02:13 p.m.Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Rarely do my sexual practices carry over into my every day life. When they do, I just have to deal with it.
Yeah, mull that one over in your head for a few minutes. So, most of you who know me, might know that I’m a little bit, well, what’s the word? Oh, yeah – A FREAK. I like sex. I like it a lot. I know what I like, and I know what I don’t like. What I like ranges from the vanilla and benign, to the more colorful, bordering on strange. It’s not like I want to be pissed on or anything – don’t involve animals, don’t beat the hell out of me, etc, etc. Basically, here’s my creed: No toilet, no kids, no animals, no major pain – pretty much, anything else goes. These rules rarely fail me. Following these rules generally keeps my sex life and my every day life separate – unless, of course, I bring them together – which is pretty damn rare. You know, it’s not like I want to talk about my sex life with most of the people I see every day – co-workers, the girl at the check-out counter at the grocery store, my PARENTS! But, of course, every once in a while, things happen – and lines blur.
This is precisely what happened on Sunday morning. In my attempt to mask the physical evidence of my sexual activities, I aroused suspicion in my mother. Sunday morning, after an invitation to meet up with my parents and Joel and Karen for lunch – I applied a generous smattering of makeup and went a bit retro by affixing a scarf around my neck. No sooner had everyone left the table that my mother questions me with, “So are you trying to hide a hickey or something?” I try – unsuccessfully – to diffuse the situation. She presses, then notices that there seems to be a fine rash all over my neck and face. She then takes the opportunity to all but accuse my near-perfect husband of inappropriate use of physical force against me. Oh, how quickly she can turn on one she trusts….. In her defense, I know that she is hyper sensitive about me and physical, spousal abuse – with good cause. However – mine and Spank’s room is across the hall – does she REALLY think that we could have had a physical altercation without her knowledge???
Onward. It was at this time that I had to pull my mother aside – “Rarely do my sexual practices carry over into my every day life. When they do, I just have to deal with it.” Never in my life did I imagine a time when I would have occasion to explain auto-erotic asphyxiation to my mother. Especially in reference to myself. However, this is what I found myself doing early Sunday afternoon. Defending myself, my practices and my preferences to my mother – between her objections and looks of disgust. Of more a revelation to her is that this practice – which she most certainly did not pass down to me – is something that I enjoy, and that my husband participates in solely for my sake. Her little girl – innocence long since lost, and she would not try and convince herself otherwise – has descended to a new depth of disgusting behavior. Oh my God! Perhaps she’ll go through my room and find restraints, or a vibrator, or LUBE!!! Surely now I am to be the subject of many a prayer meeting – deliver my daughter from her S&M ways!!!
01:23 p.m.Tuesday, September 13, 2005
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged about anything substantial, and I apologize for that. Today – or at least by tomorrow – you’ll have two blogs of substance. The first: Aaron & Karrie moved back last week. Of course, we’re excited and have been wanting to spend time with them. Bud drove out with them – his first trip to California – and they’re trying to cram all the West Coast experience possible into these few days for him. So, in that spirit, the five of us (Aaron, Karrie, Bud, Spanky and I) went out for sushi Saturday night.
Mind you, I already wasn’t in a good mood. I’d spent most of the day with a friend who is going through a divorce because her husband – of eight years – just “doesn’t love her anymore.” A whole other blog in itself, anyway, I digress. So, I’m in a shitty mood. I don’t want to eat anything, Spank and I drive to dinner in silence – because, of course, if I’m in a shitty mood – I’m going to take it out on the person I love most, right? Make it through dinner, no food, but two glasses of wine later. We offer to let Bud ride with us – let me back up, we were supposed to be going to Howard’s house in Fallbrook after dinner, so in Aaron & Karrie’s truck are Aaron, Karrie, Bud and their three dogs. In our car are me and Spank and Otis. So, Bud rides with us. We’re driving, relaxing, listening to music, chatting, following behind Aaron. Enter evil – stage right.
As we come up to the intersection of First and Fairview, we see a red light. Naturally we stop. This particular intersection is equipped with traffic cameras so that the po-po can catch you running a red light, etc. The cameras flash, I see it out of the corner of my eye. As I turn my head to identify the source of the flash, I see a HUGE F-150 running the light. As the truck lurches forward, I also see it make contact with a motorcycle and it’s rider. Instantly, the cycle is disintegrated. And I see the rider launch through the air – what seemed at least 20 feet and land, helmeted-head-first, face-down on the pavement and slide a good 15 feet more. I’m shocked. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
My brother’s truck ahead of us takes off! Spanky is quick behind him. We’re speeding down side streets and weaving DANGEROUSLY in and out of traffic! What the hell are we doing? Why aren’t we stopped and helping that poor man??? In my singular focus on the injured man – who, at this point, I was sure had expired – I failed to notice that the F-150 was trying to make a getaway. Aaron & Spanky were not about to let that happen. So, as we’re speeding and careening and almost crashing ourselves, Spanky hands me his phone. “Call 911.” So I did. I’m on the phone with the officer who is trying to tell me that they already have a report of that accident. “No,” I tell him, “You don’t understand! We’re chasing the guy who hit the bike!” So I give him a play by play and fill him in on where we are. At Fifth and Raitt, Aaron gets in front of this asshole and we’re behind and to the side. We’ve got him cornered. A cop car speeds by in front of us – we can’t flag him down. Off we go – Spank’s going to catch him. More 150 MPH speeds on surface streets – until we came to the train tracks – without a doubt, the Audi caught at least four feet of air, and a good 2-3 seconds of hang time. I was terrified. I’m crying. Still on the phone with the police.
Meanwhile, Aaron jumps out of the car and starts chasing this piece of shit – who was trying to get away on foot. Aaron tackles him. The cops show up – Aaron’s a hero. We come back around – jump out of the car. “Is everything okay now?” They take our statements, etc. The entire ordeal lasted all of 8 minutes – felt like 2 hours. So, it’s terrible. But, the guy isn’t dead. He’s alert – battered and in bad shape, but alive. Needless to say, we didn’t make it up to Howard’s. We went home and drank in Aaron’s yard.
Excitement has died down. Monday morning, my phone rings – it’s my mother. I know who that guy is on the motorcycle. Turns out, it’s a guy we know – the son of friends of my parents – close friends, actually. The guy has – and I probably don’t have all the injuries down – a torn aorta, punctured lung, punctured spleen, broken clavicle, broken arm – 3 places, all the ribs on his left side broken, broken pelvis, broken femur, broken lower leg, broken foot. But he’s alive. In and out of surgery in the last couple of days. So, damn. That was my weekend. I’m still fucked up in the head about it.
Aaron & Spanky were thanked by the cops for “doing the right thing.” Even though it was dangerous. Their response was that he’s someone’s son. And, it turns out – the son of someone we know.
10:56 a.m.Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I got this little thing from Parwaiz's blog. Interesting - and a little frightening - how similar we are in our results.