Remember that old Salt 'n Pepa song from the 80's?
Let's talk about sex, baby (sing it)
Let's talk about you and me (sing it, sing it)
Let's talk about all the good things
And the bad things that may be
Let's talk about sex (come on)
Let's talk about sex (do it)
Let's talk about sex (uh-huh)
Let's talk about sex
Ah, the songs of my youth. The lyrics were so deep, meaningful and well thought-out, were they not? I personally prefer their hit song "Push It" but for the sake of this post, that wouldn't have worked. But now I'll have it in my head the rest of the day. Oh well.
I've been hinting around, but not writing too much about the fact we're trying extremely hard to get me knocked up. It's something Brian's already admonished me several times for sharing with too many people, but it's hard for me not to talk about it when it's become top priority in my mind, body and soul. We've started seeking medical help, so I'm feeling a lot better about our chances. Finally. I certainly won't be talking about this on my Myspace blog - thems a whole different slew of people who don't need to be up in mah bidness. But I have to document this one small thing because what's going on in my house right now is monumental. Epic.
We're having sex three days in a row, starting yesterday. Maybe that's not big news to a lot of you hornballs out there, but for us, it is a huge deal. We've been together for twelve years, married for almost ten and yeah - this doesn't happen very much anymore. I don't think it's happened since the late 90's. But after doing some calculations, I realized this is my peak time, my eggs are waiting on the edge of their seat and hey, there are worse ways to spend your time, right?
So just...well if you see me walking funny this week you'll know why.
It turns out we will actually be going to a little shindig tonight, nothing fancy. The pros: These are fun friends of ours and the last party I went to at their house was a really good time. There will be an abundance of food and drink. It'll be good to get out of the house.
The cons: They live 45 minutes away. I assume there will be cops out like rabid dogs tonight looking to cuff 'em and stuff 'em, as Roscoe P. Coltrane used to say. I don't plan on drinking very much; maybe one or two at the beginning of the night, but I'll make sure I'm prepared to drive home. I just don't need to end the year with anymore run-ins with the law.
Finally, I would like to share with you a picture my cousin emailed me the other day. It is from the summer of '89, when I spent three glorious months in the Catskill mountains of upstate New York working and drinking in a bar called The Chalet. One of the best, if not THE best summer of my life. In this picture you will be able to pick me out easily. I'm the one next to my cousin (he's wearing the hat) with the hair that takes up the majority of the picture. Behold, me as I was twenty years ago:
Now do you understand why the flatiron changed my life? That, my friends, is a perfect example of the Jewfro.
I hope you all have fun tonight and for all of us to have a motherhumping kick-ass 2009.