Category Archives: SEX

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year, Sears Style

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This weekend was a whirlwind of Christmas cheer activities – there are only FOUR WEEKS until Christmas, people! We actually put the tree up even though it seems early, even for me. This coming weekend is massively busy, and I cannot and will not go into December without the tree, and so this weekend was it, even though it’s five days until we can bust open the Advent calendars. Speaking of Advent calendars, a friend of mine put together craft beer calendars for charity, and I bought one for my husband. I will tell you this: it is an incredibly great idea. She did this last year and sold thirty calendars; this year she made 96, all proceeds to purchase socks and underwear for the Drop-In Centre. She raised over $4700 doing this; that is a LOT of socks and underwear. Bravo, Lyndsey! And sign me up for next year.

So the tree is up, and so are the outdoor decorations. It was a mild weekend, and Calgarians know that you just cannot let a chance like that go by. Seize the day; next weekend will be minus 20, and putting up Christmas lights in those temperatures is not pleasant. My husband not only had a theme for the front yard, but he also decorated our detached garage with coloured lights, and set up the light-up moose in the back yard. I can look out the window while I’m in the kitchen, and feel festive and happy. It’s so dark here now; the sun sets at 4:30 and it’s completely dark by 5:00. As I write this, it is 10:30 am and the house is completely dark. The sky is grey, the snow is grey, it would be pretty damn depressing if I didn’t have glittering light-up icicles on the house to go with the light-up deer, hippo, penguins, and three trees. Our house is glowing, not unlike the Griswold’s, but happily with less power usage.

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Do I look happy?

kissthecook

I’m excited about my new ornament!

Since the tree is up and the house smells like peppermint-chocolate from my incessant baking, it’s time for everyone’s favourite gift list: NICOLE’S FAVOURITE THINGS FROM THE SEARS WISH BOOK. I picked up the Wish Book back in late August but I’ve held out on sharing because people tend to think poorly of one’s mental state when one talks about Christmas in late August. But oh, the treasures that are in the Sears Wish Book! As we all know, Sears Canada is having financial trouble – mostly because the clientele that frequents the actual store tends to be elderly and the elderly have a bad habit of, um, passing on – but the day the Wish Book becomes unavailable is going to be a sad, sad day, people.

I’m already a little sad because I scoured the catalogue and there is not one Snoopy Sno-Cone Maker. I looked, and looked, and nothing. There’s a whole page of old-timey toys, though.

 sears 001

Didn’t everyone have that rotary phone and radio? My husband had the radio; it is at my in-laws’ and it still works. That is some quality workmanship. The rotary phone feels like quite the collector’s piece. Again, my in-laws’ have a (non-working) rotary phone at their place and it was a little fascinating for my kids. That’s how you dialed the phone? How did you text? Slinkys, though. Those were awful toys. They were always getting tangled and twisted and even if you could get them to go down the stairs, they would only go down a few steps before stopping. Disappointment.

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Ever since the word came out that Hello Kitty is not an actual kitty, I feel weird when I see this kind of merchandise. It’s like when I watched Stand By Me in my youth – hoo boy, did I have a thing for Kiefer Sutherland and his bad boy kitch – and there was discussion around Goofy. If he is not a dog, what the hell is he?

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More Hello Not-Kitty. In “Everything Old Is New Again” news, the Ninja Turtles? I was actually shocked – SHOCKED, I SAY – to hear my kids talk about the Ninja Turtles, and refer to them as Mike, Donny, Ralph, and Leo. What? Are the actual famous-artist names too difficult for today’s youth? I’m disappointed. But I’m not disappointed in the availability of unicorn and rainbow dog glowing plush night lights. Remember Glo-Worms? This is like a fabulous rainbows-and-unicorns improvement to the poor, lowly worm. Although I’m sure the worm world is saddened by this. We finally get high status as a stuffed glowing lovey, only to be knocked down by puppies and unicorns AGAIN? Goddammit. Back to getting stepped on after rain storms.

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I SO BADLY wanted to get an Elvis shirt and pajama bottoms, but my husband threatened to never have sex with me again if I wore one. Is a silk-screen picture of Elvis really such a boner-killer? Sadly, the women’s t-shirts only feature young Elvis, not the glammed-up, sparkly, be-caped-and-huge-glasses Elvis that I love. This is why you’re going broke, Sears. If I had the chance to buy a t-shirt with 1973 Aloha From Hawaii Elvis, I would in a heartbeat. You’re out of touch, Sears. I’m out of time.

