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…
I hung in the shadows of your life,
A prominent, deserving Mona Lisa,
Yearning to be displayed– front and center.
Stripped from the walls of your heart,
Relegated to a corner in the garage,
A discarded, garish Velvet Elvis,
Paper sign tacked to frame– ”make best offer.” ~Contessa Confessa
Sad. Super sad. Wishing I would have waited for it to come to DVD. Better to have watched at home on the couch wrapped in a blankie, sipping a cup of tea.
BTW, sisters can be such bitches… no?
This movie was:
(-) infidelity– although the premarital library sex is pretty freakin’ hot!
(+) puking– one soldier shown puking up blood; another soldier (different scene) shown puking over a railing while on the beach.
Contessa says: save your $8.50; but definitely rent the DVD.
I might write about how my best friend– at the age of 40– decided to have breast implant surgery. And then ponder what that says, if anything, about aging/self-image.
I might write about how disappointed I’ve been in some of the major choices I’ve made in my life– specifically regarding my marriage and my career.
I might write about how I’m still deeply wounded from my husband’s affair– despite the fact that it happened quite a few years ago.
I might write about what a paranoid freak I am; and how I often have the same reoccurring dream– the one where I open my car door while speeding down the freeway, reach down to touch the ground, and my arm gets ripped off.
I might write about how I feel I was never really loved.
A few nights ago, I stumbled upon a poetry bulletin board where posters were encouraged to list their top ten favorite poems. Will, most likely, be hard for me to pick just ten– but here’s my attempt (beginning with this poem– others soon to follow):
Mock Orange Louise Gluck
It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.
I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man’s mouth
sealing my mouth, the man’s
paralyzing body–
and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union–
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
How can I rest?
How can I be content
while there is still
that odor in the world?
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Master, Master, YouTube, about me, hate, life, love, relationships | Tagged: hate, Hit the Road Jack, loser, love, marriage, Master, Ray Charles, relationships, YouTube | 
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Posted by Contessa Confessa
Sad. Super sad. Wishing I would have waited for it to come to DVD. Better to have watched at home on the couch wrapped in a blankie, sipping a cup of tea. 
