Spliffe: (moodily stirs coffee in the grips of an obvious sulk. Finally, bursting out) What the hell was that Hugh Jackman dream about?
Body: (looking briefly up from MSN) Don't ask me. You're the one with the unconscious.
Spliffe: Don't give me that fucking tone. I would not have dreamt of Hugh Jackman doing that if you weren't all fucking full of whiney stupid hormones. Honestly, what the fuck.
Body: Oh, well I'm just soooo fucking sorry not all your dreams can be about volcanoes and running around Campania fighting crime. We're not just going through a series of epiphanies, bitch, I need something too!
Spliffe: (sighing) Look, I told you it wasn't going to be easy . . .
Body: And then you fucking did it anyways, didn't you? Nobody cares what I think.
Spliffe: Oh come on. You're fucking crazy about Figaro.
Body: Yeah, well, shut up.
(Loaded silence. We both sip the coffee)
Spliffe: It's only two more months . . . less . . .
Body: TWO FUCKING MONTHS! HOLY SHIT! Look at me, bitch. I'm beautiful and silky and appealing. I will probably never be more beautiful and silky and appealing than this. And you want me to stay under wraps for another two months, after staying under wraps for almost two months before that. When I'm old and wrinkly you'll be sorry.
Spliffe: Or I might not. I might be really glad. So might you. You're so pessimistic.
Body: You've got my head in the clouds.
Spliffe: You know we did it your way for a long time . . .
Body: And we had fun!
Spliffe: Sometimes we had fun. But in retrospect, can't you see we always had fun when we were footloose and fancy free and somewhere foreign, where we didn't have to give a fuck about what anyone thought? Is there anybody here you want?
Body: Hugh Jackman! Football players!
Spliffe: Think about what you just said.
Body: (thinks) Uhmmmm . . . oh. (lapses into silence) Look, promise me something.
Spliffe: What?
Body: If this doesn't work, can we move somewhere the men play fewer video games?
Spliffe: YES. We'll do a market study and we won't be shy of rolling blackouts. I PROMISE.
Body: Okay. Can we go to the gym now?
Spliffe: Yes, honey. We can go to the gym now.
Body: And then have some cookies?
Spliffe: Sure.
Body: And an iced coffee float?
Spliffe: Either cookies or an iced coffee float. Not both.
Body: (sulks again) Well, can we at least belch in the crowded elevator on our way up to the office?
Spliffe: We'll see.
5 commenti:
Sigh, I wish my body threw me the occasional Hugh Jackmen dream. It's just being annoying at the moment. Sigh.
Is monogamy better than celibacy? Answers on a postcard, please...
Love it! Spliffe, I wish my body was so amusing! I hope you did belch and that it was in a way that would make me proud.
Ooh, that was a good question about monogamy vs. celibacy. I started thinking about it and then my head hurt. Sorry, I've been awake since 5:43 (thanks child).
La Boome: Answers on a postcard? Does that mean don't type anything I'd be ashamed to have a postal worker read?
Monogamy is far more *frustrating* when it means celibacy, as it does at the moment. Because when you're single and celibate because all the men around you smell like catsup and you don't want to sleep with any of them or they don't want to sleep with you, it's easy to think "men are rubbishy nonsense anyways" and develop a really empowering relationship with your vibrator. But when you're celibate because you want to not break someone's heart, it's like walking around with a perpetual jones on - you really really really want something all the time and you can't have it. Figaro once compared it to a stallion having a molly in heat in its pen to get it ready to impregnate an appropriate mare - the stallion can't do the molly, but would really like to, but knows in its biological self it has to hold out for the mare. You get me?
While I'm going on about equine things, I'd like to point out the onager is known as the "Half Ass." Seriously. Wikipedia it if you don't believe me.
And the Hugh Jackman dream *was* very nice. I think I over-reacted a bit. It’s more what Hugh Jackman was saying while he was doing what he was doing that pissed me off.
Lady: You'd better have a lot of things in your box today if you’re going out with Hotstuff (heh heh). You shouldn't be at work. Go home and catch up on your sleep. And you’re calling the Mexican Hemingway? That's darling.
Melbine: I got to work 10 minutes late and my elevator up to the office was empty. I belched anyways though.
I think Hugh Jackman's arms arre too big for his little head. That being said, he makes a nice wolfman.
And I'm pretty sure what you are isn't celibate... when you can see the end in sight.
Shhh. If you tell my body it's being monogamous instead of being celibate, it's going to keep on whining about not getting any.
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