11/30/08

The Week of Blame, Part II: I Blame TV!

Last night I had a dream in which I spoke with Barack Obama. We talked, and despite his being very presidential, I found him very friendly. We discussed what a president's role is and we discussed what my role will be in his presidency. Unfortunately, I do not recall what we agreed upon. I'm like George in that Seinfeld episode where he was working for The Yankees and they gave him a big project and he was trying to figure out what he was supposed to do without directly asking. I think this means I will be the Obama administration's Laytex Salesman.

Speaking of tv, as the throngs of you know from last week's episode, I am a big fan of The Mentalist tv program. Well, last night I watched another show for the first time: Numbers. You know, I used to like math before I majored in it and I even studied astrology for many years, so one might think I would like this show which featured a not-really-as-cute-as-he-thinks math "genius" which seemed to be trying to teeter between the value of studying the symbolism inherent within the occult and calling it all bullshit. Then there's the dad and the life lesson and the woman with the sexy voice who's smarter than her legs might have you think. You would think with two of the actresses from Rescue Me, the only tv show I'll ever admit to watching, and all that other stuff I might actually like it, but, you know, I didn't. They blamed religion for violence, and while I know I am their demographic in that one... still, nope.

Mr. Bee and I were in the mood to watch a movie, with all the baby Bees out of the house staying at their grandparents until today, before we sexed it up, but we were too lazy to get one, but then there was some Ben Stiller, Jennifer Aniston flick on tv and we thought, "Meh." But, it wasn't as good at all that and I just turned the darn thing off, showered, changed my sheets and waited on the bed for Mr. Bee to peel himself away from World of Warcraft. He's a level 72 on one of his characters or some shit and though he did come on in and get some somesome, he really wasn't all that into it and I became convinced again that I am a lesbian. So you see, children, today I'm blaming TV. TV lied to me, you know.

These are some of the lies it told me:
If I chew gum, my breath will be minty fresh.
Men are who aloof, but handsome, are desirable.
Men want to have sex more than women.
I should be focused on what's dangerous in the world.
Sex sells. (It doesn't. I've tried.)
Avril Lavigne is a rebel.
People don't like Eddie Haskells.
Celebrities are humanitarians.
If I smoke pot, I'll be skinny like a crêpe, but people won't like me.
If I talk to my kids about drugs... (uh- what's the rest?)
Owls talk.
a.) People who are dumber than me win and make large sums of money every day.
b.) I'm not as smart as I think I am.
There is something useful in knowing the lyrics to Journey songs.
I really could go on and on, but surely, you see my point. Bold and hurtful lies we've been told.

I've decided that in order to have a threeway with Mr. Bee and some poor unsuspecting cool, sexy, middle-aged bi-woman, I am going to have to get off my Duff™ and place an ad in the Austin Chronicle personals. But, none of that un-truth in advertising bullshit here.

My and Mr. Bee's ad will look like this (DO NOT tell him I am even pretending to do this):

Cool, overweight couple seeks female to ravish and lavish sexually (but more lazily than that might imply):

If you are the 40ish, French lead singer for a hip band (or at least embody that mentality), sport a mod haircut, but don't use the word "sport," and are just insecure enough to like our foibles, then you might be the one for us.

Him: 39, hetero, well-endowed (not that it should matter to you), over-worked, WOW addict; great father, bass player with funky beat, willing to do kinky things if coddled with patience. (If you get him stoned enough behind her back and like to do dishes, he will leave her for you.)

Her: 38, bi, eager beaver with large breasts and sweet badunkadunk, "writer" (who will blog it- don't worry, no photos); supportive, creative and loyal. (If you bring a strap-on, handcuffs, and plenty of rechargeable batteries, she will leave him for you- if you also bring the keys.)

No: porn stars, hidden cameras, polygamy stings, or blackmailers (we don't have any money or pride anyway), please.

P.S.- If you have a male partner and sneak him in the back door (no pun intended here, but now that you mention it...), you won't be turned away.
And so you can see, Your Honor, that's why I blame TV.

16 comments:

Anonymous said...

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darkblack said...

'If I smoke pot, I'll be skinny like a crêpe, but people won't like me'

Cut down on flab and unwanted human interaction at the same time?

Lively up myself

;>)

Mathman6293 said...

Commune eh?

Anonymous said...

Note to self: Pee before reading Freida Bee.

Oh my dear. I will give up using the word sport.

P.S. Yes to the commune. It is definitely time. We're both expecting moves, right?

Liberality said...

remind me to not let my hubby read your blog--he would definitely be looking for you out in Austin.

Randal Graves said...

You had to ruin a perfectly good post flush with sexy sexaholism with mention of Journey. Sheesh.

What the hell is a level 72? That's not very D&Dish. My geekism is offended.

Oh, if you chew Juicy Fruit, your breath won't smell like mint at all, but a laboratory-created faux banana/orange/apple mix. TV knows all.

Comrade Kevin said...

TV lied to me. My brain looks nothing like an egg frying when on drugs.

However, that makes me wonder if I got gypped somehow. I want the stuff that makes eggs look like brains. Sounds neat! Did I quit too soon?

Anonymous said...

I like the ad! It actually manages to be sexy and playful, unlike most such ads, which are generally creepy and/or overly structured. If you don't place it for yourself, I suggest you hire yourself out as an ad writer for the hopeless. :P

Utah Savage said...

I have a rather large lot with one bigish house and one very small house in the city, close to good schools and bus lines, and it's paid for. Can you commune here please?

And that ad placed in the Mormon's own almost legitimate daily newspaper is sure to attract many participants, since the Mo's are very into the multiple partners at the same time thing. It's genetic in their case I think. Some Mormon women are actually quite attractive. If you can use a gag on them, you might have a lovely time.

PS, all Mormon women like to do dishes. And I am not now nor have I ever been a Mormon. So, of course, I do not love to do dishes. Mr. Bee is safe from me. You however are just my type.

enc said...

The tv is a lying liar. Billy Mays will try to convince you that you need Ginsu knives, Polly Pockets, and a Snuggie all at once. But why? Your deepest needs and desires will never be fulfilled. Not even the "minty fresh" one.

La Belette Rouge said...

I think you should be Obama's minister of funny and deconstructing media. Huh? Great job for you. Please take the job. You'd be great at it.

dguzman said...

Now I know whom I'll ask to write my ad when I move away from PA! You're a genius.

dguzman said...

Oh, and GOOD LUCK! You're bound to find someone in Austin.

Anonymous said...

How come you get Obama in your dreams and I get frickin' Sarah Palin?

Dr. Zaius said...

If I smoke pot, I won't become skinny. It would probably enhance the crêpe, though.

In college, I knew far more guys that had to drop out because they never went to class or did homework because of WOW than pot.

Romius T. said...

I;m going to admit that I had taken a break from reading blogs. even yours. But I absolutlely love the new voice you found for the blame week. real funny without trying to be funny.