Of course, if I did I would be a poor, sex-crazed woman. The last time we were in Hawaii I saw a t-shirt that said Elvis Has Not Left The Island and I wanted it SO BADLY, but it was unavailable in my size and also, my husband presented the same boner-killing argument.

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He didn’t say anything about a leg lamp shirt, though…

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Here’s a PSA: do not buy these mugs. I received one in this same style (although not with Mickey Mouse on it) and it constantly leaked. Unless you enjoy having hot coffee scalding your chin and chest, don’t buy one. Those little mediation fountains are pretty fun, though, and only $9.99 – what a steal! It seems strange that they are on the same page with potty seats and a beer belt, but I guess they are all “Gifts for Under $10”. Oh, wait! Those aren’t potty seats, they are neck pillows. Still.

To file under creepy things:

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These sweatshirts that zip over faces, I HATE THESE THINGS. I’ve seen kids with ninja-style ones and they creep me out. I must see faces. Even creepier is a storm-trooper/ Sith hoodie. Also creepy?

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Those freaky-ass dolls that are dressed up as animals. I don’t know what it is, exactly, that is creepy about it. Is it the dead eyes? The “I’m going to eat you in your sleep” expressions on their faces? If you cannot read the description, here it is:

Little Mommy Cutie Animal Dolls: part stuff animal and part baby doll with soft furry body and a matching hood with fun-to-hold ears – colourful pacifier attached by a ribbon.

I need offer no further comment, except to say that it comes in three varieties: Cutie Bunny, Cutie Bear, and Cutie Lamb.

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I know I said this last year, but if you are considering buying someone an electronic ear wax remover for Christmas, DON’T. Talk about boner-killers. Baby, I love you. Here’s an ear wax remover. I cannot believe that the Sears catalogue no longer has Snoopy Sno-Cone Makers but it offers an electronic ear wax remover as a gift idea. Also probably not a great gift idea: the Wraptastic Kitchen Wrap Dispenser. There are very few people in the world that would actually be glad to receive this under the Christmas tree.

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I know it’s supposed to be cute, but You Crawl I Ball onesies seem very inappropriate to me. These mugs, though! What could be cutesier than having “Mr. Right” and “Mrs. Always Right” mugs with which to sip morning coffee with your beloved? It’s like the mug equivalent of I’m With Stupid, but nicer. It reminded me of these t-shirts I saw in Maui:

mauishirts

I STILL laugh when I think of them. That is some funny merchandising.

Speaking of sexytimes and boner-killers, what do we think of Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes?

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 The expression on the elf-dog’s face is PRICELESS. Poor thing’s probably going to be a target at the off-leash.

 

I Smell Sex and…Tofu

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Yesterday I bit the inside of my lip very hard, so hard I drew blood, and that spot has swollen up in my mouth such that normal chewing has led to me accidentally re-biting it over and over again. At this point I am begging my own teeth for mercy and considering a liquids-only diet, if only to cut out chewing.

So far this week has been one long domestic duty after another. Yesterday I went to Costco and ran into a friend; we chatted for a while and then she glanced at my cart. “My god!” she said, “Is this a NORMAL trip for you? Do you always have so much fruit?” Well, yes. And my Costco produce trips are not going to get any smaller, since my husband just bought me a juicer as an early birthday gift! Juice for everyone! My liquids-only-no-more-chewing diet is going to really take off; now all I need is a few good recipes. Ideas and tips, all you intrepid juicers out there?

Today I was grocery shopping at my old-people Co-Op to pick up the things that I can’t get at Costco, and lo, there were two young people there. Young people! At the “all seniors all the time” Co-Op! Not only that but these two individuals were young men who were clearly unaccustomed to grocery shopping of any kind. I saw them in the dairy section, and then I saw them in the produce section. I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation as I scrutinized red peppers and packets of basil; from their discussion I realized that they were grocery shopping to make dinner for their girlfriends. It was absolutely adorable, and I felt that full-heart feeling I get when I witness young love, like I’m a withered up old crone who receives vicarious joy from others’ youth and romance.

