A French Slip of the Tongue

Last weekend I had a dream that Mack was gay with his friend Rob and had decided to leave me for the male persuasion. I was all snotty from sad about it, but he was business as usual... except for the being gay part.

Not even Shahin had sympathy for me. She was like, "Well, people are born that way. You can't change it." And then she hauled another box of my stuff out of the house.

I told Mack about it so he'd know why I was mad at him, and since Rob is like a pet, I told him about it too. It started out like this, "Please promise me you won't be stealing my husband with your gay love." And then we got into all the gritty details about the threesome in the bathtub with this girl named Colleen, who was playing the role of mattress more than seductress, and how judo was the gateway to gay.

Well, things were on the mend and we were all laughing about it by the time Mack and Rob came home from judo tonight. I was taking the recycling out when I saw them walking up the sidewalk with another judo friend, this one a new recruit living in Lexington as a refugee from Congo. He hasn't been here long and knows no English. But French, he knows French.

Rob comes in and while he's washing his hands in the bathroom, we joke about the dream. As our conversation continues in the kitchen, where the Congo man is standing, I say, "Yeah, we know how you like a menage a trois."

So here's this skinny refugee guy who knows nothing about me and Mack and Rob, and Rob walks in like he owns the place, and I just touched the guy on the back and gestured inward to try to get him to come away from the door and take a seat, and now we're talking about menage a trois. It'd be like if I went to Iran and was there for one minute, just inside the door and someone patted me on the back and then two seconds later said "gang bang" amidst an ocean of Farsi.

I have no idea what ran through his mind at that point, but he was gone within 5 minutes. C'est la vie.

Criss Cross Country

Three years ago, we loaded up the truck and we moved to Beverly... Well, the West Side of Los Angeles anyway.
Last week, we loaded up the truck and headed back to be with ya'll hillbillies again.In case you ever wanted to know what driving 2,169 miles non-stop across the country with a freak husband who refuses to stop even though you're both hallucinating shadow people running across the road looks like, I give you this little film, made possible by iPhone and boredom and sleeplessness. Sorry in advance for the bugs (and to the bugs) on the windshield.

* Song is "I feel it all" by Feist.

We are screwed.

For more thought provoking, listen to TED.