Intellectual Conversation

“Hey baby. Want me to pull on your big toe?


“I’m also supposed to wrap your penis in plastic wrap.”

“And then what?”

“And then I hum.”

“Hum what?”

He then threatened to buy a men’s magazine and try out all of their advice on me. We both figure that advice would be even worse than that from Cosmo. He’s thinking it might involve a live lobster. And at least we’d have the plastic wrap to tie his pinchers closed with.

I actually rarely read magazines anymore, panic-driven wild grabbing at the airport not withstanding, but last night I was reading Food and Wine. They had an interview with a woman about throwing parties where the guests drink wine. She seemed to be an expert mostly because she had given parties… and served wine. Anyway, one question asked (it seemed to be one of those interviews without an actual interviewer; possibly she made up her own questions) how she ensures that her guests don’t drink too much.

Is she serving wine at frat parties? Are her guests not reasonable adults who can manage their own alcohol consumption? Apparently not. She answered that she serves all the wine herself to make sure no one has too much and that she knows who’s driving, so she keeps that in mind as well.

So, if I went to one of her parties, I’d have to track her down and say “please ma’am. May I have some more?” while holding out my glass in a forlorn fashion? Or I’d have to wait patiently with my empty glass and hope that she would eventually make her way towards me? I also picture her gathering up everyone’s keys in a big bag a la Say Anything. Would I really have to walk into the party and say “oh thank you so much Gladys (not her real name. at least as far as I recall) for inviting me. By the way, I know that I was the one who put the car keys in the bag, but actually, Bob (not my boyfriend’s real name, and I do actually recall his) is going to drive home, since last night he had eight shots of tequila and I had to drive him as he sprawled in the passenger seat singing me the Thong Song. So it’s his turn tonight. Bring on the wine.”

Or was she simply saying, in a national publication, that her friends are all lushes who don’t know when to say when and if she didn’t control the wine bottles, she’d wake up the next morning with twenty of her closest friends wanting just a little quiet, just a little less light, and some bacon and eggs with toast?

I wouldn’t go to her party even if she invited me. We have wine at home. And plastic wrap.

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