Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Jazz Hands at Dinner

So, Richy has drawn a line in the sand, and unfortunately I have crossed it… with Musicals.

He has mentioned before that he hated Cats (The Broadway show, not the animal), but I just thought furries weren’t his thing and left it at that. I did notice that he abruptly left the room on urgent business when I played Mama Mia! but I chalked that up to a busy schedule. I mean it’s not like he’s ever asked to watch my copy of Moulin Rouge either, but maybe watching Nicole Kidman in lingerie is unsettling. He might be avoiding all that upset. You never know what drives a person, so I didn’t really think much about him avoiding every musical I’ve ever wanted to play including Grease, Phantom of the Opera, and Sweeny Todd. Maybe epic dance numbers aren’t his thing, but I never realized his pure hatred of this type of cinematic experience until he told me “NO.”

Let me explain. This man has never really told me no about anything. I mean, we will discuss things and compromise and generally we come to some satisfactory conclusion to anything we run across. Also, he knows if he tells me “no” on anything right out of the bucket, I’ll do it or die trying. As a general rule though, “No” is not something I am used to hearing. Until I tried to play The Greatest Showman during dinner. I have to say, that the emphatic, half pleading request to not inflict this movie on him sort of melted my heart a little. I mean how often do you hear a man who has fought in war, been shot, stabbed, and snake bitten plead “no” like a child about to be spanked? The look in his eyes was part sheer terror and part desperate begging. You could tell he was kind of resigned to his fate as he saw the movie pop up on the screen. He looked at the TV screen and looked at me; then he looked back at the television and I saw a part of his soul leave his body and escape through the window.

I have to admit, there was this little moment where I realized I had this phenominal cosmic power. My absolute control over this man’s day. I could force a musical on him or grant him amnesty and let him watch something involving guns and explosions. Yes, I was drunk with power for a split second. I  suddenly understood the terrible yet awesome way I could wield a singing Hugh Jackman at this man, and much like David taking down the mighty Goliath, I could fell this man with one swing of a chorus line if I chose to. The power was intoxicating.

But, I am a merciful lord, and after the surge of power finished coursing through my veins, I took a deep breath and granted him a reprieve. So instead of watching The Greatest Showman, we dined over Battlestar Galactica and too much wine.

Alas, Hugh Jackman did not get the chance to sing me through my dinner, but I did get to see some space battles and hot Cylons, so overall, dinner was a success, and no hard feelings, but I now know where the entertainment line is drawn. For Richy, musicals are that line. He will watch romantic comedies, he will watch sitcoms, he will even watch The Simpsons with me if I ask him to. Richy however, will not watch musicals. I can ask for any other genre, but musicals are off limits. In this, the season of giving, I suppose I will be kind and give him the gift that never stops giving - every season of Glee ever made. Muwahahahaha!

Author’s note: As Richy was editing this I was informed that he does not hate ALL musicals. He doesn’t mind Moulin Rouge, Phantom, and Grease. Now you all know - he doesn’t hate them all. (Somehow this revelation is funnier to me than the sheer terror I saw at the mention of a musical for dinner).

Monday, December 24, 2018

Whoopie! It's Christmas Eve

Things didn't go as planned.

Making whoopie is one of my favorite things about being in a healthy, committed relationship. It’s fun and you can do it (almost) anytime. It’s free entertainment, it’s a free workout without the gym membership. You can whoopie when it’s raining or snowing, in bad weather or good, you can whoopie during a power outage. Baby, it’s cold outside? Well, come here, and let me warm you up and touch your butt.

However, I’ve recently had a hysterectomy and haven’t been allowed to have any sort of sexy time for the last six weeks. It has been a long six weeks but it ends the day after Christmas, assuming my doctor says I am healed, at which point I will be unavailable for at least twenty-four hours, but I digress.

Today being Christmas Eve, I decided that it was time to at least fool around. Maybe I can’t go “all the way”, but surely things can be done to ensure Richy and I both have a nice time, right? Right. The thing is, I had this randy little idea while lying in bed during the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep and I started feeling sexy, not paying attention to the fact that it was four in the morning and Richy was in a deep, deep sleep. (This is called foreshadowing, kids).

