Top 10 Things Husbands and Wives Want

About.com has a list of the Top 10 things Men want from their wives and vice versa. I thought that it would be fun to compare this list.


Men:
1. Believe in his capabilities
2. Understanding
3. Affirmation of his Accomplishments
4. Acceptance
5. Less Chatter
6. Affection
7. Respect
8. Free Time
9. Trust
10. To be a Companion

I'm sorry but I looked at this list and wavered between preschooler and dog. If I had to convert all 10 items into two sentences and one word it would be: "Yes, it was a very good presentation but the game just started. Can I have a kiss and we will talk about this later? Thanks."

Of course the women's list isn't much better:


Women:
1. Telling her daily that she is Loved
2. Understanding and Forgiveness
3. Conversation
4. Willingness to make time for her and your children
5. Saying 'yes' more than saying 'no'
6. Listening well
7. Affection and Kindness
8. Sharing Household and Child Rearing Responsibilites
9. A Day Off Now and Then
10. Commitement to Take Care of Yourself Both Physically and Emotionally

First of all, reading this kind of makes me feel like my husband's bitch. Say yes more than no? Why does he get the deciding word? And forgiveness for what? About.com explained #2 like this:

There will be days when your wife will make mistakes or when she will be difficult to be around. No one is perfect. She both wants and deserves your willingness to understand and forgive her. Remember that no relationship can be sustained without forgiveness.


What? I'm sorry but we're counting mistakes now? Oh shoot, the dishes have spots. Mommy has to go sit in time out. Daddy won't you please forgive her. Yeah, I don't think so. I'll take the understanding part but not forgiveness because if I am being difficult to be around something tells me that you may have a part in that (minus give or take 6 days out of the month or when I'm on the pill.)

Here is my list for Mr. Rant:

1. For you to go back in time and remember your "moves" and use them on me again. I obviously thought they were hot. Of course you still are hot but didn't you do things that made me turn on in a second or was I just easy? On second thought don't answer that.
2. To come home early and declare that you are making us dinner. FYI, it needs to be something both the kids and I will eat and that does not require a trip to the store.
3. For him to chat with me in bed before we go to sleep. I heart pillow talk. It is a Mr. Rant pet peeve as it is time to sleep and if we were going to talk it should have been before we went to bed. Things pop into my head when I lay down and I like to chat about them. See the issue.
4. To be told I'm gorgeous, sexy, and awesome. Ok, he told me I was gorgeous the other day, kind of as a joke, but it totally still counted.  Hey Mr. Rant, would love it if you did it again!
5. For him to bring up a cute, funny, or random memory from our past. It's cool to hear our history from your point of view.

Ok, I can only come up with 5. I have it pretty damn good. But if I had to make up 5 for Mr. Rant they would be:

1. To Insist on Sex Constantly. For some reason after a long stretch of marriage men get a bit lazy to put on the real moves. I'm sure that he would be stoked if I just stripped down and asked "would you please take me?"
2. Took Up Cooking as a Hobby: Mr. Rant likes to eat and although I am doing pretty damn well in the cooking department I still can't even hold up a burnt piece of newspaper up to his mother, much less a candle.
3. Anal-retentive Cleanliness: Mr. Rant is so very Carioca in that nothing from outside should ever enter inside. In his ideal world we would change out of "street clothes" before even sitting on the couch. I like to run around Rio de Janeiro in flip flops and thus am constantly filing my feet to get the soot off. I drive him insane this way.
4. Be into Botafogo: Mr. Rant is mellow in that he wouldn't demand that I watch all soccer games with him but I know that he would love me to sit and watch Botafogo games. I used to watch in that early part of our relationship. Of course I used to just nap on his chest...
5. Take on more of the Bureaucratic responsibilitiess of the household. I like to blame being a foreigner and not speaking perfect Portuguese but we both know it's pure laziness. Dude, it's just a bitch to fumble your way through that muck of government. He knows his way through. It's so much easier for him. Of course that whole having a full-time job thing sometimes makes it difficult to wait an hour for a piece of paperwork. We all have our crosses to bear.

What do you want from your partner? Do you agree with the about.com lists?

Sex or a Baby?

Remember how I screamed baby fever from the top of the blog the other day? Well, things got worse. 

Actually, it's kind of been a work in progress, growing until it hit a peak. You see, not only has baby fever jumped up, so has my libido. 

Yes, I'm saying it here right now. I have been one horny Mommy/expat blogger. It really is getting out of control. I am at the point where I want my husband to skip out on work. I want him to miss meetings and instead head over to a motel with his wife.  Is that too much for a woman to ask?!

People, my libido thinks it's in it's 20s! It's out of control. Sex and hotness is crossing my mind all the freaking time. Ok, let me rephrase that. It's always been a regular visitor but now it has moved in next to my childhood memories and Portuguese that is used at the park. 

Imagine if those things get mixed up! It could get a bit nasty in there! 

So I came up with a plan and it's one that Mr. Rant adores.  Instead of putting my body and energy into trying to make another kid, we're going to try a different direction.

