Honeymoon.

We’re trying to figure out where to go on our honeymoon and so far we’re stuck on Thailand or South Africa. I love animals so I’m all about Africa, but I’m also really into butlers so I want to go to Thailand where I can ethically own someone.

At the Saint Regence Hotel in Bangkok you’re given a personal butler with one of their rooms that would normally cost about 2,000 bucks in the US but goes for about 200 bucks there. I told Francesco about this while he was showering because news like that can’t wait.

Me. “WE CAN GET A BUTLER! WE CAN GET A BUTLER! THAILAND! IN THAILAND!”

Fra: “Wait, what? Slow down!”

ME. “If we go to Thailand I get a butler, my own butler, it’s ethical and I would tip them a lot because I’m nice but I get a butler and it says they make you coffee in the morning and draw the drapes, so basically I can be like that ugly girl from Annie. And the butler will do “anything” according to the website so she can read me books and help me plan trips and I can name her butterfly!”

Fra. “You can’t name them.”

ME. “Who fucking says!? I can name her buttlerfly. Butterfly, please make some coffee. Butterfly, does this skirt make me look fat? It’s going to be the best time! We’re going to Thailand!”

Fra. “Sigh.”

Then we started to make dinner. And I was chopping stuff and trying to make conversation.

ME. “Are you excited to have a Butler?”

Fra. “Not really. I mean, it seems kind of weird to me. I don’t really care about having a servant.”

Me. “Well that’s a lie. I’ve seen you around your mom. So, you don’t think it’s cool because you’re used to having one. And if you ask butterfly to do anything for you I’m going to tell her to ignore you because you have mother issues.”

Fra. “Whatever you say babe.”

Me. “Oh, and the internet says the butlers are discreet. What does that mean? Does that mean they’ll find you sex workers? You can have a BJ if you want if she’s a consenting adult.”

Fra. “I don’t want one.”

Me. “Right. You say that now but just wait until some hot ass is all naked rubbing you down and just like that BAM! You’ll be addicted to hookers. That’s something to think about I guess so maybe I should hold off on that decision.”

Fra. “Jesus! I don’t WANT one! Misty! How the hell did you go from butler service to hooker addiction!?”

ME. “Because the butler is going to get you addicted to sex workers.”

Fra. “Yeah, totally obvious connection. You are…something.”

Then Francesco went over to the laptop and put on “yellow and black” or whatever that song is with Snoop Dogg. He is fascinated with rap culture.

Fra. “Why do you think they are singing about yellow and black? What does it mean?”

ME. “You’re reading into it too much we’re not studying Faulkner here, you’re talking about a dude who became famous by singing about smoking weed and getting laid sometimes which I still find funny. Everyone has sex, bragging about it just means that you’re shocked that someone would sleep with you. Anyways, in this song they are singing about colors. They probably have a thing for a basketball team or bees. They really like insects.”

Fra. “Why do you think Snoop can dance like that but if I do it I look like an idiot?”

ME. “Because Snoop is about seven feet tall and huge people can do whatever they want.”

Fra. “Who says?”

ME. “The king of Thailand. And he’s important. It says on the internet that if you insult the king at all you can go to jail. He’s serious.”

Fra. “Well, it’s a country where everyone does thai kickboxing. It’s a serious place. Also, are you saying average size people can’t dance and look cool? You’re not tall.”

ME. “I’m above average for a girl.”

Fra. “WHO SAYS!?”

ME. “The king of Thailand.”

Fra. “Pft. Whatever.”

ME. “You know what!? Butterfly knows muay thai and I’m going to make her kick your ass.”

Fra. “Right.”

ME. “THAT’S IT! I’M FUCKING TELLING BUTTERFLY!” And I slammed my silverware down for emphasis.

Fra. “There is a lot wrong with all of this.”

ME. “What? Oh.”

“Sigh…”

Marriage Class: Lesson 2

As usual I made a huge ass of myself today in our one hour marriage class titled “The Family Crisis.” Actually, it happened before the class even started because I’m that good, but to my defense I’m not the one who named my baby Douche. Okay, to be fair the name is technically Douche-o, but still, I’m not the one who posted the name Douche-o on a wall outside of the marriage classroom. Anyhow, all of the Italian couples were standing in a circle about ten feet away talking about their upcoming weddings while Francesco and I slacked off against a wall with some kind of chart when I saw the name and turned to Francesco. “Seriously? What asshole would name their kid Douche-o?”

He smiled politely,

“It’s a Florentine name.”

