About two hours after we packed up the leftovers of the luscious take-out dinner The Fella brought home, I opened up the topic.
Elsa: [tentatively] I’m thinking about eating the rest of this Indian food.
The Fella: I want you to!
Elsa: Okay then. [solemnly] We’re in agreement.
Even if you don’t feel tipsy during the Halloween party, look for these dead giveaways:
- A complete inability to remove the foil from the champagne bottle, or to figure out how to uncage the cork without removing the foil.
- Taking the stairs down from the hosts’ apartment ever so slowly, getting both feet on each riser ever so carefully before moving on to the next.
- Your partner saying “You’re doin’ great!” at least three times during the five-minute walk home.
- Shucking off your bra and tights from under your costume in front of a (curtained) window while cheerfully giving the finger to the hypothetical neighbors who might be offended by the unintentional display.
- Being ever-so-proud! that you remembered to wash your face before bed.
- Waking up late the next morning ravenous for every smeary, fatty mass-market food being trumpeted by TV commercials.
- When your partner reveals that he brought home a frozen pizza last night, you rush wordlessly to him, fluttering your hands, and finally manage “I’m so glad we got married!”
Elsa: [continuing, as usual] and he was presenting all these supposed benefits to women that are actually by-products of a sexist system that objectifies and marginalizes women while placing undue burdens on men to pursue us as sexual objects!
The Fella: I know.*
Elsa: I asked you out! Y’know why I asked you out?
The Fella: … because you liked me?
Elsa: That’s why I asked you out. You know why I asked?
The Fella: No?
Elsa: BECAUSE FEMINISM IS GOOD FOR EVERYONE!
The Fella: Yeah! It works out okay for me!
And then he went back into the kitchen and finished making pizza, which would have been a gender-prohibited behavior for most husbands a few decades ago, so there’s another example of how feminism is great FOR EVERYONE!
*Note: he did not know**.
**He did know about the sexist system, but not about the conversation.
This Han solo role-playing pillowtalk I’m laying down is getting nothin’ from my husband. Go figure.
Obviously, I went for the iconic and the easy corruption: “I love you”/”I know,” “I’ll make ya do the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs,” and so on.
But there are so many Han Solo lines that lend themselves to pornification with no alteration at all.
[note: it gets a little salty after the jump.] Continue reading
Elsa: You should know: every time the channel guide shows a movie starring Colin Farrell, I picture Will Ferrell.
The Fella: That would change things.
Elsa: Yup. Though, I’ll tell ya, I don’t think Phone Booth could have been any funnier.
Elsa: [blah blah unasked-for advice blah blah]
The Fella: I love having you as my wartime consigliere.
In case you were wondering, it’s official: he just plain gets me.
Things I said to The Fella to identify an actor whose name I never remember. Note: I had had two drinks.
“Little dude. With the eyes.”
“Elf guy! With the eyes and the teeth.”
“Little elf guy who’s not Tobey Maguire!”
“Sunshine of the Forever Thingee!“
He said “Elijah Wood?!” just as I said,”The little elf dude in the movies you always want me to watch. YOU KNOW.”
The Fella and I sit watching “Community.” Vaughn breaks into his Annie’s Song*.
The Fella: Didn’t Barry Manilow actually have an “Annie’s Song”?
Elsa: Wasn’t it John Denver?
TF: Oh, sure!
E: But I don’t know how it goes.
TF: I think it’s the “you fill up…” [He trails off, obviously reluctant to give us both the earworm.]
E: Ah. “Like a thing in a thingee.”
TF: Yup.
E: Like a blank in a blanket.
TF: Uh-huh.
E: Like a frog in a bucket.
TF: Exactly.
*which is nowhere to be found online, so here’s Troy and Abed mimicking Jeff.
[salty language alert!]
Elsa: I’m pretty sure some dumb f*ckers on the internet just ruined the next episode of “Mad Men” for me.
The Fella: Did you go to dumbf*ckruiners.com, baby?
Elsa: … yeeeeeah, that’s on me.
The Fella: Yeah, you should really delete that bookmark.
[The Fella enters the room to see me scowling at the computer screen.]
The Fella: Whatcha watchin’?
Elsa: I’m watching… [looks more closely] a turtle… plaaaaaying… with a shoe.
TF: Oh, the turtle humping the shoe. Sure.
E: I don’t know if he’s humping it. He’s rubbing against it with the center of his shell, but that’s not where turtle genitals are.
[The video cuts to a close-up of the turtle's genitals moving vigorously as it humps]
E: Oh. Ew! [clicks the tab closed] EW! AUGH, that was turtle porn! Who posts turtle porn?
TF: Who watches turtle porn?
E: I watched an unsatisfactory turtle* video, of a turtle eating salad, and I was looking for a better one. And instead I saw turtle porn! EW! Good thing we had sex [recently] because that’s over for a bit. It’s ruined.
[later that day]
The Fella: What are you smiling at?
Elsa: Nothin’.
TF: Whaaaaat? Are you watching cute puppy videos or chicken-having-sex-with-a-donkey videos, or whatever you get up to online?
E: [cuts him a slow look]
TF: Hey, you were watching turtle porn earlier, don’t act so innocent.
E: I didn’t know it was going to be turtle porn! I said “ew!” [quietly] That was gross.
TF: Yoooooou were watching turtle porn and you know it.
E: I HAD JUST WATCHED AN UNSATISFACTORY TURTLE VIDEO! It was a turtle eating a salad, but sped up. That is someone who does not get the point of turtles.
TF: No.
E: Who looks at a turtle and thinks “They’d be awesome if only they went FASTER”? No one!
TF: … Fast turtles would be awesome, though.
E: Yeah, IN A WAR. Not on YouTube.
*Apparently, that’s actually a tortoise. My mistake.
