Monday, November 2, 2009

boo hoo.


helen and i are home sick watching "unfaithful," and HOT DAMN i forgot what a sexy movie this is. if you haven't seen this bad girl make it a point to do so. NOW. netflix this shit, or ask me to lend it to you. ooh wee. one of my favorite junk tinglers of all time. the fuck scene in the hallway?! bitch, please! my eyeballs almost melted out of my face when i first saw that, and sarah and i watched this shit in the theater. i nearly bit through my goddamned tongue.
let's be clear, if i am ever married or engaged or in a seriousish long-term booty call situation with someone and olivier martinez comes along and wants to have an affair I'M DOING IT. i wouldn't hesitate for a second, you hear me? i'd be half-undressed before he even got to the L in "hello." if the producers wanted this shit to be realistic she would've been agonizing over whether or not it was worth it to fuck the mail man or the weird trainer at her gym, not this fine ass hunk of delicious. in the beginning when she was all "i can't do this!" and ran out of his place i turned to sarah and she rolled her eyes and was like, "bitch, PLEASE." i would have been up in his apartment that first day running him a bath and calling a divorce attorney. then i would call home. "hey husband, this is sam. i am NEVER COMING HOME AGAIN. burn my shit."

every scene is beautifully shot, and there's plenty of nakedness for people of all gender and persuasion to enjoy. i loved that connie wore all her fancy slips and beautiful underpinnings when she was about to see paul, because isn't that the best thing about having someone new to get into bed with? all of my swanky bras and panties sit in my dresser gathering dust, because 1 i got no mans 2 they're too nice for school and 3 i work in a goddamned animal hospital. it takes a concerted effort not to roll into work wearing my pajamas, and i'd be lying if i said i've never worn anything to work that hadn't been slept in the night before, but wearing my sexy ruffles to maybe get peed on ain't happening.

dude, we just got to the part where paul and connie get busy in the restaurant bathroom. i think it's hot, but helen doesn't seem to, since she is now busying herself with a french fry. maybe if it were some cats in heat she'd change her mind. anyway, my favorite scene is the one right after this, when they're back at his place and he's undressing her piece by piece (and exposing those sex bruises he left on her thighs), and she says "you're the only thing in my mind when i wake up every morning, you're in my brain before i even open my eyes." goddamn it. of all the lines in all of the scenes in all of the movies, that is the line that embodies where i'm trying to get to in my love life. do you know what i'm saying? that passionate, desperate, all-consuming love. i mean, this is a bitch with a husband and a kid, and she was so totally wide open for le stud that she couldn't even keep her shit together.

i'm too practical to ever really lose my mind over some asshole, but i've dated dudes i wouldn't split a sandwich with, let alone any i'd jeopardize my marriage and forget to pick my kid up at school and burn dinner for, and a change might be rad. some dashing, handsome stranger who sweeps in and saves me from a sexy windstorm (how perfect was that?!) and makes me tea and gives me band-aids and tells me to slap him in the face before he rips my sensible mom clothes off. and i don't have to listen to any bullshit about his dumb job (boring) or his dumb parents (BORING) because we both know we're only here for the heady romance, which is fleeting, so we'd better make the most of our time and not fuck it up with all that useless chatting. less discourse, more intercourse. (if i had a car, i would totally put that on a bumper sticker.)

i think i could only handle, like, four or five days of that before i was too exhausted to keep it up, though. i don't have the temperament for carefree love affairs; sooner or later i'm going to be tired or irritated and he's going to figure out that not only am i a real person (and not the fun movie version of myself), but i'm also an idiot and a miserable asshole. and how long can you keep putting your dick in that? it takes a dude with some tough onions to handle a bitch constantly cracking jokes at his expense, and LOVE IT, and most dudes who are heavy on the fantasy tend to lack a little bit in the humor department.

i have strep throat and a raggedy upper respiratory infection and i feel like dog shit sprinkled with cat shit covered in rat shit. and i am the absolute worst sick patient when i'm at home. i just lay around in my own filth feeling sorry for myself and wishing i had both a maid and a nurse on staff, moaning about how terrible i feel and letting an entire box worth of used kleenex pile up next to me in the bed. i have two bedside tables (don't ask) and they are currently a shrine to infectious disease: bottles of water and vitamins, boxes of tylenol cold, prescription bottles of amoxicillin and steroid nasal sprays, little tubs of vicks and vaseline and carmex, hand sanitizers, and a tube of eucerin.

helen has feline herpes, so i run a cool humidifier all the time for her, and now that i, too, am ravaged with disease i added two warm ones to the mix. it's like a steam room in here, without the fat naked dudes. i have been wearing the same jams since saturday, and i changed out of them once to go to breakfast with corey and laura yesterday, and once to drag my sorry ass to school this morning. and i only did that because i had a big exam in biology and fuck if i'm going to break my ass studying how to diagram and label mitosis and protein synthesis and DNA replication and then stay in bed and get an F on the test. i took a handful of cold medicine and two bottles of naked juice and i hacked my way through it.

the worst thing about being sick is that it shows you who you really are at the core. if i had any illisuions about being some neat and tidy well put together sort of person, they'd be shattered by how quickly i devolved into a gnarly troll dragging herself from the kitchen to the bathroom and back to bed shrouded in blankets. it's when i'm sick that i miss my excellent mother the most; that bitch was a licensed practical nurse, and she coddled and babied me on top of it. when i was ten i had pink eye, and in the mornings when i woke up and my eyes were too crusty to open, i would just lie in bed yelling until she came and put warm compresses over my eyes and cleaned the crap out. i never cleaned my own wounds, flushed my own puke, or dumped my own potty. she would even brush my teeth for me if i decided i didn't feel like it.

spoiled rotten.

helen keller is the only one having a blast around here. she is the laziest little bitch on earth and loves when i'm home; my apartment is cold as shit (why is it november 2nd and the fucking HEAT isn't on yet? riddle me that, building manager!) and i'm a giant source of heat for her to snuggle up on.

so in addition to staging the mister irby pageant, i am also going to hold auditions for the role of "samantha's nursemaid." you don't have to be a real nurse, you just have to not mind making tea, filling all of the humidifiers, flipping my pillows to the cool side, and rubbing my back until i fall asleep. in exchange i would be willing to write you a post-dated check for a minimal amount and you can watch whatever movies you want and play with helly if she'll let you. you can live with us if you want, but you'll have to adhere to our no dishes rule and go to bed by ten every night. serious applicants only.