I'm still hobbling around on my cane. And trying to make the best of it. The worst part is that I spend much more time laying on the sofa than I used to. I read. I watch television. Time passes. WAY too slowly. Bing and Liv have adjusted. They know that I can do my part around the house, but that I am sloooowww. And to be honest, Liv and I have had some of our best conversations when I am laying on that sofa and she (and Socks, of course, he always noses his way in) is laying with me, cuddling and talking.
Bing and I have had a harder time adjusting. She keeps getting mad at me when I try to hobble down to the basement to do laundry. I try to tell her that I NEED to do it, that I NEED to have goals to meet. She suggests that my goal should be dressing myself. She doesn't even like it when I do that. She kneels in front of me in the morning, helping me put on my sneakers, running her fingers up my thigh, smiling. Kisses my knees, pretends to want to go up farther....until I grab her head and tell her that LIV is close by, for fucks sake. I asked her how she felt about having a cane dependent wife and she laughed.
"Anything to keep you from bolting," she said.
I can drive. It just takes me awhile to get out of the car. Ugh. I am not a patient person and I suspect that when it comes time to put my garden in, I will be supervising instead of digging my hands in the dirt. This makes me sad, so I don't think about it much.
But, as I said, I spend lots of time watching television. Last night, after I got Liv to bed, I was laying on the sofa channel surfing while Bing worked on her presentation. She leaves for Tennessee next week to go to a Seminar.
I somehow landed on this incredibly bizarre show called, (I think) Rock of Love on VH1. It had this guy with a do-rag on his head and a cowboy hat. His name is Bret Michaels and he is apparently the lead singer in a band called Poison.
And um, I guess he has trouble finding his special girl to um...okay (and HE said it, I didn't...because I am not an idiot and he um...is) ROCK HIS WORLD!
I tried not to watch it, I honestly did, but I confess that I was pulled in. It was just so weird. Apparently, a number of girls sort of audition to um...ROCK HIS WORLD! They all live with him in his home and he has them do things like see who can kiss him the best, etc.
Actually, it looked to me like they were auditioning to see who could outslut each other.
When I watched it, they were down to four girls and well, sadly, one had to be sent home. Like on Survival when the tribe speaks, but on Rock of Love, it is when Bret Michaels speaks. He has them all line up and then has three stage pass things. One by one he calls the girls up and tells them why they are getting a stage pass, why he is going to let them stay and try to ROCK HIS WORLD awhile longer. The girl that he sent home? He said it was because she was too young, too sweet and innocent, but good hell, if Liv ever dresses in a dominatrix outfit and puffs her lips out and begs some loser has been rock star in a do rag and a cowboy hat to "please, please let me stay and rock your world!? You won't regret it. I'll do ANYTHING you say, ANYTHING...." Well, now. I don't think I will see her as sweet and innocent. I will kidnap her and bring her home and de-program her.
So, it was down to three. Well, Bret decided to bring their PARENTS on board to see what their family relationships were like.
At that point, Bing joined me in watching. We were both sort of nauseated and sort of fascinated at the same time. I mean, here was this sort of creepy looking guy, who obviously thought he was um...attractive and sexy. And these girls in daisy dukes, collagen puffed lips and bikini tops were doing things like putting on little nasty shows for him, complete with bending over to show him their scantily clad asses and peeking over their shoulders and licking their lips.
And their DADS were in the house.
One Dad told Bret that he couldn't drink beer because he had liver cancer and only six months to live.
Bret stood there for a beat and then said, "Sorry man. Bummer."
I kept thinking, this woman's DAD is dying and she is on this show to try to snag Bret Michaels by outslutting all the other girls and then she invites her dying father to come help her get him?
I had to turn it off. Because 1) I was starting to laugh. I mean, it was hilarious on this totally so wrong level and 2) because I felt sorry for those women...I mean, good lord, they were fighting to get this guy and he was pimping around like a rooster.
What sort of women want to be on a show like this?
Bing pointed out that it really is no different than those shows about the bachelor picking his girl.
I hadn't seen that show. I don't want to see it.
But, I really, really do not want to see women (and one looked suspiciously like a blow up doll) prancing around, trying to snag this man, trying hard to not be the one who didn't get the stage pass.
One of the women that almost got booted, was warned that Bret Michaels is going to have lots of women storming the stage to get to him and he worried that her temper would flare and she might try to fight with them. He loved his fans and didn't want her making a scene.
Why would anyone storm the stage for him? I can not wrap my mind around this. I mean, what is the draw? I don't get it. Can someone please tell me? I am rather old, I know. But, am I that dense to think that this guy is sort of twisted?
I could go on. I won't.
Tonight, I am reading. I am not going near that television.
Because I think he might have something planned with horses and little saddles.
What do you think? Has anyone seen this show? Am I missing some crucial thing?
Okay. Time to take my old ancient hobbling self off to a bath.
I'm probably just jealous. Because I know I would never, ever get a stage pass and get to stay.
Or maybe, I dunno...maybe Bret Michaels is just waiting for that one special woman to look at him and laugh at him, maybe make HIM wear that saddle....or tell him to go take his do-ragged self off to the shower because he just....sort of smells like an old monkey.
I could do that. But, then, I would have to stay, wouldn't I?