Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Day Two

So far, nothing has been accomplished that I'd hoped for. Why does that not surprise me? I've done minimal research for my research paper. Shael's bedroom and bathroom haven't even been touched. The charity bags are still sitting by the back door instead of taken to the Friendship House in Miami. I keep thinking that I'll wait until I get to Shael's room before taking them off because I'm sure there's tons of clothes to add to the too small pile that goes to charity. I'd hate to take all this stuff off only to clean Shael's room out and have more sitting around here waiting for my next trip. I need some motivation. I take a look in there and all I want to do is turn around, shut the door behind me and shudder.
The past two days I've not even gotten out of bed at a normal time. Yesterday it was almost 10:00 in the morning and today it was 10:00 in the morning. In fact, when I got up this morning, I had actually been asleep for over 12 hours. I woke up this morning when Mike was getting ready to leave and I talked to him for a minute or two. Then I went right back to sleep after saying "bye". At 6:49 the phone rang and I answered it thinking it was Mike saying he forgot something. Instead it was some guy calling Mike back about a motorcycle for sale. Who calls at 6:49 in the morning about a motorcycle? I was nice, though, and gave him Mike's cell number. Then went right back to sleep. And stayed asleep until 10:00. Man, I knew I was really behind on my "sleep debt" (as my psych prof calls it) but I had no idea I could sleep for 12 hours after having slept for 10 hours the night before. It's not even about depression this time, I'm genuinely sleep deprived, I guess. I feel like a teenager, spending that much time in bed asleep.
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I came to bed the other night and Mike was watching "Sex Talk With Sue Johanson". Any of you ever watch that? He was laughing and I was feeling really sorry for these poor saps that were calling in with these questions that I felt like I was qualified to answer. "Leave that sorry sucker! He ain't ever gonna change and if you ain't happy now, what makes you think you will be when you get married?" This woman was all upset that her fiance of THREE years was masturbating so much. Even right after they had sex. She felt like she wasn't enough to take care of his sexual drive and cravings. She wanted to make love for half an hour, call it quits, roll over and go to sleep. He was raring to go again 5 minutes later. I looked over at Mike and said "He needs a woman like me, doesn't he?" and laughed a little bit. He looked back over at me and said with complete deadpan "Yeah, a nymphomaniac."
Anyway, where I was going with this story. During the commercials, there would be this ad for Tabu toys. "Designed by women, For women" was their slogan. It kept playing over and over during every commercial break. Mike finally said "Hey, we should order you something and have them deliver it through the US Mail, that way your cousin can deliver it to the house!" It seems one of my slew of cousins is now our mail carrier. Yeah. I don't think so. I would die of humiliation if something from Tabu Toys came to my house and he delivered it. It reminded me of this little comic strip I saw one time that showed a woman looking in a magazine and ordering a toy that promised "discreet brown package delivery". When the discreet brown package was delivered, it was delivered by a van that had "Dildos-R-Us" splashed across the side and a great big dildo on the top like a giant Oscar Mayer wiener or something. Hey, the package was in a discreet brown paper cover. They never said anything about the carrier being discreet.
*
My former director use to give me all her books that she'd read. Not actually all of them, because she was a huge Danielle Steel fan and would keep all those. But in the course of a year or so, she gave me dozens of romance novels, most of them Nora Roberts. They're okay, and I'll read them, mostly in the bathroom, like I mentioned yesterday. But, I get tired of the same old story told and retold. Gorgeous man meets gorgeous woman, they immediately fall into the sack with each other, then have a fight and ultimately make up and get married at the end. If there's a sequel, they stay married forever and have a couple of gorgeous kids that grow up and repeat the process. Where's the romance novel about the ugly, skinny man who has a golden tongue and can sweet talk any woman? Where's the romantic story of the wooing of the overweight woman who feels she's not worth anything? Where are these stories? I want to read them. Not everybody in this world is beautiful by romance novel standards. Not every woman has curves that have every man turning their heads, or flowing auburn hair to their waists. Not every man has electric blue eyes and a jaw line that is carved. Where are the men who stutter or the women who are so shy that people think she's stuck up? I'm so tired of reading these ridiculous romance books where people have power struggles and end up doing it on the grassy knoll where they stand. Give me a break! How many real people have sex with someone on the day they meet them? Not me, and not many people that I know. Out of all the people that I know, there are two people who I know have done this. And lived to regret it. One of these two people, one did, indeed, end up marrying the ho who dropped her drawers in that first meeting, then had to live with her psychotic behavior the rest of his life, even years after they divorced. You don't read that in romance novels, do you? Where are the real problems couples face? Where is the bad morning breath and over due bills in the mail? Not in any book I've ever read. One book even described a man's kiss first thing in the morning as "the musky taste of man". SICK! That just grossed me out. I don't even like to face Mike first thing in the morning, much less let him stick his tongue in my mouth. Nasty! The idea is utterly ridiculous. What a farce.
I realize sex sales and I guess no one would be interested in reading about two ugly, fat people boinking on their honeymoon. But, please, you don't have to add the boinking in the book in the first place. Leave it out, everybody knows what's going on during a honeymoon. You don't have to describe it in depth detail. Until someone writes a book like this, I'll probably continue to read the trashy romance novel, skimming over the trashy part, and try to enjoy the story at the core of it all.
I think I need to cleanse my reading pallet and reread The Thorn Birds.

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