Bonerkiller: Nervous Nailbiters

Oh Lordy, what have you done. Your fingers look like salted slugs that got smacked in the face with sandpaper. Get your hands out of your mouth! Every time I look over, you're chewing away on your middle finger like you're snapping into a Slim-Jim. 

The only acceptable times to bite your nails are:

• during a suspenseful scene in an action movie
• if you are at the Oscars wearing a tux, waiting to find out if you won the Academy Award for best director
• if you have a hangnail and aren't near an emery board

That's it! Those are the only times! Dude, stop fiddling with your fingers. Put them away. Sit on them, if you must. Get a grip (on something else besides your teeth.) Watching you nervously nibble on your cuticles while trying to have a conversation with me is a total bonerkiller. It's just gross. 

Reader Submitted Tip Our Hat: Mr. Politics

Our lovely reader April sent this to us. Honestly, we've never dated a political dude, but we'll take her word for it that he's not terrible. Take it away, April:

I had no idea politics was such a haven for hotties until I started my latest job, where I work with them all the time. Mr. Politics (see also: campaign managers, grassroots organizers, legislative aides, press secretaries or any form of professional political junkies) is slightly haggard from being overworked, but a total stud nonetheless. He's got the standard Mr. Politics haircut which is slightly shaggy and swept to the side, and his casual uniform consists of a button-down oxford shirt with an open collar and rolled up sleeves (give or take a pack of cigarettes in the breast pocket) and broken-in, sexy jeans. His business uniform is a power suit, with a tie being optional. Foxy, right? 

 

Mr. Politics is kind of a douche, but his passion for politics and complete devotion to making the world (or at least your legislative district) a better place makes him incredibly appealing. He's a smooth talker, a great flirt and funny. 

But beware: he is a transient, thus making him noncommittal to anything or anyone but his candidate. That also makes him good for a fling while in town for his campaign. He is confident, knows what he wants and goes for it. So when that's you, it rocks. But because he's overworked, he has at least one bad habit, whether it's smoking, a filthy car, chronic coffee breath, commitment issues, constantly checking his Blackberry for Google Alerts on the campaign, or all of the above. But like I said, he's sexy as hell and worth the drama. Just don't get attached because come November, he's history. Sidenote: Mr. Politics makes for a great rebound.

Ok, we can see his merits. It's kinda cute that he cares about something other than hitting the liquor store before it closes. But, we're still on the fence. He'd have to have Minor Threat on his iPod and own at least one season of Arrested Development on DVD for us to entertain the idea.

Any dudes you wanna tip your hat to? Drop us a line at hi@shmittenkitten.com and tell us why he's dreamy, steamy, and (what's a word that rhymes with steamy?) uh, not a meanie? You get the drift. 

Surprisingly Not A Bonerkiller: Your Weird Sleeping Habits

It’s that important dating milestone. We’ve gone on a few dates and we’re totally hitting it off and things are progressively inching ever closer to that “Do you want to sleep over?” moment. Well, it's finally happening and I’m following you up the stairs to your bedroom.

Everything is going perfectly, but it’s not until we’re about to fall asleep that things get weird. When you rolled over to mess with something on your nightstand, I assumed you were putting on some nice quiet falling-asleep music or setting your alarm for the morning. Suddenly, the sounds of LOUD CRICKETS fill the room.

At first, I’m confused as hell. “Is that a white noise machine?” I ask, partially hoping that this is all just some mistake that’s been made. Maybe you're a huge nature fan and this is your ringtone? So, I’m laying there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the great outdoors: crickets chirping, snapping twigs, perhaps a wolf howl off in the distance. I’m really not sure I can fall asleep to this.

But then, you snuggled up next to me. My initial fears subsided and I started to doze off. But instead of a normal doze-off, suddenly I’m reliving my boy scout years of sleeping under the stars during summer camp adventures, except THIS TIME there’s a hot girl on my arm. That certainly never happened at summer camp! AWESOME!