No baby this time. We're going to go for the sex! 

While I am lucky enough to say that our sex life has stayed great, minus some patches here and there, there's always room for improvement. The plan, to focus the extra energy and high libido on orgasms, more frequent trysts, and overall personal attention. 

I mean, babies are awesome. They are so the new black and I just love them to death. I may even have another in a couple of years. But really, when was the last time I got to focus on getting laid (with my husband of course). We have 2 small kids and laid can get lost in that equation. You have to rush or you have to be quiet or you feel like a cow so don't want it at all. 

Screw it, I'm going to give my body want it really wants, the action it had with Mr. Rant in it's early 20s. Ok, maybe there won't be the middle of the night poke as we normally have a kid in the bed. The first thing in the morning may also be lost because of innocent eyes wandering the apartment. 

We do have to draw the line somewhere people. 

But there will be afternoons, nighttime, and if at all possible the fabulous double feature! 

What do you do to keep your sex life fresh?

Are you Annoying or Am I PMSing?

The world was out to irritate me today. I have no idea why everyone and everything decided to be so annoying. Obviously I was the only consistent factor in the steady stream of annoyances but that's not significant.

No no, I'm bright and chipper today. It's that special time of the month where women are extra kind and sexier. I'm just feeling the love.

Before you go and scream Too Much Info, it's kind of obvious that I menstruate. I mean, I am a woman and have procreated twice. No virgin Mother here. The machine is working 100%.

Per protocol, I woke up and announced the arrival of Mr. Rant's archenemy. I'm a fair wife and like to give him a fighting chance.

So it came as a huge surprise that Mr. Rant decided to be short with me today of all days. I mean, I have to be semi-pleasant 3 whole weeks a month. Today semi was off the table.

And that is when close quarters and an overly friendly culture get to me. You see, the first day of this special week I'm 110% American. I need space, silence, people not to say hello to me on the street, and to overeat without being asked if I'm pregnant.

Really, is it so much for a woman to ask for a full day to be a complete snatch, eat their significant other out of house and home, and then to make them watch a chick flick while complaining about the type of pizza that she herself ordered?! 

Rio de Janeiro Realtors: The Slow Road to Insanity

We are looking for apartments here in Rio de Janeiro and it is literally driving me insane! Oh and by 'we are looking' I actually mean I am doing the hustling.

Me, right here, I'm the find the golden nugget in the pile of poo girl for this family. And that's ok. Really, I'm a bit creepy in that I like to poke around other people's apartments. I enjoy seeing what's on the market and how people live.

So the actual physical looking isn't that bothersome. It's the male Realtors. No they are not sexually harassing me. Apparently that ship has sailed and I'm officially an old married lady.  It's the fact that they need to talk to the penis of the household.

I swear to you, if one more of these little bastards asks to call and talk to Mr. Rant "just to touch base," I'm going to hit someone. And you know what, I'm going to hit them with my penis! That's right, this girl right here is the one who has the "penis" in the household!

While my husband is a "Man," I am the woman. Happy wife = happy life. Let's face it, we women have a lot of decision power in the relationship.

And I've obviously have had it up to here with the need Realtors feel to call my husband. That's why I got annoyed with the Realtor yesterday. He was insisting that he should call and get to know my husband. Just have a little chat on the phone and invite Mr. Rant to his office. It started to sound like he was looking for a new bromance or something.

When I asked why, he said so that Mr. Rant knows who is showing me apartments. So my husband feels secure with our interactions.

Too bad I don't have a governess. Life would be so much easier.

I then asked if he thought my husband didn't trust me. It was really unfair of me, I know, but it pisses me off. At the same time, I like to blame Mr. Rant when I don't want to give a definite answer. "I must check with my husband and see if that paperwork is available." Or, "I'm not sure if Mr. Rant would approve of this street."

I kind of made my own bed except that they didn't give me much of an option. I am constantly being talked over. The moment I mention checking with my husband they actually listen to me. They say something like "oh that's correct(Portuguese translation). You do need to talk to him."

Yes, and I also need him to wipe my ass. You can imagine how bad it gets when he's on a business trip.

It's just the way this area seems to work. No matter how much I say or declare what I want, they only listen the moment Mr. Rant happens to answer the house phone and tells them the exact same thing.

To give them the benefit of the doubt, it may also be because I'm a foreigner. I have one sweet Realtor who insists on asking me  if I am understanding him after every two sentences. I've met up with him 3 separate times! You'd think at this point it'd be established that I understand what he's saying.

As frustrating as all this is, I'm really starting to think I may be a part of the problem. My so-called direct/indirect nature may not be suited for small-talk and interactions such as these.  I think I may just need to put on my big boy pants and run things my way. 

For example: No sir, you can not call my husband. I'm the one in charge! (more like he's really busy but we'll keep that to ourselves) 

Meet a Carioca Monday: Mr. Rant edition

Decided on this photo from his rock and roll phase

I had a brilliant idea for Meet a Carioca Monday. Why not interview the one I live with.  You may call that lazy but I call it brilliant.

So I asked Mr. Rant.

