Follow these easy directions...

Hey all: Before I begin, I want to open with something I normally wouldn't put into this generally family friendly blog. And that is, a sex tip for men.
It's not some product you buy online, nor is it some ancient Tantric wisdom. Best of all, it's something you, I'm almost sure, will not find anywhere else. It is...a song.
Specifically, this one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDY42pFwq7c

This is the song Bad Things, which is the theme song for the show True Blood. I've never seen it, although I hear it's great. Jace Everett is the singer.
 
The posted comments below the clip bear out its effect. 

All you need, guys, is a baritone or bass voice and the ability to sing on key. You don't have to be Johnny Cash, or Barry White. (Good thing, as they're both deceased)
People who sound like Mike Tyson need not apply. In fact, even Luciano Pavarotti shouldn't attempt this. If you have a beautiful tenor voice, you're just flat out of luck. This song is meant for men with deep voices.
In fact, you don't even need to sing the entire song, although it's less than 3 minutes. All you need to sing is the hook line, which will be evident once you play it. Practice it and let me know how it works.

OK. On to the main event. And that is a confession... I cannot, for the life of me, follow written instructions unless they're plainly and painfully obvious. This problem gets exponentially worse if there's a cryptic diagram to accompany it. I remember my 10th grade biology teacher, Mr. Kasner, showing diagrams of paramecia, amoebas, trees, flowers, and God knows what else. Every one of them was the dreaded "cross-section." To this day, that term freezes me into a stupor. (A word that presumably has the same etymology as stupid) I think I got a C+ in bio and to this day, I don't know how I got that high a grade.
Verbal instructions are even worse. When I was 11 years old, I played in a neighborhood football league. Shoulder pads, jerseys, cleats, helmets, the works. Being the rather fat kid that I was, I was plopped on the offensive line, which means I had to memorize Hitler's, oops, I mean, the COACH's plays. He'd verbally rattle off something like "54 trap right, on 2". I gave myself great credit for knowing what the "2" meant (2nd "hup hup"). As for the 54, again, I was clueless. Compounding the problem was that everyone else on the team had no problem understanding the language, and that the coach would call me names and chew me out in front of the team.
The point is, I cannot follow directions unless they're written in the simplest terms. And if it's verbal, there's almost zero chance of me doing the task correctly.

Which leads me to the events of last week. GWCTRA (Girlfriend who chooses to remain anonymous) entrusted me with a simple task. To set some mousetraps in her basement. Her decision to do this was in question, as she based it on some substance she saw in her basement. I assumed it to be caviar, although I don't know why anyone would leave little pellets of caviar around. She assumed the substance to be something else, and shopped accordingly. She purchased a set of 3 pieces of wood, each about the size of a large wafer, with a metal spring above it, and a couple of clips. Looked pretty simple. I read the (ahem) "directions" which were something like this:
1: Open package. (I was off to a good start)
2: Put trap substance here. ("Here" could have been on the trap. Or it could have been on the other end of the trap. Or it could have been in Trap Falls, Wisconsin. I have no idea where "here" was, although I must say that it's a good existential question)
3: Lift up spring and insert clip through hole in bottom of spring in center below tab facing out. (Or something like that). I don't remember it verbatim. But whatever it was, I didn't have a clue what it meant.
I then figured if I could just look at the diagram, and use a little common sense, I'd get it. I looked at the diagram, which would have been perfect in a Kandinsky exhibit. But useless for any practical value. All I saw was something that looked like a stick figure of a kindergartener's first attempt at drawing. Even now, I don't know what it was supposed to be.
So I lifted the trap part of it up with one hand. My grip slipped. I had the wherewithal to move my other hand away ASAP for fear of losing a finger. Sure enough, SNAP, down went the spring. Fortunately, no damage done.
So now, I got careful. Get a good grip on the thing and insert the wire, or clip, or whatever the thing is, into something that will prop it up and then slam down on the mouse, should he/she be foolhardy enough to go for the peanut butter.
Unfortunately, nothing worked. And I mean NOTHING. I played with it for 30 minutes. I know I broke one of the traps trying to insert something into something else.
I considered going online and googling "Mouse calls", then going down to the basement which some peanut butter. Trying out a mouse call, having the little critter show up, go for the peanut butter, and then slamming it with a 2 x 4. But I'm not that cruel, nor do I have that much time on my hands.
So I reluctantly gave up.  
I was comforted, however, by 2 things:
1: My reflexes, which were always very good, are still in peak form.
2: GWCTRA said she had the same problem. So hopefully I didn't lose any macho points. (A little more on that below)

All I DO know is that the diagram was a cross section of something.

Speaking of macho points, GWCTRA was out of town over the holidays. It snowed here in CT. Naturally, I offered to shovel her driveway. The problem is that a week earlier, I had a "levator scapulae" muscle, which is located between the neck and shoulder, go into spasm. My chiropractor, Jason, diagnosed it, did his usual magic and gave me some exercises. Which were working beautifully until that fateful day when I picked up the shovel and got to work. Bad idea. REALLY bad idea. What's worse is that your body doesn't tell you it's a bad idea until the next morning. At which time, I woke up with a shooting pain down my left arm and a throbbing in my upper arm that exceeded that of a disco bass guitar. Back to Jason I went. New diagnosis. Strained triceps. I'm currently learning that if I so much as pet a dog with my left hand, the pain returns. On the other hand (no pun intended), if I baby the left arm and avoid any kind of contact, it actually gets better.

I'm just glad Jason didn't write out any directions or put my problem in a diagram.

Thanks for reading...gp