That time of the month

My old roommate Gloria has a BScH in Life Science, a Masters in Pharmacy, and is doing a PhD in Pharmacoeconomics. Today she sought me out to have this conversation:

Gloria: Hey, you're supposed to get your period next week right?

Carol: Yes, but there's pink on my toilet paper today!!! WTF?!?!

Gloria: Okie, well apparently you got my period cause mine isn't here!

I'm not a doctor or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. Still, I guess in case I'm wrong, if anyone sees my period lying around, can you please give it to Gloria? Thanks.

Solar system in the toilet

It's a very nice Sunday morning. Just now, I was disinfecting the kitchen when I heard the toilet flush, and Eric came out of the washroom.

Eric: "Hey honey, guess what? I just made poopie, and it was like a solar system! There was one large poo right in the middle, with four other poos of varying sizes surrounding it. And it was all kind of whirling around!"

Carol: "Wow! As soon as I finish cleaning this sink, I'm going to go and blog that."

Eric: "No!"

Carol: "I'm going to do it."

Eric: "Dammit!"

Stuff on W

Last night, we ate an unbalanced meal of baguette with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and I made some chicken salad wraps to bring for lunch today. Eric had gone into the kitchen to clean up the dishes, and I started flipping through the channels. I saw a movie on W that caught my eye.

My Stepson, My Lover.

It was an edge-of-your-seat thriller about a wife whose husband is too busy with work to fulfill her sexual needs, so of course she has panting, breathy, oddly silent sex with his son. Then the father finds out, and goes after the son, but since the father is puny with a thin mustache, and the son is a muscular athletic-type, the father obviously gets thrown onto some rocks and killed.

The dialogue was fantastic.

Wife: "Rick?"
Husband: "Can you explain this fax to me?? You think I don't know what you've been doing? You think you can make a fool out of me? You think I don't know where you've been? What you've been doing?! With MY SON!! MY SON!!!" (shake shake)
Wife: (cowers, whimpers)
Husband: "I'm gonna go and TAKE CARE of him. And when I get back, I'm gonna TAKE CARE of you!!"
Wife: (cowers, whimpers)

I'm not sure who's in charge of programming for the Women's Network, but I think he should probably be fired for this.

In other news, now that Laura and Linas' wedding is over and they're basking in the Costa Rican sun, we seem to have stopped working out. We were supposed to go Monday, but we ate too much cheese, and decided to go watch the hockey game instead. Then we were supposed to go yesterday, but in a dazzling display of mutual support, we talked ourselves right out of it, and spent the evening eating the aforementioned baguette and oil. And watching My Stepson, My Lover.

I'm an exotic dancing sensation

I am so hot, I can't even tell you. I went to a bachelorette party this weekend for my friend Laura who's getting married on Saturday. Her maid of honour organized this very cool exotic dance class for us to attend, followed by drinks and food (yum drinks and food), and then a night on the town.

First off, the dance studio was downtown at Spadina and Queen. If you don't know where those streets are, don't worry, neither do I. I had to drive down there on my own, because Eric had gone to the guys' party way earlier. Normally, I don't drive anywhere except to work, or to my parents' house, or to Eric's parents' house. Eric is the designated driver, because he's much much better at it, and we don't want to die. I got lost three times on the way to the dance studio, and nearly killed a a jaywalking Chinese family of five. At one point, I also drove into a large empty cardboard box in the middle of the road, and pushed it slowly in front of me for quite some time, attracting the stares of people in the immediate area who were wondering what the hell that dragging sound was. After parking (poorly) in a sketchy and very dark underground parking lot for five dollars, I dashed up Spadina, found the dance studio, and ran in as they were starting the class, panting and sweating from the incredibly strenuous two flights of stairs. Last one to arrive! Sweet!!

