Jaded is my middle name

I confess, there is nothing more fascinating than the 'Mini-Me', or penis.  Lest me not leave his sweater wearing bros out of the conversation; they are as enjoyable as my fun bags are for my spouse, but not as attention grabbing because they don't grow as much.  They remind me of those Kushballs from the 90's, but not as pretty, because Kushballs came in bright colors, and tasted like rubber instead of, well, salty balls.   For many years (ok, 45.  Happy?) this dangling flesh has given me hours upon hours of enjoyment, in ways nothing else has.  Although I sometimes, no, lets make that 23 hours of the day, wish the future ex that I am currently with, would come down with a brain aneurism and keel over onto his keyboard, I could stay a happy widow if only he left that sequoia trunk with me forever. Am I sounding like one of them now?  You know, the enemy, that I have sex with and have to sleep next to, night after ambien free night?  Am I wrong in my morality believing men look at women as walking vaginas?  Is there a man who would not want to throw a rectangle of sheet metal over a woman's mouth, Beetlejuice style, and rivet it on permanently?  Maybe, just maybe, I am bitter, beat down from every man I have ever encountered.  All but one, who I fell in love with at a young age, who, while working as a missionary in Thailand, was killed by a drunk driver while riding his motorcycle to the church he helped build.  True story.  His widow can be found here.My first boyfriend is dead
All other men, you suck.  This includes my husbands, my father, and excludes my two sons.  They haven't hurt any women yet.  So they get a pass. 
I gotta go, but later I've got to tell you about Clew and the invisible fire truck. And why I gotta make some coin asap.  Wishing you love filled with rainbows and birthday cake (that's baked with weed in the batter)!