I met with my financial advisor yesterday. I have a financial advisor because, frankly, I couldn’t be buggered with making financial decisions and don’t know boo about investing.
But I do want to be smart about my money, little what I have. My previous savings plan was basically stuffing all my extra cash in my bra, which worked out well for a while because it made me look like I had really big hooters.
However, I needed to find another strategy because storing my money there was yielding little interest. Correction – it was yielding interest, but primarily from greasy-haired men in designer jeans.
I took a personal finance course once, and it was very informative. I learned a lot about the S & P Top 40 and the Star Jones index. However, something told me I shouldn’t try this on my own.
Stocks and Bonds and Stuff
My financial advisor Sherman and I met at the Starbucks across the street from my office to go over some paperwork. He wanted to reallocate the thingamabobs in my 401K.
“Hare hum, ohf be-gloggin meeshie moo,” he said. I nodded my head in agreement.
But I wasn’t really thinking about the thingamabobs, I was thinking about the ginormous box of freshly baked bagels from Noah’s that was sitting in front of him. He brought them for me to share with my co-workers back at the office, since he works with many of them as well.
He kept going on about bonds or some such, but all I wanted to do was seize that box and high-tail it back to the office so I could tear into a hot, sexy, sesame bagel.
Then without warning, my thoughts turned to penises. I don’t know where these phallic visions came from — they were just dancing around in my head, looking all cute and pink. He was talking about large cap stocks; I was dreaming about large cap cocks.
“So, I think we should put five percent in flarney barney wa wa,” explained Sherman. “Because the market is going to crikey mikey dippy doo.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I agreed, my eyes glazed over. The truth is, he could’ve told me to put all my money on Florence Henderson in Dancing with the Stars and I would’ve done it, because a) my mind was on more important matters and b) I had no idea what he was talking about. I just hoped he couldn’t see the bagels and dicks prancing around behind my eyeballs.
As Sherman continued with his unintelligible babble, another disturbing thought entered my mind. Could I be… might I be… a GUY? I mean, really. This paid professional is trying to have a serious conversation with me about my future and all I can think about is food and sex.
Holy urinal cakes. I’m a man, baby!
Actually, this might be sort of cool. I can play with my crotch in public and no one will look at me weird. I can wear something warm on Halloween and still look cute. I only have to own three pairs of shoes — and all of them flats.
I could seriously get used to this. I’d probably get promoted at work. I’d be a hot guy, so I’d get a lot of poontang. Oh, wait. I don’t like poon, I like peen. Okay, so I’d be a gay man. Even better! So much easier to get laid.
I told Sherman to do whatever he wanted, then skipped, er, swaggered back to the office with the bagels. After handling each of them, I selected the best one and headed back to my desk. I quickly called Tom to tell him the good news.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t into it. It turns out one of the main reasons he likes me is because I’m a woman. A bit shallow if you ask me, but fine. I shall relinquish my dreams and resume my role as uncouth female.
Damn. I was so looking forward to growing out my armpit hair.
Categories: Something is Wrong with Me, True Story
Having been involved in the financial world for a while (out now) I honestly believe you would have made a better investment buying up every chocolate cock you could buy (hey, bulk buying ought to make em much cheaper) and reselling via your blogs.
‘Choc-a-cock, slightly used’
… gotta be worth at least a 200% mark-up.
Hahaha! Oh man, this is a day in the life of me…No joke! I think of food and peen all the time and I wonder if I’m really a man, too! FML. -__- Great story!
Fabulous… simply fabulous.
Best of both: being a woman and thinking like a man!
Yeah… I still wouldn’t mind a penis, though. 😉
Dick is a delicacy. When are financial advisors and Facebook gonna get it? 😀
Still don’t understand why Facebook flagged people who enjoyed my recent dick-flavored blog post?
WHAT is up with Facebook? They’ll sell your info to anyone willing to pay a dolla but you can’t like dick? Dislike, Facebook. Dislike.
I guess Mark Zucherberg is, like the biopic suggested, still in love with a girl.
