Housewife Tuesday – 50 Shades of Crap

I need to begin by stating some facts about myself.   As loud and obnoxious as I am, there are things I don’t need to know.  I don’t need to know how much money someone makes, for example.  None of my business.  I don’t need to know what you are feeling about everything, because if it is not about how pretty you feel I am, I don’t care.  What I really don’t need to know is what you are into sexually.   I don’t care what you do as long as those involved are willing participants and that animals, children and old people are not being hurt.  Have at it.

With all that said, here is my story.  My soul mate and best friend, Capri, read this very popular series of books that every horny milf read a few years ago.  You know the ones.  I haven’t seen this much desperation since the freaking vampire series of books years before that.  Unreal what people will read?  That’s why I like tabloids.  At least the bullshit is honest and it is not trying to sell you a bill of romantic bullshit.  This brings me to this past Tuesday.   Capri was very into all three books so much so she read them all twice.  A couple of years ago, I was on the Cape for the annual Panza family vacation. My oldest niece (I will call her Thing 1) worships the ground Capri walks on.  She loves that Capri is an “Italian Wasp”.  For Thing1, that is having it all.  So, she overhears me talking, rather yelling, at Capri, for wasting her time on those crap books.  All of a sudden Thing1 inserts herself into the conversation.

Thing1:  Don’t yell at her!  Those books are amazing and so is Capri!!!

She then grabs my phone and they go on and on for an hour about the books and what a beautiful love story and how the main character loves her but he is so damaged and blah blah blah.  I just rolled my eyes.   They both say that they can’t wait until they make the movies and discuss who should play who.  Fucking waste of time, I say.

Flash forward from then to the end of January 2015.  Capri calls me. She tells me the week of February break she is sans children and husband and we should do something. Great, I say. What should we do? She wants to do something with my nieces and sister. Have an old school night of girl talk. OK. So we bat around a few ideas and then she suggests dinner and movie. Cool by me. Then she drops the 50 shades of nonsense on me. Fine (not fine), I will get it together with the girls and my sister. After about thirty group texts, we decide on the night, that Thing1 will make dinner and then off the movies. Capri has to see Thing1’s new house and Think1 needs to admire Capri and all things that come out of Capri’s mouth and her wonderfulness in general. Tuesday arrives and I pick up MS2 and Capri at her mother’s house in the old neighborhood that is NOTHING like the old neighborhood. Those assholes that are saying Troy is the new Brooklyn need to look at something more than 10 city blocks. The North and South ends are dying. I will save that for another rant. Anyways, we get to Thing1’s house and are greeted warmly, given the tour and after a brief discussion about stripes and tartan plaid (I am, at this point in girl hell) we sit down to drink a delicious homemade sangria, eat pizzas and desserts. I begin with dessert because it is fat Tuesday and enough said. Thing2 (second niece) arrives and we chat it up some more. I check the time on my giant phone and am then mocked endlessly for having a giant phone. We say good bye to Thing1’s man, who at this point is ready to have us go, and into my car we go to the movie.

Without giving too much away, I can proudly say that I have never been thrown out of a movie. I didn’t break that streak but this is the closest I have come. I will express the factoids of the night with bullet points as I can’t remember in what order things happened.

• Capri becomes annoyed that four teenagers are sitting in front of us because she is sure something unsavory will happen the way it did this past summer at some dopey concert she was at on the lawn at SPAC. Apparently, there was a teenage boy and girl in front of her and she was giving the boy a hand job, allegedly, to completion. She kept hitting her husband to tell them to stop but he did not and an argument ensued. I told her that if there were any indication of a hand job from the four in front of us I will yell at them and tell the manager. She is convinced I won’t and she is going to have relive the Ben Folds concert/hand job incident all over again
• My sister yells at the screen 27 times that having a contract to have sex with someone is a red flag. Having a key to a bondage room is a red flag. Having a bondage room is a red flag. Having sex while in restraints is a red flag. Being spanked hard on the ass and then having sex is a red flag and she has three words about flying small planes, JOHN JOHN KENNEDY.
• I had to explain to Things1&2 that anal and vaginal fisting indeed DOES involve the whole fist and part of the wrist and NO I have not ever been fisted. I am a lady.
• I was very excited when they used they used the phrase, “do diligence”.
• I laughed out loud to the point of snorting at pretty much all of the dialogue. I laughed so hard and so often that the manager came down the aisle twice to see who was making all the pig noises.
• I feel I can speak for all involved that night that we were sick of looking at the main characters boobs and the male leads penis. It was like ordering tit soup with a side of cock. Trust me I am being gracious when I call his penis a cock.
• Watching someone smell/eat underpants that are not their own is gross.
• I almost peed myself laughing when Thing1 mispronounced the word salve.
• Anyone of the middle aged, lonely, delusional women in that theater that thought there was any kind of writing, acting or plot going on in that movie needs a pajancho and a cliff to jump off of.
• I know people in the bondage community that will be offended by the acting.
• I was once asked to handcuff a “friend” to a radiator in his bathroom for the weekend only stopping by to throw cold cuts at him and feed the cats until his girlfriend got home. I declined as I am not fond of cats.
• My arm is black and blue from freaking Capri hitting me for either making comments, laughing or to check to see if there were hand jobs going on in front of us.
• We agreed that I shouldn’t go to see the sequels with them. I am too immature.