Thursday, April 05, 2007

A Certain Disenchantment Sets In

My parents weren't much for sex education -- the only information I received was from an outdated set of medical encyclopedias that had been passed down from God only knows where that spoke of contraception as "tawdry, tacky, and potentially harmful." The sex talk of my teenage years was as follows -- Do you know what sex is?, my mother asked. Yes, I said. Okay then, my mother replied. I didn't mention that I'd already had a relationship of sorts with my high school English teacher, who was too depressed to be any great shakes in bed, but had taught me a lot about Frey tag's triangle for help with my fiction writing. You take your pleasures where you can! For my mother, a certain disenchantment had already set in regarding the life of the body. Her only other sex advice was simply that on your wedding night, you should procure a sleeping pill so that you can be fast asleep right after it's over so that you don't have to dwell on unpleasantness. Alas, it's the modern day equivalent of lying back and thinking of England.
There's a new book out that suggests that women prefer chocolate to sex and that women in our society are forced to fake a huge sex drive because that's what is expected of us, not because we really have desire for it. I haven't read this book and nor has anyone I know, yet a lot of my friends have read the reviews. The very suggestion seems to get a fair deal of attention from the menfolk I know -- fear that all the women they've, umm, known over the years have been disingenuous in that most freighted of sanctuaries, the bedroom. Even though I put this book in the category of other such brilliant tomes as The Rules: Time Tested Secrets for Capturing Mr. Right, I admit to taking a certain pleasure in seeing men squirm. So much of the bullshit we're fed is directed at women becoming old maids, not doing enough for men, for ruining their fertility, their lives, and their children's lives because of their selfishness, laxity, and moral turpitude. Men don't get their panties in a bunch over these books, I might add. But this new one upsets them. What if the hopped up women in the Frederick's of Hollywood get-up would really cuddle up with a box of Godiva chocolates and watch You've Got Mail? The last time I was on a plane, the man next to me spoke of his marriage being happy until the conversation turned to the nuns in the front of the plane. Married women would make good nuns, he said. They never want to have sex. This was well before the chocolate book. That's why I go out with the boys and bitch. It's easier than trying to get my wife to sleep with me. If I'd known about the secret of the chocolate book, I could have given him some advice about what to take with him to his betrothed. I don't think this is what anyone means by having it all, but hey, you take what you can get.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"When I got out, I look like Joan Crawford, the movie star. If people want to see the girl next door, they should go next door." Joan Crawford
Cocktail Hour
Drinking music suggestion: Too Bad Jim R.L. Burnside
Benedictions and Maledictions
Three more days until The Sopranos airs!
Happy Holy Thursday!


Carmela Soprano said...

I love getting the Whitman's Sampler box of chocolates from Tony, Michelle. I just want to let you know that, on behalf of Tony and the Sopranos, we truly appreciate and are thankful for your support. We love your blog! Have a Happy Easter!

Carmela Soprano

Oscar Winner said...

Did you think Tom Hanks was sexy in "You've Got Mail"? He was kind of a knight on a white horse. That poor little lady's book store was being put out of business by the big department store. And Tom Hanks owned that department store! It would have to be white chocolate.

Cardinal Spellman said...

A room. A cross. An empty tomb. The Savior! Three more days until the celebration of the Resurrection!

Death Notice said...

RIP Neal Shine. You were the heart and soul of the Detroit Free Press.

Pierre Lachaise said...

Thanks for turning me on to Freytag's Triangle. I can see you're really into plots.

the walking man said...

Hell; I love chocolate better than sex but seeing as I am diabetic and can have neither, I just love a good old neck wrenching fucking car crash instead.

And this Walking Man didn't even start wearing underwear (of anykind) until his balls touched a toilet bowl full of shit water because age made them hang too low, so I will never get my panty's or more specifically boxer briefs in a twist.

Leave that for the morons who overcompensate for their lack of ability in the bedroom and making love, (love, not fucking) with their women, by putting 3 inch lift kits on their Dodge Ram pick up 4x4's that will never see a fucking day off road because it might scratch the fucking paint.

Celebrate Astarte's Holy Day (the pagan translation of Easter commonly known as the spring equinox) men by making love with your woman; not trying just to get fucking laid or better yet put on your old ladies panties and let her strap one on and do you the way you do her.

the walking man said...

No I am not a femiinist...I am a womanist go figure that one out

JR's Thumbprints said...

I've studied Freytag's modified triangle and have tried using it. As far as chocolate, my wife's allergic to it. I guess I don't know what to make of this book you speak about, or should I say ... well nevermind.

Sheila said...

I wrote about my sex education! haha I can't believe you had hand me down books... they seem very christian... calling sex harmful and tawdy

Bird on a Wire said...

"What if the hopped up women in the Frederick's of Hollywood get-up would really cuddle up with a box of Godiva chocolates and watch You've Got Mail?"

That is just too funny. By the way, Joan Crawford is one of my favorite crushes.

the unsleeping bachman said...

Chocolate versus sex--seriously? When the heck have people ever stopped at anything short of having both whenever possible?

In all fainess, chocolate will never brake your heart; not to mention it always goes down good.