First on the exotic dancing agenda: we got all sexy and humpy on a chair. There was a lot of hair flipping, and back arching, and bending over and feeling ourselves up...and my lack of flexibility came to chomp savagely on my ass, because it did not feel good. It looked like the Tin Man trying to fornicate a chair. I checked out everyone else, and they were all looking wicked sexy, and contorting themselves into various sexual poses. I felt like a loser, so I sucked it up and flung my body around with wild abandon, desperately hoping that I wouldn't hurt myself and have to go to the emergency room, thereby messing up the class for everyone else. I know Laura would not have been impressed if that had happened. She's already not too impressed with how I keep on saying I'm going to jump in the pool at the wedding. And she knows I can't swim.

Next, we got to practice sexy faces to go with our sexy dancing. Now I'm not going to lie to you, I've tried practising sexy faces in the mirror before. Come hither, etc etc. It don't look good. I usually look like I'm glaring angrily, or like the lights are on too bright, or like I'm trying to say "Hey, check out these multiple chins". And this time we had no mirrors! We had to pair up and make sexy faces at each other. I got Suna, a fiesty little brown sexpot with a fantastic rack who had the most awesome "Yeah you wish you could get this" look. I responded by giving her a pursed-lips-sucking-in-air "Oooooh" look, and she burst out laughing at me. I joined in the laughter, but inside I was mortified.

The instructor made the bridal party do the sexy chair humping dance for the rest of us, and so I decided to treat the bride like a stripper and stuck money in her bra.

Then we got to take turns on two stripper poles. The instructor demo-ed a few moves and then turned on the music. This was exciting, except that I was on a pole the same time as Marcy (Marci?) who is this extremely cute, extremely hot, extremely tiny blonde babe, and she could really work it. While she humped and felt up her stripper pole like a wet dream, I fell down twice and got a huge pole bruise on my right shin. I was so hot, I can't even tell you.

Later that night, we took our new skillz out to the clubz. We went to Devil's Martini, and it was filled with sketchy and sweaty older men. This was the first time I had been in a club by myself as a married woman, and I definitely think that I'm sending out some new kind of vibe. First guy who started talking to me asked me what school I went to, what I took, where I live...then asked me if I thought I would ever be in need of a chiropractor because he was thinking of opening a practice near my condo. I made the best of the situation by demanding that he give me a shoulder massage, because in my opinion, chiropractors give great shoulder massages.

Some time after that, drunk sexy-rack Suna staggered up to me.
D.S.R. Suna: "I have never kissed a girl before. So I'm going to kiss you."
Carol: "Sure, okay."
D.S.R. Suna: "No, you don't understand...I've NEVER kissed a girl before!"
Carol: "Yes, okay."

She puckered her lips and approached me in much the same way that one would approach a leper with weeping sores on his face. I puckered my lips in response, to show her I was prepared. Then she pulled back.

D.S.R. Suna: "Oh my god, I can't do this. I've NEVER kissed a girl before!"

This happened no less than five times, and I think I started to become quite offended. She finally - finally! - smushed her face up to my face, and kissed me as quickly as possible. Then she walked it off, wiping at her mouth. It was the saddest girl-on-girl kiss ever.

By the time another guy came up to talk to me (four hours later), I was exhausted and not really doing the sexy moves so good. Or at all. In any case it was 2:00am, so I struck up a conversation with him about Battlestar Galactica. Turns out he hadn't seen it. He excused himself to get a drink, saying "I'll be right back! Stay there. Stay riiiiight there." He totally didn't come back. Makes no difference to me, I'm just saying. I was so hot, I can't even tell you.

What followed after the bar closed was a cab ride with an angry cabbie, followed by a freezing cold walk across two and a half city blocks along Bloor street at 3:45am to get to where my car was parked, then a confused drive back home, where I got lost twice.

I cannot tell you how good it felt to climb into bed just as the sun was coming up, next to my gorgeous sleeping man, and cuddle up to his warm oven of a muscular dozing body, as he turned to give me sleepy kisses on my head. Being married is wonderful.

Congratulations, Laura and Linas.