“Now, the problem is, I don’t know how we’re going to find balsamic vinegar,” one said to the other after a prolonged discussion about whether these are Roma tomatoes or not, and is sheep’s feta okay? I leapt into action and said the balsamic vinegar is right over there, down that aisle. “That one right in front of us?” the other fellow asked, pointing at the cereal and peanut butter aisle. No. I showed them and told them exactly where in the aisle to find it. Hey, the Co-Op is designed for the elderly in my elderly community; they rearrange nothing, ever, and I have been frequenting that place for fourteen years. I could pretty much draw a map to every item available.

Back in our romantic courting days, my husband used to cook all the time. I rarely, if ever, made dinner back then. My husband would cook, and grocery shop, and my oh my, is it getting hot in here? There’s not much sexier than having dinner made for you, now is there? If that was his seduction plan then it worked, every time. These days he mostly grills giant cuts of meat on the barbeque for the kids, and bemoans my vegetarianism. Well, and he buys juicers and other small appliances for me, which is also very sexy in its own way. Especially since I somehow just bit my inner lip AGAIN and I’m not even eating anything.

The other day we were having breakfast-for-supper, a weekly occurrence in my house, and I made a tofu scramble. For those of you who don’t know, it’s like a vegan version of scrambled eggs. I was creating a recipe and so was throwing things together and making notes about additions. I served up a small portion for him to sample and, I will tell you, I was pretty startled at his reaction. “Damn! This is great! This is really good!” he said as I stared at him in disbelief. Given that he was just cooking a pound of bacon for himself and the boys, I felt this to be quite a testament to the tastiness of the dish. Either that or he was trying to get busy with me. Or – OR – he was bedazzled by my new Victoria’s Secret push-up bra. Either way. Tofu. Enjoyed by my husband.

If he had wanted to romance me he could hardly have improved upon this.

After I helped them find the balsamic vinegar, the young guys at Co-Op thanked me effusively. I smiled at them as they eagerly unloaded their groceries in the”12 Items Or Less” line, when I noticed one of them had a giant hickey on his neck. Aww. Godspeed, young man. May your dinner be excellent.

I AM Lady Mary!

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Did you know that Bill Clinton is vegan? Probably you did, but it was news to me. Between him and Justin Timberlake I feel like I can make a case to my husband that not all vegans are crazy hobos. Now, how to get them to start reading my Yummy Mummy blog…although chances are neither of them are actually in the kitchen preparing their own quinoa.

Yesterday I was walking the dog and I met up with an older woman who I often see at the offleash. We chatted for a while and I mentioned something about the boys. She looked a bit taken aback and asked me how old my children are; when I answered she told me that she was shocked because she thought I was a 21 year old university student. That was both startling and flattering, although I did wonder a teensy bit if she is in need of cataract removal. In any event I shall take a compliment however it comes.

It is ridiculous, but I’m really into those Buzzfeed quizzes right now. Apparently the actress most suited to play me in the movie version of my life is Emma Stone. Emma Stone! I wonder who the other options are and also how boring a movie about my life would be. Hoo boy! I can’t imagine that being a box office smash. According to Buzzfeed I am also a saucy combination of Lady Mary, Brigette Bardot, and R2D2. I actually think I’m more of a C-3P0 than R2 but let’s not split hairs here.

The other day I was at the hair salon, reading In Style and thinking such intellectual thoughts such as I thought Sarah Jessica Parker already HAD a shoe line, and Eva Longoria looks better without bangs. I came across this advertisement for Guess jeans and I was completely disoriented as to the date of publication.

Guess

 

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not out to judge anyone, mostly because I probably did have a (less-cleavage-revealing) outfit like this in the early nineties. Admit it, you did too. But in this day and age! Have we learned nothing? Are we doomed to repeat the same fashion mistakes over and over? Denim.Overall.Shorts. What is next for humanity? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.

Not to mention the return of the high waisted pants. They are everywhere. Witness this evidence from my local mall:

highwaist jumper YOgapants

 

We are mere moments away from tapestry vests and pleated jeans, mark my words. ONE DAY SOON we will be going out for girls’ night out and it’s going to look like this:

 

mom-jeans

 

Speaking of nine-inch zippers, it’s almost my wedding anniversary! We will have been married for twelve years, which – thank you, Lynn, for pointing this out – is our silk/ linen anniversary. I wonder if my husband would like a silk shirt, circa 1991. I’m going to go ahead and guess NO on that one. The modern gift for the twelfth anniversary is pearl. Heh. Feels like it has all the makings of a good dirty joke but I shall refrain. However, notice the jewelry I’m wearing here:

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This Post Is Steeped

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Today I received an email from an insurance broker about a mix-up, and she very earnestly apologized for the “incontinence”, which has been making me smile all day. I’m sure her coworkers would be more in need of an apology than me, given the puddles and all.

