After that last dreary post, I figure I'd better sop up the mess with something more entertaining.
So, it seems, my new hero, Chelsea G. has gotten it right again. I think I'm just going to have to start linking her virtually every time she posts some darling little nugget of cultural commentary. Today, for example, I think all audiences should check out this post. She makes a millions points more illustratively than I ever have, so, mostly I'll let her speak for herself.
But, just because I'd like to back up her argument with a case in point, I'm now going to include a real-live email thread that occurred between myself and a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago.
Disclaimers:
Please note: All names have been changed to protect those who've already been completely defiled--uh, I mean, to protect the innocent. (Admittedly, I am one of the participants in the ensuing conversation, but I figure it's best to refer, henceforth, to the two of us as "Gossipy Bitch 1" and "Gossipy Bitch 2." And heretofore, I shall refrain from distinguishing one from the other.)
Please also note: Because myself and certain others who participate in my social circle have been embracing our CSS (see post from a couple weeks ago) status as of late, this thread has a distinct anti-breeder bias. Hey, we're cranky and we're spinsters. What do you want from us?
And now...
"my psyche might implode: an email dalliance"
GB1: "Dude" across the hall from me is back in the office for the first time since his wife had twins. I don't know if I can handle overhearing the proud-father-baby-excitement discussions all day long.
GB2: I am so sorry for you. I don't think I could handle it.
GB1: Oh, dear god. It's all men, too! It's all these men, coming in and sharing their own baby stories. I really think I'm going to lose my mind.
GB2: Too bad you can't close your door. Maybe [I should travel to your neighborhood and] we could just have some more of our inappropriate conversations so they can see what they are missing out on...great sex or babies. Tough choice.
GB1: Really, you should come over and I'll say, "so, last night so-and-so came over and I let him cum all over my bare chest." And you say, "yeah, I love when that happens. I'm sure glad I'm not married! I hear married men don't really even like blowjobs anymore." And I'll say, "I hear that too! Isn't that strange??" And then you say, "I'm sure glad I haven't had any babies because my ass looks friggin' fantastic today." And I'll say, "yeah, mine too. I just feel so bad for women who've destroyed their bodies with all that breeding. It must suck to be a mom. Not to mention all the cleaning up of puke and intellectual bankruptcy."
Let's create a real grass-is-greener-on-the-single-side sensibility around here!
GB2: And I'll say, "yeah the bare chest is good, but I like it even better on my face." And you say, "yeah that's good but not as good as giving blowjobs." And I'll say "yeah, I hear women stop giving them when they get married. I'm glad I'm not married. I love giving them." And you'll say "I also hear women's bodies stretch out, ahem, down there, after giving birth." And I'll say "I'm glad I do my Kegels!"
GB1: And who gets to deliver a poetic monologue on how fabulous semen tastes? Me, oh, let it be me!
OH, my god. That is SO much better than the "what kind of antibacterial hand sanitizer do YOU use? I mean, my kids ARE preemies, after all..." conversation!
GB2: An "Ode to Semen"? As you do.
You mean you don't want to hear about dirty diapers?
GB1: Nope. Already have, though. Including the "how do you keep the boys from pissing in your face during diaper changes" Q&A session. Since when did men become such effin' mother hens????
GB2: Uh, you hold it down (that's what she said). Even I know that, and I was adept at avoiding changing my nephew's diaper when he was a baby.
Fin
Enjoy!
5 comments:
"Hard Candy" is a great flick. Ms. E Page will grab an Oscar one of these days, indeed.
That said, A Man's Gotta Eat has a new description/slogan, which I'm SURE you'll appreciate:
"A Man's guide to filling his belly, pickling his liver, and clouding his lungs in Nashville, Middle Tennessee, and parts beyond. 'Because no man should settle for light beer, tofu, skim milk, smoke-free bars, or restaurants best known for their grilled-chicken salads.'"
Enjoy!
http://nashville-eats.blogspot.com/
uhh-- I'm happy to offer you a venue in which you can plug yourself, Joe. Just call me the free publicity machine!
But, I do agree-- Hard Candy is a fascinating film. I blogged about it several, several months ago. Have you seen the previews for Juno? I find Ellen Page fascinating to watch, as she's about the cutest button around, and yet has this blade-like quality-- both in her comic timing and in her manner of delivering more serious lines. She is definitely someone worth watching as she matures.
One of the things I remember most from reading your poetry was not even in a poem, rather in a footnote to a poem about a calf named Dinky: “I was a cruel child.” Have you outgrown it or just gotten better at it? I have read between your lines. Can you read between mine? Tell me, Marjorie: When will your lambs stop screaming?
I hear tell there is a tiara and a satin sash that go with the title of "meanest girl in the room." I've got my eye on 'em.
But, no, I have no idea what you're talking about. No need to explain. I think I'm feeling pretty good about being in the dark here.
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