Are You KIDDING Me With This???

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Take My Husband. Please.

So, I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but Oscar and I are in therapy together. Well, technically, Oscar is in therapy, and I'm occasionally asked to join them, kind of like the "special guest star" on Will and Grace - there for nothing more than to boost ratings and look pretty. Okay, technically technically, my job is more important than that. Technically technically? My job is to call Oscar on his crap and help him see how I am completely and totally perfect in every way and he is so very lucky to have me and if he would just realize this, our lives would be fabulous. What? You don't believe me? Yeah, okay, that's not true either.

In truth, as I believe I've discussed before, Oscar and I are going through some things, and much as we're crazy about each other, there are times when being crazy about each other is just not enough. So we go to therapy and figure out how to fine-tune our relationship so I'm not going ballistic when he leaves his socks on the floor and he's not going crazy because I always squeeze the toothpaste tube from the very bottom in a very anal-retentive way. For the most part, it's been a really great experience, but last week was - well - not so great.

It wasn't that the session was bad. We actually learned quite a bit about our methods of communicating and how we are fulfilling each other's needs (or not) and that sort of thing. The difficult part was what happened after the session. See, I kind of got called on the carpet for enabling some of Oscar's less desirable traits, and since I consider myself pretty self-aware, I was extremely annoyed at myself for not recognizing that I was doing it. And when Oscar did something the next night that had been bothering me for quite a while, even though it was a petty thing to be upset about, honestly, my annoyance at myself fueled my anger at him and, well, can you say "downward spiral to I-hate-you-ville?"

So we fought. For two days. And it got ugly. And really, the only thing that prevented me from packing a bag and going up to Flagstaff for a few days, aside from the fact that Oscar had our only vehicle, was Michael Shanks. Because as silly as it may be, sometimes when Oscar and I are fighting, I think about trading him in for Michael Shanks and the pretty, pretty Hotness and it sends me directly to my happy place.

Actually, to be fair, any Hotness will do. I would have considered trading him in for Eric Dane, for example. Or even Salma Hayek, if we lived in a world that would recognize my marriage to Salma. Which it totally should, because if there's one thing this world could use a little more of, it's recognition that love in any form is really not a bad thing. But I digress. What was I saying? Oh yeah. This week, it was Michael Shanks, because Snark's Mistress, being a loving and loyal friend and recognizing that my blood pressure was going to hit the roof if I didn't find some way to get my mind off the stupid, petty fight I was having with my husband, sent me a link to a YouTube video of Michael Shanks talking about his penis.

No, I'm sorry. That's inaccurate. He was really talking about his nuts. The video was taped at some convention (I assume) and featured some audience members asking him questions, one of which was what he thought when reading the script for the season 7 premiere of Stargate SG-1. For those of you who have not seen it, and I'm pointing my shame finger at you because if you still haven't recognized the fabulousness that is Stargate SG-1, I'm not sure there's hope for you, the first you see of Michael Shanks's character, he is lying on the ground in the fetal position, very much naked. Well, apparently, that scene was shot on a very cold day and though his first thoughts of the script were favorable, his thoughts of the actual filming were not.

(Side note: I didn't realize a man's nuts can retract into his body! That's a cool feature. Can I get that feature except in reverse? Like, do you think I could get extra fluid or muscle tissue or something to fill my breasts on command? That would be a great benefit when trying on certain styles of dresses. "I wish I had the chest for this dress. It looks great, but it needs more cleavage." *focus on popping the chest out* "Hey look! Instant D cup!" It would be like a wonderbra, but all on the inside! No? Too creepy? Yeah, okay. You're probably right.)

So I'm watching this video, and Michael is totally babbling and he's being cute and adorable and funny, and I went to my little happy place where I frolicked in the fragrant green meadow with my white unicorn and my new husband Michael and little birds were singing and there were rainbows and I picked flowers and played "he loves me, he loves me not" and it always came up "he loves me." And all of a sudden, I couldn't remember why I was mad at Oscar. All of a sudden, all was right with the world. (Except for the part where I clearly needed a psych eval.) All of a sudden, I was in touch with that little place in my heart where I keep my love reserves and I tapped into those reserves and practically puked up bunnies and puppies and little pink hearts.

And when I was through making myself sick with the cuteness of my happy place, I realized that as adorable as Michael Shanks is (Seriously, Michael. Call me!) he's no Oscar. Because at the end of the day, Oscar is the one who comes home, even when we're fighting, and tells me that he loves me. And Oscar is the one who buys me flowers for no reason at all. And Oscar is the one to whom Turtle runs over, tackles, and says "I missed you Daddy." Oscar's the one I love. (And of course, the fact that he's actually available for make-up sex when we're done with our fight doesn't hurt either. I'm nothing if not practical.)

So if it came down to it, there would be no trade. Although, I would probably think it over for a few minutes, and probably ask if I could take Potential Husband 2.0 out for a "test drive," because no opportunity to "kick the tires" should be wasted. And I think it would be only fair to ask to see if the "retractable nuts" feature is still in working order, because if there is no warranty offered and I'm getting an as-is model, I want to know if it's fully functional. But I'd stick with Husband 1.0, no question. At least, that's how I feel now. Ask me again after our next therapy session.

1 Comments:

At February 03, 2007 1:54 PM, Anonymous McMama said...

Ok Cymber, you've done it to me again! I practically blew out coffee all over my keyboard with ...

"puked up bunnies and puppies and little pink hearts".

This is exactly why I read your posts. You make me LAUGH OUT LOUD!!!

Also, it was a beautiful post about Oscar. He really is a beautiful person.

Happy therapy! And just a side note to all who read this - Oscar's therapy has nothing to do with his mother!

 

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