I’ve been re-reading Alias Grace, and in the language of the 1850s, she describes sweeping under a bed and finding a ton of slut’s wool, which is apparently what they used to call dust bunnies, sluts back then being lazy housekeepers and not the whores we think of today. In my own bid to be a fabulous housewife, I moved the couch for the first time in many weeks to sweep behind it and I myself found enough slut’s wool to create my own dusty sheep, so I feel a kinship with all those nineteenth-century sluts.

When Jake started Grade One full time, I had several people ask me what will I do with all my TIME, intimating that I should consider going “back to work”. Did you know I used to have a career? One where I wore pantyhose and high heels and worked on a trade floor for twelve hours a day on average, and I used to cry in the bathroom sometimes, and once a guy flipped out so much that he banged his phone on his desk until it broke and he had to take an anger management course? Good times. Anyway, I never really considered going back to work in that capacity after I left, and it’s good that I didn’t, because then I wouldn’t be available for my current career of “school volunteer”, not to mention my role of slutty housewife.

Yesterday I was a judge at the school science fair, and let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve ever had in a volunteer capacity. I highly recommend it. I was easily the most excited judge around, walking with my clipboard and asking VERY SERIOUS scientific questions. I loved all the students with their science-y joy and ideas. Changing the world, one science project at a time. One kid was so into his topic of waves and resonance, and so engaged and excited, that I mentioned he might want to consider taking more science once he was in junior high and high school, which subsequently made him even more engaged and excited, that I thought he might spin off the planet right then and there.

Sadly, there was not one baking soda volcano among the bunch. Not one! However, someone had built a Lego robot, and the boys assured me that it was one of the most popular tables, when their classes visited, along with a research project about venom and its uses. Venom! There’s nothing like a potentially deadly substance to get a bunch of third-and-fourth grade boys interested in scientific applications.

And hey, one week until Valentine’s Day! Apparently I will be making approximately one million heart-shaped cookies for the boys’ classes next week, in lieu of cards which they say are “lame” and “stupid”. Well, cookies are the opposite of lame and stupid! Remember that old Tim Hortons’ commercial in which the teenage son bought his mom a tea and said it was steeped, after which she thought “steeped” was the new word to say for something that was cool and used it in all sorts of situations? That’s totally me. I am that mother. Also, cookies in lieu of cards for Valentine’s Day is steeped. STEEPED I SAY.

Someone was asking the other day what men like to receive for Valentine’s Day and I blinked a couple of times. Blink. Blink. I can really only think of two things, and they are pretty obvious: sex and blowjobs. It’s perfect, you don’t need to wrap anything, you don’t need to buy anything, you don’t even need to leave the comfort of your own home. Alternately, you could make a batch of my aphrodisiac blondies. Blondes have more fun, my sweet young blonde yoga friend is always telling me, and I…don’t know if that’s true or not. But these blondies are very fun. Personally I’m hoping for a teddy bear wearing a bee costume emblazoned with “Bee Mine” but I’m not sure if I’ll get that or not. I might have to be satisfied with smooches and general romantic feelings. And maybe a bottle of wine.

Late to the party.

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I have been relentlessly cheery today, so much so that I’m even annoying myself. Maybe it’s all the green smoothies I’ve been drinking; today I made one with frozen strawberries and, while it was very tasty, it looked like sludge.

But it has a great personality!

But it has a great personality!

I think my cheerfulness is actually directly related to the unseasonably warm temperatures we have been experiencing. It’s a spring-like feeling, the sun shining and the snow melting into messy piles of brown slush that very closely approximate the “great personality but non-photogenic” smoothie I had for lunch, which is a little disturbing to think about. Spring in January! Obviously I am not taken in by this; I recognize we have a solid four months before spring is actually here, but that does not mean I am not enjoying being able to move my fingers while walking the dog.