Recent Occurances and Thoughts

• Today, Office-Lottery-Pool-Winner Brent brought in Tim Hortons donuts for all, begotten with his god-forsaken winnings. That diabolical bastard, first he wins my money, then he feeds me fat. I was compelled to eat a chocolate covered donut and two Timbits. Damn you, Brent.
• I overheard Steve the Caretaker talking about continuing the Office Lottery Pool for as long as people want to put in money. I have been stealthily avoiding Steve the Caretaker ever since. Luckily, he has been distracted because workmen are installing new windows on one side of the building. Not my side. The building smells like caulking and glue, and I think it's killing me.
  
• We had dinner with our wedding photographer Janet Trost last night. She is awesome! She has a pilot for a boyfriend, and he's going to take us for a flight over Niagara Falls! I was nervous about dying, but she assured me that if the plane goes down, that just means it was my time.
• I'm scared of my herb garden. While I'm excited that it's growing, it creeps me out that I go to work in the morning, and there are two or three small sprouts in a pot, and then I come home, and there are over ten large sprouts in the same pot. The fact that they've been growing and moving while I was gone is scary and gives me goosebumps.
• I rock so hard at Dr. Mario, way more than Eric.
• My old roommate Gloria hung out with us all weekend, and it was awesome, because I really love to make fun of her for the guys she's dated because they're so stupid. She once dated this guy named Ryan, and she liked him because he was going to be a doctor (her father is a doctor, it's a daddy-issue thing). He had a good body, but a sinfully ugly face, and his lips were fat and pushed out so he looked like a duck. He also turned out to be a very quick shooter and a horrifying cheating asshole, so I like to call him "duckface", because it sounds like the more offensive rhyming word that begins with "F", except I won't get in trouble for swearing, and it illustrates how he looks like a duck with his lips. Aren't I clever?
• My husby is sexy and does not look like a duck.
• I have an appointment tomorrow to style and highlight my seriously long hobo hair. I've decidedly to keep it seriously long in the hobo tradition, and try to get some cool cut which will make it move on its own, like Pocahontas' hair in the Disney movie, but with blond highlights. Then I plan to start painting with the colours of the wind.
• I bought these new bras at a La Vie en Rose outlet when I went shopping with Eric's prom date Cathy over Victoria Day weekend. They were having a two-for-one event, and I found these awesome gel-bras that fit great. Made my breasts look supported and plump, but not over-the-top (nearly impossible anyway, with my lack of breast fat - honestly, why do I need so much fat in my thighs? Prioritize, for god's sake! My boobs are starving!!). This was my first time buying gel bras, and since wearing them, I have discovered that plastic gel sacs pressed against my breasts all day makes them sweaty. As previously discussed, the first thing I do when I get in the house is take off all my clothes. Last week, Eric copped a feel and then giggled and said "Your boobies are sweaty!" There was no sex for a week after that.

And finally,

• Eric made the grievous mistake of not including my two gym tank tops in his laundry schedule in a week where my uterine lining discharges from my body. This was discovered as we were preparing for a trip to the gym, and resulted in a sparky exchange, wherein it was decreed that he is now responsible for hunting down and purchasing a copy of The Brady Bunch Movie on DVD for me by tomorrow evening.
  

Freak

You think you know Eric, that he's a nice, kind, polite, doting husband. You're not wrong. You think that he isn't disturbing or crazy. You're really wrong.

I thought I had a good handle on Eric's weirdness, because I credit myself for bringing it out in him. He was kind of uptight and serious before, but I could see a glimmer of inner-silliness. I watered it and coaxed it out, and Eric is now a fun silly monkey. Silly monkey! Monkey monkey monkey!!

But a month ago, he freaked me right the hell out. It has taken me this long to be able to talk about it.

On May 2, 2006, he got home at around 6:15pm, and I was taking a nap in the guest bed. He took off his work clothes, and came to wake me up. We chatted a bit, nothing was out of the ordinary. He went to have a quick shower, because his skin was gross and clammy from riding the subway.

He came out of the shower a changed man.

