Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Crab Monster

Posted by She Said

Crab Monster is a not-so-affectionate term that often flies around our house. For example, when Emily doesn’t get her way in say, oh, any given situation, the beast within emerges, and Greg and I often mutter about what a Crab Monster she is being. More often than not though, it is a term that is often directed at yours truly after a not-so-restful night of sleep. This is ok though, as I have worked very diligently to accept my Crab Monster within. More importantly though, so has Greg. Which is why he does whatever he can in his power to ensure I get enough sleep at night and keep the Crabster at bay.

Greg will do things like let me get to sleep before he comes to bed, so that his own troublesome beast doesn’t emerge and keep me awake. See, if I fall asleep first, I am less susceptible to succumb to the beast’s powers of arousal. Not the GOOD kind of arousal, mind you. I mean the type of arousal that emerges when trying to sleep next to a marathon snorer. That’s right, Greg, my beloved partner, snores so loudly that it surprises me the neighbors haven’t knocked on the door in the middle of the night to demand that he roll over.

In addition to letting me fall asleep first, Greg’s feelings weren’t hurt when out of three nights of camping last weekend, I only slept next to him once. Why? Because the one time I did, I wanted to run madly into the middle of the dark woods when the close proximity of sleeping in Stella didn’t offer enough of a sound buffer from the snorefest going on next to me. OK, it was that and the fact that Emily talked in her sleep on and off all night, and the fact that we have a dog who pants loudly and wants out in the middle of the night. So, rather than becoming a widow because his wife was eaten by bears by moonlight, Greg insisted that I sleep in the trailer, a mere 25 feet away. ALL. BY. MYSELF.

Yes, I am married to an amazing man, and he’s mine, so back off! BACK THE F…

See? I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Bad Crab Monster, BAD! Maybe it wasn’t kindness that led Greg to his generous behavior. Perhaps it was self-preservation?

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Thank You, May I Have Another?

Posted by She Said

A couple of weekends ago, my high school class celebrated its 20-year reunion. It was two nights of partying and drinking. It would have included a third daytime event made up of a family picnic style gathering, but apparently we are all a bunch of boozers and there wasn’t enough interest in that kind of snooze fest, so it was canceled. Go class of 1990!

In all seriousness, the first night was a bit rough for me. Not because of the drinking or the congregation of some amazingly successful people, like the pediatric cardiologist, the orthopedic surgeon, and the AG prosecutor (for starters), in one small area was a tad nauseating at times. No, it was the fact that of the 100 or so people that came, I only recognized about 4 or 5. Even when the name tags finally got passed around and everyone was staring at each others’ chests for name verification, I still felt at a loss as to who everyone was. Other people didn’t seem to have this problem. In fact several times over the course of the weekend I was told I look just like I did in high school.

Shut! Up!

Seriously, people! I have worked HARD to tame those bangs and have plucked many parts to not look like this anymore:


Really? I don’t look like that anymore, right?



Ugh. Anyway, I made it through the reunion and actually had a great time catching up with some people I hadn’t seen since graduation. In fact, as I sit and reminisce about how I survived and enjoyed it, I am actually pretty amazed at some of the things I have succeeded in doing in my life.

  • Have fun at 20-year high school reunion. Been there, done that.
  • Clear a table full of people by talking politics (well, all except the FBI guy). Yeah, that was a shining moment.
  • Traverse a chunk of the Great Wall of China. Oh, yeah, baby. Check!
  • Get spanked in front of a crowd of people in a gay bar for charity. *blush* Check.

Yes, folks, that’s right. I am now able to successfully add getting publicly spanked to my list of accomplishments. Go me! Yeah!

Oh, you probably want to know all the sordid details of what lead to this public walloping, don’t you? OK, OK, OK. Greg and I went to a Reno Wine “Walk” (“stumble” is more like it, but whatever), where about 30 or so establishments in the downtown area encourage you to get ripped with your friends as you run from place to place for your taste of the fermented grape. The money goes to a different charity each month, and it drums up business for some really great downtown establishments. Places like an antique shop where Greg got to tease his inner girl fashion beast.


Or the bar that offered free hookah:


And then there was the 5 Star Saloon, a local gay bar, that took the opportunity to raise additional money for a charity that helps the victims of domestic violence. By spanking them. I gave the guy at the door a dollar, thanked him for raising money for such a good cause, but kindly refused the offer of getting all kinky with a public spanking. Then we left.

That’s when the high school antics of daring came into play. I heard, “Oh, yeah, Susanne, you couldn’t take it.” Then I was stung with, “Yeah, she can’t play with the cool kids.” Or, that might have been a flashback. Anyway, I marched right back in and asked him for a spankin’.