Things started out just fine. I began kissing him, touching him, and gently waking him up, etc… but somewhere in there I forgot that I was actually the one that was feeling lustful in the first place. I lost sight of the fact that the point to all of this was that I wanted to feel good, and I sabotaged my own orgasm.  I wasn’t thinking about the fact that 1. Sexy time with a man will make him immediately fall asleep afterwards and, 2. That Richy was already in a deep sleep when I decided to initiate Operation Orgasm.

Being the spontaneous person that I am, I jumped that poor, sleeping man like a starving animal who had finally been given a bone. And in all honesty, I rocked his world! I was feeling pretty proud of myself, so I kissed him, hopped out of bed to wash up a little and promised him I’d be right back. I forgot, never leave a spent man alone. Alas, I bounced back to the bedroom only to find him wrapped up like a burrito and sleeping so soundly and deeply that I check his pulse just to make sure I hadn’t killed him.

But now what? I had blown out of any hope of my own sexy time! I sat on the side of the bed and blinked a few times realizing that I had cheated my own self, and there was nothing I could do about it (well, nothing I could get Richy to do about it). Now I was all worked up and I had put my partner in a coma. Brilliant.

So,that is where today’s blog comes in. Yes, today’s blog is brought to you by six weeks of pent up sexual energy and an inability to sleep during normal sleeping hours. It is 5:45 in the morning on Christmas Eve and I am typing these words because what else can I do? I can laugh at myself and patiently wait for Richy to rejoin the land of the living.

So, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. Here’s to having someone to canoodle with during these cold winter months. Richy, thank you for just being you. I am really, scandalously in love with you.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Happy Holiday, Everyone!

I love Christmas! Ho, Ho, Ho, Jingle bells, deck the halls, and joy to the world. It’s just such a fun time of year. Honestly, humans probably just invented it to get through the drudgery of winter, with its longer nights and grey skies, but whether you believe in the Bible version, the pagan version, or something in between, it’s a good time. It doesn’t even have to be Christmas to celebrate. I am willing to raise a toast to a happy Kwanzaa, spin the dreidel for a merry Hanukkah, or toss a log on for a delightful Yuletide. My mom is celebrating the winter solstice this year instead of Christmas, and I’m down for that too. I think a glass of wine can definitely be had to celebrate whatever the sun is doing this time of year, no problem.

It isn’t just about the presents, which are definitely fun, but for me, it’s about laughing with people, putting that extra little thought into something for someone, and sharing food and drink with people we love (or tolerate a couple times a year). But let’s be honest here, gifts are exciting whether you are getting them or giving them. I love the excitement of giving someone a gift I just know they will love or that will make them laugh. Case in point, the year my dying father told my brother he wanted a bigger cock for Christmas… and my brother promptly delivered him a robust three-foot tall plaster-cast rooster as a gift. Welcome to my family.

I received an early Christmas present today from a friend of mine that has known me for twenty-five years. This lady delivered several items! Eyeshadow that smells of sugar cookies, mascara that makes me look like I should be modeling eyelash extensions and lipstick that looks so good on me that it’s like I invented it. Not to mention a giant bottle of Hempz lotion that smells of spun sugar and vanilla bean which leaves a hint of shimmer on my skin that makes me glow like a healthy person.

I love receiving gifts, and I absolutely adore giving them. I’m super excited to give gifts to Richy, which I can’t discuss here, as he will probably edit this later, but I hope he likes them. I got a silly little extra thing for my baby girl; it isn’t a big gift, in fact, it’s small and funny, but I think she will really like it. I never thought gifts had to be expensive or lavish to be meaningful, and I still feel that way. We are hand making most of the gifts we are giving to people. Hopefully they will turn out well and not looking like something you’d find hanging on the walls of a kindergarten classroom wall.

So whatever you are celebrating this time of year, I hope it’s a happy one. Personally, I am celebrating Christmas with Santas and snowmen, nutcrackers and tinsel and loads of wine!

Please be kind to one another and remember to spread some love this season!

Sunday, December 16, 2018

Here's to a Not So Bright Future

The future is stupid!

 I have contributed to this and now I feel completely ridiculous. I had a moment where I could have shown like a Gen-X beacon in a night of Millennials but I simply burnt out and extinguished any hope of a bright future.

