Random Esquire

Instigator decided to tell her daughter about sex recently.  Heh.  Here’s her account:

The other night my 8 year old daughter and I were watching House.  One of her babysitters loves this show and was watching it at our house, and next thing you know, my kid has tivo’d a season pass. Frankly this is irritating as I don’t watch House, didn’t want to, and quickly realized she shouldn’t watch but since she was (as she pretty much is in charge, I admit it – so shoot me) I’d better watch with her.

Watching House with an 8 year old results in a myriad of questions.

Why are those two girls kissing?  Cause they are gay.

Who is that lady the guy is talking to?  A prostitute.

What’s a prostitute?  Its a complicated grownup thing.

What’s an aneurysm?  How the fuck do I know, I’m a lawyer not a doctor.

So anyway, this episode is about a guy in a coma and in one scene, the nurse is changing his catheter.  My kid says ‘What’s that?’  I tell her and then my mind goes like this: catheter, penis, sex talk.

(more…)

1. I woke up to find that Little Filthy had been ill during the night. On my bed.  Well, that’s new.  He is not a throw-up kind of dog but he’d thrown-up on his own bed earlier in the week. Apparently, he likes to be thorough. This meant a) laundry and b) a quick vet visit to have his temperature checked and c) a trip to PetSmart for a new bed. Well, I could have told you…he’s just fine. I realized this when he immediately ran into the toy aisle, grabbed a plush stuffed pig from the bottom rack and proceeded to hump it.

2. We went to the park then, where he gets to roam a bit off-leash. Have I mentioned that Little Filthy, like most dogs, likes to rub against or roll around in things that smell? Normally, I might run over to find that he’s decided to roll around by a dead bird or something. However, that was not the case today.

Today, he hopped up on a bench, right on top of the homeless man that was sleeping on it and proceeded to rub all over him, thereby scaring him about 3/4ths the way dead.

I’m ashamed to say that my first thought was that I wanted to snap a picture for you all. Decorum got the better of me and I ran over and rescued the man from Little Filthy’s ministrations. The whole thing reminded me of this day at the beach when he managed (while wet from the lake) to football tackle a beach bag, relieve himself on another, and then shake himself dry next to a bikini-clad woman.

*sigh*

3. Finally, my neighbor stopped over and we decided to let Little Filthy enjoy an empty peanut butter jar.  At one point, his whole face was stuck in the jar.  This is what determination looks like.

I spoke with my sister this morning.  Her son is 18 months old.  She put him on the phone and he said, “Boom boom POW!”

I said, “What?”

He said, “BOOM BOOM POW!”

Then my sister picked up the phone and said, “He likes that song by the Black Eye Peas.”  I laughed because I was shocked her kids had heard something other than Mozart.

I mentioned that I was going to go skydiving in Seattle.

My sister said dryly, “Why are you going to Seattle for that? Don’t they have that locally?”

I assured her that we did but that I was going with friends in Seattle.  She was quiet for a moment and then said:

“I THINK THAT IS RETARDO.”

Then I got a lecture.  Have I mentioned that she is my older sister?  I thought she had gone skydiving and so I mentioned this to her.  She said:

“I WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING THAT STUPID.  I DON’T WANT TO DIE BY SPLATTING.”

I hadn’t thought of that before.  Oh well.  I think it will be fun.

1.  I’m watching the Today Show.  They are interviewing this kid who dug a hole in the sand deep enough that, while he was down in the hole, the sides all collapsed inwards and buried him up to his neck.

Now, don’t get me wrong…it would be a bad experience.  And I know the kid was in some danger.

It’s just that they interviewed him after covering the story of the girl discovered 18 years after being kidnapped – who had been kept those 18 years out under some tarps in a rudimentary shelter out behind her kidnapper’s home.  And who gave birth to two children by her abductor.

It sort of makes the kid in the sand hole seem…not so much. I wondered how it would be for the parents of the respective children to meet in the green room.

“Oh, my kid?  Kidnapped 18 years ago and help captive in a tent, giving birth to two kids.”

“Oh.  Mine buried a big hole at the beach and we had to dig him out.”

2.  My mother called me yesterday to make sure I hadn’t been injured in a police shooting that occurred along my walking path to work, right in the Loop in Chicago.  A man was shot and killed.  I told her she’d have probably heard about it had I been involved in any way.  I appreciate her concern but… did I mention she called me about 8 hours after it happened?

3.  It’s Friday.  Weekend plans include hitting the Green City Farmers’ market with my parents tomorrow morning and taking Besos out on a date.  Any suggestions on date plans?  If left to my own devices, who knows where we might end up.

1.  Besos came over last night and as she came inside she groaned and said, “Damn! I forgot my makeup! That’s like forgetting your underwear in Mexico.”

In case you’re wondering:  Correct response:  “You don’t need makeup!”  Incorrect response:  “What are you talking about? None of the Mexican girls I’ve ever met wore underwear.”

2.  Since we’re on the topic of me being stupid, I went into the bedroom last night and yelled out to Besos, “I’m ready!”  She yelled back, “For what?”  I called out, “To start making out!”

She came in and complied.  I then told her that I thought we should do another photo shoot and I might have suggested a picture of her butt.  For the blog.  (I was teasing but she does have a remarkable ass.)  She pulled back and looked at me and said, “You know, men read your blog, too.”