Q. As a Carioca what is it like be married to and living with a foreigner spouse in Rio de Janeiro?

A.Having a foreign wife has its challenges, specially the adaptation phase. Living in Rio is very different from coming for a visit. When visiting you have all the time in the world to show favorite places, see friends, go to bars, beaches, leave Rio for the weekend and go to a great little town like Maua.  That is the part where we can show how cool we are and impress our special gringa :)

Once you move here, and work comes, the challenge begins. The city has to take over and do the conquering. It’s a mutual discovery, a curiosity that feeds into a new love or a fear that grows into a phobia.

I was lucky because Rachel was fearless, took the city and made it her own. I am sure it was not easy. Rio is a city that when you grow up here you get used to its perks and its innumerous flaws. But to deal with the flaws all of a sudden is hardcore and for that I give Rachel a lot of credit.

It must be hard to move into your husband hometown, no matter where it is, even in the same country. Imagine with a language like Portuguese, crazy traffic, crazy laws, crazy taxes, crazy politics… At the same time you can just go spend a day at the beach and stop for an acai on your way home… and that day will be a day envied all around the globe since this is one of the most enjoyable city of the world.

Can you all see why I married this man?! Super charming and great answer!

Oops I Missed a Rite of Passage

Photo by: http://sunfellowproductions.com/shaman-wedding-in-sedona.php

I didn't get my wedding. I have never danced in a white dress with my husband in front of our friends and family. Hell, when we married I hadn't even met his friends and family.

It was a true whirlwind and it's a great story.

But I find myself sometimes missing that rite of passage.  It's strange considering that I never really imagined my wedding as much as I imagined being married with children. I've never thought of colors or bridesmaids. Hell, picking out a maid of honor seems like a sure fire way to just piss people off.

Still, I find myself thinking about having my Father walk me down the isle. That is one part that I truly miss from the whole wedding fiasco. Call me a traditional girl, but I want my Daddy to give me away.

It does not help that I'm at 7 years of marriage and my Father is not getting any younger. I, however, am getting younger every year. It's amazing how that works out.

While Mr. Rant and I have always planned to have a spiritual wedding and reception, life has gotten in the way.  We have a mortgage and children, and it's not like we can expect my parents to shell out money for the costs. Hello, cow sold and bought here.

We are planning to have this wedding though. Apparently it's supposed to happen on our 10th anniversary. We made that plan on our 3rd when it seemed so far away.

Regardless, I'm holding onto the idea of a wedding on our 10th anniversary.  This is Brazil and it's ok to throw something together last minute, aka. 8 months or so before the event. Since the idea is to have it in the country, surrounded by nature, it shouldn't be an issue.

That's right, my husband is a retired Pagan and we will have our wedding in the woods.  Actually, he would like a Shamanic wedding. Since I've never had an actual had a plan for mine, I really shouldn't mind.  That's his theory anyway.  I may never have considered what mine would be like but, then again, I never imagined that I would get married circa Cowboys and Indians.

Honestly, I don't mind at all. I think it'll be one hell of an experience!

The thing I find funny is that I'm holding onto this tradition. After so many years of a successful marriage and partnership, I still feel the need to display it in front of our family and friends.  For the first time in my life I can imagine myself in "the dress" dancing with Mr. Rant in front of all our loved ones.

Where did that come from?! I blame hormones.

Then again, in a world where 50 % of the marriages fail, communication is being limited to 140 characters, and people buy spouses online, wouldn't it be nice to celebrate a couple that has made it this far?

With all our ups and downs, life lessons, and baby making I feel like showing off a little. We still love each other. We actually enjoy each others company. And we would like to sign up for more.

That and I would like for him to know how proud I am to be his wife.  Goodness knows that I haven't said it nearly enough in our marriage. Then again, can you?

Which rite of passage sticks with you the most, if any? 

It Was My Dream Home

This was the home of my dreams in Rio de Janeiro.  Just look at her shining in all her glory.

But we didn't meet that way. No no, I'm not one to fall for something so shiny.  When I first saw her, she had been abandoned for a while. Grey and moldy. My diamond in the rough.   

Imagine my surprise when I passed her a few years back and saw she was getting some work done.  I never judge a lady who gets things lifted up and put back in their place, but it broke my heart a little. I knew she now had someone and would never be mine.

You see, there are many abandoned homes in Rio de Janeiro. A lot of them are too expensive for the owners to fix up, have back taxes, or have relatives fighting over the rights of them in court. Regardless, the poor homes suffer as they are left to rot in their own stink.  

I saw the house above my first visit to Rio in 2003.  I fell instantly in love. As with all my romances, I immediately started forming ridiculous fantasies about the lives we'd have together.  

I saw Mr. Rant and I somehow making a crap load of money and buying that house out from under whatever drama it was drowning in. We would hire an amazing architect who would bring our baby back to her prime. Obviously we would do a lot of the work with skilled workers to help with the hardcore stuff. Hell, we would have the time and money.   

We would bring Villa Sylvia back to life and then fill her with even more.  Our world would be grand with our numerous children running around filling the spacious rooms and tiny yard with laughter.  

