Friday Replay: This and That

It's Friday, and I'm feeling tired, not feeling like posting anything at all.
But, there's lots of good content on this blog. So I'm going to repost something from March/2009.
If you've read it before- forgive me.

This and That

Just a word of warning- this contains what I will call politely "mature content". This is my post Shraz drinking post, so it may not be for everyone.


Once I had a conversation with my husband.
Okay, I've had many, but usually they're totally boring like this "we need milk. See you later. Bye." or "I just let the cat outside." But every now and then we have an interesting conversation, and this is one of them. 'Interesting' in a funny kind of way, rather than in a profound or prolific or deep or "dude that's way out there" kind of way. Anyways. Without further ado: This is actual dialogue from an actual conversation I had with my actual husband, a page right out of my own life, such as it is.

He asked me, and I'm honestly not sure what possessed him to ask me this, if I ever took money for sex. That was pretty much a big N-O, I mean who does?? but I decided that I wanted to kind of, let's say, make things more interesting, by which I mean outright lie, so I said "yeah, once. A long time ago and I'm not proud of it." All serious like. He was like "how much did you get paid" and I said "forty bucks," which seemed reasonable, because after all- how much does sex go for?? I don't have the faintest idea at all. He was like "well, what all did you do for forty bucks?" to which I didn't know what to say. I'm not really down with the sex trade lingo, so I said the first thing that came to my mind, which (rather unfortunately) was "Over Easy. And Sunny Side Up." He was like "those sound suspiciously like the way eggs are prepared." And I was like "Ya, well, where do you think those names come from? The oldest profession in the world. And besides. In the sex trade, we talk in code. You never know when you might be talking to a Narc." And really, when you think of it, Sunny Side Up does sound provocative. I'm thinking- missionary?? And over easy?? Well, that one is open to a lot of possible interpretations. And then he asks me, as he pondered all of this, "did the guy ask for his money back?"


To which I might have taken offense, but I could only laugh in response. Because, after all, he has a point. These days, my idea of 'good sex' is if I can still watch the Tonight Show without interruption. I mean, honestly. If the thirties are supposed to be some kind of a peak, then I'm totally screwed.
Pardon the pun.


So, naturally, sometimes I do think about taking up an affair, but then I think you know, I'm just not sure I'm up for it, energy wise. So much to do- I'd have to shave my legs more often (more often?? OK, at all, ever), get new underwear. Specifically, underwear other than 'Hanes Her Way' (God damn them for being so comfortable), that kind of thing. Now you're probably thinking that's bad, and not just the Hanes Her Way part, but the whole affair thing in general. But I only mean it, really, in the abstract. Like when I watched PS I Love You, I absolutely, totally and completely fell in love with the character of Gerry. And then I start to think....


Well I won't tell you what I started to think. Although it may or may not involve the Sunny Side Up and/or Over Easy.



Anyways. I'm pretty sure that a) Gerry is not real and b) even if he was real he died of a brain tumor so c) it's harmless to daydream a little bit. But mark my words- if I ever get married again (which you know, is very unlikely) I will marry someone with an Irish accent, or brogue or whatever they call it, if I have to travel the world over to find it. The thicker the accent better. And he will have a Celtic tattoo as well. Maybe several. I don't know. We'll have to see.


Anyways. Onto purer subjects


Some good news. Well, actually bad news that turned into good news. I had a really bad, raging mouth infection. My whole jaw hurt so bad I couldn't hardly open my mouth at all except for like a little, teeny, tiny crack. At first I thought, OH NO, TETANUS!!-- because, remember, I'm really way long overdue for my booster. But, thankfully, it wasn't tetanus and I'm still alive- for now- although I wouldn't say the crisis is over. But anyways. The only thing I could eat was soup and Carnation Instant Breakfast. So I started taking antibiotics. And bonus!! The antibiotics caused a really severe bout of vomiting and diarrhea, which was kind of a bitch at the time but today I weighed myself and I lost like 5 pounds!! I was like "Wow. If only I got these mouth infections more often." One a month and I would be good. Twice tops.


And now the bad news. I'm back to hating the dentist. I went a few weeks ago for a cleaning and it was BRU-TAL. I think the technician had the term "cleaning" my teeth confused with "gouging" my teeth. But I had a good run there. I've now had enough dental work done (I think- keep your fingers crossed for me) that if I die horribly and my body is too much of a mess to identify, due to 'decomp' (as they say on CSI) or burning or what have you, I'll have enough dental records to ID me, which is a huge relief right there.
That's some good piece of mind, just to know that.



Anyways. That's that.