So I’m feeling cheerful and have spent the morning happily doing things around the house, singing random cheerful songs like “Burning Love” and “Sweet City Woman” and even, strangely enough, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree”. I’m not singing these songs now, however, because the boys are home and they have a friend over. I have to keep checking to ensure that there is just one extra kid, because by the sounds of it there are about 40. What are they doing that necessitates so much enthusiastic yelling? I DO NOT KNOW. Well, it’s Friday, and in approximately ninety minutes I’m going to pour myself a big glass of wine and watch Downton Abbey. My husband and I, for the past several months, have been working our way through all six seasons of The Sopranos, which we own on DVD. Why we have all six seasons on DVD I cannot explain, but we have been doggedly watching them like it’s our duty to humanity. We swore we wouldn’t start a new series until we finished, and finally, finally last weekend we finished. I know I’m about seven years late to this party, but that was certainly an anticlimactic ending. I was expecting some sort of apocalyptic-all-ends-tied-up Breaking Bad-esque ending, but no.

In any case, I am now free, free as a bird – AND THIS BIRD YOU CANNOT CHANGE – and so I started watching Downton Abbey on Netflix. Here’s the problem: as a rule, I do not watch television during the day, unless you count the morning “news” I watch while eating breakfast. Lately I haven’t even been watching that because the local newscast has almost exclusively focused on a) FLU OUTBREAK PANIC PANIC PANIC EVERYONE GET YOUR FLU SHOTS OMG OMG WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, followed by b) we are all out of flu shots and we don’t know why. I can conjecture why. In any case I’m sure there were other things happening in the world, however, by the time the local news decided that “other events” were worthy of coverage, I would have already turned the television off in exasperation at hearing the same flu clinics are mobbed we’re all going to die and now we’re out of vaccines, sorry, we can’t imagine why there was such sudden demand. It’s been so bad that I find myself watching the Business News Network with my husband and having earnest conversations on whether or not to hedge our currency exposure.

Sorry, I nodded off for a second there.

Anyway, back to Downton Abbey. I find myself hopelessly addicted to this show, but the problem is my husband seems to be completely uninterested for some reason. Apparently if the show doesn’t contain strip clubs, chopping off people’s heads and hands before sending them to a watery grave, murderous rampages, or a former junkie chained to an underground meth lab who is forced to produce crystal for a dead-eyed sociopath who is in love with a logistics coordinator for a manufacturing conglomerate who is illegally shipping said meth around the world, then my husband is just not interested. Even when I explained it was a British period drama about social hierarchies, he remained unmoved. And so I’m trying to watch the episodes before he comes home from work in the evenings, but that is proving to be difficult, what with preparing dinner, and cleaning up from dinner, and supervising homework. Apparently trying to voraciously wolf down episodes on the sly is not in keeping with being an involved parent.

Why not, you may say, just watch the episodes while he was home? Screw it, as it were. Well, the issue here is that my husband actually likes to TALK to me, apparently. He finds me scintillating for some reason. And trying to carry a conversation – even one about currency exposure and should we be looking at Asia? – while constantly pausing and rewinding Downton Abbey just isn’t working for me. So I think I’ll knock off a bit early today, and spend the rest of this lovely Friday afternoon conjecturing if Bates and Anna are going to get it on, servant style. What? I’m only on the first season, DON’T TELL ME.

Super Freekeh

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Today I was in the grocery store, and I noticed something in the grain/ cracker/ cookie/ ethnic food/ chocolate bar/ ice cream topping aisle. Does that seem like a strange combination of goods for one aisle in the grocery store? It does to me too. In any case, my friend and I were looking for quinoa, which is apparently an incredibly elusive ingredient for my old-people Co-Op, and I came across something called Freekeh. It’s super-freek-EH! I have had a loop of that song, plus Le Freak (or, Le FREEK) going through my head for the past couple of hours. I feel immense regret that I didn’t buy it, because although I do not know exactly how one prepares Freekeh, I feel I could have figured it out. What’s for dinner, Mom? Oh, we’re going to get a little FREEK-EH. The jokes could go on forever. Hilarity at the dinner table. Or, hilarity on my part. It’s probable that my children would be less than enthusiastic about my adventuresome culinary ideas.

It turns out that Freekeh is actually just a kind of toasted wheat, which is fairly anti-climatic.