Ah well, unfounded fantasies normally leave us disappointed anyway.  But this time that is not entirely true. 

After a tad bit of researching, aka 10 minutes on google, I was able to find out who fixed up this little lady.  Apparently someone does own it and they busted their ass trying make things right. Since the building was originally built in 1913, it is considered a type of historical landmark. The owner had to jump through quite a few hoops and maybe even over a barrel to get this home fixed up.

Everything had to be as close to the original as possible, including saving whatever building material salvageable.  They looked into old, old, crazy old Rio de Janeiro water records and stuff!  No new tiles here. Just shiny up the good stuff from a classic age. 

And while there will be other houses and fantasies, this one will always have a special place in my heart. You see, it was my first fantasy about living with Mr. Rant in Rio de Janeiro.  Every time I walk past that place I remember the white California girl who wandered around lost in the streets, the language, and the culture.  

It seems that while the building developed, so did I.  

For more on this story, check out: Oglobo  Fyi, this site is in Portuguese. 

Shoe DNA?

Photo by BabyGrim: http://www.flickr.com/photos/36089846@N06/

I have boys that love shoes. All three of them. It obviously must be something in their DNA.

Today was a particularly interesting shoe day as Mr. Rant stated he only had one pair of shoes he could wear. The tupperware full of shoes in my closet begs to differ, not to mention the ones in the laundry area.

That's when he started to explain himself. My converse are too casual, my brown Pumas pinch my fingers (I always correct him but it never sticks. Very cute), my orange Pumas are too thin for the amount of walking I'll do today, and so on and so forth.

Talk about adjusting generalizations of the sexes.  Throw me a pair of Havaianas and I'm set!  Of course that makes dressing me up a bit of a strain. At this point I'm so unaccustomed to heels that I walk like a large straight man dressing like a woman for the first time.

The funniest part is, my boys are the same as my husband!  Both of them are obsessed with their shoes.  Once they realized that there was a selection to choose from, they insisted on picking out which ones to wear.  And they get super pissed if any of them ever get "misplaced" or are unavailable. 

Then again, I should have known. Brother-in-law is also a shoe fanatic. Hell, he even makes sure his Havaianas match with his boardshorts. He's taking metro to the beach baby.

Ah well, what can a girl do. So what if my oldest went through a 6 month stage of only wearing his rain boots during Rio de Janeiro's summer.  Choice of footwear is not a mountain I'm willing to die on.

At the very least, all three of my men are happy to let me dress them.  That is as long as I let them pick out that special pair shoes calling to them from the pile. 

Mr. Rant Dresses in Drag

I never stay angry at Mr. Rant too long. He's just too damn cute.  I know what you guys are thinking, I'm crazy or manic or something.

Nope, he's just seriously awesome enough to defuse me pretty damn quickly. I think he should put that on his resume because I'm one hell of a bomb sometimes. It takes him two shakes and a wiggle and I'm pretty much defused.

Anyway, since he's taking the kids out to the country early for his Dad/brother's birthday, I thought I'd give him a free pass to a Carnaval bloco sans kiddos. This morning is Boitata and it's only the best freaking Costume Carnaval Bloco of Rio de Janeiro.

That is where the redeeming, I love this man, he's so my style thing comes in. The debate over costumes went from the Facebook guy to Kickass to dick in a box. He settled on Black Swan. The trooper went out, found all his costume accessories, and sewed it all on his own.

My husband busted out Black Swan in public and was proud!

I love this man! 

Husband for Sale

So I woke up this morning with an urge to sell my husband to gypsies. Actually, I was willing to trade him for a pair of cute but old shoes at that point.  And it was really over nothing huge or shocking. No one said anything inappropriate and nothing was thrown.

He was just freaking annoying! So freaking annoying this morning when we woke up that he's lucky I didn't have an old moldy sock to stuff in his mouth out of spite.

And the mood-breaker this morning was something I had been waiting for. I do give Mr. Rants props for holding it in for so long. But it finally escaped this morning. He busted out the 'I'm going to have the kids for 2 days alone!' whine.

For starters, he's not going to be alone. He's going to his Mother's house. He has her Mommy pants pressed and waiting to put on the moment my boys get out of the car.  He also has his father, brother, and sister-in-law.

Let's then go to the fact that I have the kids ALL the time! 24 hrs 7 days a week of kid and family fun for this Mommy. Heaven forbid I take a 2 day breather to actually have an identity of my own.

But you know, all this isn't completely responsible for annoying me.  Well, not all that much anyway.  I do have the kids all the time so we have a great routine. We are a well oiled 3 person machine.  Mr. Rant leaves for 10 days, or on business, and is missed but it doesn't rock the boat. Mommy gone is like paddling around hidden mines. Maybe not so dramatic but I can be self-important that way.

