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(Continued from THE JOY OF SEX PT. 2)
Last night while playing SORRY with my son Ethan, I realized that he was much smarter than me. While I tend to move my blue plastic pieces willy-nilly and take absolutely no time to strategize, my son has already plotted six moves ahead. This is pretty amazing considering SORRY is a game of chance and virtually impossible to lay any type of real strategy. My son’s angelic blond hair and jovial green eyes mask his sadistic, killer nature. To my son’s way of thinking, there are no other ‘players’ in SORRY, only enemy combatants that need to be annihilated. Whenever we play SORRY, my son begins to resemble those freaky blond kindergartners from VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED – I’m certain that one day soon I’ll anger him and his pale green eyes are going to begin glowing red. Naturally enough, I’ll end up a putrid pile of soot and all that will remain will be my singed UNICLO skinny jeans and my TOTALLY expensive, super uncomfortable PRADA loafers. Not much of a legacy if you ask me.
As I sat on the floor of Ethan’s bedroom and had my SORRY ass handed to me by my disturbingly competitive son, I thought about Madame Zelna, my childcare expert from THE PSYCHIC FRIEND’S NETWORK and her analysis of my son’s dream about goat sex. Was it possible, as Zelna had suggested, that not only did Ethan consider me his intellectual inferior, but to my complete horror found my Lady GaGa ‘Telephone‘ video impersonation to be completely uninspired? It was bad enough that Ethan subconsciously considered me a complete moron, but now, to make matters FAR worse, he consciously considered me a shitty female impersonator as well! It was almost more than I could bare. The true horror of this calamity began to dawn on me when I thought about the grueling hours I spent in his room neither reading to him nor running through our Chinese language flash cards, but instead cannily performed the choreography of Madonna’s ‘Vogue,’ Beyonce’s ‘All The Single Ladies‘ and Britney Spears’ ‘Oops, I Did it Again‘ as toddler Ethan sat perched on his bed judging me! Had all my time and efforts been wasted? Had my pathetic attempt to expose Ethan to the world’s greatest choreography this side of SHOWGIRLS inadvertantly lead him to the conclusion that his father was a not only a mental defective but the also the worst kind of gay man – a gay man who can neither lip-synch nor back-up dance?
My reverie was suddenly interrupted by my son Ethan who was gleefully shrieking ‘SORRY’ at the top of his lungs and dancing manically around the room for his angry, blood-red plastic piece had landed on my tranquil blue plastic piece sending me hurtling back to my START zone. All was not lost for in Ethan’s gloating, swaggering victory dance, I caught the slightest whiff of Kylie Minogue choreography and realized that contrary to what Zelna thought, goat sex dreams or no goat sex dreams, Ethan just can’t get me out of his head, La La La, La La La La La!’
Why do I get the feeling that despite all the drama you are the twinkle in Ethan’s eye! Happy Father’s Day you old “goat”!
>wink<
ps – check out "goat sex" on youtube. Oh my… Talk about risky behavior, being precariously perched on loose rocks at an 89 degree incline a few thousand feet on a cliff all for a little nooky! I've known a few adventurous queens in my time, but none who can top that!