I had moved from the guest room and was sitting on our marital bed, stalling on going to the gym as usual. I sprawled my jigglified body out on the king-sized goodness, and prepared for a sweet satisfying stretch. I was just breathing in and letting my muscles extend when out of my peripheral vision, I saw my husband, eyes wide open with a gaping vacant smile, arms and hands held out like a retarded dinosaur, lunging towards me with a eerily small and high pitched "raaaaaaaarr!!". My partially stretched body seized up with shock and panic and I screamed. I scrambled backward on the bed, as he pounced up like a cat and looked at me, same vacant smile, same wild eyes.

Carol: Get away from me, you freak!!
Freak: Why?
Carol: I'm stretching and you're FREAKING ME OUT!!
Freak: I'll stretch too!

Freak then proceeded to stretch, all the while holding my gaze, same vacant smile, same wild eyes. He twisted and and flexed, rolling his head to keep his eyes trained on my eyes. I watched him in horror and fascination. He looked at me. I looked at him. He looked at me. I suddenly shrieked from bunched up nerves and frustration in not being able to complete my stretch. I demanded that he leave the room so I could stretch. Freak moved off the bed, his eyes never leaving me. He glided backward towards the door and stood just outside, watching. Waiting. Same vacant smile, same wild eyes.

Carol: Get the fuck out of here!!! You're FREAKING ME OUT!!! Go into the other washroom and close the door!!!

Freak thought he would be smart. He went to the other washroom, out of my view, and closed the door. But I could tell he wasn't inside, he had simply closed the door from the outside. Sure enough, he moved slowly across my line of vision into the kitchen, very obviously not locked in the washroom. Watching me. I screamed at him, incoherent sounds. I was panicked and nervous, and I didn't know what he was doing. I could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. What was he getting? A knife?! About 15 seconds later, he reappeared in my line of vision. Same vacant smile, same wild eyes. He looked at me. And in his hand, was a wooden spoon. He just STOOD THERE STARING AT ME, HOLDING UP A WOODEN SPOON!!!

Carol: What the hell is wrong with you?!! What are you doing?? STOP IT, YOU ARE FREAKING ME OUT!!!!!!!

He backed up slowly until he was out of my line of sight again. I was so creeped out. It was all so eerie and weird!! None of it made sense!! It was like worms growing out of a piece of metal and not being able to escape. I ran out of the bedroom, into the living room. I went to the balcony and opened the screen door, maybe so that I could jump off the balcony? I don't know what I was doing, I was very panicked.

At that moment, Freak appeared again. In his hands this time was a set of metal tongs. He looked at me. I looked at him. He looked at me. And snapped the tongs twice with a gleam in his eye. SNAP SNAP!! I screamed like an incensed Amazonian retard and hurled myself at him, trying to grab his balls. I thought desperately that if I could succeed in getting my claws on his balls, he would himself freak out and snap out of his apparent bout of creepy insanity. As I lunged for his sac full of testes, he started snapping the tongs at me, and the net result was that he caught one of my hands, and I got a small cut on my middle finger.

At this point, the vacant smile and vacant eyes disappeared, and Eric quickly put away the tongs. He came back to apologize, all traces of Freak gone. I was still looking at him warily. I let him hug me and soothe me, and I willed myself to stop thinking about his terrifying rampage.

We went to the gym afterwards, and all was well.

I just wish that I would stop getting the nightmares.

I never win stuff

About a month ago at work, Steve the Caretaker came by and hustled everyone into giving him ten dollars for a lottery pool. You had to pick six numbers and then they would check the 649 numbers, and the first person to have all six of their numbers chosen would win the pot. Well, not the whole pot, Steve the Caretaker was going to take some of the money and buy some picnic tables for outside.

I told Steve the Caretaker I didn't want in, because I never win stuff. He pressured and cajoled me, and I told him to tempt me not. Then he went around to everyone else in my room, and got money and numbers from all of them. Then he came back to me and made me feel small and miserly and selfish for not particpating. Then he made me pick six numbers and took ten dollars. Steve the Caretaker is a bastard.

I just totally lost. I wasn't even close to winning - I had 3 of my six numbers, while tons of other people were just waiting for their final number. I never win stuff! This guy in my room named Brent won.

Damn you, Brent. And damn you, Steve the Caretaker.