Passion buys the farm

We had an interesting struggle the other night as we were getting into bed. In a rare display of night-time amour, Eric wanted the sex. In a yet rarer display of sexual disinterest, I wanted not the sex.

Eric: Mmm baby, you're so hot. So hot.

Carol: We're not doing it, you know.

Eric: But I love you, I want you so bad.

Carol: Get away from me, I'm going to vomit.

Eric was persistent for about 10 minutes, wanting to "hold" me. He was all the way over on my side of the bed, and I kept on squirming and slapping his hands away, complaining of headache, ticklishness, and nausea.

Eric: I want to kiss you. (kiss kiss)

Carol: I think there's a hard booger in my nose. Every time you kiss me and smush my nose in, it kind of hurts, like there's a thick crusted up hard booger in there.

Eric: ...that's not sexy.

Carol: Good, get that thing away from me.

Eric: This sucks!!

Carol: We did it yesterday. And the day before.

Eric: I WANT MORE!!!

Carol: YOUR PENIS IS POISON!!!!

Finally, Eric was convinced not to try and do me. We struck up a bargain wherein I didn't have to submit to his lovemaking at the moment, but had to promise to give it to him the following day. I agreed on the condition that I could be on bottom. Then I acquiesced to going over to his side of the bed to snuggle. Snuggle snuggle. Then I thought I smelled something.

Carol: Did you just fart?

Eric: No...do you want me to?

Carol: Why would I want you to?!

Eric: What if you fall asleep, and then I do you while you're sleeping?

Carol: Get away from me!!

Marriage is so fun. And no, I didn't end up giving it to him the next day either. Or the day after that. Maybe today...but I doubt it. I'm really tired today.

Anybody Out There got a tissue?

Earlier this week, I finished reading Anybody Out There by Marian Keyes. I love Marian Keyes, she has a fantastic writing style, and I love her awesome female characters and the gorgeous sexy men for whom they spread their well-formed legs. I was really looking forward to this new book because it was big and looked meaty and delightful.

Let me tell you, it was not delightful. I was not filled with delight by this book. I spent the entire weekend crying my goddamn eyes out. I swear to you, the first 25% of the book, you're mostly curious and confused, and then the remaining 75% of the book, you'll spend bawling so hard you can't possibly read the words on the page.

This is not to say that the book wasn't excellent, because it truly was. It just made me feel like I wanted to die.

When Eric noticed I was crying, he was quite alarmed. We were sitting on the couch in the sunny afternoon, he was playing Paper Mario, and I was reading my book. He was understandably preoccupied with his video game, so he didn't notice that I had been silently weeping for five minutes. This unfortunately meant that he jumped when I suddenly I screamed "Give me the tissue box!!!!!" Then he watched, appalled while I cried for the next two hours, mopping and licking up my tears and snot.

I had to take breaks from my book all weekend, and it took ages to finish the thing. I usually eagerly read through books very fast, but every time I picked it up, I'd be crying within a minute. It was very draining.

On Saturday morning, I had to go poo. I don't ever go poo without a book, unless it's a tragic accident wherein I think I'm going to go pee, but then I sit down and halfway through my pee, a piece of poo sticks its head out and goes "Look at me...fllllllllllorp!", and is halfway out of my butt by the time my pee is finished. And then I'm angry because I have no book. Most of the time, if this starts to happen, I frantically call out to Eric to bring me a book because some poo is sneaking out. Then he'll bring me a book and everything will be fine. But sometimes, I might be at home by myself, or Eric may be pooing in the other washroom, and then there's no one to bring me a book. I am forced to sit there reading nothing while I poo. Angrily.

So anyway, I had to poo on Saturday morning, so I took my book and went to the washroom. I sat down. I opened my book. I started pooing. I started crying. It was the first time that I've ever felt the simultaneous evacuation of tears and feces from my body at the same time. I sorrowfully felt my poo (wet and slippery, solid but with an almost oily consistency) push slowly but deliberately out of my poo-hole, as tears ran down my face, and I gulped for air between sobs. It was very odd, and felt very wrong. I now understand why bawling and defecating don't go together like ramma lamma lamma ke-dingity dingy dong. Because you're subtly distracted in an incomparable way as the air gently fills with the aroma of stool. It feels gross and ridiculous. But that's what I did on Saturday.