The other day, I was helping a friend out at her store that she and her mother co-own. It’s an antiques store and sometimes, especially during busy special events,  I will help them out for a few hours. The work gets me out of the house and they let me leave anytime I start to feel exhausted, which is nice for both parties involved,  and so that’s what I do. Now, in this store they use a phone app called Square, which comes with a handy credit card reader.  Anytime someone wants to use a credit card for a transaction, we swipe the card, have them sign the phone screen and ask if they want a text or email receipt; that’s all we have to do.  For cash transactions, we still ring it up on the phone’s Square app, and it tells us how much change to give and everything is fine with the option of a text or email receipt.We give them change from the cash till and everyone goes home happy. I’ve never seen this process fail to work, so I’ve never asked any other questions about it. Now I know, I probably should have.

Two older ladies came into the store (during a short period of time when I had been left there alone, of course) and they made their way to the counter with their various items. I rang them up, they paid with cash, I made their change and then asked if they would like a text or email receipt. One of the sweet ladies looked at me and said, no, could she please just have a paper receipt.

Y’all, I was not ready. I looked at her and then looked down at the cash register and then looked back at her. It was like that dilating hallway effect in horror movies. What she didn't know was that in my head, I was frantically looking for any clue on this cash register about how to actually use it. I knew the silence was getting awkward because the ticking of the wall clock became progressively louder. All I could do was be honest. I looked at this older, Baby- Boomer generation woman and just told her “I’m so sorry, I don’t have any idea how to actually work this register. I have no idea how to give you a paper receipt”.  She looked at me the way older people look at younger people when they wish they could spank you for being stupid and she just smiled. I felt ridiculous!. I honestly had no idea how to hand someone a piece of paper with numbers on it. I couldn’t do that transaction without a cell phone. I was totally unprepared to do anything with a customer that wasn't in some way connected to the internet. I was lost without technology.

Well, the poor woman, laughed (not in an amused way) and shook her head and left without any receipt at all. I felt bad, but I also had a huge laugh at my own expense. I’m a big fan of being 39 and talking about “kids these days”, just as my mother and her mother and her mother before her had done. It makes me feel like I’m somehow a better person for drinking from water hoses as a child and  never once wearing bike helmets. However, I have never felt more dependent on technology than when I could not give this woman a four- inch paper receipt.

 I have slowly evolved into “kids these days”... I am one of these kids. I have no idea how to do anything by hand anymore. If it doesn’t require a charge, I don’t know how to use it. Honestly, I even have to charge my cigarette now, which I think is stupid. I stopped smoking regular tobacco cigarettes and now smoke a “Vape” which is filled with CBD oil and a little bit of nicotine oil with a strawberry flavor. This apparatus must be charged and has a screen on it to tell you all of the settings on it, and if you let this bad boy die, you must wait until your battery recharges before you can smoke again. The future is so, very stupid. Because of this, I have nearly quit smoking altogether because I never plug anything in, including this vape, and it's never charged enough to actually use it. So, I really have to give it to kids these days,  I mean at least they have enough sense to carry portable chargers with them and to keep their electronics charged. Not me. My phone is never charged, my cigarette is never charged, my portable charger is never charged up, nor are either one of my tablets charged. My computer has a bad battery, so must stay plugged in, and cannot be charged. I simply cannot be trusted to keep up with and maintain my personal technology, but apparently I can’t live without it either because the future is just so stupid.

Sheesh. Kids these days.