And to be honest, that might have escaped me since I don’t exactly seem to have a huge male following.  I said, “I don’t care. I’m not insecure.  If you run off, I’ll find another hot Latina.”

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Have you heard of Humorism? It is belief that the body is healthy if the four humors are in balance – black bile, yellow bile, phlegm and blood.

Well, those humors are a bunch of crap. I’ll tell you what the four humors really are.

a) Sex
b) Food
c) Attention
d) Sleep

If any of those four things are not in balance, I am grumpy. I am always in a good mood unless one of those four things has somehow gone awry. If I am stomping around, Besos need only run through that list to figure out what it could be and sure enough, I’m either horny, hungry, needy, or sleepy.   And the solution is simple: Fuck me, feed me, pet me, put me to bed.

I could have been a doctor.

Besos and I had a bit of a double-date weekend as my high-school buddy was in town, girlfriend along with.  We had an interesting conversation about rings that has left me thinking about my relationship with Besos.

Besos likes to remind me that I made her miserable for the first year of our relationship.  Well, I’m flattering myself to think I don’t still make her relatively miserable.  But, in particular, I think the worst was the first four months when I refused to date anyone exclusively.    She handled it well.  She managed to often retain a level of relative patience while I insisted on my alone time and autonomy, said incredibly stupid things, and tried to learn Spanish.

And then, at some point last winter, I decided… Mine.  I know this sounds piggish.  I didn’t mean to go all apelike but there you have it.   Some part of me wanted to stick a flag in her and declare her part of RandomEsq-land.  Instead, we went out on a date, walked along Michigan avenue in the snow, wandered into a jewelry store and when she indicated that she liked a ring, I bought it on the spot.

And I’m not going to lie.  The ring was sort of like my flag.  I wanted it visible from a distance and I wanted it to say, “you no can have.”

During our double-date on Saturday night, the topic of rings came up and I said that a ring says “Bought and paid for.” This brought up a round of protests from the table.  We discussed engagement rings and I declared myself a traditionalist who was going to get an engagement ring so big that it not only said bought and paid for but also “and you can’t afford her.”  This is really just me being an asshole.  I know this.

Following dinner, Besos and I went back to my loft and made love.  And afterwards, both staring up at the ceiling, I heard her whisper, “I don’t want anyone but you to ever touch me.”

I sat up on one elbow and said, “What did you say?”

She looked at me and said, “I don’t want anyone but you to ever touch me.”

And you know what?

It was better than a ring.

1.  Good God.  I was offline for one day and returned to find that I look like George Costanza.

2.  I had a friend in law school who would refer to pooping as ‘gifting’ – so she’d say, “I just gifted,” or “I left you a gift.”  Well, there is this Folger’s commercial about a dancer that I see most mornings during the Today show.  And the lyrics say, “It’s early, light breaks through. Music and dancing calling you.  Just need that mountain grown lift before you share your gift.”  Yeah.  All I can think about is people who need a cup of coffee before they can poop.

3.  I took the last couple of days off of work to spend with a buddy who was in town.  This morning, we ended up on a boat and then walking out by the lake.  We were walking through the grass toward the lake and there was a young woman in jogging clothes on her back doing butt lifts.  She was listening to an iPod and just doing her exercises as we approached.

Well, at the time, my buddy and I were talking about Besos and just as we passed this woman, I said, “She’s got a nice butt.”  The woman lowered her butt down to the ground and lifted up on an elbow to look at me because she thought that I was talking about her and her butt.

We made brief eye contact and I just kept moving.  Oh well.  I guess a random compliment never hurt anyone.

How about one more picture of Besos?  Okay, you convinced me.  After the cut.

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1.  It’s been a nice weekend.  Besos and I had a very nice dinner of French food with another couple on Saturday night.  And we woke up this morning to a beautiful day in Chicago.  Within moments of waking, we decided to walk to a nearby breakfast restaurant and eat outside.   Here’s Little Filthy under the table hoping his sad faces will convince another diner to give him something to eat.

2.  I sent Besos a text message tonight to let her know that CMC wanted to know what color lipstick she is wearing in her pictures here and here.   Then I asked her what I should write about tonight.  Here is how that conversation went:

RE:  What should I write about today?
Besos:  I don’t know. What has happened?
RE:  I molested you.
Besos:  Yeah, yeah, but that’s not news, especially in QT’s blog!!!!!!!!! Don’t think I did not notice!

Oops.  Okay, so, I may have said something in the comments here.

RE:  I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Besos:  Poking my colita!
Besos:  I am over chocolate.
Besos:  Ok, so brand is Estee Lauder, the color is 732 Darling Diva.  Heh, that’s the name.
RE:  No more coffee for you at breakfast.  How about I just blog this conversation? Okay? Okay!
Besos:  Hey! What part?
RE:  You know.  Molest, colita, lipstick, chocolate, and coffee.  Just the standard stuff.

*pause*

RE:  You love me.

Besos:  Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re not rotten.

3.  I suspect that Little Filthy may have licked my sandwich tonight.

A friend, upon hearing this news, said, “Five second rule!”

Which really makes you have to wonder how liberally people apply this rule.

And the answer to your question is yes.  Yes, I did.