“Douche-o come kiss grandma goodbye. This is my little Douche-o! Douche-o, DOUCHE-O! That’s just fucked up. You guys should have known better. You don’t have Summer’s Eve commercials here?”

“No. We don’t. Oh! Oh! We could name our son Douche-o and our daughter Beg. DOUCHE-O BAG!”

“Douche-o Bag, you two are grounded!”

I don’t know why we thought it was funny. Something about going to class makes me regress to high school, plus I’m immature in general, we were hungry and entirely too sober. When the class doors opened we laughed all the way over to the other group where we were introduced to two new people. Nice to meet you, I’m whatever, and nice to meet you, my.name.is. Douche-O. We fucking lost it. I wasn’t even laughing, I was convulsing and that poor guy! It probably seemed like we were laughing at him but really we were just laughing at his name. Poor Douche-o. I can’t stop!

We go into the classroom and take our places around the big rectangle table. I tried to take a picture for you guys but Francesco hissed, “NOOOOO,” and then made me turn my phone off. He thinks he’s better than me because he has manners. The priest came and sat down then immediately launched into a one hour lecture. I couldn’t understand all of it but the gist of things seemed to be, “the family is failing.” He talked about the right and wrong reasons to get married, and we started to get the idea that our priest is really liberal (for a priest). At the end of his long lecture he asked everyone for questions, comments, etc.

The first couple: My father is very scared that when I get married I’ll stop speaking to him [giggle] but I keep telling him that I love him and that he’s just as important as my husband. I keep reassuring my father that things will never change between us.

Me: I’ve never been into Freud, but now it all makes sense. He clearly conducted his studies in Italy or used Italian subjects which explains his theory of father-daughter, mother-son relationships. And I thought my relationship with my dad was weird.

The second couple: I’m getting married because I have to because we have a child together.

Me. She seems sad and this makes me sad.

The Third Couple: Work, work, work, marriage is work, we know it’s difficult and it’s work, it’s super difficult, DEAR GOD WE KNOW IT’S GOING TO BE DIFFICULT. It’s a big commitment. A BIG COMMITMENT!

Me. Uhm, yes. And you make it sound so fun!

The Fourth Couple: I’m getting married because I want to move out of my parents house. We’ve been together for ten years.

Me. Which you must do because it is  the year 1555. And ten years? Poor guy has been saving forever, how many cows did you cost?

The Fifth Couple: I want to get married IN.THE.CHURCH because I need Jesus. We need Jesus, we want Jesus in our marriage. We need Jesus [crying].

Me. Wow.

The priest: People who are not married, or married in the church have Jesus. Also, being in the church doesn’t make you christian, it’s what you believe and how you act that makes you christian.

The Fifth Couple:  [They were fucking pissed at the priest! They both scowled angrily] The man said, “So you’re saying that it’s not important to marry in the church? So you’re saying that we’d be just as good if we married in a civil marriage!”

Me. Wow. Rude.

The priest: Buildings don’t make you christian. Also, civil wedding was created by the Catholic church in countries where we did not want to have a protistant wedding. So, yes, a civil wedding is just as good as long as you live a christian life.

The Fifth Couple: [SO PISSED!]

Me. WOW.

Then Francesco decided to speak: Listen, everyone knows that marriage is a commitment and that it’s difficult. That’s pretty obvious but it isn’t work. You all make it sound so horrible! Marriage is exactly what you want it to be and for me, coming home and talking with my wife or making her happy isn’t work. I love it because I love her. Making her happy makes me happy so it’s not work. It’s just awesome. And that’s because we’re great friends, friendship is the key.

The priest: THAT IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! THAT IS JESUS! THAT IS CHRISTIANITY! THAT IS GOD!

Me. THAT was an Athiest (Francesco).

Then everyone prayed and we went to pick up Oliver from the dog sitter. The dog sitter fired us. She said he cries too much. Now I’m sad. God punished me for my inner commentary and for making fun of Douche-O.

Mourning In Solidarity: What Is It? Who Are We?

Sometimes I’m serious and I do serious things. Who’d a thought? This is an art installation I’m currently involved in. And yeah, it’s intense, don’t be all judgy! Okay, but seriously it’s a little intense and graphic so if you’re having an uptight day, you might want to skip the video. Instead, you can just write me random words of affirmation. Why? Because I’m needy, and why not?

Mourning In Solidarity: What Is It? Who Are We?.

via Mourning In Solidarity: What Is It? Who Are We?.

