerous minority? If so, it will probably be pregnant in a couple of months and then you can push her down the attic stairs. You're welcome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-2832563901671434373?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/2832563901671434373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=2832563901671434373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2832563901671434373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/2832563901671434373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/monday-grandma-revenge.html' title='Monday, Grandma Revenge'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-5497224408978413723</id><published>2008-09-22T17:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T17:18:31.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, NESW</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm 39 and a college graduate with plenty of common sense. I'm not stupid, yet throughout my life I have had trouble differentiating between left and right, east and west. Any explanation?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;You are a genuine retard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-5497224408978413723?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/5497224408978413723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=5497224408978413723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5497224408978413723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/5497224408978413723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/monday-nesw.html' title='Monday, NESW'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-3925481116360424748</id><published>2008-09-22T17:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T17:17:38.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Weight of the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My boyfriend Chris is 6 foot 7. I'm 5 foot 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He weighs 240 pounds, I weigh less than 120.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, he's very critical of women who have buckets and mentions it whenever my weight creeps up to around 125, which it sometimes does in the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As to his weight, he admits that he should lose "maybe 5 pounds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Chris is a smart man and a good one, yet he apparently does not see the disgusting spare tire that's building up around him. I ran a Body Mass Index on him. He needs to lose 20 pounds just to barely make it into the healthy category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him his weight was not only a turnoff, but that it's physically unwieldy for me to be intimate with a man who outweighs me by 120 pounds. (Even if he were his ideal weight, he'd be a challenge.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That got his attention, and he's trying to get back in shape. I'm going to stay on him in a loving way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's still a mystery to me how men who are overweight feel free to be critical of women who are also overweight.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Nobody wants to fuck a porker. Mystery solved. However, 120 isn't bad. Just don't go over 125. The 120 range allows for some hot sweater-filling boob action, but puts the ass on the cusp of "You nasty!" The thing about your overweight guy is men don't have to look perfect. Alot of women like Bears fans. And some women are attracted to personality which alters their vision into physical attraction. Women are beautiful. And it is up to them to maintain that hot piece of ass. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-3925481116360424748?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/3925481116360424748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=3925481116360424748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3925481116360424748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/3925481116360424748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/monday-weight-of-world.html' title='Monday, Weight of the World'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-4322874463813868143</id><published>2008-09-17T17:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T17:36:18.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Response to 'Writing Prescriptions'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;To the person that I "offended" about my little joke (That was directed to my friend)- I was not picking on anyone (other than my friend). I'm very sorry to hear that things like that happen. But I think coming on to my blog where half the point is offensive humor and laying your personal shit down on me is a tad much. I (jokingly) made sexist comments about girl's being dirty liars, etc. Where were you there? Do you honestly go around comedy blogs looking to be offended? (As a friend pointed out) The solution of this is free will. I will continue making funny statements, and you don't have to look at my page when I do. Everybody wins!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. No more memorial sites. I don't need your depressing family shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-4322874463813868143?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/4322874463813868143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=4322874463813868143' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4322874463813868143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/4322874463813868143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-response-to-writing-prescriptions.html' title='In Response to &apos;Writing Prescriptions&apos;'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-288912877693252218</id><published>2008-09-17T17:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T17:33:33.052-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, Love Connection 5.0</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Alrite Kenny,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;I am a 19, female, good looking...... Last summer I met a guy online, we fell in love ( actually, he then had just broken up with his girlfriend, seemed very lonely and desolated, so I just larked him that I love him, so that he feels not sad and broken) Then he started taking things too far..... he would start calling me with 'Wife' and other names which only a married women should be referred with...... I cleared him, does he really love me? His reply was yes he does. Hence , I too started falling for him. And we would talk of almost anything everything , even sex and other stuff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Then once when he was in my city, we met up and went superficially physical (He smooched me, felt his fingers over my body parts and, gave me bites) I didn't allow him to break my virginity though..... Its a taboo for an Indian girl..... we are supposed to break our virginity only after marriage.......  