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

The Keys to Life

I can’t find my keys. I really can’t find them, and it’s ridiculous because my keys are huge. I have things I needed to do today, and I am totally stranded at home. I have no house keys, no car keys, and no keys to the place I was going today. This doesn’t happen to me often. I’m not one of those people who needs a spare key in every room or tracking devices on their keychains because I am always very diligent about putting my keys back in my purse. However, today, my keys have walked off the planet, and I’m becoming concerned. Growing up, my mom was constantly misplacing her keys. As a kid I thought it was funny, you know, silly mom, everyone playing the Find-the-Key game. I remember she had this ginormous safety pin that she used as a keychain just so that she could always find them. That eight inch safety pin may have been useful in finding them once she DID lose them, but she always would manage to lose them, no matter what kind of keychain she had. As a self-centered and impatient teenager however, mom losing her keys was less and less funny. I wanted to be at the mall five minutes ago, and there we were, looking for keys. I was a brat, but a brat that firmly vowed to keep up with my keys. I lost my keys one time when my kids were babies. Once. That was all it took. I had to break into my house, and it was funny and terrible and I was way too fat to be climbing in windows. So, in the tradition of the absent minded women before me, I obtained a very large keychain, and kept adding to it. My keychains got so out of control that Richy forced me to remove just the car key so I wouldn’t break the ignition switch in the car. I can take it on and off of a carabiner that is also attached to my keychain collection. I say all of this to say it is damn near impossible to lose this wad of keys, but here we are. I have torn this house apart. I have uncushioned the couch, I’ve looked under things, looked in every room, checked the fridge (I did lose a cell phone in the fridge once, so it wasn’t that odd). I’ve looked in the dish drainer, on all the flat surfaces, I even looked in the dog kennel. Those damn keys are nowhere to be found. I checked in the car, I checked on the train, and on a plane, I checked in the rain, and checked in the drain, I checked everywhere, Sam I Am. It’s not that I think they won’t turn up, I know they probably will, but I needed to leave the house today. I had things to do and responsibilities (people insist on giving me responsibilities under the delusion that I am a grown up). I am mostly just absolutely bamboozled by the idea that these keys can’t be seen from space, much less by the idea that I can’t find them in a loft apartment that’s smaller than a thousand square feet. For now, I suppose I will ransack my house again in the hopes of finding my lost keys but at this point I really don’t know where else to look. Maybe I’ll try summoning them. A five point star in the middle of the floor should suffice, but what does one add to the points to summon keys? UPDATE: The keys have been summoned from the depths of couch hell. They had been locked away under the couch, back against the wall and inside the lining. I don’t know what they did to deserve such a spot in couch hell, but it took me fifteen minutes, two canes and a headlamp to retrieve them from their seclusion. 

Thoughts From the Couch

Today’s blog is brought to you by sudden inspiration and short term ambition. A writer friend of mine was taking me through Google Docs and showing me how to use it. I didn’t know how to use it because I was born in the time of the dinosaurs and I am easily frightened by technology; I will scamper back into the forest at the mere thought of having to Tumble a Tweet on my YouTube app. However, Google Docs is easy enough for even me to use it, so I have decided to crawl out of my Girl-cave and write today. Of course, this is always with the firmest of intentions to write again in the near future. I have no idea if this sudden drive to write will blossom into writing full time again, or if it'll be a one-off like I seem to do lately. Either way, I will be just as surprised as you are when this is done, because I honestly started writing this with no direction in mind.

I have spent today wrapping presents, since I only have fifteen more days until Christmas and I still have to make four more gifts and buy one more. I’m pretty happy with our decision to make gifts this year. We are, of course, still buying toys for the kids, because honestly it’s just easier, but for the adults in our lives, we are making something that I think is really nice.  I can’t share what that is on here because my mom reads my blog, and that would spoil the surprise. (Hi Mom). But making these gifts requires power tools and that means I have to wait for Richy because I have no intention on sawing my hand off, and that's exactly what would happen.

I bought Richy’s gifts because I suck at crafts and I want to spoil him. He really deserves it. He works so hard everyday and treats me like I’m a princess, so I want him to know how wonderful I think he is and how much I appreciate him. I’m not sure I’ve shown him the proper appreciation though. I only recently had doubts about this since my sister in law bought my brother’s gift.  She presented him with a heated toilet seat. My brother mentioned one day that he’d know he’d really made it in life when he could afford heated toilet seats. Of course one had to be found, and my sister in law absolutely delivered. She got excited and gave it to him the other day instead of at Christmas and he posted it on Facebook. There it sits, an electronic, back-lit, heated toilet seat. She bought my brother a throne. I wonder if this is something I should get Richy. Like, do all men want a heated toilet seat? Can you imagine how long they’d be in there if they are warm and comfortable? I wonder if we’d ever see them again? I think for my man, I’ll just stick to the more traditional gifts, like underwear, a bad tie, and fruitcake.  

Well, our halls are decked, our TV fire is crackling behind the screen and the stockings are hung by the bookcase with care. Our tree is cheerful and we are cozy and comfortable. Please try to remember not everyone has these basic creature comforts, and just be a little kinder to one another. I hope you all have a happy holiday, no matter what you are celebrating this time of year.