Sunday, March 25, 2012
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I am the father of two little girls. More than anything else that's what I am. In terms of what I do and how I do it, although I may not even be conscious of it while I do it, it's done largely for the little girls. Goals, aspirations, not to mention the inevitable twists and turns that are life, remain, but it's safe to say whatever can be dubbed my legacy is set with these little girls. And today that's a notion that's more fortunate than tragic.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
MAN: Happy Valentines' Day.
WIFE: Why thank you, sweetheart!
M: Open it.
[Wife opens gift]
W: It's beautiful! What is it?
M: Why it's a necklace of course. Do you like it?
W: It's very pretty. What's this at the bottom though?
M: That's what makes it so special. It's a small vial.
W: A vial?
M: Yeah, there's a few tiny drops of my blood in there. You know, to symbolize how we're one, how we're with each other wherever we go. One heart. One blood. Something like that. I got the idea from Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina Jolie.
W: Uh huh. But it's not real blood, is it?
M: Of course it is. A little bit of bona fide B positive from your loving husband. Because I love you so much.
W: What did you do? Prick your finger or something?
M: Umm. . . No. . . That didn't occur to me at the time. I suppose that would've been a lot easier than the route I took. Anyway, what do you think? Try it on!
W: I don't know.
M: What? Don't be silly. Strap that bad boy on! Let's see how it looks!
W: Don't get me wrong. I think it's a beautiful sentiment. And I love you. But don't you think it's a tad bit, I don't know. . . unsanitary. . . wearing a vial of blood around my neck throughout the day? I mean, I teach kindergarten. There are health codes. Kids are inquisitive.
M: C'mon. It's not AIDS blood from some random guy off the street. It's the life force of your husband, the man you love, the man you've been doing a lot more unsanitary things with for over ten years.
M: I mean doinking. . . or sex. . . or whatever. I mean, my point is we've been screwing for a long time and all I'm saying is one might conceivably construe that the act of coitus itself is far more unsanitary than wearing a small, tightly sealed, vial of blood around one's neck.
W: (sarcastically) Oh! Great! So draping myself in blood is slightly less disgusting than sleeping with my husband. Sense you put in that way, can you help me with the clasp?
M: So you're not going to try it on?
W: No. I don't think I am. It's creepy.
M: (angry now) Well that's just great. I guess I'll just take them both back then. Hopefully I still have the receipt. I'll exchange them for the old V-day standbys; a fucking pair of slippers or a gift certificate for a god damned back massage. Pardon me for trying to spice things up.
W: What do you mean 'take them both back'?
M: I got a matching one, OK? I thought it would be cool if we both had cute little vial of blood necklaces. You know, the ultimate expression of unity or some shit.
W: But why would you wear your own blood around your neck?
M: I wouldn't. I mean, I'm not. You wear my blood and I wear yours.
W: Wait. Where did you get my blood?
[long awkward pause]
M: I don't see what that has to do with anything.
W: Oh my god. This isn't happening.
M: You know what? Forget it. I can see now this was a bad idea. I'll just put both the blood vials back in my pocket here and we'll pretend it never happened. Let's just get some dessert, finish our wine, and head home.
W: I'm not hungry.
M: Fine. I'll get the check. . . We're still on for sex tonight though, right?