You see I was already annoyed when we went to bed because we had one of the famous battles of strength between my MIL and I, and she wasn't even aware of it.  My Dear Mr. Rant enjoys enforcing these things for her.  It went something like this:

Me: I don't want you guys to take the boys to that.
Him: I know but it won't be an issue.
Me: But it is an issue because it makes me nervous. Anyway, the boys don't enjoy it.
Him: I know they don't but my Mom really wants to go
Me: But Chatter box only whines to go home at these places and Clown tries to run away
Him: I know.
Me: So?
Him: *laugh* So I'll see what my Mother wants to do.
Me: *laugh* So maybe you should just start sleeping with your Mother if you are so concerned about what she thinks...

Ok, last sentence didn't bust out in that kind of smoothness but I wish it did. And don't get me wrong, I dig that son/mother love and everything. I have boys and I hope that my son takes my side occasionally. But not unquestionably.

There should be boundaries and Mr. Rant is in charge of setting those boundaries. No, they are not allowed to show up right at bedtime after a long day, or the middle of lunch, or for only 5 minutes so the kids cry when they don't stay to play.  No they can not give your kid ice cream at breakfast. It is our husbands' job to help their Mothers find these obvious but apparently elusive lines between absurd and tolerable.

Regardless, this is not going to happen. The son just does not feel the Mother is doing anything wrong, even if the wife disagrees. It's a 'not a big deal' situation. Even if all involved followed my simple 5 point plan, the force of the MIL and son are too strong.  There are some points of life that one can not battle.

And I'm ok with that. I don't even get that annoyed with the whole thing. A bit of ice cream with one breakfast, while it makes my stomach churn to think of it, will not kill anyone.  My issue is when Mr. Rant chooses sides.  I strongly believe that in a debate over the children/home, husbands should side with their wives and not their Mothers.

Personally, I hope my sons can one day say to me "Mom, I know you think that this is great but it's not really necessary/good/enjoyable for our children and/or my wife doesn't think it's a good idea"

I'll respond by saying "That whore is so annoying!"

Pasta Brain and Arguing with My Husband

Got in an argument with Mr. Rant today. I hate arguing with him.

And of course I'm a woman so my brain works like a bowl of pasta. We start bickering about one thing and I bring something up from a week ago. Not fair, I know, but you've seen bowls of pasta! Everything is all tangled together. I can't help it, it's biology.

So we start in on how inconvenient my toe breakage is for him. To be fair, that is my interpretation of it. That then goes to certain people who shall remain nameless, how the morning diaper belongs in the trash not on the table, and how he can't tell me anything.

In my defense, if it is dropped on you that your account is 1,000 in the red, you will be a little shocked and/or ask a lot of questions.  But that was months ago and my reaction was justified.  Give a girl some notice! Today we are R$1.50 in the red and so on in increments of R$10.

In his defense, how annoying is it to bitch about how clumsy your wife is to only have her complain about how your Mother has yet to go see your son play soccer. Related? Of course not. Again, bowl of pasta and I have no control over it!

I know what you are thinking, Brazilians are passionate and argumentative people. They like a good back and forth. Not Mr. Rant. He's not so into that kind of reaction. He likes smooth and calm, no waves rocking the family boat.  The problem is that I'm not a canoe, I'm a diesel speedboat cerca way too clunky to be on the water. I make waves by walking, aka broken toe.

Add in lack of sleep, stress from work, stress from parenthood, and no date night. We have to have some pretty good humor, which my household rarely lacks. This morning was one of those rare mornings.  Giggles were low and Sass was WAY high.

Ah well, free English lesson in how to bitch at your spouse for the neighbors.

As for Mr. Rant, once I drive you crazy, you'll have an easier time relating to me. I love you!

My Husband is Starving

Once upon a time, this little wife did not make a full on Brazilian lunch. I know, shame shame on me. Don't worry, I already put myself in time out.

You see, I had my pregnant self and a toddler who loved PB&Js.  I didn't think anyone would find out so I allowed him to have one for lunch.  I think Brazilian Social Services would come and take them away if they ever found out. Heaven forbid it wasn't served with a side of rice and beans.

To my horror, Mr Rant came home for lunch.  It was totally unannounced. Thankfully though, he took the sandwich in stride.  But I didn't get off that easily.

What caught him off-guard was my lack of prepared food in the fridge. There was nothing ready for him to eat! What do you mean you can't spontaneously pull together a 3 piece lunch?!

And before you say he's spoiled, let me correct you. He is not only spoiled, he's Brazilian.  I swear, he would keel over and die out of shock if he ever showed up at his Mother's and she couldn't just fix him a plate. Hell, the day his Mother can't randomly pull a carne asada out of the fridge, have rice already made (just in case), and beans a bubblin' on the stove is the day I will have a heart attack.

It's just the culture. Any good Mother would have something available in case any child should even think about food.  Even if it's not her making it, she's paid someone to make sure it's there.  And lunch is the holiest of occasions for food consumption.

The fact that there was nothing to heat up was just unheard of.  Personally, I was stoked that I could finally bust out the PB&J and fend for myself later.  But it just comes down to habit.

