F Me Hard In The Arse

OBSERVATIONS
on my own personal idiot

My boyfriend loves to shop. He rarely buys, it more the thrill of the chase for him. I currently work in retail so shopping for me is as rewarding as eating my finger nail clippings. But, I 'suck it up' (who coined that phrase) and enjoy the moments with the man I love. There are a lot of these moments, I love him beyond them. So, he currently has this thing where he is in search of the perfect fake xmas tree. It can't look fake (although it is) and must embody the exact nature of a tree that is, ohh, I don't know, REAL. He notices short comings in most FAKE christmas trees. So the search is long and hard, and rarely yields any real possibilities. I stagger up and down aisles pressing the buttons on anything that might sing to me and don the hexmas spirit (which I totally have). Have you any idea how many cool little animated decorations are out this year. I just saw a dancing and singing Santa, that's like 5 feet tall (sorry Cheryl) for like 69.99 here. I so want it, actually, I thought about dry humping it, but that's a story for another blog.
My boyfriend is a shopper.
God love him.
So he takes me into this posh home store, and I'm not talking home outfitters or Homesense, I'm talking like 90 bucks for a wine cork.
I get bored of the xmas tree chat and venture out on my own.
Nice glasses, nice tables, nice accent pillows (did I just say that) and then I see these words, they look like they're sculpted out of marble.
BELIEVE
DREAM
FRIENDSHIP
TRUST
I'm new in this city, and often nostalgic, so they catch my eye.
I pick one up (Dream) and flip it over to check the price. In my head I'm like "Oh what $119.99 for a fucking fake rock word".
To my surprise, a meager $14.99, and with the fact that Alberta has no PST, I thought "hey, I can totally afford to buy this shit".
So, (the man I am) I take it over to my boyfriend and ask if it is okay if I buy it, and when I get the okay, i proudly march to the register (which by the way was manned by a woman whose face looked like a road map, and who (by stereotype) should have been selling me a mickey of vodka) and display my purchase proudly on the register desk.
"I'll take this".
DREAM
She brushes a few wrinkles out of her eyes and begins to gently wrap my new purchase in soft and delicate tissue paper. So much so that I start to get agitated by how much 'tissue paper' she is wasting.
"Just put it in the fucking bag".
Yeah right, like I said that.
It was like 16.09 with tax. UNHEARD of in Ontario.
I was happy.
The shopping comes to an end, we go home and crawl into bed. My boyfriend grabs my cock and begins to pull vigorously on the shaft, I felt myself beginning to....
ah fuck off
The next morning Johnny goes to work.
When I wake up I stumble about to gain my senses and then remember my fake rock purchase (who am I to bag on fake xmas trees when I buy fake rocks with pretentious meanings?) and I snatch it off the counter.
In the bedroom I try to scope out the best place for it. I know I am not an authority on design so I try to REALLY think about where it would really "POP".
I find myself at a bit of a loss.
Johnny's headboard is wooden, thick, and rounded. It arches between each pillar that marks the end of each side of the bed.
I want it in the middle.
There are those metal rivets on the back of the stone word Dream, but, I think, design challenged as I am, that it would look best sitting a top the arch of the headboard.
The word is maybe 1 1/2 inches thick, the headboard, maybe 2 inches thick.
The word dream sits there perfectly.
Then, I imagine John rolling about in his sleep, whacking his hand off the headboard and the word dream pulverizing his skull and ruining the effect.
So, I stand at the edge of the bed.
Reconfigure the force of our fuck and with my leg apply that perceived pressure onto the foot of the headboard.
The word DREAM falls elegantly backwards and tumbles to the ground behind the bed. What I didn't think about until later were the marks on the wall as it fell. OOPS.
I was kinda peeved.
Now I had to bend over, visually locate the word the dream, and then try to find somewhere it wouldn't fall from. I did to. I picked it up, tried it here and there. moved it about the room. I could feel my patience and interest dwindling. But I fought through it, and came to the conclusion that we would have to nail it into the wall just below the dried floral arrangement for it to be best suited.
Pride for a job well done bit slightly into my left butt cheek.
I was confident that I had made the right decision.
And with that confidence I put down the word dream and forgot all about it.
2 DAYS LATER
I'm writing an email to one of my friends.
Enter John
"Ian, did you drop this?"
And he's holding the rock word dream in his hand.
My first inclination is "Why the fuck can't I get away with ANYTHING?"
Me: What? (like i didn't hear)
John: Did you drop this?
Me: Oh yeah, it fell off of the back of the headboard when I was trying to decide where to put it!
John: Oh, so it left marks on my wall
Me: (in my head) Zoot, that's how I got caught!
Me: Sorry honey.
John: Read the word
Me: What?
John: READ THE WORD
Me: Dream
Then I looked, like I was all of a sudden tuned in. It didn't say DREAM but what did it day? It was close.
John then (as a final clue) produced the extra arch of the letter M out from behind his back. What my nostalgic, pretentious word actually read was DREAN, drean, drean, I'd completely snapped off the end of the word during my headboard testing phase. GONE. MIA. It was gone.
I carried that fucking fake rock word around the room for a good 45 minutes, then set it down and walked away, all the while NEVER noticing that the word had morphed into something dark and unrecognizeable.
SO, for now, i call attention to my personal idiot.
I gracefully awknowledge that he "one upped me"
and i ask him to beware. Because i am coming.
I am sharpening my axles as we speak.
I will no longer carry DREAN around a room as i try to decorate. I WILL BE SMART.
DAMN YOU DREANERS OUT THERE
I PISS ON YOU!
and on my inner idiot!