We get it, Zucherberg. You don’t like dick. But that’s no good reason to be one. 😉
Hey, girl, I lurrrve your blog! 🙂
i’ll tag this as “Not Safe AT Work”…
I bet it’d be okay if you worked at a strip joint. 😉
Robin Williams said, “The problem is that God gave men a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time.”
LOL, love that quote. That God really wasn’t planning ahead, now, was he?
I’ve never thought with my gut or vag. Do you think I’m paralyzed from the waist down?
Well, thank you! By the way, it’s very polite of you, but you don’t have to use the 8%4. Here at Single Girl Blogging, you’re allowed to say “fucking.” 🙂
im sorry….i completely didnt pay any attention to ur post… i drifted into some chocolate penis lala land for a moment… i want one…
I don’t blame you. If only we could design a man whose penis actually tasted like chocolate. Wayyyyyy more chicks would be into giving BJs.
I’d suggest investing a large percentage into Bagel Dogs and chocolate dicks.
In my lifetime, I’ve invested quite a bit in both of those. Well, not the Bagel Dogs.
i hate all things financial.
this didn’t bode well for me when i worked in banking. it’s possible part of the economic crisis was a direct result of the advice i would give people.
eh, i write at home in my pj’s now.
i can only harm myself.
You and me, both, sister. What are numbers?
UPDATE: It has come to my attention that Florence Henderson was voted off Dancing with the Stars this week. I’m now officially broke. Please send cash.
Those Bagel Dogs are ridiculously phallic looking. I don’t think you can buy those in Canada but, if I ever saw them in the frozen food aisle I might be tempted to scream out “Look! Circumcised penises..in a box!”
Funny, I think they look more uncircumcised. Or like a dog’s weenie. Don’t they look appetizing now?
I was waiting for the bagels and penises to meld together into a giant, doughy penis-gle. Imagine toasting that poor thang!
Mmmm, penis-gle. They could pre-fill it with cream cheese. Again, something that would taste much better than regular penis.
Did you say “Noah’s Bagels”?! I used to go there EVERY DAY OF COLLEGE, and often I had the stench of sex on me. I’ll forever associate Noah’s bagels and carnal longing, and now your blog has further solidified it. Serendipity.
By the way, those bagel dogs look fantastic.
Imagine getting a bagel, biting into it and discovering that it tastes like sex. ACK!!! RALPH!!
Hmm, Dumps may be onto something. Wonder if Noah’s is boiling their bagels in some kind of sex water. I’m not exactly sure what sex water is, but perhaps it can explain this phenomenon Vodka and I are experiencing.
Happened to Denny once when he was in catering….late night…Schnapps, the Deruzzo Twins, a little angel dust, some ether and, whammo, those breakfast sandwiches tasted a lot like the previous night.
Mrs. Watterson ate three.
You’re welcome, my lovely.
You know that song “If I were a boy”
Always makes me feel good to be a man! Wohoo!!!
Cherish this gift that has been bestowed upon you. It’s funny, my gay bf says he thanks God every day that he’s not a woman. So show the ladies some love and appreciation for all the crap we go through and put up with our moodiness from time to time. It’s just because we can’t scratch our itchy crotch and our feet hurt.
Hahaha, I love your chocolate penises!
Who doesn’t? Much better tasting than regular penis.
“…but primarily from greasy-haired men in designer jeans.”
You say that like it’s a bad thing, love.
Darling, you know I prefer your luxurious locks au naturel. They feel so soft on my breastses. Es.
And I’ve been meaning to break this to you, gently… Lee is not considered “designer.” Not even the acid wash. I’m sorry. It was best you heard it from me.
But Jordache is, my (willing and totally into it emotionally) Concubine.
Wow, I never knew a sex change op could be so quick, snip snip and of comes the dress and on go the jeans!! You never actually said what caused you to start thinking like a man.
Was it the boring conversation, or was it just the hunger talking??
You know, I think about shit like that all the time. I think I am actually a man trapped inside a woman’s body. More like a 12-year-old boy inside a woman’s body. Further evidence – I looooove Beavis and Butthead.
As a Jewish guy, I had a special appreciation for this.
Niiiice. And even more relevant, because, yes, they were cut. I’m referring to the bagels, of course.
Highly entertaining!!! Lol
Thanks, love. My weirdness somehow pays off.