Though I knew he would be marrying me, still, I didn't allow him perhaps because I was too young  ( unfortunaltely, 18 is young in India)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Then some seven months back , he broke up.... my whole world crashed down....... (he broke up only because he is fairer than me , though am not dark, but he's very fair)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Now there is a guy, Mr. M, he says he loves me a lot.....  He is a friend of my very good friend..... I met him also online...... this Mr. M knows everything about my past..... almost everything..... still he says he loves me and will always keep me happy....... we haven't met ever....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Mr. M is five years elder to me ...... He is from the same city as of mine, but currently he is working in UAE, and calls me up from there.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;When I am feeling low, he would sing for me.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;From his talks it appears, he really likes me..... but I wonder if he's telling honestly.....  because once I have been a victim of same kind of love affair.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Now I don't trust anyone..... almost no guy (when it comes to 'love') .....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;This Mr. M says he will be coming down to my city soon and would want to meet me.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What should I do Kenny.....? Should I meet him? Is he in love with me really? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Please tell me honestly if people can love (specially men) via virtual world, without seen someone for long.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;I have still not been able to come out of my past ..... I am still collecting the pieces of my heart..... it feels good when Mr. M says 'I love you' , but I get really scared as well......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Looking forwars to a prompt reply from you Kenny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;Mishri Kapoor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:arial,sans-serif;" &gt;First of all, Dr. Kenny digs the Indian love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:Arial;" &gt;Ok, I'll disect this like I'm seperating sushi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:Arial;" &gt;First up, the first guy you met online.. It was a good decision to keep your V-card in tact while this crooner was going all Big Man on Campus (BMOC) on you. Btw, thanks for the odd details, I felt like Andy Dick was telling me a story in the dark. When a guy starts calling you 'Wife' after a brief time you have been together it either means A. He's trying to rip up your V-Card   B. Because he is creepy   C. All of the Above.   He probably did you a favor in the long run by breaking up with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:Arial;" &gt;The second guy you met online. I'm not sure if you just discovered AOL 6.0 but dating online is probably not the best way to meet Johnny Hunkenmeyer. Anyways, I'm pretty sure a friendship is possible by just talking, but I don't think that it's love. Love is when your girlfriend won't shut the fuck up while you are trying to watch the end of the Cubs game with Soriano coming to the plate and a guy on 3rd, and still being able to tolerate her despite her bitchy way of interrupting something that is close to your heart.  -Or- love is when your boyfriend forgot your birthday but you understand that he is swallowing his pride to work at Jiffy Lube so he can get by so you don't pester him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:Arial;" &gt;Final point, you are young. Get offline and join a volleyball team or something. There are guys out there that are assholes. So go meet them for real and then talk to me about lack of trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-288912877693252218?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/288912877693252218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=288912877693252218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/288912877693252218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/288912877693252218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/wednesday-love-connection-50.html' title='Wednesday, Love Connection 5.0'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6184027961585871748</id><published>2008-09-15T17:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T17:57:00.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing prescriptions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SM7nn3Rz10I/AAAAAAAAAAo/VKbfGLxy-oQ/s1600-h/image002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SM7nn3Rz10I/AAAAAAAAAAo/VKbfGLxy-oQ/s400/image002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246385287972771650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Courtesy of Chris Wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my friend John. Sometimes I can't help everyone. And sometimes knowing when to quit is medicine in itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6184027961585871748?