There are times when I think I'm never going to have sex again. When I say that, you need to keep three things in mind: 1. It's never that I feel like I want to give up sex. It's just that I start to feel kind of blah and I have no free time to look for sex, and I think it'll never happen again. 2. "Sex" in this context means sex outside the relationship. Not only would b&c become completely unmanageable within a week if I stopped fucking him, but how would that even happen? Even if I were to work until midnight every evening (not out of the question, mind you), there'd still be those weekend mornings. I wake up hard and there he is, and what else am I going to do? 3. I'm not really going to stop having sex until I die, if then. If I were somehow to lose my genitalia in an unfortunate accident involving alcohol and hedge clippers, I'd probably just buy a strap on and chew guys' nipples.
Anyway, I mention this because not having a lot of sex with guys other than b&c makes blogging a bit more challenging. It's not that I don't have a lot to say: it's simply that I mostly want to blog about sex. So if I'm not having much of it, what am I supposed to do? Post some NSFW pictures and tell you about the rest of my weekend? Well, ok, since you asked.
Sunday morning both my and b&c's cell phones made noises at the same time. I knew that could only mean that Kip was texting us to tell us that he was horny. He always says the same thing: "im horny what ru up 2?" I didn't check the phone immediately, mostly because I had my cock up b&c's ass, but when I did check it, I saw that he'd also sent me a text message at about 1:45 in the morning. It was a good thing I'd forgotten to take the phone off vibrate after the movie on Saturday night. I didn't bother to reply. I suspect that b&c answered the text later, though. It's not all that uncommon for Kip to text us either while we're having sex or shortly after we've had sex, and b&c loves telling him that we're not interested because we've just fucked. I've decided to start ignoring hot-but-annoying guys. I don't generally approve of not answering emails, text messages, etc., but when a guy's been a jerk (or even a semi-jerk), then I think it's excusable. Plus, it's good from a tactical perspective. If you ignore the annoying guy, one of two things happens: he becomes more compliant and less annoying, or you stop hearing from him. Either way you win.
Yesterday afternoon, my buddy Christopher and I went to see Sweeney Todd at a matinee. I think it's about as good as everyone says it is. The cast is extremely strong, and of course they're working with great material. B&c was reluctant to go because he didn't want to see a lot of gore, and it turned out to be a good thing that he stayed home. He would have hated it. I did think the gore was overdone: it just isn't necessary. Sweeney Todd isn't a horror movie per se, but it has elements of a horror movie, and I always think that an effective horror movie is one where you can't look away from the screen. When you see Johnny Depp moving deeper and deeper into madness, it's both riveting and horrifying (Helena Bonham Carter is equally riveting, though more comedically so). When I see blood spurting everywhere (boy howdy was there a lot of blood, starting with the dreadful opening title sequence), I just shiver and look away. Don't get me wrong: it's a terrific movie, and it uses the strengths of films (e.g., effective closeups, disorienting camera angles, and really understandable diction: I finally got all the lyrics) to great effect, but it would have been even better with fifteen or twenty seconds edited out. The very worst example of this was the shot of Mrs. Lovett burning up in the fire. It's much more horrifying in the stage version when he flings her in and shuts the door and then you hear her pound on the wall of the oven a couple of times before it falls silent. Anyway, I'm sure that many people think the gore is great because it adds realism, but the movie is not otherwise short on grit, and, truly, a musical about a serial killer is a place where absolute realism is neither possible nor helpful. Still, you gotta see it, and you gotta see it in the theater.
Despite the fact that b&c had indicated his desire not to see Sweeney Todd, he seemed a bit put out that Christopher and I were going to see it. I didn't follow up on it, though. I've long since learned that if someone isn't annoyed enough to speak up, you should just ignore the apparent annoyance. Asking about it merely reinforces the behavior. N.B.: this strategy fails utterly with women.
Fortunately, b&c already had plans last night to see My Fair Lady at the Kennedy Center. He'd asked me if I wanted to go with him some time, but I really wasn't that interested. I played Henry Higgins in the fifth grade, and I don't believe in looking back. Well, the first half of that last sentence is true, anyway. I think that it's good for him to go see things by himself -- or with someone other than me -- from time to time. This is especially true of Wagner, but it's also true of many musicals. When he got home, he told me about the production's strengths and weaknesses in great detail and voiced several rather arcane questions about the musical's history, leading to the following exchange.
TED: I have no idea. Why are you asking me? You're the one who saw the original production on broadway. I don't know anything about Rex Reed. B&c: Who? TED: Or maybe I mean Rex Harrison. Some guy named Rex who couldn't sing. B&c: He was a terrific actor, though. TED: Whatever. My point is that I'm not the show queen in this relationship. B&c: I am not a show queen. TED: When was the last time you went a whole week without mentioning Most Happy Fella? B&c: It's a very important musical. It's... TED: No. I don't want to know. I don't want to know who wrote it or who starred in it or where else some of the songs might have come from or gone to. B&c: Fine. That doesn't mean I'm a show queen. TED: Uh huh. Yesterday you were sitting in the living room listening to the original cast recording of Fiorello. B&c: What's your point?
That was when I went to the garage to get the ice cream.