Apparently it's December already, which meant it was time for the relief society Christmas dinner. The dinners are a predictable installment of the season and before I left home I already guessed I would be dining on the usual--ham, funeral potatoes, and salad. Ahh, Mormon food. It wasn't terrible, and I'm not necessarily knocking it, I'm just saying--it does have a certain je ne sais quoi. Imagine my thrill when I spotted a SPINACH salad with gorgonzola and candied pecans. Yum.
Since moving to Utah I have noticed that my idea of dinner conversation can be a bit awkward for people who aren't expecting it. Poor Fish-Girl has complained many a time that I scarred off her friend by discussing my seriously amusing 1950's sex manual too brazenly over dessert. Well, today was no different. It started when the nurse at our table commented about how recent years have seen a decrease in breast cancer. I jokingly attributed this fact to those plastic cards with diagrams that hang in your shower. They had apparently never heard of them, and my explanation may have been too explicit, and it all went downhill from there. Then I uttered the word "boob" in the cultural hall. You would think from the way the sisters to my left reacted that I had just cursed, but frankly the word "breast" is really irritating. Hoping to turn the topic to less offensive territory, they then asked me if I had seen any good movies lately. Unfortunately for them one of the last movies I saw was The House Bunny--the playful and heartwarming story of a rejected Playboy Bunny who goes on to teach ugly girls how to be cute and sexy. The sisters to my left began whispering again, and I realized that their mutterings could not be a coincidence. They probably figured it was a porno.
Fortunately, a friend from law school was there and was able to delight in my conversation-stoppers after the dinner. I was SO glad someone could appreciate them. Logan and I went to the mall, bought pickle chips from the Crazy Cannuk, and while browsing the selections at the movie theater, offered some to the vendors through the little pass-through window--just for funsies. Good day.
5 comments:
Why have you not shared this manual with us?
Why?
I loved The House Bunny and I used to have one of those self-check breast exam cards in my shower.
I'm sure that people have reacted to me similarly during Relief Society dinners, but for some reason I am so convinced that any conversation I'm having is THE conversation to have, so I don't notice contrary reactions. How can you not be fascinated by a ShepAlder, right?
My friend had a dating book from the 1960s (I think) that described forcing a first kiss by pinning a girl between yourself (the man, as the target audience) and the couch arm. I wish you were in my RS because I would love having a conversation about 1950s sex manuals. Outstanding stuff.
Oh good Lord. Why do they all feel the need to have a broomstick implanted so firmly up their asses? It doesn't make them more righteous - only more obnoxious.
Other than a few notable exceptions, living in Utah has *really* made me hate mormons. I love the church, but damn, I hate the people in it.
Oh Provo...I have to say our ward is nothing like those prudes, especially my neighbors!! You would have fit right in with our anfter Enrichment conversation last night, or maybe it could have even a bit too crass for you, but you would have laughed your can off anyway.
P.S. I know the hangers you are talking about. Those people must have been from a cave not to know what you were talking about.
I received one of those cards when I had my physical to go on my mission. I used to make a game of hiding it in various places around Randy's house because it made him really angry that I was exposing him to pornography.
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