Team Work

This weekend the Engineer and I travelled to Seattle for what is fondly known as 'Black Friday'. Firstly, I am an idiot as I had no idea Americans celebrated Thanksgiving on a Thursday. What an odd day to have Thanksgiving dinner? Why not Sunday or Monday like we do? But this is neither here nor there, as we ended up in the States on one of the busiest shopping days of the year and what day people eat turkey is of no consequence.

The Engineer has a new job and so has relented his highschoolesque/university student look for a more mature business type professional look. Praise the lord! And I am a Buddhist. While at Nordstroms I could no longer look at his baggy, torn and worn jeans so forced him to buy a new pair of Sevens. Well, I didn't really need to force him because once he saw what a good pair of jeans can do for one's butt it was a no brainer. It was glorious! The shops bussling with people vying for good deals and Christmas presents - it just put me in a wonderful mood. Or maybe it was spending someone else's money for once.

Back at the hotel, the Engineer and I snuggled in the king-sized bed with Indian take-out and a movie rental on the huge flat-screen TV. We watched a good old fashioned Hollywood comedy before getting down to the hard stuff. That's right - porn. I have never really seen a porn and thought it would be a fun way to spice up our 'life'. After purusing the very large selection, we decided on 'Bad Teacher Bad Student'. GAH! The acting and writing was HORRIFIC!!!! And the guy was so freaking ugly! I couldn't handle it (clearly I wasn't expecting an Oscar award winner but at least some decent sentences!) so I turned it off thinking we could still switch. So I called down to the front desk and said I made a mistake - he assured me it would come off of our bill. We pressed our second choice "Horny Cowgirls" or something like that. OH MY GOD. There was no speaking in this one, just bad fiddle music with out-of-sync pleasure noises. And once again, the men, yes MEN, were brutal. Horribly gross and wearing overalls (just for the record, I grew up on a farm and no farmer I have ever met wears overalls). Not that the girls were great either. The first scene was two man one girl action that looked terribly unpleasant and actually disgusting. I couldn't help but laugh and cover my eyes. The second scene was even worse - she was in this horribly awkward position standing up with her knees together but her feet apart and her skirt halfway down. And then they started doing IT. Quite frankly, the male body whilst thrusting is not the most attractive. Nor is the close-up of the . . . . well you can fill it in for yourself. I went from laughing to almost sick - the Engineer was also quite disgusted and lay on the other side of the bed. Needless to say, the film had the opposite effect.

But this is not the worst of it. When we went to check out, we had in fact been charged for both films. When we started to dispute this, the kind girl said 'no problem - can you remember the title?". We both answered no very quickly. Then she went to the back and said, "If I yell it out to you will you remember?" Oh god. The lobby was full and I turned to the Engineer and told him I couldn't handle this. Then I asked him for the car keys but promptly motored out of there not having the patience for the keys. And I motored with my little wheelie suitcase.

I was waiting in the car when the Engineer came out exclaiming how happy he was that he could count on me for team work in sticky situations. Apparently he looked like a creepy man by himself. But seriously, I just can't handle it - remember how I told the doctor I was getting married?? The girl must have seen the titles and didn't call out the name, thank goodness. Seriously, don't ever argue porn on the bill, just let it go. But the Engineer is too fiscally responsible for that.

Doctor Shame

I went to the doctor the other day with problems regarding my birth control pills. I just don't really want to be on them anymore so wanted to find out what my other options are. There aren't many that I like. In fact there are none that I like. Why can't men be on some sort of birth control pill? Anyhoo, that is not the point of this entry.

My point is that I am a big fat liar!!! These lies spill out of my mouth before I can stop them - and they come out of no where but suddenly I just can't seem to tell the truth. This happens when I bump into people I don't like or when my doctor asks me how long have I been in my current relationship. Why can't I just act like the adult that I am and tell her the truth: I have been with my current boyfriend, the Engineer, for nearly a year. But the shame of being in a pre-marital sexual relationship in the modern age makes me say: I have been with my fiance for two and a half years! FIANCE! TWO AND A HALF YEARS! Why am I ashamed? Why do I care if she thinks I am a slut (not that I am)? Why do I keep telling people I have a fiance? GAH!

I had a doctor filling in for my doctor once who tried to talk me out of birth control. She thought I should just say 'no' - and this wasn't when I was 17, try a few years ago. She was a mousy little git with brown stringy hair. Probably believed in Jesus and thought I was going to hell or she herself was so desperate for a date she tried to stop anyone else from dating. In any case, it was highly inappropriate.

But why do I feel so bad about being a non-married girl asking for the pill? I think it is the way the doctor says 'relationship' - why doesn't she just come right out and say "who are you screwing now". Vulgar as it seems, it is perfectly true. Relationship says to me dinners with wine, holding hands during scary movies, bringing ice cream over when I have a sore throat. But when the doctor says 'relationship' it brings to mind all those private things we do that have now just been made public because I am having problems with my pill. Suddenly my wonderful and happy relationship is scientific and going for an ultra-sound in two weeks.

Well, at least the Engineer laughed at my lies. Now it is two places he can't go with me . . . .