When I posted that I would like to be in Fiji with Eminem several people insinuated that perhaps I have poor taste. This wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate, but let me elaborate in my defense (or somewhat in my defense I guess).
Over dinner that night, I told my husband that I’d said Eminem is hot on my blog and everyone freaked out. He laughed and laughed and said, “You were joking, right?” I shook my head. And he disgustedly said, “Honey… He’s a scummy little runt... and a 'gangsta'... he looks like a tiny, pasty little neo-nazi. What is wrong with you?”
And I said, “Hey… I think he's cute.”
My husband quickly ended the conversation by saying, “Come on! I’m trying to eat here!”
A few years ago, we watched the HBO prison drama “OZ,” and in one of the story lines one of the prisoners became obsessed with the prison doctor and had her husband killed. The guy (Dean Winters) is kind of hot (in my apparently warped opinion) and when she’s (naturally) ignoring him and telling him to leave her alone, I was all… gees, bad writing… she would totally love him in real life. And I dreamily said, “Look how much he loves her!”
And my baffled husband said, “He does not ‘love her’ he’s a sociopath! What is wrong with you???”
Someone else I like is James Spader (think Sex, Lies and Videotape and Secretary). And I love Maggie Gyllenhaal too. Every time I tell my husband how much I love the movie Secretary, he says, “James Spader? I don’t get it.” And when I go on to say at the end (when Maggie Gyllenhaal pees her pants) that she so obviously adores him, my husband puts his arms around me and says (insert voice one would use when trying to ease another into a straight jacket), “You are a sick sick girl…” (kisses the top of my head) “…you need help Babe.”
To which I answer, “I don’t need any help… I have you… the Secretary needs some help!”
If that’s not bad enough, Woody Allen is looking kind of haggard these days, but back in the day, when I was nineteen and he got together with Soon Yi… he totally could’ve had me. (I’m sure Woody deeply regrets not snagging me when he had the chance.) I haven’t even shared this with my husband as I’m afraid if he finds out, he might take the kids and run.
Do you see a pattern here? There’s something wrong with me evidently. But being objectively attractive (or even being a good person) and being sexy doesn’t always go hand in hand. So I say there’s nothing wrong with a little pretend Eminem. Perhaps I have bizarre and eclectic taste, but in real life I do okay.
I have some good taste and some bad. The important thing is… look how cute and normal and nice and good and patient my husband is! Actually he’s really not all that nice… he is standing in the background here rolling his eyes and asking if it’s really necessary for me to post pictures of him on the internet. But he really is good and normal and patient… and cute! Much better looking than Eminem, I admit.
He cleans up good too.
And he’s absolutely the sweetest dad ever.
So you see… I have good taste… when it matters at least.