In Brazil, when you eat lunch you EAT LUNCH. This is your big meal. Pack it in baby.  Some offer a dinner in the evening, especially when there are kids. A lot of people just lanche, aka sandwiches.  Lanche is a wonderful thing where people run to the bakery for fresh french bread. Add in cold cuts, a salad, some other finger foods, and you have yourself a lanche. We must not forget the coffee chaser.

So that was an adjustment for me. I love me a big breakfast and a substantial dinner. I'm all over that. The big lunch needed some growing into. Ironically, when it did, my breakfast and dinner shrank.

In addition, I've never again allowed a fully empty fridge.  I now have 3 Brazilian men, 1 big and 2 halfies. They all expect food in the afternoon. Something filling and warm.  What can I do? I've been out voted. Of course that does mean I can transfer my occasional laziness to the evening. And let's be honest, evenings are the best time to be lazy!

Lazy and then bed go together as well as good old PB&J. 

Guilty Pleasures

Last night, I went out for some beers for a friend's birthday.  Upon returning home, I caught my husband in the middle of one of his guilty pleasures. No, he was not masturbating.   He was watching Glee. I swear, he would have been less embarrassed should I have caught him jacking off with Marie Clare magazine.

It got me thinking about guilty pleasures.  Things we enjoy that we really shouldn't and/or are embarrassed for enjoying.  We all have them! The best part is figuring out what they are because, per the name, they are usually pretty damn funny.

One of my personal favorites is a glass of good red wine, a cigarette, a balcony, and some good bad music.  You know the stuff I'm talking about, Glee. Yes, Glee soundtracks are my current guilty pleasure music. The kind of music you don't normally opt to blog/talk about because it makes you feel a bit lame.  Ah well, it's a big jump up from my Mariah Carey Guilty pleasure music phase in the late 90s.  Feel free to judge me, I deserve it.

I also LOVE good bad tv and reruns. You put on the second episode of the first season of Friends and I'm there.  Old school Saved By The Bell, I'm totally on it. And I really dig bad 80s movies and horribly nauseating romantic comedies. I buy their story every single time.

And now that I've shared my guilty pleasures with you, don't I sound kind of lame and annoying. Or Fabulous and free spirited if you look at things like I do.

So this has brought me to the rational question of: What are your guilty pleasures? What do you do when nobody is looking?  And don't say stalking Facebook friends.  If everyone is doing it, it really doesn't count.  

What is Cheating?

What is cheating to you?  Watching the Golden Globes, I started thinking.  Take Eva Longoria.  Rumor is that her husband had partaken in hundreds of suggestive texts with another woman.  Apparently, nothing more happened.

So would that do it for you?  Is texting cheating?  The line is a difficult one to define and yet very easy to cross these days.  Things like Twitter, Facebook, and such, give us plenty of avenues to dip toes into different waters.  Innocent emails can easily turn questionable and bump people into an interesting situation, to say the least.

I talked about my stance a bit in my post about how 70% of Brazilian men supposedly cheat (see post here.)  I'm kind of a don't-tell-me-and-live-with-the-guilt-or-I'll-have-to-leave-you kind of girl.  But it's hard to judge until in the situation. And this kind of thing, with the texting, chatting, and messengering, has to have a different approach. 

I personally believe in time outs, taking away of privileges such as tv and internet, and/or guilt tripping. Underlying rule, it must stop.  Wow, sounds like I'm a Mother of a toddler...

That being said, I haven't really been in this situation before. No questionable texting or anything.  I have gotten cranky on Mr. Rant's ass about Facebook friendships with unknown women.  It was nothing, so the story goes. Damn Mafia game.  I do buy it though.

I also believe it's a fine line and better to mind the gap in the first place, as they say on the metro.  Why risk falling in when there's so much safe ground to stand on?

But everyone is different, so I ask, where do you stand?  What is your deal breaker?  Texting? Carrier pigeons?  Morse code?

What would make you bitch slap your significant other and walk out that door?

What is Bluntness, really...

I noticed, last night, a little difference in bluntness between Brazilians and Americans.

Now, I know I've been quoted as saying that Brazilians are passive aggressive when it comes to interactions with others. You can ask a Brazilian friend to come to your party and they will ALWAYS say yes, or some derivative of yes.  That does not mean, in any sense of the word, that they will actually show up. 

"Come to my party on Friday!" Brazilian answer: "Of course! That'll be great! Let's totally do that!  I do have to check with my husband but of course we will come. We may have a dinner at my parent's house but we could swing by afterward.  But sure! We'll be there!"  And then they never show up...

And it works with everything.  Brazilians hate the word no, so much so that it was actually suggested to me that I don't use the word no when disciplining my children.  I should rephrase everything because the word no would squash their little psyches. 

Yeah, I'm American. That's not going to fly. No comes out of me before I even consider the question. Once that no is stated, I have space in my little brain to consider the other options.  And if I am going to say something, it's going to flow out as blunt and disorganized as my thought process. 

I can't help it.  We Americans can be verbal vomiters.  We say what we think. If you invite us to a party and we don't want to go, we politely say 'No, I can't. I've had a hard week and need to rest.'  or 'Maybe we could get together next weekend.'  Don't get me wrong, we aren't rude about it. But we're also not leaving people waiting. That's because Americans will wait, will get pissed, and will call you out on it.  But then that's a whole different blog post.

