Not Tonight Honey, I'm On A Diet....

A recent poll published in USA Today cites that "for some women, weight control is more important than sex."  I had to read that sentence twice.  Honestly, I did....because I'm dying to ask those ladies, "Are ya' doin' it wrong?"

There are many things that I would give up if the Ab Genie granted my wish for a rock hard core, or if a plastic surgeon took me on as a charity case.....like lying about my age, cheating at Monopoly, rolling through stop signs, making my kids do silly dances for me before I will feed them, removing from my head the word "ruh-tard" when I see a mentally handicapped person, looting and pillaging my neighbor's collection of mail-order catalogs, hoarding and eating the kids Halloween and Easter candy.....but sex (for many different reasons).....would be no where on the list (despite my current knocked up condition).

Don't get me wrong, for as much as I love my husband, his penchant to grab my breasts in greeting, "just because he can" can actually be a turn off (side note: I mean, seriously, what is up with guys and boobs?  We were walking in Fisherman's Wharf in SF a month ago and a fat old guy walks past us wearing a T-shirt that said "I love boobies"....what up with that?!?).  So when I get really fed up, he whines that I can be a one woman sex excuse generating machine: 

1. It's too hot. 
2. It's too cold.
3. I have to poop....and it can't wait.
4. Odd days of the week are such a turn off.
5. Ugh, you didn't change the channel & I'm so NOT watching Leno, good night.
6. I just moisturized.
7. I think one of the kids just puked, better go check.
8. Poking me on facebook does not constitute foreplay.
9. I'm just 146 pages away from finishing up "Pride & Prejudice" for the 18th time.
10. You really shouldn't have had all those onions with dinner.
11. Oops, I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer.
12. I'm too worried about the economy and why Bill O'Reilly keeps picking on poor Jennifer Aniston?
13. Ooh, "Castle" is on and you know how much I love that Nathan Fillion....
14. This is a really hard Sudoku puzzle...I just want to finish it
15. John Mayer has been tweeting like crazy today....I can't wait to see what he says next!

And the list goes on.....I'm sure you all have other good ones to add to the list (please feel free to share!)....

According to eHow, "30 minutes of intercourse will burn 195 calories."  Isn't that a much better way to burn off that late afternoon grande mocha? So why take one option off the list that would actually help keep those rockin' abs a rockin'.  Granted, it's no Zumba class, but it actually can be fun, when you get out of your head and let it.  Besides,there's a reason the book is called "Skinny Bitch," there are more health benefits related to sex than starving yourself, such as better body image, feeling sexier, stress relief, ....did I mention STRESS RELIEF?

I bring up stress relief, because we are becoming an increasingly angrier and angrier nation.  Workplace shootings; pissed off flight attendants; Kelsey Grammar (who, btw, recently dumped the wife who convinced him she had something called "irritable bowel syndrome"...and made him go on TV and talk about it...damn, why couldn't I pull that one off!); all those greasy, sweaty, hairless, leather-like gorilla Jersey Shore guys "creepin'" all over the place; the incompetent New York State legislature; and more and more Kardashians coming out of the woodwork each day....we are awash in a perfect storm of a listless economy, general overall resentment,  tawdry voyeurism through 24-hour gossip sites (LUV U PEREZ!) and global warming.....so I must ask, is anybody out there (other than me) having any sex?

The Steven Slater Effect

Yesterday, at a local diner, I recieved the shock of my life.  As the middle aged waitress (not to be confused with the Bitchy Waiter, btw) brought out our food, I lightly touched her arm and asked, "Could you bring us a new bottle of ketchup?" The 6 yr. old, Crazy Man, was already eyeing the, for all intesive purposes, "empty" bottle on the table very dubiously.  I thought I would ask, in an effort to head off the volley of questions that would spew from Crazy Man's mouth. 

She turned on me with angry glazed-over eyes and announced, "Do I look like ya' mutha?  Do I look like I have the time to go all the way back to the kitchen, then come all the way back here with a new bottle of ketchup, FOR YOU?  Look, look around.....does it look like I'm not busy today?"

I did look around, and was embarrassed to see the majority of the restaurant staring at me. "No...it's okay, don't worry about it," I mumbled.  But she had already turned hard on here heels, loudly saying, "But here I go, getting you another mutha-fuckin' ketchup, like I'm the f-ing Heinz 57- St. Paulie girl...."

"Quick, before she comes back.....grab the bottle from the table over there....AND HIDE IT." I told my 9 yr. old, fearing that if she saw, we'd be pelted with small packages of orange marmalade or even worse, the germ-laced mints at the register. Then it hit me, in one angry, curse-laden mouthful, I had been Steven Slater-ed.

Like the pissed-off JetBlue flight attendant, who according to Jimmy Fallon, "grabbed two beers and jumped."  I believe I was the victim of a walk by, table side "Slater-ing" - one, in what I fear might be a rash of copy cat acts from employees in the service industry, most of whom are fed up with the general douche-yness of their customers and the lull of modern life.

Now granted the flight was coming in from Pittsburgh....need I say more, but I feel that Steven Slater could've behaved in a more professional manner.   Let's face it Steve, if you can't handle the luggage, then get off the plane.....which you did, after you smartly threw down your very large carry-on bag, which I'm told looked like it would NOT fit in any of the overhead bins.

Let's not canonize the guy for re-gurgitating the "take this job and shove it" mantra and turning it into a glittering broadway revue.....soon to star Hugh Jackman as a down-on-his-luck singing, dancing,disgruntled sequin-clad air steward. Because we all know that the fanny-ing about with the drink cart has its perks, including making thinly veiled passes at married men, trying to secretly seduce them by coyly slipping them an extra Dr. Pepper, or two.

And while air travel has become increasingly no frills - no pillows, blankets, food or leg room - the flight attendants are there to set a friendly tone and to gently remind passengers that we're all in this together, so let's make the best of it. Having recently flown from coast to coast in my "fragile" state, it was not only an uncomfortable experience, but an extremely eye-opening one.....NO ONE....I repeat NO ONE helped the very visibly pregnant woman hoist her bag into the overhead bin, then once again, hoist it back down at the end of the flight.  Of the 4 flights, (I connected each way), NOT ONE of my smelly, agitated fellow passengers, or any of the "friendly" flight attendants so much as lifted a finger to help, or ask if any assistance was needed.  I realize that pregnancy is not a handicap, and women were long ago giving birth on the job in rice paddies and farm fields, but I thought modern manners would have garnered me a little help, and not comments like, "Oh my, you have to pee AGAIN, dear?"

I could have put any number of people in my pregnancy-fueled hormonal-cross hairs, but I didn't.  Propriety brought me back to my seat to do numerous sharp reps of kegel exercises.  As I counted and clentched, my anger subsided, though, sadly, the urge to pee did not. Now with every new news item about Steve Slater (or the now inevitable View appearance), working class hero, or t-shirt with Steve Slater in the likeness of Che Guevara,  or Facebook tribute page, I just want to scream!  Because if he had only "Queen-ed" up, done his own version of a kegel exercise and turned the other cheek, he could've been trolling for a sugar daddy on the next flight to Boca....like tomorrow!