So I’ve put up a warning before my married hard R snippet. Seriously. I put the post up and some random new person I shall call Slappy emailed me about it, so I took the post down, but now it’s back up with a “warning.” (Happy, Slappy??)
Maybe Slappy — and Slappy’s husband — would be happier if Slappy engaged in said married hard R behavior.
Just a piece of advice from me to you, O Slappy dearest.
********
BABY BANSHEE: (shaking her little butt for me) Do the bootie dance, Tee Tee!
ME: (shaking my butt with her) Okay.
BABY BANSHEE: (bending over into the perfect number 7) No, Tee Tee! Like this!
ME: (bending over into the perfect number 7) Okay.
*******
I finish describing a really boring dream to MB. There is nothing I can say to make it more thrilling.
HE: (a yawning silence)
ME: I know. I’m literally embarrassed by my subconscious. I woke up and was like, “Seriously? That’s the best you can do??”
HE: It’s like dreaming you were writing a note reminding yourself to buy stamps.
ME: I know. What’s the point? Why bother dreaming?
HE: Really. At least awake there’s TV.
ME: Well, thanks, hon.
HE: Sure.
********
MARRIED HARD R!! ALERT!! DON’T READ!! WE’RE GODLESS ANIMALS!!
We are walking out to the car. I suddenly start making huge ridiculous “O’s” with my mouth. MB sees me. I smile and keep going.
HE: What are you doing?
ME: Exercising.
HE: What?
ME: For later. You know.
HE: Oh!
ME: Yeah. Happy birthday, baby.
HE: Better stretch it bigger.
ME: Hahahaha.
HE: I’m serious.
ME: Hahahaha. I know.
HE: I love you, baby.
ME: Oh, I know.
********
MB and I have strict regulations on whom the other is allowed to marry/not marry in the event one of us cacks it in an untimely fashion. We review these regularly just for, you know, a little bit of threatening fun. There are beyond-the-grave consequences for stupid choices here, you see. Sometimes, there are specific names involved; sometimes just a type.
This, after a long list of women from deep dark middle of nowhere (aka his hometown) who openly pine for MB:
ME: Basically, you have to find yourself a fresh hag. No rehashes.
HE: So no rehags?
ME: Hahaha. Right. No rehags. Get a new hag.
********
At the bookstore. A dad and little boy — about 5 — who was really exploring his testosterone.
BOY: Whey I grow up, I want my OWN family where I’M the dad!
DAD: Okay.
Later:
BOY: Daddy, do you think there are man ladybugs?
DAD: Well, calling them manbugs would sound funny. They’re ladybugs.
(Uh, Dad? You’re not listening.)
BOY: Well, there SHOULD be manbugs! I WANT there to be manbugs!
Me, too. You go, kid. Fight the power. Hooray for men!
********
ME: We’re gonna have our special date this month, Banshee.
ORIGINAL BANSHEE: Yay! What are we gonna do?
ME: Ohh, let’s see. I think we’ll sit on a wall and spit, how’s that?
OB: Tee Tee!
ME: It’ll be awesome.
OB: TEE TEE! I don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: Really?
OB: REALLY!
ME: I’ll bring green beans.
OB: Well, I like green beans.
ME: I know. So do I.
OB: But I still don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: I’ll bring broccoli.
OB: I like broccoli.
ME: I know. So do I.
OB: (torn) But …. but …… I STILL don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: (heavy dramatic sigh) Okaaaaay.
I think your married R is funny, people need to calm down. Have you decided what you’re doing with Banshee?
Slattern!
…posted from my mobile Fainting Couch
Karen — We did a variety of things, none of which included spitting — darn it. I’ll be blogging about it when the holidays are over.
NF — “posted from my mobile Fainting Couch,” Hahahahahaha! Yes, it’s official. I AM a slattern. And I wasn’t even drunk. Just your basic sober ungodly slattern.
I dunno, Tee Tee–you could bring all the wonderful green vegetables in the world, and that Banshee o’ yours would STILL not want to sit on a wall and spit!
Who else votes that (tracey’s) MB’s hometown be renamed “Hagsville” for our amusement?
“rehag” hahahahahahahaha
Don’t men hope their wives are slatterns in the sack? What is the problem? Do not get the judgment. Do. Not. Get.
Also, to take the time to email you … THAT’S what I really don’t get.
This is free content. If you are so Victorian that you can’t deal with a little mouth-exercises, and friendly teasing between a married couple, then you really shouldn’t be on the Internet at all.
Kate P — I don’t know why I like to goad her. S’fun. She’s a very “ducks in a row” kind of kid. Very “THIS is how you do it,” so I like to mess with her rigid little ways.
sheila — Yep. Clockwork, isn’t it?
And, yeah, I think most husbands want the “whore in the bedroom.” If Slappy wants to be a nun, fine, but I’d bet her husband doesn’t think it’s fine. Gimme a break. Shades of “Todd’s Mom” from Cara’s blog all over again. Slappy needs a sexorcism, too.
tracey – hahahaha I think I’m all sexorcism-ed out, although we did very good work that day. We should get paid next time!
Actually, you’re right. Why give it away for free? I think we were a fantastic team, but damn, that was exhausting!
I wonder if she stuck to the program we set out for her (lovingly, yet firmly).
I’ve wondered that myself. I wonder if it would even be possible, since Todd’s Dad seemed like such an abusive a-hole. I wonder if she’s still getting “reverse rewards”?? Good Lord. He made me shiver. At the very least, he controlled EVERYTHING about their sex life. At the worst, he was abusing her.
Well, at least she knows the faucet in the tub will always love her and never abuse her. (I hope.)
aaaaaaaaand scene.