Here I am waiting for my turn:


The woman getting spanked ahead of me was really enjoying it and asked several times for something with a little more zing. Maybe that gave me confidence to not flee the scene, because then it was my turn:


I would have posted this sooner, but I just got up the nerve to reacquaint my ass with my computer chair. And I can guarantee that Greg will be delivered some divorce papers if the video gets out.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Rounding Out

Posted by He Said

While in China (I know, China again, get used to it; I think that many blogs will still start like this for some time to come), I initially lost weight for the first couple weeks. Then I discovered fried bread, and I lost that anorexic look I have worked so hard to achieve. 

For those who don’t know me personally, I have struggled with my weight since my late 20’s.  I started out life as a plump well rounded 10lb 4oz baby but thinned out quickly and was a stick for most of my early years.  I could eat whatever I wanted, as much as I wanted, and never filled out.  During my late teens I would eat an entire box of Lil Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls and wash them down with a quart of chocolate milk. Oh, those were the days. Here is a picture of what I looked like in my late teens.  I am the guy on the far right. Please, no comments on the shorts.  I know how hot I look.


Then something terrible happened. My metabolism slowed and slowed, and food became a battle.  Not just because I could no longer eat whatever I wanted, but because food is also something I turn to when I am stressed or depressed.  Of course, the same time my metabolism slowed I also went through a divorce and boy oh boy did the pounds come on then. I went from around 185 (I was 165 in the pic above) to a whopping 275 near the end of my 30’s.  To prove this, I have a photo taken of me at Skywalker Ranch. Yes, THE George Lucas Skywalker Ranch – do you know how HARD it is to work in an excuse to brag about that one. I’m the tall young one on the right.  Not sure who the statue is of, but it looked pretty cool.

Greg and Yoda

So you can see I put on a few pounds and lost a few hairs (but that’s a blog for another day).  Some time after this picture was taken, my beautiful wife, She Said, and I decided it was time to crack down and work on our weight.  It took a long time and many struggles, but we did it.  I actually rocked my way back down to 210 and was feeling really good about myself.  Here I am in 2005.  Looking pretty slim if I do say so myself.


But I was never able to keep my weight down that low.  It has always been a struggle and while I knew that I have been putting my weight back on ever since we went to China, I have not done anything about it, nor have I really wanted to.

Until today.

Today I was walking out of the office with one of the China employees who is here visiting, and he looked at me and squinted his face.  This is the look I am all too familiar with.  It is the look he gets on his face when he is processing language translations so that he can say something he is not sure of the correct English for.

“You are looking different since you were in Beijing.”

“Really? I did shave my head this weekend,” I say.

“No,” he replies, “you are looking rounder.”

“Are you saying I have gotten fat?”

“Yes,” he says, “Why is that? Too many burgers?”, which with his Chinese accent comes out sounding like “boogers”, but I get the point.

I need to ride my bike to work.

Or eat fewer boogers.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

How To Ensure A No-Nooky Night

Posted by She Said

Let this be a lesson to you, husbands, partners, and significant-others. If you want some, don’t do this:

Me: Greg, if you were ever going to leave me, you need to do it now.

Greg: Why?

Me: Because if you leave me after what I am going to tell you, I will forever think it is because of what I’m going to tell you.

Greg: OK, I’m going to leave you.

Me: *blank stare*

Greg: Now that I am going to leave you anyway, you might as well tell me what you were going to tell me. *grin*

Me: *sigh* I have proof that I am old.

Greg: *short pause* You have gray pubes?

Me: *jaw drop*

Greg: Am I right???

Me: How the hell did you guess that?!! SERIOUSLY?! HOW???

Greg: So, I’m right.

Me: Yes. Shut up.

Greg: I'll just call you my silver fox.

Me: *stink eye* Yeah, that doesn’t help.

Good Karma

Posted by He Said

I found an iPhone 4 in the street today. In fact, I am pretty sure I clipped it with my front wheel before it registered what it might be. I stopped, picked it up, and it still worked! It wasn't even locked. I could have kept it, but I didn't. As much as I want the new iPhone, I couldn't keep it. All right, all right, my wife wouldn't let me. So I looked for a number labeled Home in the contacts and gave it a ring.

"Hello, I am calling from an iPhone I found in the street."
An uncomfortable pause.
"Do you have an iPhone?" I ask again.
"My son does?", and she yells away from the phone at her son "where is your iPhone?"

I can only imagine being that teenager at that moment and nearly crapping my pants. They came by and picked it up. And my reward? A nervously gracious thank you from a teenage boy. OK that and knowing I did the right thing. Oh hell, who am I kidding? He could have at least offered to mow my lawn.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Bizarro world

Today my four-year-old daughter sounds like a 90-year-old smoker and my five-year-old son asked if he could shave my head. Where am I?
Sent from my iPhone

Update: It was indeed a strange day yesterday.  Apparently I couldn't even remember my sons age (he is six) and I hadn't even tapped the box wine when I wrote this.