But there is one area in which there is a switch.  A total trade in bluntness and directness between Americans and Brazilians.  It happens when discussing personal issues.  Take this situation for example:

My husband and I were at a street party with a group of his friends, my Mother-in-Law, and a couple of her friends. We were sitting around the table having beers. This was soon after my move to Brazil and I understood little to nothing of what was going on. 

That's when my husband's friend turned and asked me in his broken, yet very understandable English "So how are you feeling? Mr. Rant says that you have a bladder infection" 

Call me insecure but I was embarrassed at the time. If only I had half the indifference I do now, I would have replied "I'm doing well. My doctor suggested to stop having so much sex with my husband and to urinate afterward when we do."

Of course, the shock of the fact that they were all discussing my bladder infection over beers, right there at a street party, was a bit much for me. 

I just couldn't see that happening at home. 

And the Brazilian personal information bombs can happen at any time!  I have heard "We never have sex anymore." "I have this itch." "Do you think this is weird..." "It's just ______and he/she is so embarrassed by it." "Do you guys like anal?" "I think I'm going to leave him" etc etc

And this is not with close personal friends. Just people I know.  

Personal information overload. And personally, this does not help me at all. I already suffer from sharing Too Much Information.  Now, I'm just a walking billboard sharing anything and everything going on in my life.  Hell, I even have a blog.

And I love that.  I love that it's ok to actually tell people the nitty gritty. Heaven forbid you say you don't want to go to beers but you can bust out that you have to get your hemorrhoids cut out.  I bet who ever you tell will even visit you at the hospital. 

There's just something almost romantic about it.  Still playing hard to get and yet sharing at the same time. 

It's like the matrix of conversation. 

Brazilians a part of Obama's stimulus package?

Here's a crazy idea, let the Brazilians come and fix the US economy.  Here's how the plan goes.

The US government creates a lottery for middle class Brazilians. The prize is a free round trip ticket to a "surprise" city.  It has to be middle class Brazilians because upper class has money and poverty level don't.  This plan needs those with enough money.  Hang in there, I'll explain.

So you give them the free ticket to a predetermined city.  That city will be one that is suffering a bit with this economic crisis but is big enough to have some tourist points, a target, a Best Buy, Gap, and a decent sized shopping center with an array of shops to choose from.

The thing is, if you bring the Brazilian, they will shop.  The prices in the US in comparison with Brazil are stupidly low.  Add in that they won the ticket and they will go nuts! The ticket price plus what they would have spent anyway will go straight into the US market.

I figure 1000 Brazilians will inflate our economy like an freshly workout-ed Carioca Bottom.

Just look at my husband.  The t-shirts he purchased alone could clothe half of Rio de Janeiro.  But they were only $2 to $5!  Times that buy a 100 and that's where we get you. Watch out China, we're getting sneaky up here.

The Boob Whisperer

Hello, I am the Boob Whisperer.

I am the Pied Piper of the breast.

You see, I go places and breasts come to me.  I don't seek them out, and I most certainly don't holler their name.  They just come to me, like moths to a flame. And they are always naked. It really makes for a different kind of moment

Let me give you an example.  Last night, I was coming home from a candlelit plantation tour in the middle of nowhere, of the middle of nowhere Maryland. Oh yes, costumes, confederates, and all.  We were really out there, both figuratively and literally. It was an interesting and fun experience.

Anyway, to get home, we had to drive down this dark country road. It was a foggy night and no one was out.  I look out my window for a brief moment and there is a woman standing in her bedroom window, topless, for all the world to see. One minute I was seeing trees, the next an eyeful of boob.  In her defense, I bet only her second and third cousins go down that country road.

My husband, poor man, cried his typical, it's so unfair cry. Why was I the only one who saw them?  What magic do I possess?  You see, he is a lover of breasts, believing a bad pair does not exist. Bless his soul.  And they are all being wasted on his straight wife's eyes. I swear, he would be a much happier man if I were a little bi and could share the same pleasure in them.

At least I get pleasure in laughing at his reaction after each boob exposure.  As a Boob Whisperer, these stories pop up when you least expect it.  Maybe it's a friend of a friend who enthusiastically shows me her  fake breasts, and insists I touch them. Awkward! Of course, I do.  It would be 21st century rude not to.

It could be a wardrobe malfunction, a VERY enthusiastic Brazilian hook up/boob slip, or a simple accidental boob grab of a neighbor. I really don't know why it happens to me but it does. It's like the psychics who have spirits talk to them, except mine are breasts and they just stare at me.

Well, it could be worse.  I could be getting an eyeful of plumbers butt.

What would you do for a dishwasher?

A fellow expat and Mommy blogger, Stay at Home Babe, got me thinking about dishes. Hell, life got me thinking about dishes. Living in Rio de Janeiro means I do not have a dishwasher, not even the human one.  Well, I can't lie, I do have a maid twice a week who absorbs my dish washing and other household duties.  I love my Mondays and Thursdays and I love my maid!

