John came home from work last night and he was sight seeing in the fridge while talking to me and I heard him say, "Oh and I got you a bunny at lunch today!"
I got all excited and said, "What?!? Really?"
And he peeked over the top of the fridge door and said, "I had lunch with Bummy today...we had Thai...What did you think I said?" he asked as he saw my face fall a little.
"I thought you said you bought me a bunny at lunch".
"That's the third most excited I've ever seen you..."
"What were the other two things?" I asked.
"Well, you were all excited when we were at the beach last week and that time you saw Nerd Rope at the grocery store you were really excited."
"True, and both those things were really exciting...imagine me on the beach eating Nerd Rope while petting my bunny?"

And then I think he really thought about getting me a bunny but then saw that I didn't want an outside bunny. He told me he never heard of an inside bunny and so I referenced VJ and her bunny Rudolf and then John pretended to be asleep...I think the bunny conversation is over. It's ok anyways, I really just want about 6 puppies right now but I'm sure Frankie would get very cranky over that.
o

Waking up this morning I smiled at John,and then I got kicked in the eye by the dog who was trying to push me away so that she could snuggle up with John a little more. I yelped more than a little and said, "Jeez! This is why I told Antwaan to leave you outside last night!" and then John's eyebrow raised quizzically.
"Antwaan?"
"Well...last night I had a dream where I was having dinner and drinks with Antwaan Randel El and then we went dancing and then we were dog sitting" I stated very matter of factly. (Now keep in mind that I don't really know much about football and I don't think I would recognize Mr. Randel El if he walked up to me and kicked me in the eye like my dog does on a daily basis).
"I didn't even know you knew who Antwaan Randel El was..."
"Well, I don't really. I guess I just heard his name when watching football with you."
"Really, he makes like 5 throws a year and he's only a semi-good wide receiver... [blah, blah, blah...]."
"Well whatever, somehow I know his name!"
"If you're having sex dreams about big football players you could just tell me..."
"It wasn't a sex dream! We were having dinner and I was all pregnant and I was smoking at the bar. Antwaan yelled at me for smoking and then he took me dancing. Most of the dream was just us dancing up a storm!"
John leaned over laughing, "Really? So it wasn't even sexy dancing?"
"Nope, we were just dancing fools, and I was really, really good...so I knew it was dream!" I laughed.
"That's probably the greatest dream ever, just dancing with an NFL player all night!"
"Yeah and then we went dog sitting and there were like 20 dogs and I thought it was going to be pure chaos but Antwaan and I held our own."
"You have really weird dreams..."
"Yeah, I know."

John's having a mini existential crisis...I guess turning 29 does that to you (I'm fairly sure why I had one then too). He's just coming to terms that he's not as cool, exciting and as rich as he had dreamed he would be. I think he's just as cool and exciting as ever...plus he gives a mean foot rub. He woke me up to tell me this last night (not in those words...at all) because he couldn't sleep. Then I started babbling because I couldn't sleep because, oh yeah, because he woke my ass up. A few minutes later he thanked me because my stories were "lulling him gently to sleep". I grabbed his balls for that one. But it was too late, the only response was "Zzzzzzzzzz" and a little drool on my shoulder.

On another note...

John's brother casually brought up the fact that he's looking at rings. This could be an interesting turn of events because he and his girlfriend are going to Vegas next week. Could it be a family tradition? All of us frugally hitting up the $39 "I Do special" at the Hollywood Chapel of Love? I have to say, I'm cautious about this one, they seem to be a fiery couple--fighting all the time, breaking up, moving out and then not being able to live without one another. I would never voice these concerns out loud because John's brother's a big boy and what do I have to go on? My longest and best relationship has been with John...all others were simply duds. Oh and that tiny fact that I married John after 6 months and a few breakups of our own. So...perhaps that's a family tradition too???

PS. My birthday is on Monday, feel free to plan what you're going to give me!

John recently accused me of being a random and unnecessary curser. For example, yesterday I said to both John and the dog, "Get your heads off my damn pillow!"

The dog looked hurt and stunned but John seemed fairly unfazed. He simply said to me as he shifted sheepishly back to his own pillows (he has like 20), "Geez, it's like being married to Charleton Heston with your random cursing!"

