Hey there, awesome readers!
I hope you’ve had a good week because over here at Moxie-Dude central it’s been tough. It all started when I woke-up Sunday morning and realized that flu germs had moved in and taken possession of all my senses. On top of the symptoms that come with being sick, I’ve been wired from all the cold medicine I’ve been taking. Combined, the cold and the medicine have given me a super-human ability to see noises. (I’m pretty sure that the concept of super-heroes came about one day when a sick person was sitting around in their housecoat trying not to O.D. on their own body’s reaction to flu and medication.)
If you grew up watching The Flintsones, you’ll know what I mean when I say that the flu parasites are like the Hatrocks in that they’ve outstayed their welcome already. If you have no idea who the Flintstones or the Hatrocks are, my condolences.
So yeah. It’s been a hard week. And although I’ve been able to get my stuff done during the day (I’m lucky that I can work from home), I’m pretty sure that I’ve been running a fever in my sleep because last night I dreamt that I went to see that damn movie the media has been (annoyingly) talking about. You know the one: Fifty Shades of
Confession #1: I have absolutely no desire to see this movie.
Confession #2: I read the first book of the trilogy. I blame my boss. With all due respect, we’ll call this boss of whom I speak “Carlita”. Mostly because that’s not her real name but also because I don’t know anyone by the name of Carlita. We’ll call it our “safe name”. Also, Carlita may not even know I’m writing about her because she’s no longer my boss and the following story took place a few years ago …
Time Machine: Going back to PRE-50 Shades of Grey (2011 – 2012)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times … Just kidding. Carlita and I were on a business trip together, on our way to – of all places – Las Vegas. I say “of all places” because apparently this was going to be a trip of many firsts for me. One, I had never been to “Sin City” AND, two, I hadn’t heard of Fifty Shades of Grey yet. Clearly I was really busy living under a rock at the time.
Carlita and I were just about to board our plane to Las Vegas when she said, “I bought a new book for the flight and I can’t wait to start reading it.”
“Great,” I thought. “I’ll get to do my own stuff.”
And by my own stuff, I meant sleep. Carlita and I didn’t actually end up sitting together so after an uneventful flight of mostly me trying to sleep as I sat wedged between two larger-than-their-seats people, our plane landed and we, the passengers, got very busy at gathering our belongings in anticipation of the possibility of being the first to get off the crowded plane. There’s no denying that this ridiculous side of human nature exposes itself no matter where you’re seated on an airplane.
“Am I blushing?” Carlita whispered to me as we finally met up again in the airport.
“What?! No. And why would you be blushing?” I asked her.
“Because I’ve been reading Fifty Shades of Grey,” she said as though this was supposed to make sense to me. I answered her with a raised eyebrow and that was the end of that.
Then two days later I was getting ready for more hours of trade show bliss (*cough*) when there was a knock on my hotel room door. Guess who it was? If you guessed Carlita, you’d be right. She had come to my room with a gift, a smile and an intention.
The gift, of course, was the Fifty Shades of Grey book, which she had just finished. The smile was clearly the result of her most recent accomplishment (finishing said book). And her intention? Apparently the fact that I had never heard of such nonsense words strung together and squished into pages to create a novel-length book had given her a new purpose in life: she was determined to convert me into a lover of the latest trend in … what were they calling it back then? Oh yeah! “Mommy porn”.
And that’s how I got to reading the book, which is now a movie, and which only serves to confuse me because WHY?
Confession #3: I would rather watch The Flintstones while sitting around in my granny panties than watch what I imagine to be a subservient woman that is only too eager to obey as she feeds into the control fantasies of a very rich man.
Oops! Did I just give away the plot?
Confession #4: Now that I’ve just bled out my thoughts on this, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t go see the damn movie after all. I think I’ve just peaked my own curiosity.
Crap. Well, if I do go see it, I’ll be sure to wear my granny panties. It’s a matter of principle.