Acting

Happy day before food-death, Americans!

And greetings, ICLWers!

Me in bullets:

• Been with Bubba for 9 years, married for six.
• Condom laziness followed by actual trying in 2009.
• 9-10 rounds of clomid, 1 IVF, 1 chemical pregnancy.
• While I have my occasional moment of introspection, and certainly have sad eggs, this is mostly a place for shenanigans.
• ::jazz hands::

I was a vegetarian before I met Bub.  Let me rephrase - I was a vegetarian who loved the taste of meat before I met Bub.  Then one day I casually ate some beef and broccoli and it was all over after that.  Within a week of dating him I was hooked on Bub-meat and meat in general.

This morning - 

Bub:  Any bets on which turkey gets the Presidential pardon?  Your choices are cobbler or gobbler.  I'm going with gobbler.

Me: I'll take cobbler.... Wait.. what happens to the other turkey?

Bub: Pause... maybe they both get to live but the one who wins gets a medal or something.

Me:  That's it after tomorrow I'm not eating meat.

Bub:  Oh... gawd.

Here's the thing.  Bub loves meat (that sounds like an excellent title for a gay porn).  Plus he can't mess around with his diet too much because, in the words of Wilford Brimley, he's got the type 1 diabeeeetus.

Secondly, our exposure to non meat eaters the last few years has been limited to Vegans, let's say... 5 vegans.  So one of those vegans is delightful, knows how to cook and knows what they're talking about.  I would eat their food, I would eat it so hard.

The other 4 we were exposed to a few days into their vegan decision, and have to sit there for ten minutes while they grill waiters under hot lights and then end up sulking and picking at bread.  Additionally, if you ask them about their decision they don't seem to have any answers and this being Los Angeles it comes off like a socially acceptable way to be anorexic.

Plus, unfortunately, our vegan exposure has always inevitably wound up with someone holding a giant bag of kale like it was their last bit of crack, trying to convince us that it's just as good as bacon.  Discredited.

So vegan for me, I think, is out.  I buy the million dollar eggs that are free range/grain fed and I feel pretty good about that.  I also don't drink a whole lot of milk and I don't wear leather as I am not a Persian socialite or 1970s rock god.

But I am sick of watching movies where an animal dies, diving to cover my dogs ears and then telling her afterwards that that animal is an acting animal.. they are tickled pink to have had this role, and are in a bar right now getting laid strictly because of it.  Inevitably my dog looks at me and says "but.. you eat those kinds of animals". Damn that dog and her retorts.

So lots to think about.... after Thanksgiving.

(10 points if you know who that is... he makes me tinkle laughing.  TINKLE).

I have had the same car since I started driving.  She is a 1997 honda civic, and her name is Towanda the Honda, and she has been the acting queen of my motor safety for 15 years.  Her skin is pealing, she shakes if you turn the not-really-functioning ac on, she is full of trash, she can only play a song on my ipod for 30 seconds at a time, and her rear says "honk if you're cute, bark if you're ugly". Oh how I have loved her.

Bub had to drive her yesterday so I could get his car serviced - but don't worry, I warned him to watch out on his way home for women flying out of nowhere onto the hood of the car as Towanda is the ultimate pussy magnet.  It's a real liability.

She is dying, friends.  I had it verified by the car doctor on Monday, and today when I took her for a wee spin her check engine light went on.  Her next and final ride with me will be to my mechanic's to be stripped and sold for parts like a common street whore.  Mentally writing her eulogy as we speak.

In other news - as I was waiting at the mechanics for two hours yesterday staring at the ceiling and enjoying the smell of manly musk, I realized I have fooled around with one of the cast members of American Horror Story and teenage 'dated' him for a few weeks. I had this revelation, had Bub check online for the one fact I knew about him that is odd, and it was him.  I have love letters from him either buried somewhere in my house or my mothers garage.  (If this peaks your interest - message me.. I can't believe it).  If I was a crueler person I could make money on ebay, I tell you.

Tomorrow we in American Infertiles will sit down, count our blessings, stuff our faces, and try to act as though we are happier than we actually are.  Our holiday portrayals could win Oscars, I tell you.

If you need a giggle to prepare for your performance, I give you... Stefon.  (Seriously, if you have no idea what this is look up "saturday night live stefon" - always makes this funny-snob CACKLE.)