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6184027961585871748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6184027961585871748' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6184027961585871748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6184027961585871748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/writing-prescriptions.html' title='Writing prescriptions'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SM7nn3Rz10I/AAAAAAAAAAo/VKbfGLxy-oQ/s72-c/image002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-328887056403171712</id><published>2008-09-15T17:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T17:50:52.022-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Joey Greco has nothing on me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm in my late 20s and have been dating a woman for about six months. For the most part, everything is great, and I could see us getting married someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is she is still in contact with an ex, with whom she shares "custody" of a dog. She and her ex were together for two years and stopped dating two months before we met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About once a month, they meet to take their dog on walks, and she contacts him via text a few times a week. She says he's just a good friend, but the idea of her spending time with someone she dated for so long bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She agreed to talk and hang out with him less, and while their meetings have been less frequent, they are still meeting occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to give her an ultimatum to choose between us, and it seems unfair to make her give up a friend. It's just difficult to trust her (or more likely him) when they talk and hang out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm a worrier and don't know if I should demand they no longer meet, or let things go. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Your girlfriend and your ex are probably still fucking. Using the dogs as an excuse is part of the arsenal of the manipulation that your lying bitch understands. From the beginning of time women have been dirty, dirty liars. They are an emotional wreck, and will probably try to justify her actions with some anti-logic.. And why aren't you allowed to be around when Rod wants time with the ex? My advice is to buy an animal for your ex, and do the same thing. You should probably start fucking your ex too. It's better to be safe than sorry. And if there is anything better than guilty, naughty sex, consider me Helen Keller. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-328887056403171712?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/328887056403171712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=328887056403171712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/328887056403171712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/328887056403171712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/monday-joey-greco-has-nothing-on-me.html' title='Monday, Joey Greco has nothing on me'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-6074894730586666951</id><published>2008-09-11T17:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T18:03:04.722-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, I hate my Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am 25 years old, and my mother constantly buys me clothes. She buys me clothes on ebay&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a title="eBay Incorporated" href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/economy-business-finance/ebay-incorporated-ORCRP004915.topic" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, from catalogs and online stores. She lives a state away from me, where she has no friends except her boyfriend, and she works out of her home, so I assume she does it because she's bored and because she feels guilty about not being closer to her grandchildren and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've told her politely that she doesn't need to buy me stuff and that she should just save it for Christmas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a title="Christmas" href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/religion-belief/religious-festivals/christmas-12014001.topic" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, but she won't listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I don't want her to waste her money (she is not wealthy) on stuff I really don't like or need. It's starting to make me uncomfortable.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt; Oh, you poor little shit. Your biggest problem is your Mom likes to do nice things for you? You should be so lucky. Some Mom's raise (or don't) latchkey kids, or they drink a lot, or hit their children. Your Mom is so lonely that she thinks of you constantly, and this is one way of showing that. And the fact that she isn't wealthy shows that she would gladly spend her money to make you happy so you can look good at the sorority get-down or bar crawl, or whatever your ungrateful ass does. If I was your Mom i would send you anthrax in an H&amp;amp;M box. Then you could truly separate nice surprises in the mail to a quarantined room at Good Shepard. You are going to make such a bitchy wife. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-6074894730586666951?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/6074894730586666951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=6074894730586666951' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6074894730586666951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/6074894730586666951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/thursday-i-hate-my-mother.html' title='Thursday, I hate my Mother'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-8985493949479994616</id><published>2008-09-09T19:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T19:44:07.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, Hospital Harlot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I met a radiologist when I was in the hospital. We decided to keep in touch once I got out, so a week later I called him. He seemed standoffish at first, but after talking with him and meeting him at the hospital, I learned that he didn't trust women because he'd been hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We've been intimate several times, but always at the hospital. How come we never do it outside of work? At least at a hotel? I'm not married and I don't have any kids. I've invited him over. He says if he comes over, he can't stay. But he never comes over. He won't have me over to his house because he's a single father with kids, ages 17 and 19. He takes being a single father seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Still, he texts me from his cell, asking me what I'm doing. Then he tells me what he's doing. Do you think there's someone else? I've asked, and he said no. What's up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; Ok, First of all, that guy is awesome. He tricked you into doggystyle in the X-ray room without having to leave work. In fact, he is probably getting paid during those hours. Well done. And let me congratulate you. Way to be the first Hospital Harlot. Most people go to the hospital to get things removed or repaired. You go to the hospital to get things filled. How do you not realize at this point that you are his 15 minute break whore? It really doesn't matter if he has a wife or girlfriend or whatever, because he knows that at lunch, he can go get a porterhouse steak, and a BJ in the intensive care unit. Just be thankful that you are getting some, because I imagine you are old-ish. If you could talk him into writing a book on how he is able to manipulate the way he does, he would have at least one reader.