Not so magic Conan

There is so much chatter about "Magic Mike"!  I agree, ladies, let's get that in 3-D, please!  I mean, I think there is supposed to be some good looking lead actor, but I'm in it for Alcide!  (Who's with me, True Bloodettes?)  Anywho, I was telling my husband how everyone is begging for 3-D IMAX versions, and how a friend of mine asked for some background on the actual story and I was all "WHO CARES?!"  They could just plant grass and watch it grow for 2 hours, as long as they were mostly nekkid... or they could sit there and read the dictionary... there are so many possibilities... pointless, yet beautiful possibilities.  So, my husband got that look on his face like he just discovered sliced bread, and exclaimed "That's it!  It's brilliant!  This movie is for women who are too embarrassed to go to a strip club, but really want to go to a strip club!"   So I quickly pointed out: "Look, I'm not too embarrassed to go to a strip club, I mean who cares about that?  But, I do NOT want a repeat Late Night Strip Tease with Conan O'Brien.  Sure, I'd like to look at a man who knows how to shake it on stage, but I do not want him sticking his mushy "ew parts" in my face, or touching me... or sweating on me.  No thank you.  Nothing about that is sexy to me.  And now you know... you should probably be taking notes."  Then he realized "Ooooooooooooh, so it's for women who'd like to go to the club, but do not want to be touched or otherwise grossed out from too-close contact."  Me "Exactly.  I mean, I love to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and stare at Van Gogh's work, but I don't want someone to chase me down and start humping my butt with it."  Husband "Clearly.  You have to draw the line somewhere."

Wait, back up... how does Conan O'Brien fit into this explanation of acceptable vs. unacceptable nearly naked dancing?  Well, the very first time I saw a male stripper was completely unexpected, pretty much by accident, and it was TOTALLY Conan O'Brien.  Except that it wasn't him.  The man just looked exactly like Conan, only with a spray tan, and a leopard thong.  (Maybe Conan has that too, but I cannot confirm that at this time...).  Anyway, from the beginning:

It all started at a club in Atlantic City.  A group of friends and I were there for a bachelorette weekend.  So, we found this club, and they recognized us as a bachelorette party (thanks to T's clip-on veil), therefore we got in cover-free.  So, there we are, all giddy, drinking, dancing, flirting with the men around us... and then some guy in a suit comes up to 2 of us & tells us "We will be right down to get you guys in a few minutes."  So we were like "Ooooooooookay, great!", thinking one of the girls must've arranged something.  So, a few minutes pass, and here they come, ushering us upstairs to a red and gold room... very cliche!  Then I see him, here comes Conan... he's in a nice suit, blue shirt, top button undone, no tie, and a hand towel.  What's with the towel?  So, he walks over to us, maybe he's going to take our drink order?  But, no... he starts dancing.  Then come the squeals and giggles.  We are tipsy, and in the mood to party, so when he starts taking off his clothes, we get louder, and some dollar bills start appearing.  I'm still taken a little off guard, and I'm not over the fact that this is Conan's head on a strippers body, and he has these crazy dance moves, and I guess this makes me an easy target... so he dances over to me and starts bumping up against me.  I didn't know what to do or say, I just kinda sat there, stupefied, until he started mashing on my face with his sponge-bob-squish pants.  I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter... loud, gut busting laughter.  He's dripping sweat on me, he's all leopard spandex and half cooked spaghetti.  It was awkward, gross, and so far over the top ridiculous.  I guess my laughing egged him on, though, because he grabbed my leg, flipped me over and started slamming himself up against my butt.  At that point I just fall on my face, still in hysterics, thinking it could not get any further from sexy than that moment, and I just lay there as he so proudly flaunts whatever it is he thinks he has to flaunt.  It certainly wasn't his self respect! 

It was fun because it was funny & I was with my girlfriends.  It was silly, good times, but once was enough!  I decided I never needed to do that ever again.  If I go to see a man dance half nekkid in front of me, I need at least a 4 foot, junk-free zone around my person.  If you're going to be sweating a lot, add an extra 2-3 foot splash zone to that, too. 

So, that is the famous Conan stripper story.  Magic Mike was made for women like me.  Look? Yes, please, but please keep your bits and pieces to yourself!

 

Scrambled brains

So, I have accomplished my yearly summertime task of seriously dehydrating myself.  Oddly enough, the first time I did it was while we were visiting our German friends at the beach, yes, that same visit I was just writing about in my last blog entry.  That lead to a week of preterm labor, which I went into during that very visit.  (Yeah, there was just endless amounts of embarrassment to be had during that one).  Needless to say, if you can't tell from my rambling, my brains feel like scrambled eggs, so writing is on the difficult side.  I don't want to leave everyone without at least a little chuckle this week, so I'm going to leave you with a snippet that comes from my husband, who has been so sweetly helping me the past 2 days as I frantically try to drink my way back to life.  :(  Hopefully I will remember to take more water outside with me the rest of the summer and avoid this, but I'm terrible about this so don't be shocked if I make myself go through this again.

Being the awesome man that he is, my husband offered to run out and get me lots of Gatorade, and anything else I thought would help my rehydrate. 

Me Well, I think Target has the best price on Gatorade, and since you'll be there, and mere aisles away from it, you could just pick up the last 2 books in the 50 Shades series for me.  I just finished the first, and even though I know I told you I thought the writing was crap, there was just enough there to hook me into needing to know more about the dude. So, it would be nice to have it to read while I'm stuck on the couch.

