Lust and Longing in Las Vegas

Dearest, do you remember my mentioning the baked goods? The pre-trip baked goods for Roommate's bake sale? Yes, those! See how smart you are? Do a hair toss. You've earned it. Go on, I'll wait.

Oh! Oh, sweetie! I should have told you to warm up first. Just massage your neck a little.

See, now I've completely lost track of what I was saying. Oh! Lust and longing. Boy, you'd think that would stick in my mind, huh?

Oh, shut up.

Anyway. Normally, Roommate and I would dive into baked goods with reckless abandon, rather than just stare longingly, but at my house, there has been a lifestyle change. Sigh. Yeah.

We joined Weight Watchers.

No, it wasn't because of Jennifer Hudson, though I'm delighted for her and rejoice in her personal and professional success. It wasn't because of any celebrity spokesperson. It was because of Great Big Sea.

Don't laugh. Because it's not nice. Listen, do you want to hear this or not? Thank you.

GBS [AKA Lisa Marie's favorite band] often plays in older theaters and venues. Older theaters and venues have smaller seats than today's movie theaters. Sitting in these seats becomes very uncomfortable for a woman with an ass that has its own zip code.

I want to be comfortable sitting in any seat. I recognize that my rear end will never be tiny, because that's how I'm built, but I would like to approach a seat at a GBS concert and not feel fear and trepidation.

I'd also like to go to the airport and not field questions about fitting into those seats, too. I'd like to go to Cedar Point Amusement Park and ride the scary roller coasters. [I'd like to have enough money to pay for the therapy I might need after the scary roller coaster rides, but that's another story.]

I'd like smaller laundry loads. No, seriously. It takes a lot of fabric to cover all this. Pile up four pairs of pants, six shirts and some underwear of a size 2 person, and set it next to a pile with the same articles of my clothing. Big difference.

A few years ago, I decided to join a gym. Yes, despite my deep and abiding hatred for all forms of exercise, I do recognize the need for such hideousness. The gym bunnies who merely had to give me prices and class schedules felt it necessary to follow their sales pitch training script.

GB: So what are your fitness goals?

Me: [stepping back, holding out my arms and looking down at myself] Seriously?

GB: Well, yes--

Me: Take a wild guess, pumpkin.

GB: [incoherent babbling]

Me: Look, I just want to be able to wear slutty clothes.


Maybe that's what it all boils down to. I just want to wear slutty clothes. Well, wear them and not frighten anyone. Because I'm nice that way.

It's just not an easy process.



The new Tool Of Evil. And it takes 30 minutes to order breakfast. Heaven help us.