Tuesday, December 05, 2006

I want to have a tawdry affair.

No, it's not because I desperately, desperately need to get laid, honest Mom. It's because I like the phrase so much. I want to have one so I can use “tawdry affair” whenever I want: “You remember, 2006, the year I had my tawdry affair with Lucy.”

The phrase “a tawdry affair” conjures up many things in my mind when I use it. I imagine myself to be a sullen and world-weary old man with no job, no money and no morals. That's quite a stretch of the imagination, I know, but bear with me. Somehow I manage to seduce some middle-aged housewife, probably by snagging her in Costello's Bar during Deer Opener. We begin our tawdry affair. The sex is at best mediocre and at worst is worse than no sex at all. Again,hard to imagine, but hang in there.

The cuckolded husband (don't get to use that word much; either of them, come to think of it) works as an actuary at Saint Paul Life and leaves the house every morning promptly at 7 AM. I wander over to Lucy's about 10:30 or so, unshaven, hung over and wearing stinky socks. Lucy answers the door in her house dress, called that not because of where it's worn but because of how big it is. The house dress is stained and threadbare and has a loud floral pattern on it that severely aggravates my hangover. It smells like bacon grease.

I stumble inside the house and Lucy bitches sort of half-heartedly about her husband for a while over coffee, then we go upstairs and have Rabbit Sex (“This won't take long, did it?”). I go back downstairs and mix myself a drink while Lucy tosses my socks in the washer. I slam down a second scotch (albeit cheap scotch) and Lucy comes into the kitchen and we start yelling at each other, neither of us really knowing or caring how it started....

Okay, okay, I'll stop. But that's what I think of when I think of a tawdry affair. And God how I hate that dress! And I can't believe the stupid bitch left my socks in the laundry where her husband found them. (“Lucy, whose socks are these? And why do they smell like that? Sweet Jesus, you're having an affair with someone who has questionable personal hygiene, aren't you! I'm going to kill him before he reaches 58.9 years of age!”)

Lies, all lies, of course, I'm making all this up. Actually, since I went to the trouble of making it up, maybe I'll just pretend I had a tawdry affair and hold out for great sex with a succulent twenty-something Brazilian nymphomaniac named Itsac who answers the door in a loud floral-print house dress....

Damn it! Why does she have one too? What are the odds? Do they shop at the same K-Mart? Are there K-Marts in Brazil? I guess I'll have to dump Itsac after we have great sex one or thirty-five more times.

Sigh. More lies, of course. I suppose I'll have to remain a horny but lovable anchorite for a while longer. (Don't get to use that one much either, go Hulles!) Better that than the house dress.

God, how I hate that dress!

-- Hulles


Lo said...

I've always preferred "torrid" to "tawdry," personally.

Oh, and I had to read "this won't take long, did it?" a couple of times before I understood and realized that it was the funniest thing ever.

La Espia T. said...


May I suggest that if you hate the dress so much, you take it off?

*saving the world from loud print housedresses, one entry at a time*

Hulles said...

I've always preferred "torrid" to "tawdry" myself, but you write about what you know.

And sadly I swiped the "this won't take long" line from a joke I heard years ago. I have long since forgotten the joke,but like you think the line is the funniest thing ever.

Hulles said...

T., you're always trying to get me naked. I should be used to it by now. But the problem is that all of my tasteful house dresses are in the wash.

La Espia T. said...

NO Hulles! Off of her!!! Take the dress off of her!! *dissolves into giggles*

Hulles said...

Oh, off of her. No wonder I do so poorly at this dating thing. I think you should be my advisor for my next tawdry affair.

Say! Why don't you and I have a tawdry affait? That way we can skip the middle man.

Surely you don't have a floral print house dress.

Hulles said...

Actually, upon further review I have to take a tip from Lo and make it a torrid affair, rather than a tawdry affair. I know it's more work, but the returns are greater as well.

We just won't be able to blog about it.

Anonymous said...

Hulles, Feliz Dezembro!!!!!!
Dois conselhos:

1. Não deixe que a moça em questão coloque os sapatos do indivíduo em local tão doméstico, pois isso pode causar um trauma!!!!!!

2. Quanto ao vestido, diga para ela procurar um estilista Brasileiro que faz milagres até com flores,ele faz um par de cortinas ficar realmente sexy!! Chama-se Orcimar Versolato...

Beijoooo do Brasil!!!!!!


Balderdash said...

I'm gonna use that line..."this won't take to long..." Maybe as a warning before hand..."Don't worry baby, this won't take too long, did it?"

La Espia T. said...

Hey Hulles,

Here's the best I got for you for for Casti's post:

"Hulles, Happy December! Two bits of advice for you:

1) Don't allow the girl in question to place the shoes of the individual in a place that is so domestic, well, this could cause a trauma!!!

2) As for the dress, tell her to procure a Brazilian stylist that does miracles, even with flowers, he makes even a pair of curtains turn into something really sexy! His name is Orcimar Versolato.

Kiisssss from Brazil!