For the rest of the day all I heard was, "Get your hands off me, you damned dirty ape!" and "Frankly Melina, I don't give a damn!" Go ahead and roll your eyes at him, I know I did.

So yesterday he says to me, "You're like all four of the Horsemen of the Apolcalypse, but mostly you're Pestilence" as I was giving him zerberts in his belly button.

I don't know how this story slipped my mind...but somehow John came away unscathed because I hadn't posted this story on the blog--and we can't have that, now can we?!? Hells no!

Last weekend John and I got a bit drunk on our deck while listening to Bob Dylan, munching on some grilled foods and sipping on whiskey. Somehow, I managed to get myself more than a little tipsy so I excused myself from a drunken game of wii golf that we always end up playing when we've had a little too much, and I sneaked away uptairs to sleep. Eyeing up my options, a nice cushy queen sized bed or the floor as sleeping choices, I picked wisely. I chose the floor as the ideal place for slumber, I grabbed my pillow from the bed and I happily closed my eyes...and this is where the story gets interesting.

Apparently while I was sleeping, a certain drunken Johnny came upstairs and beheld his naked wife passed out, ahem, sleeping on the bedroom floor. The drunkard thought to himself, "Hmm...you know what Melina probably wants right now? I bet she wants to be tied up!" (I picture him scratching his beard while coming up with this bang up idea). So drunken husband o' the year sets about looking for things to use to tie me up with. All the while I'm just snoring away, blissfully unaware of what he's doing.

From his account of the evening's activities, John said that he wandered around the room and settled upon my pink robe tie and a pair of flannel pajama pants. The pants he tied over my face as a "little blindfold" because (as he chuckled) he didn't want me to wake up and see him (Oh of course not, because he knew that I would've probably decked him!) He managed to expertly get my arms behind my back and well...tie them up with the pink robe tie. Ok, so this story might be sexy if I had been awake (if you're into that), it might've been a little more perverted if he hadn't fallen asleep in the empty bed, but the story just turns out to be plain old funny because...

John passed out on the bed, leaving me to wake up the next morning wondering why I was blind and why I couldn't move my arms! After a long struggle, I managed to free my hands and then get rid of the damn pair of pajamas that were tied to my head. Call me Melina Houdini...if you will. You can imagine that I was more than a little confused because I damn well knew that when I put myself to bed I left off the blindfold. "Hmmm...who could it have been?", I thought to myself. Looking around the room, I quickly recognized the culprit who was sleeping the sleep of the guilty, alone in the bed while I had been naked on the floor with nothing for warmth but a robe tie! Of course, I woke John up to find out what the hell he had been up to but he just mumbled sleepily, "You looked so cute on the floor, I tied you up!" and with that he gave me a sweet smile and fell back to sleep leaving me scratch my head and rub my wrists a little wondering who the hell I married.

Watch your back Johnny boy, I've got a little of duct tape that has your name all over it...I'm just saying...

Like all married couples we like to mix it up a little in the bedroom...

so last night was no surprise when John made quite a bold suggestion, and then I took that suggestion and ran with it! I could hear the incredulity in his voice as he said in the dark, "You're really going to do that?!?"

And kids, I can proudly say that I really did it...

I switched sides of the bed with him and we slept at the foot of the bed.

You don't have to tell me, smugly I can say that we are totally wild.


Sorry this is a way better story than when we were sitting on the couch and I started giving him a blow job while Cash Cab was on last night. What can I say, I'm competitive...if I know that the answer is "Mei Kong Delta" you damn well better believe I'm going to come up for air and shout it out. That's just the kinda gal I am.

Last night while we were lying in bed John said quietly, "All I know about you is from your stories of the past, like from when you were little." And it's kind of true, for being married longer than we actually dated he doesn't know me all that well. And yet he does, he can anticipate my moods, and how I'm going to react to something. He knows my favorite foods and all the small things that he'd need to know if we were going to try to fake getting a green card to keep me in the country. But it hurt a little to hear, "I don't really know you."

