April 28, 1999.

This morning the Boy awoke at seven a.m., got dressed, made coffee, told me how beautiful I am in the morning and left for his new temp job. Then I slept until 11:30. I could get used to this.

So my cousin's getting married to the Negligent Hairdresser in July. (As Paris says, "how many weddings do you go to in a year, anyway?!") This Sunday is the bridal shower. And we couldn't have an intimate little thing in somebody's living room...no; we have to go to a Masonic Hall.

(Can you tell this wedding is setting my teeth on edge? Ever since I found out that I'll probably be working that weekend and unable to attend - causing my mother to freak out & hatch improbable schemes of escape - my distaste for the whole thing has been growing like evil-smelling lichen.)

My cousin is the steady, wage earning amoral type. He'll get his law degree very soon; so he can afford to move into a new 4 bedroom prefab house in the suburbs. They're a very conventional couple. You know how people give sleazy joke gifts at these things? Well, my idea was that I could use the guise of sleaze to buy them something educational and useful, like the Kama Sutra. You know, try to broaden their minds a bit.

"Hey, this guy looks like Apu!"

- homer on the kama sutra

Well, my mom said no. Apparently, she has decided that the Eastern teachings on sex are "garbage." (So there you have it, folks. Next time you want to pursue those hour-long tantric orgasms, save your money. My mom has spoken.) Her concluding words were more or less like this, "I'm getting her The Joy of Cooking. You can get her The Joy of Sex." Nice, safe, western text, right?

Well, Come As You Are, my neighborhood sex shop with the really great book selection doesn't carry the J of S. Apparently, it's full of misinformation and out of date. I could prolly go to The World's Biggest Bookstore, but why bother? Spreading sexual misinformation is not one of my enthusiasms... especially when we're talking about a couple that generally seems quite narrow and complacent in the first place. But I got my mother to make a small concession towards smut! Should I just throw it away??

Yet do I really want to be known among my relatives as that nerdy closeted lezzie with a S-E-X obsession? Even the more sympathetic members of the family might not understand, and I can think of better labels.

As advertised, last night the Boy & I went to Scott & Stacy's house to hang out. My primary motive was to avoid further pranks from Scott, as we had the following conversation on Saturday night:

Scene: I am sitting in my reasonably immaculate living room in bellbottoms (i.e. not ready to be at a goth club). About an hour and a half ago, Stacy told me that Dav was at the door, and that they would be over to hangout. I have had time to tidy the living room, my bedroom, and the kitchen. I am beginning to get worried, so I place a call to the Loft.

Me: Hi, Scott, what's going on?
Sc: What do you mean?
Me: I thought Stacy & Dav were coming over here a while ago
Sc: What? You were supposed to come over here! Stacy just asked where the hell you were.
Me: Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I must have misheard Stacy, I've been sitting her wondering -
Sc: - You know I'm lying, right?
Me: (pause) You're a horrible person.
Sc: That's what you get for not coming over more often.

So I decided to come over more often. QED.

And for the record, we did not force Scott to put on The Star Wars Holiday Special. He asked if he'd played it for us yet, and we responsided in the negative. Oh, if only we had lied.

It has to be the worst thing I've ever sat through. The Art Carney bits are aggressively unentertaining, Bea Arthur singing to Mos Eisley cantina is painful, Carrie Fisher singing at the end is beyond horrible (although she does have a really nice voice), and the plot...oh, the plot. Chewbacca needs to go back to his Wookie family for Life Day. Did you know that he has a father, wife and child? Did you ever want to spend whole minutes listening to Wookie's howl at each other? Think again, friend.