Hooray! It’s Friday!

I thought I would end the week with a few thoughts on Father’s Day.

First, let me start by saying that I had an EXCELLENT Mother’s Day, complete with breakfast in bed, new swimsuit, manicure/pedicure and, most important, SHOES!

So I find myself in a quandary as I try to decide what to do for The Boy who is such a Prince sometimes.

I think that while I would love to give my husband lots of presents, new clothes, cologne, a Wii, etc., he may want something different.

I think that in my attempt to do something to please me–therefore increasing The Boy’s chance for all things sexual–that truly if I give him 2 things that cost nothing he will be much happier.

1. a visit from the BJ Fairy
2. a moment of silence

This thought came to me in a 3am sleep deprivation session.

This is when I have my most brilliant moments, but I may be way off this time.

Let’s face it, once married, #1 seems to fade away as things like laundry, childcare, and blog writing, oh hell, ANYTHING takes precedence.

As for #2, well, I just never shut up. I can’t help it, I’m a talker. Maybe he doesn’t like that. I don’t know because I have never stopped talking (about important stuff) to find out if he would rather me write him a note.

Or just shut up full-stop.

So I leave it to cyberspace to decide if I have finally seen the light, or if my behind needs to get out of my chair and get to the store for some delicious Aqua de Gio and make Father’s Day about who’s truly important….

me.

Okay, I know I promised to reveal all that is “Frenemy” in my life today, but something came up.

We were at dinner and I was showing the boys at the table my friend Crissy’s blog, because in it she had a “Nut Bra” video from You Tube and it was actually relevant to a conversation that we were having regarding what happens AFTER some surgeries and not to divulge too much, but SOMEONE, we’ll call him “Moe”, was revealing A LOT over a couple of wines and some ribs.

Anyway, it made me think of this:

Now besides the fact that Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are running around with AXES and eating entire CAKES, and making out with DOGS, the boys thought the best part is that a side effect might be the growth of a 2nd vagina.

Yes.

I could be completely mental with a tail and sporting some Lizzie Borden accessories, but add in a 2nd va-jay-jay, and it’s all cool.

boys. r. dumb.

So there I was minding my own business when The Boy decided it was time to “be funny and cute”….his term not mine.

This means torture me with stupidity until I hit him usually.

Last night he reached a whole new level of, well, I don’t even know what.

We were sitting on the couch, where I was just settling in for a nice round of American Idol, when it happened.

He, in his infinite wisdom, thought it was really funny (and cute, don’t forget) to keep touching me ala “The Simpsons”–kids in the backseat–”Ouch, quit it.” Poke. “Ouch, quit it.” Poke. Repeat ad nauseum.

So I finally–in my most exasperated tone–exclaimed, “STOP IT! YOU’RE BEING A COMPLETE ASS!”

To which he quite literally bent over, grabbed both butt cheeks and flapping them in synch said, “Well, I wouldn’t say that…by the way, do you happen to have a breath mint?”

Then he fell to the couch, wholly amused by himself.

Have you ever been repulsed to the point of mouth gaping, eyes slitting abhorance–but want to laugh at the same time?!

But you can’t for fear that you will literally be having a conversation with an asshole!

And to think that THAT episode occurred without even one drop of wine…

I’ll NOT be making that mistake again.

ps–To see the video re-enactment of the scene, be sure to comment!

The Boy just arrived home.

He brought me flowers today.

And a BUNCH of parsley.*

He’s very sweet.

(And obviously wanting some good press.)

Title for next blog entry: A Necklace of Diamonds.

*see 2/25/08

So, with much anticipation of seeing The Boy after a week of vacation, I exited my plane and headed right for the escalator…where undoubtedly he would be waiting with flowers and fanfare to sweep me off my feet and make me feel like the “Natural Woman” I know that I am.

I am proudly lugging around his Fender Bass, complete with cumbersome hard case that is giving my hands blisters, excited to surprise him with the treasures of his past to reinvigorate his present.

One last check in a random window reflection to make sure that I am presentable and away I went…down, down, down…hmm, not here. Well, the plane was early, no harm, no foul, he must be parking the car.

Go to baggage claim, to retrieve the obvious, and know in my heart that he will wrap his arms around me at anytime and kiss my neck in just the right place.

Tick. Tock.

Luggage comes.

No Boy.

Cautiously balance all luggage, with stupid guitar that I don’t want to listen to anyway, and meander outside through 1 million smokers–and their smoke–to sit and wait.

Waiting.

Finally, car drives up! Hooray! Not losing hope, have a final dream that he was late due to extensive floral arranging of beautiful bouquet I just can’t quite see yet…

WRONG

Out comes husband, ready to grab and go luggage. No kiss. Smells like Irish Pub. Late due to drinking with buddies after paintballing and excited to show me his injuries.

………………….not happy……………………..

Is it too much to ask that if I have to read 100 magazines on how to spice up my love life–including a BJ article in REDBOOK, if you can believe it–that he at least bring me a flower when I go away for a week?!

Is it okay for me to say, “Honey, I love you, but I am not interested in how you dominated today–nor do the amount of paintballs that have left bruises and welts on your body (but didn’t burst and you tagged the guy out so you are AWESOME) turn me on–oh, and by the way, you smell”?

Maybe I am unrealistic, a dreamer. Maybe flowers were too much to ask. But at this point I would be happy with the sprig of parsley left on his plate–or at the very least a “to-go” drink for me!