Husband I love you, and I want you to feel better, but no.  I cannot do that.  That is a humiliation that I just cannot bring myself to go through.  I seriously would much rather go purchase a skid of tampons for you, and drive them through the store via forklift, surrounded by flashing lights and siren than buy you those crazy S&M "erotic" chick books that, to top it off, were written with the skill of a middle schooler.  No.  A man has to draw the line somewhere.

Me You know you want to see if Safeway has it.  Then you could take them through the line with that prudy-lady who took issue with my Ben and Jerry's Schweddy Balls quest.  

Husband You go right ahead and do that.  I can't even bring myself to do it for the thrill of seeing her face, and hearing what she has to say about it.  You know she read somewhere that climate change isn't real, so it's not.

Me I read somewhere that a little bear from darkest Peru met a family at a train station, and they took him home and fed him marmalade.  He talked and had this little note about looking after him.  He was hell on wheels, too.  Always getting into mischief, that one.  I'm sure it was real, as I read all about it.  

Husband See, clearly you are the one who gets the most enjoyment from going through her line.  I couldn't spoil that for you by getting the books FOR YOU.

Me No, just go to Target and get them.  I know they have them.  I'm not even sure about Safeway.  If they have them, I'll just buy them again.

Husband You'd buy books that you personally said were written so poorly, and at one point the "murmuring" made you want to "punch a puppy", twice?!  You'd buy them twice?!

Me Well the second time would happen ONLY if Safeway had them, and then it would just be to fire up that lady, and how many times I could bring up the book's "red room of pain".  She'd seriously appreciate that, I'm sure.  

Husband You're evil, and I'm still not buying those books.  Now, stop talking, you need your rest.

 

I'm not a prude, but my eyes might be.

Over the past nearly 8 years of our marriage, my husband and I have acquired some European friends.  Most have started out as pen pals for my husband, who taught himself how to speak German.  Some we had the pleasure of meeting in Germany during our travels, and some we have met on their travels here in the US.  Some great friendships have come out of this, and we both have learned so much.  I really felt I was pretty good at conveying that I was something other than the infamous "stupid American" stereotype when it came to getting to know our European friends.  My husband speaks German fluently, so we never expect English (though, most of them are learning English, and also want the opportunity to practice it).  We aren't uptight, or prudish... or at least we think we aren't.  Apparently my mind isn't a prude and is open and accepting of other cultures, but some parts of my face haven't caught up.

I was well aware of the cheek kissing greetings and send-offs, and I was mostly prepared for that (even if I was a little slow and only slightly caught off guard).  I did manage to pull it off once I realized I was mid cheek kiss with one of our friends.  I swore to myself that, the next time we saw him, I would not be caught off guard again, and I would be much more smooth.  After all, I'm a sophisticated American, who is down with all things European.  The next time I saw him, however, I went for the cheek kiss, and since we were more familiar (I guess) he went for a peck on the mouth.  Well, then I started to panic.  How did I screw that up?  Did I miss with my cheek and land on his face with my mouth?  Is that what more familiar friends do?  Does my husband think I just kissed this guy?  Am I being a prude worrying about what my husband thinks of our goodbye?  What is going on?!  Is this real life?!  I was a mess.  My cheeks and my mouth were totally keeping the rest of me from pulling off being cool and "with it".  Oy.

In between these two kissing debacles, we had an underwear "event".  We had all been to the beach, and we had returned to the beach house and were all showering and changing into fresh clothes for dinner.  My little family got all cleaned up and dressed in one bathroom, while our friends were down the hall.  When we emerged, though, everyone was walking around nude or in underwear.  Our guy friend came up to me for a chat, and I had a moment where my brain knew that things are different in Europe, and this would not be a big deal, but my eyes did NOT know what to do with themselves.  Do I stare at his face, non-blinking, and give away that I am avoiding looking at his scantily clad business, or do I try to look casual.  I don't want to look around too much, and make him think I'm back to being a prude and am desperately trying not to even look at him, and I also don't want him to think I'm gawking.  Oh no, does he see the panic in my "deer in the headlights" eyes?!  Maybe it's safer to just say "Oh, I just wanted to say it's tooooootally cool that you're standing there in your designer skivvies while you're talking to me.  I know exactly how to act in this situation.... ignore whatever my face is doing.  It's unfamiliar with any European cultures, and doesn't know what to do with itself."  C'mon eyes, fix yourself!  Where did my husband and kid go?!  Now it's just me and the underwear my friend.  Can I have a do-over?!  I'm so much better than this, I swear!  Luckily, I speak pretty broken German, and he speaks pretty broken English, so maybe both of us stumbling over the language distracted him from the mini-crisis I was having inside, trying so hard to be progressive (for an American).

The underwear "event" was quickly forgotten when everyone got busy trying to explain the art of "S'mores" to our German friends.  One of the brothers is married to an American woman, and between her and my husband and I, we knew all about S'mores... however, we weren't the ones who went food shopping.  When 2 of our friends returned from the store, they explained that they had come up with the idea to make "That treat in America with the toasted marshmallows."  They weren't exactly sure how to make them, so they got Lorna Doones and Nutella to go with the marshmallows.  At least everyone was giggling trying to make something yummy out of this, and to make them feel like they at least gave it a ton of effort.  Eventually, someone decided to use chocolate chip cookies.  So, there you have it... the EuroS'more.  Whatever it was, it took the focus off of my dorkiness, and I am forever grateful.

I'd like to think I'll do better the next time around, but something else I didn't anticipate may come up.  I just haven't learned to control my facial expressions when something comes out of the blue that I didn't expect.  One of these days I'll be refined and never caught off guard.  I will be an honorary European.  I'm sure of it.  Any day now.