Anyway, there are two things that take a lot of my time and energy.  One, as you have obviously guessed, is washing dishes.  The other is...

Who am I kidding?  I have a huge list! I'm a mother of 2 kids under 5 and I don't have the typical daily or live in help.  I dream of pimping my house.  Screw date nights, nice clothes, and jewelry.  I want appliances!  I want a dishwasher, dryer, water heater (not these damn gas ones!), central air, and a garbage disposal... oh that last one got me a little hot just thinking about it. 

I think I've come up with a reasonable argument for buying these items. It's one I think my husband will relate to on a personal level.  If I should get them, I will be so happy and have so much more free time that he'll probably get laid daily for several months.  Hell, I'll make it a year and throw in twice weekly nooners.  Oh yes, we're talking sexual bribery. Is there any other kind in a marriage?

What appliances would you sleep with your husband/partner/live-in to get?

Yes, I'm writing about Penises

I fell over laughing when I saw this ad for XXL condoms online.  Seriously, genius!

But it also got me thinking, which country has the biggest penis? If you ask any Brazilian man, they will say they are the biggest and/or have the most beautiful little men. That or they'll just offer to show you.

By the way, I do not recommend actually asking a Brazilian man unless they are securely tied down and you are out of the splash zone.  Making eye contact for over a half a second is practically an invitation for sex. If you say the word penis you may get attacked or their head will explode.

Sadly, (Mr. Rant I'm only saying that for blogging purposes), I don't have a lot of experience in Brazilian penis measuring.  Then again, this girl was so overjoyed that she married this one right away. I'm talking about the man, not the penis... ok, maybe both.

Now my single friends have had their fair share and, from what their gossip tells me, Brazilians rank right up there with the big boys.  I know what you are thinking, maybe they were exaggerating.  I'm sorry but here are four things you should know about women: 1. We are pretty honest when it comes to what our mate is packing, at least to our close girlfriends. 2. We are always honest about what a hook up is packing. 3. We have told all of our friends about both types.  4. If your wife/girlfriends say she has never talked about your package and or skills, she is lying.  By our second drink out with our friends, it's ALL we talk about.

So I decided to do some research and I found this chart. It was particularly difficult for me to read it at first. I'm American so I have never learned about other countries' flags. Hey, at least I know they have them!  Thank goodness for the source list.

I do have a problem with some of the numbers though. I'd like to first say, I am not racist. This is purely un-educated babble talking.

Anyway, I have an issue with the Lebanese measurement of 6.6 inches, .4 inches bigger than Brazilians and the same size as Ghana's 6.7.  Really? What measuring tape were you using?

As for the Congo's 7.1 inches, I expected more... Overall, the averages seem a bit small. I guess you could say I've been a lucky girl.

And, finally, can we send out a virtual hug to South Korea please.  Korea, don't worry, it's not the size of the boat. It's the motion of the ocean. I swear!

How realistic do you think this chart is? 

Are you Calling me Fat? And other Handy Distractions

I use humor, shocker, daily in my life. It gets me out and into a lot of trouble.

So when my husband has a legitimate complaint about something, I like to think of ways to throw him off.  It's not that I don't want to hear him out. Of course I do, communication is the key to any successful marriage. But success can be boring and we all need a good laugh.

Thus, how to distract your husband when he is complaining:

1. Ask if he's calling you fat. You can throw this in just about anywhere.  For example my husband's last complaint: "Why can't you just put things away when you are done with them?" Answer: "Are you calling me fat?"  His answer: " What does that have to do with anything?  Of course I don't think you're fat..." And mission accomplished.  Men are afraid of accidentally calling their wives fat... well, mine's not but it still works.

2. Take off your clothes.  This works even better in public, total guess on my part, I swear.  In private they enter into naked-woman-in front-of-me mode. In public they enter into all-other-men-seeing-naked-woman-aka-my-wife-in-front-of-them mode. Both very successful.

3. Produce a homemade baked good. Could be cookies, could be cake, ideally is sweet. For example, he comes home and bitch bitch bitch. "Wait a second sweety. I have those cookies you like in the kitchen"  Husband: "Mmmmm cookies."  Done and done.

4. Tell him you called his Mother. This works best if you have a questionable relationship with said Mother.  This produces the Am-I-in-trouble panic and/or what-did-you-two-decide panic.  He'll ask why and the conversation will automatically switch course. Just be careful not to start talking shit. That will start a whole new argument. And, note to self, nothing distracts a man from protecting his Momma.

5. Bring up a lesbian experience you had in college. The wonderful thing about men is that you don't need to have a natural conversational entrance into a lesbian experience story.  He could be talking about a new car he wants and you ask if you told him about that sexual encounter you had with the stripper in college. All eyes are on you.  Keep in mind, these stories don't have to be real. He does not care either way.

6. Say blow job. This is a low blow, pun intended.  Last resort distraction option and may require fulfilling the desires that come up because you said these two sacred man words. Use this with discretion. 

Now use your force for good and go makes some cookies!