Marriage Classes: Brought To You By The Catholic Church: Lesson 1

So, a lot of stuff has been going on lately and I haven’t been that great at keeping you guys updated. So, here it goes: Even though we’re having a “mixed” marriage, meaning that I’m not Catholic, we have to attend marriage classes at the church across the street from our house. Now, I think the idea of marriage classes is genius and everyone should have to take them before marriage. How great would it be to learn conflict resolution, listening skills, interpersonal communication skills, etc..before you’re hitched? It would be awesome but this is not what you learn in Catholic marriage class. In fact, aside from “sperm conservation” (think Monty Python) I’m not sure what they teach but I’m about to find out. I don’t want to offend any of my Catholic readers, but seriously, I’m not sure I can trust some guy who has never been married to tell me how to go for fifty years without murdering my spouse. It’s also possible that the classes are different in the US but here our first class went something like this:

We entered. We sat. Couples came in giggling and blushing all introducing themselves and sitting around the table demanding the wedding date of everyone else. The priest entered. His married assistant entered. The priest asked everyone what they wanted to learn from the class and the answers were as follows:

“I would like to learn how to deal with arguments. We’ve been together for ten years and we don’t know how to solve arguments.” Listen, if you can’t solve arguments with someone you’ve been with for TEN YEARS you should not be getting married. You should be getting therapy.

“I am here because I’d like to get married to gain financial indepence from our parents.” The fuck?

“I would like to learn how to be married happily.” Yes, ask the unmarried man in the dress. He knows.

This continued for a while. Then, we were asked to introduce ourselves. This is where I become an asshole and say it all in English. This way, I am allowed to color in my book instead of listening because it gives the impression that I don’t speak Italian. I didn’t feel like I belonged there, I felt like an imposter and I didn’t want to be forced to speak in any way. My husband introduced us by pointing out that he’s Catholic and I’m an Athiest because he’s a jerk. Also, he’s not really Catholic, and I’m Agnostic, HE’S Athiest. He’s only Catholic when it’s convenient for him. CALLING YOU OUT BUDDY! Anyhow, everyone stopped talking to stare at me, so I took it as a good time to smile and wave. Some giggled at this, one couple rolled their eyes and the priest was inspired to rant for thirty minutes about how great it is that I’m willing to attend the classes for the sake of my husband and that the life of an Atheist is difficult because every day of my life I struggle to ignore the existence of God. Which I don’t do, priest. In fact, I’ve tried really  hard to be religious a few times but I can’t get myself to believe in any of the books that were written by men. Men are idiots, inspired by God or not they are bound to screw things up. Again, I’m not Athiest, I don’t deny the possibility of anything, I believe in simple morality. I believe in kindness inspired by true compassion, not morality inspired by obedience.  With that said, I’ve always thought it would be really cool to be Catholic, but the fact that a lot of religious people are assholes has turned me off  to the whole thing. An example? The priest last month (in Italy) who announced that all of the women being murdered in the world “deserve it.” Asshole. If more Catholics were like Lady Gaga I’d be all over it.

With that said, I’m not a perfect example of morality and I feel like I should make a list of my bad qualities just to show I’m not putting myself on any kind of pedistool, but that would take too long. Anyhow, after the priest finished his thing we sat around and basically stared at each other for ten minutes before the class was over. In two weeks we have another class. Cannot.Wait. I will keep you updated.

 

Every Sperm Is Sacred, Every Sperm Is Great

 

My Church Class Artwork. Don't Ask.

My Church Class Artwork. Yes, that is a burning house.

Public Sex?

Once in a while I like to check my stats to see who is coming from where and how they ended up here. And, I have to say, I am really fucking sorry if you were searching for “public sex” and instead ended up on “surviving me.” And apparently there are a lot of you. Top searches that lead people to M.E. for 2012:

Public Sex

Having Public Sex

Public Sex in Italy

Sex In Public And Something About A Drinking Jar

What’s really depressing about this is that I want to be a public sex expert, i do. However, my husband would rather castrate himself and join the church choir before getting all hanky-panky with me out in the open because “a wife is sacred” and all that. In fact he nearly has a stroke if I change into pajamas without both the shutters closed AND the curtains drawn (for the people with x-ray night goggles who he believes live in our hood?). I find this funny because when I met him I was doing nude art installations. Anyhow, yes, I’m bitter about it. I would like to be a public sex expert but I’m not because life is stupid. And because of the Madonna-Whore Complex. Thank you, Roman Catholic Church, this is totally all your fault.

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Keep your pants on in public or I will CUT YOU! Then put you in the choir. Bietch!