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-8985493949479994616?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/8985493949479994616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=8985493949479994616' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8985493949479994616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/8985493949479994616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/tuesday-hospital-harlot.html' title='Tuesday, Hospital Harlot'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-1608426183843103550</id><published>2008-09-09T19:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T19:41:05.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Example</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Cheryl:&lt;/em&gt; I'm 21 and my boyfriend is 40. I love him. Every time I see him my heart pounds like it's about to jump right out of my chest. If I'm not with him, I miss him terribly. The problem is I just don't know how to tell him that these feelings that I have for him are real. How do I tell him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;—Young and in Love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dear Young and in Love:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; You're better off not telling him. It only makes you seem even younger than you are—which is plenty young. A mature 40-year-old man would recognize the symptoms you describe as infatuation, not love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But I have a feeling your boyfriend is not all that mature. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If he were, I don't think he'd be hanging around with you. Twenty years is a big age gap at any time, but at yours, it's the Grand Canyon. Accept your relationship for what it (probably) is—a fling. Enjoy it while it lasts, but don't be too broken up when it ends. You've got a lot of living and growing to do before you get serious about anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Not bad advice, but still. Drive the point home. My advice would go a little something like...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Dear girl that seeks desperate attention (and probably brags about her fist fitting into her mouth):&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;    People that say 'age is nothing but a number' are covering up daddy issues. Or have been touched by their Uncle in that dark cave during the family reunion. Do you honestly think that a 40 year old that is on the cusp of a midlife crisis is into you because you are soooo mature? No, here's a lifeline..You ARE part of his midlife crisis. 21 year old hot piece of ass is like methadone to his 'I have to cope with the fact that my life is half over' problem. The last thing he needs, is to hear about your immature mushy feelings that you co-opt from Meg Ryan movies, as you sit on your ass all day until your shift starts later tonight at TGI Fridays (where you met). It's not science. Find an equally dissapointing man that is your age, so you can atleast share your infinite knowledge of bad music music together. Now, I know that when you met it was something like a fairy tale. You went out for margaritas (Because you can drink at bars now!) and he told you that you are the most attractive woman he has ever met, and presto chango three hours later he lovingly promised that he would aim for your stomach. Truth is sweetheart, he doesn't know that in high school you were the community jizz jar that was looking for any attention at all. In fact he could give a fuck even if he knew. You are barely a summer rental. He will have moved to Jacksonville before you realize that stinging in your crotch was a birthday present he got from his ex wife in his younger 30's. Move on. No fairy tale lasts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-1608426183843103550?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/1608426183843103550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=1608426183843103550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1608426183843103550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1608426183843103550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-example.html' title='First Example'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4098591831767685591.post-1599792280255584821</id><published>2008-09-09T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T19:39:51.034-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As a subscriber to newspapers (mostly online) I can't help but look at the advice columns every now and then. It helps me realize what 'other' people call problems. But mostly it gives me a chance to fine tune my inner freelance smart-ass. Most of the questions are stupid, or atleast 5 logical answers could be used if the person in crisis would grow the fuck up. I find the advice a little odd too. Not because they give bad answers, but most of these advice columns comes from  women in their 40's to 60's. Well, not anymore. Not only, are these people ALL women, but they are outdated. So, I, the 25 year-old male have started my own column. To start out I will be using questions that the paper started out with. Feel free to send questions to KennyBernat@gmail.com. In fact, I encourage it.&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Thanks for the encouragement to do this friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4098591831767685591-1599792280255584821?l=askdrkenny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/feeds/1599792280255584821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4098591831767685591&amp;postID=1599792280255584821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1599792280255584821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4098591831767685591/posts/default/1599792280255584821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://askdrkenny.blogspot.com/2008/09/intro.html' title='Intro'/><author><name>Kenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514085141883283132</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_miImAqq7WlE/SMcc9haWRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VkuHlGroPOs/S220/DSC00445.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
