Yesterday, I bought the When Harry Met Sally DVD.
And I got carded.
Apparently, it’s now considered a porno.
I quickly checked the title again. Had I mistakenly grabbed “When Harry Snowballed Sally”? No… no.. it was Meg Ryan smiling out at me from the front cover, with bad 80’s hair and a gummy toothless smile.
Then it hit me. The orgasm scene. That’s why it was a questionable DVD. That orgasm scene in the deli.
Good lord. I think we’re experiencing a new level of puritanism in this country. It all started with that Book of Virtues and has ramped up with the Chicken Soup for the Soul dreck. I keep expecting to see Chicken Soup for the Addict’s Soul appearing on bookshelves in a Barnes & Noble near you.
Speaking of Barnes & Noble, I went there this weekend and was walking around looking for the Sexuality section. No, I wasn’t interested in any How To manuals or 101 Nights of Great Sex, which I actually received at my bachelorette party and have never opened. I was looking for a compilation of writings from Nerve.Com. I adore the idea that things which appeared originally in electronic form have gone to the printed page. Also, I really like their writing style. There’s some powerful writing on that web site, even if a penis and a vagina occaisionally make an appearance. I respect that. It doesn’t scare me. It is what it is. Anyway, I was just boggled by the entire way that they’ve ordered everything in that place. Everything in it’s little section. I swear that I saw a sign that said “Gentrification” but it turned out to be a sign which read “Certification”, regarding bettering oneself in regards to information technologies. I thought it would be cool, however, to have a section on Gentrification, although maybe that’s what Martha Stewart is already all about.
Anyway, back to my rant:
It’s so painfully obvious that the United States was founded by Puritans sometimes. We are far more repressed than our European cousins. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing, though, if it means that we’d be inflicted with the mentality that spawns Mentos commercials.
Related to this, last night Chasing Amy was on the Oxygen channel. That was a bit strange. First of all, I somehow think that the Oxygen channel is related to Oprah Winfrey. I might be wrong, but I have this feeling that she holds that channel within her flock of That Which Is Deigned As Good.
So I started to watch Chasing Amy, even though they squish it up and have a little black bar underneath it, reading Oxygen Network, because the first part is funny. But everything’s been whacked out of it. They were having the “girls fucking” discussion, only they replaced the word fucking with the word humping. I was immediately reduced to being 11 years old, sitting at a slumber party, and listening to Jackie Schulz whisper that word under her breath, talking about seeing her babysitting humping her boyfriend. Even younger, I was seven and Amy Gallagher, the girl who lived next to my great grandmother, whom my grandmother did not approve of because she was untamed and uncultured, told me that boys sit on a girl and rock back and forth and it feels good, only she thought that they apparently must be gyrating on the girl’s stomach, which puts a baby in the girl’s stomach, all that kneading and rocking upon the internal organs.
I can just picture Dr. Phil saying “There will be no using the f-word in this movie about the lesbians and the lesbian sex. Sure, we’re going to show women kissing and we’re going to use the word dyke but that’s racy enough. You don’t build a brick wall and then go cook spaghetti! Why would you buy a cow if you’re not going to market? Use your brains, people!” And then Oprah would clap her hands and say “Mmmmhmmm you said it Dr. Phil!”
But maybe I’m totally wrong about the Oprah/Oxygen connection.
I’m not the most sexually free person. I’m totally repressed. I admit this. I’m aware of this. I get embarassed eating bratwursts with saur kraut because they look all groiny. One time I said “Let’s do it” when talking about a meeting to a very cute guy and then got all afluster because I started to think that he thought I wanted to DO IT with him (which wouldn’t have been a bad idea, doing it with him, I’m just saying). Then I spent the next half hour quivering and all fetal in a corner. And I blush like a mandrake’s ass when someone at work calls me and says “Hey, can you get me off… the system?” But even I could only watch about fifteen minutes of the spanking clean version of Chasing Amy.
Great. Now I’m thinking about spanking in the naughty kind of way.
News on the “trying to lose my bulbous ass” front:
On a whim, I tried on the jeans that I haven’t worn in a year (because my bulbous ass had prevented it).
I could get them fastened. And I didn’t have to lay on the bed to do it.
Granted, I walked around for about ten minutes, sat down and read my email and then decided that I wanted to breathe very soon, so I took them back off. This is very exciting, however, as I could barely get them on before and the fly was inches apart. However, this is the same pair of jeans that I used to not even unbutton to shed, just sliding them off and on while buttoned. Still, it’s promising. If I have to go to a casual Standing Room Only party, I’ll be totally set. I would surf the Disney websites today as incentive, but my company has put the smack down on web surfing during work. Communists.
I think my success has greatly been attributed to the fact that I’m wired out of my gourd half the time on Starbucks coffee. Seriously. Just you try to remain sedantary when you’re jazzed up on cafeine. It’s nearly impossible. Proof that my lust for the Starbucks Guy is good for my health.
On a Starbucks note: I drove through for my morning venti mocha and I didn’t have to order. Surly Girl just answered the loudspeaker with “Venti Vanilla Mocha coming up!” Apparently, there’s a little camera which is monitoring you as you order, which explains why Starbucks Guy uses his flirty voice with me.
Note to self: Put the lipstick on BEFORE I drive up to the loudspeaker.
Now I’m certain I must have adjusted my bra strap or something while ordering, thinking myself invisible.
Damned technology.
