Thursday, July 22, 2010

Dress Up

When I was single I dressed for boys. I wore tight jeans that made my ass look like you could bounce a quarter off of it, low-cut (yet classy) tops, and high heels. I had the long blond hair and 'natural looking' makeup- because boys don't like caked-on clown paint, they want you to look pretty and approachable. This was my 'look' for about fifteen years.

At the age of 31, I got married. And then I stopped dressing for men and started dressing for my own personal entertainment.

Vintage house dress from 1952? Love it. Cowboy boots with a tuxedo jacket? Done. Cut a hole in the top of a trash bag and belt it? Why the fuck not?

My husband doesn't care, because the fool is in love with me and really, I could get away with murder around him. I literally asked him once, "Would you hate me if I murdered someone?"
"I'm sure you'd have a good reason for doing it, honey," he said absentmindedly while pursing the newspaper.

That is so sweet.

I met my girlfriend out for drinks in a black leotard, knee-high black boots, and a dog collar. I looked like an extra from Van Helsing.
"WHAT in the hell are you wearing?!" She demanded, glancing around the bar, probably praying no one was staring. "What, you're in a fucking biker gang now? Roll in here on a Harley?"
"You're just jealous," I said, adjusting the rolled whip on my hip.

I went to a party last weekend in a pair of Lycra hot pants, flip-flops with little cherries on them, and bright red lipstick.
"Oh look, Katy Perry is here, everybody," my sister said sarcastically, and handed me a beer. "Seriously, sis- you are 33 goddamn years old. I think you need to chill on the Lycra."
"That's what my mother-in-law said this morning at brunch," I replied, squirming in my pants. It was hot, and I was starting to sweat in my Lycra. "I'm pretty sure she is a little worried about me- being married to her son and all."
"No shit....hey- did you kiss a girl- and like it?"
"Very funny."

I wonder if I just enjoy receiving negative attention, or am I simply bored? My husband and I went to a nice restaurant last night and I was in striped bib overalls.
"I feel like I'm on a date with Thomas the Tank Engine," he mused across the table, sipping his red wine. "Seriously, honey, I love you- but when is this whole costume phase going to end?"

He should just be grateful I haven't murdered anybody.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Get A Clue

My memory has been really, really, bad lately. I don't know if it's my late-night drinking, or my daily Xanax-popping ritual- but I can't remember a goddamn thing. So my life has become the board game, Clue- I gather all the evidence to figure what happened the day before. I've become the Nancy Drew of my own life.


Answer: Professor Plum, in the library, with the candlestick!

Ok, so....last night....I stared at the red gooey sludge on my tile floor. I remember scooping up watermelon....but why is so MUCH of it on the ground?! I frown, and open the fridge- I remember coming home, getting into my lounge wear (read: sweatpants and a dirty sports bra from 2002). I remember- WAIT! There! In the recycling bin! An empty bottle of Everclear! Ha! I have solved the mystery!

Me, in the kitchen, with a bottle of Everclear, making melon balls! And then I ate, like, a dozen of them!


Answer: Miss Scarlett, in the conservatory, with the revolver!

Um....I glance around my desk at work....everything seems fine....I turned in my last report on time....yesterday, I came into work, grabbed some coffee, filed some papers....WAIT! I glance up- the screen saver on my computer! It's- it's a picture of two men making love to one women! I had downloaded porn at work- and then- uploaded one of the pictures as my screen saver?! Eureka! Mystery solved!

Me, in my office, with porn! I'm going to get fired!


Answer: Colonel Mustard, in the ballroom, with the lead pipe!

Oh god....$400? Who would do that? I pondered this question, sipping white white in my living room, lounging on the couch. Sheepskins....sheepskins....hmm.....I remember- using my credit card, I remember- shopping online- WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE! I sat up and looked down at the couch. Holy shit, I'm sitting on the sheepskin throws now! They're perfectly draped across the furniture- just like the picture in my interior design magazine!

Me, drunken online shopping, with a Visa!

Phew. Well, looks like I have figured out most of this week's mysteries. And now, about that Colonel Mustard- what a hottie! Me and Colonel Mustard, in the den, with massage oils.....

Monday, July 5, 2010

Me & Cuz

When I was 28, a series of life events lead me to move back in with my parents for the summer. I had left a boyfriend, quit a job, traveled around Europe for a bit, and, upon returning- found myself with no money to call my own. It was, by coincidence, the same summer my cousin also moved in with my parents- he was 24 at the time and had a summer job in Colorado, miles away from his college in Missouri. My cousin and I waved at my parent's RV pulling out of the driveway as they set off for four months of touring, leaving the two of us alone in the house.

That was the summer I dated my cousin.

Not literally, of course. That's gross. But we were both broke and single, with no real friends- and really, we only had each other to hang out with.

"What should we do for lunch?" My cousin asked this around noon on a Tuesday, the two of us in our swimsuits, relaxed on lounge chairs, downing a six-pack of beer in the backyard. My days were spent looking for work (read: sleeping in, watching TV, drinking) and my cousin was putting in roughly 15-20 hours a week at his job. We had more time on our hands than an inmate convicted to life in prison.

"I dunno," I slurred, adjusting the straps on my bikini. "Sandwich?" I rolled over. "Could you rub sunscreen on my back?"
"Sure Cuz," he said. "I really like your bikini, by the way."

At night, we would order pizza with my parents' credit card and watch movies on cable.
"STOP tickling me!" I giggled hysterically as my cousin dug his thumbs into my armpits while we were in our pajamas on the couch watching Out Cold.
"I'm gonna get you!" He said, wiggling his fingers at me while I threw popcorn at him flirtatiously.
"Oh my god, you are the worst," I laughed, flipping my hair. I couldn't help but wonder if he thought I was cute in my silk boxers.

Our lives became intertwined. I picked up his shirts from dry cleaning, he drove me to pick up my car from the shop, and we argued, like a couple.
"I thought you were going to take out the trash," I complained, sipping on a Diet Coke.
"Baby, you know I would if I could," he said, neither of us noticing that he just called me 'Baby'. "But I've got to run. Look, I'll make it up to you, I promise. Okay?"
"Fine." I pouted, but just a little, because I knew he'd bring me home one of my favorite fruit smoothies after work.

It officially became weird when I took him to a wedding as my date, and on the way home I joked, "Cuz, when we danced together, were you pretending I was your girlfriend?"
"Um...." He adjusted the rear view mirror. "No...." he said, sheepishly.

Eventually, I got a job and moved out, and he went back to Missouri. It was like a breakup. I missed his smile, his laugh, and conversations about our Grandma. I started dating men who weren't related to me, which was probably a healthy thing.

"Thank god you're not living with our cousin anymore," my sister said. "You guys were together ALL THE TIME- it was getting weird."
"I know," I said. "But he always gave me the BEST shoulder massages."