Bet you didn't think this was going to be a poo post.

I am gross and sneaky

My boss emailed me this morning:

From: Cowan, Karl
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:14 AM
To: Chan, Carol
Subject: Default report category

Hi Carol,

It appears that you have accidentally changed the SAP Default Report Category (see attached). This has caused some programs to not work properly. Manuel will set it back to the original version.

Report Categories do not behave like other standard SAP objects. They don’t warn you that you are changing the standard. Be careful next time.

------------------------------------------

From: Chan, Carol
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:15 AM
To: Cowan, Karl
Subject: RE: Default report category

Oh my goodness. So sorry about that, it won't happen again.

Carol

------------------------------------------

From: Cowan, Karl
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:21 AM
To: Chan, Carol
Subject: RE: Default report category

No problem. It could have happened to anyone.

------------------------------------------

From: Chan, Carol
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:24 AM
To: Cowan, Karl
Subject: RE: Default report category

BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME?!?!?!!!!! **sob sob sob**

------------------------------------------

I got such a big kick out of this, I copied it and showed it to Eric. Eric messaged me on MSN:


Eric says:
HAHAHA... you're cute!

Carol says:
Yeah, I liked it.

Carol says:
I peeled off a large piece of pinky toeskin yesterday, and it's like a trophy on my desk

Eric says:
GROSS!!!!

Eric says:
You did this at work?!?!?!!!!

Eric says:
You're so gross!!!!

Carol says:
No!

Carol says:
I'm so CUTE!

Carol says:
Awwww....look at me.

Carol says:
I'm so cute!

Eric says:
You were cute! Now, you are gross! SO GROSS!!

Carol says:
....so cute?

Carol says:
(Angel Face Emoticon)

Eric says:
awww! cute!

Carol says:
Yeah!!!

Carol says:
(heh heh heh)

Eric says:
sneaky! you're so sneaky!

I got such a big kick out of this, I blogged it. Bloggy bloggy.

I will end with a long overdue haiku.

Toeskin, hard and dry
Pick it, peel it, ease it off
See it on my desk

Williams Sonoma dissed me good

Eric and I popped into Williams Sonoma Yorkdale this past weekend to visit David while he was working. From my brief stint at this store last Christmas, I made a few friends who still recognize me (one of them thinks Eric is uber hot, so he likes stopping by a lot). One of them, an older Vietnamese-or-some-other-kind-of-Asian-so-I-can't-tell-what-kind-she-is-at-least-I-know-she's-not-Chinese-okay-so-sue-me woman greeted me in loud tones.

VietWoman: "Hallo! Oh!! Pregnant already!!!"

Carol: "Uhh.....nooo. Are you saying I look fat?!"

VietWoman: "Ahh...ahhhh.....ahhhhh.....No!! No...just...ahhhh.....yes."

Carol: "What?!!"

VietWoman: "Ahh.....ahhhh.....haha....ahhh, you know. Hay! Shoodint wait too long, you know!! Better for doing sooner!!"

Carol: "Are you trying to cover up for calling me fat?"

VietWoman: "Ahhh....ahhhh....haha, no!! Ahhh....."

Carol: "Okay, I better get back to shopping. I'll talk to you later."

VietWoman: "Ahhh...ahhhh.....ahhhh....."

I immediately vowed not to disclose this most embarrassing conversation to anybody ever. Five minutes later, I told everyone behind the cash counter in the store. Fifteen minutes later, I told Eric and David. That evening, I told Eric's entire family. And four days later, on this overcast Thursday morning, I am telling you. I reveal my shame. If I was any less embarrassed, I would put a jihad on that woman's family, but I'm secretly mortified. So I'm just going to eat a plate of mozza sticks and onion rings and drink the tears that fall from my face and roll off the ripples of my voluminous paunch, collecting in the watertight chalice formed by my blooming adipose tissue-filled thighs and groin area with a straw. I hope I don't accidentally end up drinking my own pee.