Sleeping in your bed catapults to a whole new level because it’s like we’ve been transported to the middle of Yellowstone National Park without the inconvenience of mosquitoes, rain, or grizzly bear attacks. Hell, we didn't even need to pack travel-sized bottles of shampoo! Admittedly, what I thought was a total bonerkiller on your part turned out to be pretty awesome.

So, ladies, bring on your weird sleeping habits. Bring on your white noise machines. It turns out I’m cool with it. Who knew?

Bonerkiller Snooze Button Enthusiasts

It feels like I'm trapped in some slow, terrible version of Super Mario Brothers, except instead of hitting a brick with your head for a coin, you're tapping the snooze button every five minutes. Fucking stop. Please.

This happens every single morning. I have to hear that buzzer go off like I just got a question wrong in "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader." I AM smarter than a fifth grader and I can wake up on time with very little fanfare. I don't need a mean button yelling at me over and over again to do it.

The worst is that I see you groan, roll over and go right back to sleep. TEN TIMES. This snooze button is enabling you. It's the Tom Sizemore to your Heidi Fleiss. (Sorry, I've been watching a lot of "Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew" lately.) I don't need to feel like I've just been caught shoplifting every five minutes before I've even had a sip of coffee! Just turn the damn thing off and wake up like a man.

Philly, Your Kiss Is On Our List

Tip Our Hats: Cereal Hounds

We gotta be honest: We LOVE it when a guy goes to town on a bowl of cereal. He looks SO CUTE shuffling around the kitchen, eyes half-open, robe flapping around. When he takes the cereal box down from the shelf, he gives it a little shake. After he hears us giggle, then he shakes it again, this time moving his sleepy hips in time. "You like that, don't you? Of course you like it." We giggle more.

Then, he takes down his favorite bowl from the cabinet and dumps the stuff in. After he blasts it with milk, he plunges his spoon into the mess. Now he's sitting across from us at the kitchen table. His first bite is the best because the cereal is still crunchy so it makes the most dramatic noise, like stepping on a pair of eyeglasses. He shovels another spoonful in his mouth and after one chomp, he tries to smile as wide as he can to crack us up more. Bits of Honey Nut Cheerios are scattered through his teeth, the shrapnel from a sugary grenade.

Each bite becomes successively quieter as the milk calms the cereal down. The Cheerios are tiny fish to trap and we can tell he finds satisfaction in scooping every last one up. "Done and done," he loudly proclaims to the entire kitchen. His spoon rattles around the bowl as he plops it in the sink.

We love you, cereal hounds. Whether you're jamming on a bowl of Frosted Flakes or Wheaties, watching you go to town on a bowl of the stuff is a great way to start our day. We give you the SK spoon salute!

Bonerkiller: Guys Who Don't Care About Learning The Correct Song Lyrics

"She's got a smile and it means to me/
Reminds me of uh huh uh huh/
Where every uh huh uh huh/
Bright blue SKY (sky, sky)"

Haha. What did you say? *turns down the car stereo* Can you repeat that? How do you NOT know the words to this song? Nevermind the song, you don't even know the words to the first stanza? Are you a foreign exchange student? Were you raised by wolves?

I mean I could understand being foggy about the words to "Paradise City." Axl gets kinda garbled in that low register. No one knows the words; that's ok. But drawing a blank to the beginning of "Sweet Child O' Mine?" That's fucktarded!

What's that? You're not a big lyric guy? Well, I'm an intense "lyric girl," to use your terminology. I look up lyrics online to make sure that I know what the hell I'm singing along to. I'm still baffled at the lyrics to Animal Collective's song "My Girls": "I don't mean to seem like I/ Care about material things/ Like a social status." Social status IS NOT A MATERIAL THING! Are they on drugs? Wait, don't answer that. They are totally on drugs. There's no other excuse for such a lazy lyric. Seriously, I want to give that lyric the finger. 

No, I won't settle down. I have strong opinions about song lyrics, their logic and the subsequent memorization of them. That's just how I roll.