Other semi-freekeh things:

1) Tonight is the first School Council/ Parent Association meeting of the year, and I have just taken my traditional offering of brownies out of the oven. CARAMEL brownies. I have never made such a thing before and possibly won’t ever again, but I have over a litre of caramel sauce in my fridge due to a small kitchen disaster yesterday, and I’m trying to find ways to use it up. This is a teaser for the full post which will be coming up next week over at the Yummy Mummy Club. Let’s just say that I now have more caramel than anyone really needs in their life, and that I keep finding small splotches of stickiness on the countertop, taps, cupboard handles, etc. I don’t even LIKE caramel.On another note, I have a cookbook giveaway going on – if you like baking, this is the book for you!

2) A few weeks ago, I put our decorative scarecrow family into the front garden, which is my traditional way of festively greeting autumn. Every single morning I pull open the living room drapes to let the sun shine in, and every single morning I gasp and have a little heart palpitation because someone is at the window.

If history is any indication, I will probably become used to my little ragged friend in the window once it’s time to take him down and put up the Christmas lights.

3) This is Rosie. She’s “my” scarecrow. The others are named Dummy Jimmy Too Tall, Idiot, and TV. I only named Rosie.

4) I bought a red sweater. I know. I bought it in a moment of passion and now it’s sitting in my drawer like a judgement.

5) After some discussion with my husband, I realized that I am not the romantic one in our relationship. This seems strange to me. And here I thought that not plucking one’s chin or upper lip in the presence of one’s husband was the ultimate in romanticism, but apparently that’s not enough. Well, he knew who I was when he married me, and that is someone who would much rather roll over and fall asleep immediately than engage in pillow talk for hours. Wham, bam, thank you sir.

6) Related: I think “boner” is the funniest word in the English language. If it was socially acceptable I would work it into every single conversation. Alas.

7) A yoga friend said to me the other morning that he wasn’t sure what I was doing on Sunday nights now that Breaking Bad is over. Nothing, Glenn. I am doing nothing. Mad Men doesn’t start up for months; I basically hate television now. Anyone want to recommend a show for me to become obsessed with? I hear House of Cards is good.

Snuggie Sex!

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It’s been a beautiful, unseasonably warm September, and I’ve been enjoying it thoroughly; it has managed to stave off the sinking feeling of doom that comes with the seemingly endless winter that Calgary generally has. I find winters to be difficult what with my Reynaud’s syndrome and my poor circulation and, well, my love of warmth. Even though September has been beautiful, I’ve been going through my wintery items; new mittens (“the warmest mittens on the market” the salesgirl told me), scarves, sweaters, and boots. My mother-in-law knitted me thick woolly legwarmers and last year I bought a calf-length coat, so I should be good to go. The only thing I don’t have is a Snuggie.

Have you seen the commercial for the blanket with sleeves? Who knew that slipping and sliding was such a problem with blankets? Not me. I’m tempted to get a Snuggie, though, because of this book:



Photo from Amazon

You guys, the Snuggie Sutra! THE SNUGGIE SUTRA. Erotic Fun in Your Blanket With Sleeves. There are just so many amazing things about this – as my friend Jen said, someone wrote this book, someone tested this book, and someone published this book! IT’S ALL VERY MIND BLOWING. I feel like I need this book in my life because how will I go on without it? I kind of love how there is a disclaimer that this book is not affiliated with the Snuggie corporation, but was aroused by it. Why don’t I have this book? There are only 10 left in stock at Amazon, maybe I should just go ahead and order it. My friend Nan thinks that a Snuggie is probably a boner-killer, but I am willing to test this theory. Guess what I’m wearing under this Snuggie. NOTHING.

Who am I kidding? The first thing I would do if I had a Snuggie was probably curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and a DVD of NYPD Blue. Although…that might be enough to get me in the mood for Snuggie sex. There’s nothing hotter than watching Sipowicz threaten to beat down a perp, am I right? Well…maybe not.

I was thinking how much I adore my husband for so many reasons, not the least of which because last Christmas he completely surprised me by buying me the DVD’s for Say Anything and The Breakfast Club. What a guy! I was thinking of watching a little don’t you, forget about me because of this fun little article: 15 Things You Didn’t Know About The Breakfast Club. It’s true, I didn’t know any of those things! You find a way to study, mister. In the physics club, we talk about physics.