Now, I was just complaining to my friend Rick here that I’ve been running out material lately to blog about. My last entry felt forced. Lacking in….genuine Amieness.
In all honesty though, the problem isn’t that I’ve run out of material…it’s that I’ve run out of SAFE material. You see, people of Helena, I depend on you. I depend on you to say stupid things, wear out dated clothing and participate in activates that would make even Jeff Foxworthy’s “you know you’re a redneck when….” list look civilized. But you refuse to play your part lately and my poor blog is sufferings for it! Hang your head in shame!
I say “safe” material because chances of you coming across my blog and realizing that YOU are the medieval peasant being put to death by my guillotine of sarcasm are slim to none. Therefore no blood no foal!
My family however produces an unhealthy amount of blogable material (myself included!). JUICY blogable material. Material that would make even the most benevolent milkmaid clap her dirty hands together in sadistic delight to see the beheading!
Not all of my family members posses what is referred to as a “sense of humor” though. Even though it would be better for us all to have a good healthy laugh at ourselves, inevitably, feelings get hurt and the normal once a year contact via Christmas card is maliciously held back!
If there’s ONE person I can count on to make the walk of shame, face the guillotine and live to tell the tale though, it’s my father. All hail Barney Zauss for his charitable sacrifice!
So my dad and my step mom came to visit for Thanksgiving this past weekend and, like most conversation always does under his roof, they inexorably either drift towards all things spiritual, or all things sex related. Seeing as how it was my husband’s and my 6th year anniversary… you can only guess where this conversation floated.
Six years ago my husband and I knew nothing about sex. We married each other as virgins and even though it was a hot topic of conversation in my house growing up, I was still somewhat shielded by knowing glances and “we’ll tell you when you’re older” speeches. So, naturally, we were shocked and appalled when my dad and Carolyn gave us a very….descriptive….visual….sex book as a wedding present. They weren’t the only ones to make such an offering, but theirs was by far the most graphic. Like, what were you thinking?? kind of graphic.
Matt thought it would be a good idea to put it on their table in their guest room as bedside reading material. Instead he settled for bringing it up in this particular conversation.
“I couldn’t believe you would give us such a book!” he said, eyes wide with scandal. “…well, I could, but it was still a bit of a shock!”
“I really don’t remember,” my dad said in defense “but I’m sure it can’t be THAT bad.”
“oh yea? You wanna see it?!” As he sprints off the couch into our bedroom and returns half a second later, book with worn pages in hand. You can tell we never use it.
My dad flips it open to some random page in the middle and slams it shut, his face burning cherry red.
“That’s what I thought!” I said, joining the rolling laughter.
We have a good hoot about it but instead of changing the subject my dad proceeds to tell me some of his and Carolyn’s best sex blooper stories. And by “tell” I mean he opened his mouth and said “I remember when…” and I knew I had already heard too much! He was never inappropriate, very discreet and humorous but there are just some things that a daughter with a vivid imagination like mine should never be prevailed upon with. Even now, I physically claw at my forehead trying to remove these unwanted images of my parents from my head!!
I forgive you though dad. I guess I was finally old enough to know and we asked for it by breaking that book out. I’m not so sure Matt will be as pardoning though seeing as how later that night when normal 6th year anniversary activities were SUPPOSED to commence, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.