I was taken aback and tried to quickly summarize something about me, about the present but I only stuttered out a short list of things that trailed off pretty miserably. This morning I was left with persistant questions, "Who am I?" "What defines me today?" "What can I share with my husband who feels that he knows me, but in the same respect, doesn't?"
The Known
Several years ago, I was defined by my father's death. It changed me, instantly--for both better and worse. I became a nicer person but I became more reckless and careless with myself. Then, I decided to become a teacher, and this decision defined me in an even greater way. I immerse myself in my job, in my students, in loving my work. I've allowed myself to be defined by my friends and sometimes the people I shared my bed with--most of them (all of the bedmates), have gone by the wayside--I have few close friends left. I've taken that pretty hard, I miss my friends--but we all change--and I fear they grew up before I was ready to, and I was left behind.
The Partially Unknown
I have to fight against myself because as soon as I achieve something, I subconciously attempt to sabotage myself. I'm not sure why, but I've been doing it for years. For the first time in almost four years I can breathe a small sigh of relief, after finally digging myself out of my last taste of personal sabotage... and it feels nice. I've been carrying a weight of stress, fear, guilt and embarassment that I've tried to off-set with humor. I'm sure some believe that I come off sounding like I've taken all of this lightly, but I haven't. Now the hardest part. While I breathe easily, I have to police myself and make sure I don't do myself in again. I get pre-occupied with this idea because the only thing that I'm worried about destroying is my relationship with John. I don't think I could handle that. And it's that thought that has kept me on pins and needles for over half this year. As safe and comfortable as I feel with John--I'm worried about what I'm going to do wrong. It's paralyzing at times.
The Completely Unknown
So who am I now? Why have I been living in the past and why do I constantly only share that part of me? I think the answer to these questions is that I've been waiting to start over. I finally have that chance. I no longer have to be that girl who did half the stupid things I've done. I'm no longer the girl who wants to go to the bars all the time. I'm no longer the girl who gets bored when there isn't constant noise and I'm not the center of attention (although everyone knows that I do enjoy that...sometimes). It's actually freeing to write all that down.

So really John, I'm not sure who I am right now because I feel like a blank slate again. I'd really appreciate it, if you helped me find out who I'd want to be. I'd like you to meet the girl who likes campfires, adventure and all other things that extend beyond our living room, and our tiny town.

John shook me vigorously Sunday morning and said, "Hey, sorry...but I want to ask you a question. First you have to hear my dream". Still mostly groggy, I propped myself up on my elbows and listened to the following:

"We were in some big apartment building somehwere. We were all just hanging out. It was me, you, Tara, Tony, Shawn and Jen...perhaps a few others. You kept getting calls on your cell phone. And from what I could gather you were arranging to meet up with some guy. I confronted you and asked, "Are you going to see some guy tonight?!?"
Everyone steps in and says, "Sheesh John, you shouldn't talk to her about that." And then, I finally deduced that you were supposed to go on this date where you were going to sleep with some other guy but you acted like it wasn't a big deal. In fact, Jen said that it was a good thing that you were going to sleep with Punk Duck (yeah, that was his name...I don't exactly understand that) and that you should go out once every 12-16 months and sleep with someone to keep our "marriage fresh". Shaun steps in and says, "You didn't know? They were going to tell you!" And I said, "When? When were they going to tell me?!?" Shaun laughs and says, "In about ten days from now!"
At this point, you and I were in different apartments but we had the windows open and we were yelling back and forth. I shouted, "You want to throw this away? This is what you need?" And you simply yelled back, "Yeah, pretty much." Everyone I talk to just tells me that this is what you need and that it's healthy.

After telling me his dream, he said quietly, "So you don't really feel that way, do you? You're not going to go out and sleep with some Punk Duck guy, are you?" And I laughed, partly because John was so serious about his dream (and no, I'm not going to cheat on him to "rejuvenate" my marriage) but mostly because I kept thinking about Howard the Duck.

When I was little I used to dream up these different scenarios where I would end up pregnant. I have no idea why I was preoccupied with pregnancy, but I was--at the age of seven. I always saw it going one of two ways. The first way was that I was going to accidentally get pregnant and that I'd be this super hawt (slightly slutty?) teen mom. The guy that would get me pregnant would be devastating handsome, a little older and be a little dangerous. Hey, I'm shaking my head too...I don't know what was going on in my seven year old fantasy world. Obviously, I watched too many movies.

