Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Sleeping Beauty

I have decided that the reason my boyfriend can go into a slumberous, immediate sleep the minute his head hits the pillow during or after a fight is because the XY chromosome is missing that extra extension of the XX chromosome housing the gene that keeps me awake and SEETHING for hours in bed.

Now, it could be any kind of fight; the "Fine." "Fine!" "FINE!" "FIIIIIIINE!!!!!" kind of fight; or the simultaneous screaming "I hate you, you jerk!" "You're a pain in the ass!" "I can't believe I'm actually dating you!" "One more sound out of you, and I'm going to toss you over the balcony!" that ends abruptly into an uncomfortable, charged silence; or the, "You did WHAT?!" "But..I..." "WHAT?!" "Oh YEAH? Well what about the time you..." "Don't you even bring that up. That has nothing to do with this!" "Yes it does!" "Shut up." "You shut up." "No, you shut up." "No, you." "Aaaaggggghhhhhhhhh!"

It could be any type of fight and yet within mere seconds I hear the steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing. Now I don't know what the hell, or how the hell, or what adolescent boys who are trapped in the bodies of grown men dream about, be it race cars, or porn stars, or tools or whatever, BUT I AM NOT FINISHED WITH THIS FIGHT.

I'm tossing, I'm turning, I'm flopping around, deep sighs, staring at the ceiling, staring evil thoughts into the back of his head. I get up, get some water, come back, make a rucus. Nothing.

If I thought it would do anything, (like startle him awake or scare him or even just piss him off), I'd hit him in the head with the pillow while he slept. But really, the results of trying to reason with him while conscious or comatose are the same. So why even bother. Jerk.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Et tu Discovery Channel?

As you would imagine, living in Europe affords one certain benefits. Like cool fashions, a more social atmosphere, a more relaxed, laid back attitude.

It also offers certain surprises. Things you wouldn't really think about. For example, when you get your satellite cable set up, you would probably be excited about access to English speaking channels, like MTV, E!, National Geographic, and even three HBO-like movie channels, to name a few.

You would probably not anticipate that starting at midnight, all these relatively lovely, entertaining channels begin to air pornography. Tons and tons and hours upon hours of pornography. And not soft porn you watch on Skinemax. No no. Real, full on, bangeroo porn. Porn that offends even my not-so-tender sensibilities.

The other night, I started watching E!, which was airing what I originally thought was a show about the Cannes Film Festival. Silly silly little old me. It was almost midnight. Of course it wasn't about the Cannes Film Festival, it was about the Cannes PORN Film Festival, replete with full-on nudity and simulated and not simulated sex acts. Duh!

So I flip, and start to watch the Girls Next Door, the show about Hugh Hefner's lovely three girlfriends. Um, except here, the three lovelies were in the shower together, soaping each other up, and down, and back up again. All nude, obviously, and nothing blurred out. Tits, ass and everything (EVERYTHING) else in full view and glory.

So I think, idiotically, maybe a nice movie. Um, yeah. Zoom in, a girl getting the living daylights banged out of her, with the camera practically up her vagina along with the guy's penis.


Aaahhhh, the Discovery Channel. I love LOVE love the Discovery Channel. The Discovery Channel won't let me down. It never does. Even it's European cousin can't be that bad.

And then, my little heart breaks as we endeavor down the "scientific" road to human genitalia and the various plastic surgery options available for women to fix their breasts, their labia majora, their labia minora, the vaginal canal, with a camera obtrusively prying into a woman's actual body parts for demonstration. Of course, what educational show would be complete without discussing penile implants, using a human model's penis for full effect.

And this whole situation is worsened because my boyfriend is sitting right next to me, while I cringe at the TV, feeling like a fourteen year-old watching a movie with her parents when an uncomfortable sex scene comes on.

I'm not against porn, but I prefer my porn to be regulated, like, if I want to watch something, I'll surf the net, or rent it, or even buy it, and then, I can control my porn viewing. But indiscriminate porn? Just porn all over the place, with tits and ass and pussy and dick getting thrown at me from all angles? Not so much.

I mean, if I really wanted to relive uncomfortable, awkward, clammy-handed experiences, I would just go back to high school.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Baby Fish Mouth is Sweeping the Nation

I don't know how some of you feel about baby talk, but I know how you should feel. You should hate it, and find it revolting. Because it is.

I can't stand baby talk. I think it's ridiculous. It should be relegated to three year old girls in pink dresses holding teddy bears who haven't been able to master full sentences and enunciation yet. After that point, it should be beaten out of anyone that tries to use it. With the buckle end of the belt.

Grown women and MOST IMPORTANTLY MEN OF ANY AGE should never partake in baby talk. At no time ever.

I've heard grown women, (and by grown women I mean anyone who can dress herself) baby talk to their fathers and boyfriends. I almost fell over. This perfectly articulate woman will get her father or boyfriend on the phone, and suddenly morph into some cloying, childish idiot, speaking in a saccharine sweet voice twelve octaves higher than normal. What circle of hell have I just fallen into?

And people who baby talk to babies and address them in the third-person. Are you kidding me?! "Does Dougy Wougy wanna go outsidey widey?" Oh my god. That, THAT is child abuse. The child might as well be raised by apes in the Bronx zoo. What's the difference at this point.

And the worst, WORST, WORST!!!!!! is when a grown man baby talks. What are you doing?! What is that?! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?

You might think I feel this way because I'm a heartless bitter bitch. Well, it's actually because I'm an adult that can communicate thoughts and ideas at a level not relegated to people who are still getting their asses wiped by their parents.

Men should never baby talk to a woman. It is not attractive, it is not cute, it is not tender. It is annoying and emasculating. Get a hold of yourself man. Women do not swoon over a man who wants to know if she wants another bitey witey of the dessert. Put the forky worky down before I stab you with it in the necky wecky. Baby-talking jackass.