Lately, watching television hasn’t been big on my list of things to do. But the other night I sat with my husband on our super uncomfortable Pottery Barn sofa and watched an episode of House Hunters International. A real estate show in which buyers are shown three properties and pick one. So whenever the show visits France or Italy or really anywhere, I turn to him and demand we sell our flat and move. Right now. Immediately. Quickly! I’ll get the boxes! He then asks me how we plan on making a living, that he’s got a secure job, health insurance, yapity, yap, yap. I roll my eyes and say “I’ll think of something. How do you feel about puppetry?” We usually get into an argument and turn the channel.
But this particular evening was argument free. We settled on a music program showcasing live bands. Anything related to music is an excellent choice. We like music. As a teenager I tried to put a band together, then realized none of us could actually play our instruments. I decided listening was a better option.
And somehow over the years I’ve managed to meet Radiohead twice and I will never ever stop talking about it, thank you very much. I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting Moby before he was Moby, hung out with Bono of U2 when they were still relevant and had hair. Been in the same room as David Glimour of Pink Floyd as he put the moves on a young woman wearing knee socks. I even saw Queens of the Stone Age walk by my house while I was taking my daughter out for a walk. I think I yelled “I love you Josh!” And my mom used to babysit Roger Daltry’s wife (the future Mrs. was a child at the time) Oh yes, Yoko Ono is totally following me on Twitter (nobody likes Yoko though)
Am I sounding a tad pathetic? I think so.
But I do have a point. I think.
After the show ended my husband had fallen asleep. I call this “old man syndrome.” Although it’s a little premature to call him an old man, I do it to annoy him. A documentary about punk music came on and I began to watch and realized a man being interviewed for this movie was someone I had kissed. My first kiss. The worst first kiss of all kisses. Ever. All tongue. To top it off we were in a van. A van? A van? Yes. A van. Gross. He was gross, and if I think about this too much longer I’m going to throw up all over my keyboard. Thankfully my husband didn’t wake up. He missed my first kiss.
So I’m very glad I married a hot dude who does not own a van and loves music as much as I do. But I’m so going to get him to move to Europe with me.
9 Comments
For the record, my first proper kiss (as in tongues etc.) was on a railway station platform. I never saw her again. Very Brief Encounter.
Do you really give away eggrolls?
I wanna move to Italy too! I found a 'house' online that was in the tower of this wall surrounding an old old Italian village. So cool!!! My husband just rolls his eyes.
gawd, i love this post. i have the exact same feeling whenever i see those types of shows or a beatnik at the farmer's market spouting on and on about backpacking through nepal. why didn't i just join the peace corps? why didn't i take that year off in italy? why didn't i start a traveling circus of airhorn blowers?
then i remember being 19 dragging my suitcase up some ungodly narrow staircase in some quaint european hotel straight out of a movie thinking, 'man, i could go for a diet coke WITH ice. and a decent bagel. what am i doing here?'
kelly
So, you're sitting there in the evenings after a busy day, and you ask your man 'How do you feel about puppetry?' and then he falls asleep. And this is a SURPRISE? Try talking about going into paper clip manufacture together. I'm sure that will help keep him awake.
Dad Who Writes – Unfortunately I am longer allowed to give away egg rolls as per the U.S. Postal Service. Apparently there was a terrible rat infestation with all egg rolls piled up waiting for delivery.
Hopefully your first kiss was way more enjoyable than mine!
Lesley – I think we should go in on a house together in Italy. Our husbands can just go and suck it.
Kelly – Well I still can't get a decent bagel in San Francisco so I think I could probably deal with eating baguettes in Paris!
Fran – What is wrong with puppetry? Goes back thousands of years in Europe…
Okay. You're right. Boring.
You're hilarious. I want to move away too, perhaps someday. I think the lifestyle in San Francisco is quite good, so I think you're in good shape. Ugh! Sorry to hear about that documentary and the slimy memories affiliated with that gross kiss. Yuck!
Yes, San Francisco isn't bad Christine. But I REALLY like to drink wine so I think I might fit in better in France and Italy where everyone is drunk!