The other way would be that someone would be so in love with me that I just had to have his baby. The guy, still devastatingly handsome would be a little more preppy. He would wrap his arms around me and say," M, I want you to be my wife and the mother of my children. You are just so amazing." I totally think I saw this play out on Lifetime once, which is bullshit since it was my fantasy first! (Although, I think I should be embarassed to admit that...)

Never in any of my fantasies did I ever think that this scenario would ever be played out.

John: So...are you still up for having a baby?
Me: Um...I think so...but I don't think you're ready.
John: I'm ready if you're ready.
Me: I guess I'm ready...just get rid of the booze in the house in case I change my mind! (totally a joke)
And then he said this...
John: That's it! I'm totally going to cream pie you every time that we have sex from now on!
Me: *raised eyebrows and a face that screamed "ew!" without saying a word*

He said this with pride and with a grin that could blind a girl.

So...I may get knocked up soon...unless we change our minds, and then I guess he won't be "cream pie-ing me" Wow. such a firm grasp on gross, yet concrete imagery. Perhaps I've shared too much? I can't imagine not sharing this gem.

Now a very important thing in a monagamous relationship is to keep things hot...you know, like a big spicy pot of Jambalaya (you will understand the food reference soon). So the other night I did my best to turn up the heat with John--I'm awesome like that, I suppose.

We started out with some smooches. I whispered in his ear, "Mmm, you taste like salami, I like salami it's one of my favorite lunchmeats" because well, he did...and it was cool because it's true, I like salami. He looked at me like I was crazy, ignored me with a little giggle and kept at his kissing work. Then things heated up a bit more. Clothes came off, kisses went everywhere and you all know how the game goes...and if you don't? You shouldn't be reading this blog and you should probably go ask your mommy about the birds and the bees (while you're at it, ask what insects and birds have to do with sex and let me know, m'kay?).

Moving on.

So just as things were getting supremely hot and I was all like, "Yeah! I'm gonna get me some of this husband of mine" (I talk to myself in my head like this sometimes, is that so wrong?). However, I say out loud, "And now I get to have some of my favorite of all lunchmeats!" in a really weird voice because I was still fixated on the salami comment, you see?(see the bottom of the post for an example of how I spoke...I'd be the green guy) I blame all of this, as well as the rest of my weirdness on the fact that I fell down sixteen stairs when I was two and landed on my head. Well, the martian voice and the off the wall lunchmeat statement got both of us laughing incredibly hard to the point where John just wasn't focused on his task at hand. Never fear, while laughing hysterically, I redirected him with a sharp heel to the back and all was well...aside from the mini crack ups throughout.

Later I thought he was leaning over to kiss me but instead he said, "So, we're resorting to weiner jokes now,huh? That's your foreplay script these days?"
"Of course not", I replied, " I'm not immature." He nodded and jabbed me in the ribs,
"It was going to be a joke about ring bologna, wasn't it?"

The man is a freaking mind reader.

My voice sounded like this:

After my party I decided that I needed to sleep...just...a...little. And so, I decided to sleep until about 3 pm. I valiantly stayed awake with my tedious hangover for several hours until I felt I could take it no more. That time came around 8:45 pm. Yep, I stayed awake for only a handful of hours. But then a curious thing happened.

I awoke at 1am with a desire for some dirty, sweaty, hungover sex. I rolled over to see what John was doing. I was surprised to find him sleeping. How could he do that to me?!? Sleep at 1am?!? Nay, I say! So I did my best to wake him up. First I started rubbing on him, then I started whispering things in his ear, I even grabbed his shoulders and gave him a quick shaking. When he became semi-conscious, I did my best to convey my needs to him. I think it went a little like this:

Me: John! Wake up and give me some loving!! I want sex!

John: Huuuh? Wha? (Snoooooooorrrrrrrrreeeeeee)

Being the resourceful girl that I am, I reached over and grabbed my old pal Mr. Pink, the very happy (and friendly) vibrator who hasn't seen much solo action since I've been married. In a few minutes we were reacquainted and I was satified and ready to go back to sleep. I rolled over toward John and said to him, "Spoon me!" in a very whiny voice and he replied sleepily with a very simple phrase that will forever make me grin:

"Why don't you get your vibrator to spoon you?"

What can I say?? The thing's pretty loud.