Um, you're not reading my blog out loud to your kids or anything, are you?

Don't you love the ones where I apologize right off the bat?

I know that recently my posts have been a little, I dunno, DARK. I've been talking about deflowering minors and getting all leathered-up and freaky with Professor Snape. And I'd like to apologize to anyone I may have offended, shocked or grossed out. I'm sorry.

I hope you weren't looking forward to reading about my knitting adventures and therefore finding yourself Horrbily Disappointed to find I'd instead written about my wanting to commit statutory rape at Hogwarts and child abuse at Airport Security.

Although, if you do read my blog for the knitting content (and I honestly don't know why you would), I'm sure you've been disappointed even when I did write about knitting. My knitting disappoints me too, I assure you.

Come to think of it, when was the last time I wrote about knitting?

I've been on that yarn diet, remember? Oh wait, I wrote about being distracted by the knitted garments in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I was more than distracted. It was like, oooh, that's SO cute! I wonder if those are bobbles or buttons? I wonder what kind of yarn that is - it looks like, wait, is that a tweed?

So I'll move on the disclaimer:

If the concept of oral sex - among two happily married people, and no pictures this time, I swear - is too much for you, then this probably isn't a post you're going to want to read, so just click on the X right now and I'll see you next time. No hard feelings.

Everyone who's still here just started reading a little faster.

Ok, I have to set it up a little bit. We spent Sunday evening looking at houses. I'm getting ridiculously sick of looking at houses. I'm so stressed out over it, I seriously feel like I'm going to puke at any given moment. The finanacing part is really freaking me out. The fact that R upped the price range in our search is upsetting me now, too. It was bad enough that he was looking at the other school districts, but I dealt with that and I laid the smack down and I think he knows that's a non-negotiable. I'm not sure he told his dad, though, which is fine, I'll tell him myself if it comes to that.

But R raised the high end of the price range in our search a little bit, and as a result we found this fantastic house that we both love but I doubt very much we can afford it. It's a great house, but I almost wish we had never seen it. And of course he told his dad about it and how fantastic it is when he called to invite him to come with us on Saturday to look at the house that I like the best. I wanted him to see it and either sign off on it or tell me why we shouldn't buy it so I can get it out of my head and make room for a new frontrunner.

So R and I spent several hours discussing financial matters, which is probably my least favorite thing in the world to talk about. Ugh. I'm starting to think we can't afford a house at all. My brain is about to explode. I hate this. So to lighten the mood, I put on the DVD I rented of Kathy Griffin - My Life On the D-List.

I love Kathy. And I'm not going to say I'm as funny as she is, but if she had three kids and learned to knit, she'd be me. She and I tell stories in much the same way, only hers are about Renee Zellweger and mine are about Ray Brafondler. Plus, her husband Matt is her R, and I think that's adorable.

Ok, so whenever I watch Kathy, I suddenly become Kathy, in my mind. (Like who didn't have a buddy who thought they were as funny as Chandler after every Friends episode?) I get snappier and more biting in my remarks and I feel like I could conquer the world.

Except now, I can't sleep. It's like midnight and I can't sleep. I've got a lot on my mind. I've got the house thing, the money thing, my parents are coming on Saturday and I've got to get the house cleaned up only I don't have Beeb to help me and R can't help either because he doesn't have his usual mid-week day off because for some inexplicable reason he's off on Saturday this week which is going to completely throw me off, I've got to remember to take my meds the week before my mom gets here or I'm gonna flip out, and I never did find out if Luna Lovegood's lovely blue capelet had buttons or bobbles. My brain is FRIED.

Oh, and we went to dinner at Red Robin, which is still kinda swirling around and making me feel nauseous too. It was good, I just hadn't had red meat in a while and it was just wreaking havoc on my digestive system.

So what do I do when I can't sleep? I keep other people awake with me because I want to talk about stuff. Like really weird stuff. So R and I talked about Pope Benedict and The One True Church (the rest of us are just wasting our time with church and youth group and mission trips because we're going to hell anyway), my RCIA experience, whether or not priests should be openly gay and the split it's causing in the Episcopal Church (the church I grew up in), and I love how he and I agree on the stuff that we don't even talk about.

So here's the part where the squeamish should look away. The conversation continued thusly:

ME: Dammit, R, I can't sleep. I hate it when I can't sleep. And I'm afraid to take an Ambien because I don't know what it's going to do to me. UGH! I'm so pissed!!

R: Well, you could give me some (insert cuckoo clock sound effect), that'll make you tired.

You have to appreciate how out of character it is for R to say something like that to me, even in jest. And yeah, I see the irony that I won't say the word, but believe it or not, I am kinda prudish. I'm a lady, and don't you forget it or I'll kick yer fuckin teeth in.

ME: No, honey, here's what'll happen - it'll make YOU tired. And I'll be up all night with a sore jaw.

Pause.

STILL ME, sitting up: Aiiiiiight, fine, let's go...

And, no shit, this is what R said -

R: Oh, I was just kidding...

I froze. And then I looked at him like he had just told me something completely unfathomable, like that he'd camped out for two days to score us front-row seats for the Clay Aiken concert. Shocked and horrified and in complete disbelief.
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? HAVE WE MET??

ME: WHAT???? Are you serious? Here I am ready and somewhat willing and you're KIDDING? (laughing) I can NOT even believe you just said that...

I'm thinking he started to see the error of his ways before I even got all the way through the wh of the word what.

R: Well, I didn't think you were serious, I thought YOU were kidding!!

Do I kid about shit like that? Uh, NO. Ok, sometimes I am kindof a dick tease, I guess, but I wasn't kidding this time.

ME: Oh my GOD!!! You don't even deserve it now!

R: Ok! Sorry! Fine! Yes! Please!

ME, seductively moving into position, maintaining eye contact, biting my bottom lip and using the sexiest voice I can muster: You know I'm gonna blog about this, right?

R: I thought your blog was (gasp) supposed to be about (soft moan) knitting and kids and stuff.

ME: Well, the other day I wrote about wanting to take Daniel Radcliffe's virginity and also implied that I wanted to get freaky with Severus Snape and I posted that pic of me in the Dominatrix outfit.

R: With the fishnets?

ME: Yeah.

R: Sweeeeeet.

Decorum prevents me from continuing the story.
See, bitches, I told y'all I was a lady.