Backyard Sex

When it comes to lovemaking, Master, Master has always been able to ring my bell…

(sure, i lost a gold earring somewhere in the grass last night, but it was so worth it)

 

Exposed

Emily Gould  is a prime example that some things are better left unblogged.

Master, Master: Hit the Road Jack!

Master, Master e-mailed me early this morning telling me that he had secured tickets to a sporting event on Sunday.  Even mentioned NOT to tell son.

In fact, just to be clear, here is his e-mail verbatim:

I think i may have secured <insert event name> Tickets for Sunday.  I will let you know later.  Don’t tell <insert son’s name>!

Now, I took this to mean that Master, Master secured tickets for us (and to keep it a secret from son so as not to make him jealous).  However, I was mistaken…

[Conversation in kitchen upon Master, Master's return home from work this evening]

Master:  I got two tickets for this Sunday’s event!  

Contessa:  I know, I got your e-mail, and I’m so excited to go!

Master:  Ummm, I was thinking son and I would go…

Contessa:  You’re kidding, right?  Your e-mail said NOT to tell son. 

Master:  I wanted to surprise him.  I didn’t think you’d WANT to go…

Contessa :  So, you weren’t even planning on taking me?  *crushed*

Master :  Well, don’t get MAD AT ME!… YOU and son can go together. *huff, puff*

Contessa:  Just forget it.  Take son.

Master :  I’ll purchase a third ticket so we can ALL go…

Contessa:  Nevermind…  seriously, nevermind.

(will i never learn?)

Wednesday’s Abs: Cristiano Ronaldo

Stephanie Klein is Moose (errr, Mousse?)

Oh, she’s a dish alright (and gutsy to boot!). Enjoy…

more about “Greek Tragedy“, posted with vodpod

 

Kettle Chips, Skyline Chili, and Hummus

Well, today I got my appetite back.  Which, at first, sounds like a positive thing.  Until you read the title of this post and immediately think, “Oh no, she didn’t!”

(Oh, yes she did) 

*whimper* 

Master, Master

I sense your displeasure with my illness.  Perhaps I should just die?

Bronchitis and a Breathing Treatment

Received a breathing treatment at Urgent Care yesterday.  Feeling somewhat better.  Chest is definitely NOT as tight.  Was sent home from doctor’s office with strong antibiotic and an inhaler.  First time I’ve ever needed a breathing treatment, or an inhaler.  Who knew I was this sick?  Doc gave me another 2-3 days off work, but I’ll likely show tomorrow.  I hate sitting around on my ass all day…  besides, the antibiotic should have definitely kicked in by then.  definitely.

Still no running.  Doc says wait until lungs are clear (no wheezing, no crackles).

Wheezing, crackling lungs.  Sexy huh?

 

Monday’s Nun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Memorial Day

The Love Movies are Made of…

Movies and TV are good at making you want.  making you dream of bigger things.  putting notions into your head that such things are possible.  Take love for instance.  It’s been romanticized– and made bigger than life– in movies since before i was born.  it makes us believe in extraordinary, fairytale love.  in soulmate love.  my one-and-only love. 

We begin to imagine that such a love is possible.  we begin to think in terms of “he/she is out there.” and, worse yet, for those of us with significant others, we may just examine our own loves and begin to think, “what’s wrong with my mate… where did i go wrong?”

I used to be a believer.  Hell, not only was I a believer, I actually had convinced myself that I was living the “love that movies are made of.”  Seemingly, we had it all– two wonderful kids (boy and girl)– 4 bedroom home in the suburbs, the Lexus and the Audi, well paying careers, an active sex life.  BLISS from the word GO.   so serenely happy.   and then he goes and cheats with some 29-year-old soulmate from the office.

A second soulmate?  a new THE ONE?  this time it’s a “for real” extraordinary love– first try having been a terrible mistake.  that first time, being me.  the wife.  the one that was living the “love movies are made of” life.  remember me?

And this is why i begin to hate love stories.  and why the term soulmate leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  and why i want to puke when I watch Grey’s Anatomy and they define Derek and Meredith’s love as EXTRAORDINARY.

And you know what?  While it may seem that I’m blaming my husband for my disbelief, that I’m mad at him for making me a non-believer, it’s more like I’m mad at myself.  for buying into the myth.  for convincing myself that i had the movie love.  for believing the fairytale…