December 22nd, 2007

You May Bow

Cosmo Does Not Approve

Made it out of bed by 10:30 AM on a Saturday-- with no alarm! Not bad atall...

My cat has developed the extremely persistent habit of trying to establish permanent residence on my chest every time I sit on the couch and crack open the laptop. I appreciate the purrs and the effort to be cuddly, but I can't see over her butt. And she does not seem to think that she can be properly affectionate with me if she's shifted even three inches to the right.


So Random was making dinner last night, after we came back from getting groceries, and discovers that we don't have enough pasta, as we thought we did. So back into the cold we trek, and perhaps it was end-of-a-long-week unwinding, or perhaps we were giddy from hunger, but we were getting rather punchy.

At the checkout line, Random for some reason notices the inane Cosmo headlines, and as we're walking out, asks if I saw the one that said something like, "New Bedroom Moves To Try-- If You Dare!" I don't remember it exactly, but it's the same basic idea that's been featured in at least one headline in every single issue of Cosmo since the first time my precociously curious twelve-year-old self decided that it was time to move up from YM.

Me: Oh yes, Cosmo, please reveal to me the breathless secrets of the boudoir! I'm sure you're ready to fill my sweet little head with ideas so NAUGHTY and DARING that I could never, ever have thought of them before in my VERY DIRTIEST DREAMS. Fuckin' pansy-ass bitches don't even play in my league.

Random: How many years has this magazine been put out? What could they possibly have left to reveal to their readers that's new that they'd be willing to print?

This inspires me to think that I'd love to write an article in the annoyingly twee, self-consciously-hip style of those ubiquitous "10 Ways To Surprise Your Man In Bed" Cosmo countdowns, only with my own special take on the matter, and actually submit it to them, just so I could see what they'd say when they rejected it. Random and I hit the tee-hee zone as we start brainstorming.

Random (in a late-night-infomercial voice): Number seven-- Why not pee on her?
Me: Number two-- poop in his mouth! It's German! How international of you!
Random: Shove your fist just right up her cunt! [Ed. Note: Yes, we use the c-word-- I like it.)
Me: But only on special occasions!
(Me & Random dies laughing)
Me: Stick a feather duster in his ass and make him clean the house!
Random: Hey now, they might actually go for that one.
Me: I can see the letter now: "Dear Ms. [Lion], Thank you for your article. There is definitely Cosmo potential in there-- we all love the feather duster up the ass idea-- but could you rewrite it with less poop and pee? We here at Cosmo do not acknowledge the existence of yucky bodily functions."

Random says I should write it and submit it to a kink magazine as a parody of a Cosmo article. I say, "Even better-- I should write it, submit it to Cosmo, let it come back swiftly rejected, and THEN submit it to a kink magazine with the title 'The Article Cosmo Rejected...I Have No Idea Why'."

Random (as we giggle some more): There is something really, really wrong with you.
Me: Yes, but you love me for it.
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