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Friday
May292009

Saturday Morning Ted Bundy Sightseeing Tour.

Tomorrow morning me and Monica have to get up early to go up into the mountains. Early morning hikes in alpine mist are our salvation. Virgin dews. Elk calves in dark pine. We become one with nature, with God. With one another. Naked in a spring fed creek...we are married to the hawk and the wind.

Psyche.

No, we ARE going up into the mountains, but it's just because we have our first marriage counseling thingy and that's where it is. At 7:30am on a Saturday morning. I'm guessing that out of the three of us sitting in our little triangle at least one of us is bound to still be drunk from Friday night.

On the way up to the place we pass one of the places where Ted Bundy once dumped one of his bodies. See?...ride around with me and you learn shit. Interesting shit. I plan on laying that one on Monica just as we're passing it; I suspect it will throw her off her game a little and give me a slight advantage in those first few critical moments when the therapist is chit-chattingly sizing us up, figuring which one of us she'd rather have sex with, and which one of us is wrong about everything.

I should wear cologne, huh? Throw off the therapist too. Start the serious morning with a bang. Cologne fucks shit up BigTime...especially if you only wear it once, a lot of it. And with that there isn't a university bonded professional shrink in the world who won't immediately forget all of that intense studying in favor of the very simple yet elegant human reaction that this guy is wearing so much Wrangler Windfarm that he is without a doubt: fucking scary nuts.

Anyway. I'm just kidding. I kid. Truth is, I'm happy we're going. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed. Just like I'm not metro-sexually effervescent or high on some dangerous intellectual smugness. The damn thing is simple...we could use an ear, maybe some advice. Hopefully not discussion exercises that she hands out on a piece of lime green heavy duty paper; I feel ripped off when I get handed your dumb-ass exercise sheets. It's unoriginal and very 1970's.

Let us talk. Let me and Monica do what we do best but haven't been doing all that great lately. Let us rant and rave...we are magnificent at it. Dare I say, the best you'll ever have? Once we begin, with that A train of Maxwell House tearing through our individual tunnels, there is nothing that remains impossible. We could break through some previously unknown therapeutic wall...crashing through in an explosive blast of confessional rubble and dust! We could end up the SuperHeros of Marital Bliss, the ones who figured it out one historical Saturday morning by out-gabbing each other with passionate intensity! We could be famous. We could be rich.

Or we could end up being Violet's cool Mom and Dad, still in love after all these years. God, it would be so cool if we could knock all that out in one session. Not to mention the cost thing. Maybe two sessions, if you wanna be all "these things take time/stick with it" and shit.

I cannot wait to pop off that Ted Bundy thing.

Reader Comments (7)

Did you know Mr. Bundy escaped from a jail just a few blocks from where a toddler me was living at the time? You can't throw me. I am SO on my game and the therapist will LOVE me despite your Wind Farm and know you are wrong about EVERYTHING. Isn't that the point of therapy? Vindication? That's why I'm going, anyway.

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWife?

Dude, I told you that being married to an Aries was not for the weak at heart. We're way...WAY too bright. Way too clever. And always once step ahead.

And of course, we're irresistable no matter how much we fuck up or say what we never EVER should have said (which we were definitely wrong about by the way and we really don't think it's true but only tried our best to get a rise out of you and come out the winner), which makes it terribly hard for any man not to be in love with us.

It's a curse, man. It's a damn curse. One day though, it's going to come back and haunt us, and when it does, it's gonna hurt like hell.

TCB

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAnonymous

Also? "Psyche" is SO 1995.

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWife?

I usually sit on the floor of the therapists office and remove my shoes and socks and neatly place them in my invisible shoebox. I then begin small talk and halfway through the conversation start blurting out random insect species. Whenever questioned I answer with a question... "How does that make you feel?" I say "How does that make you feel?" By the end of the session she's writing out the copayment to me and rethinking her professional career decisions.

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterJay

Before you step in that office......

YOU-TAH!!!
Monica,

What a great couple of emails that was you you sent me. And believe me when I tell you I am also simply so excited to see you, to touch you, to undress you.....an explosion is imminent!!! Oh, I know, as we said this morning, that the first few moments could be somewhat different than in the movies...but I know dam right well that you and I have so much love we're just waiting to give to the other, so much laughing we are needin to get started on. AS A MARRIED COUPLE!!!!! Holy hell: I love that you are my WIFE, girl! MY WIFE!!!

So, get ready for me my love. I will be bearing a journal I wrote just for you, some gifts I bought when they reminded me of you, and a most importantly: a heart that is ready to be strong in love....a heart I intend to hand to you in a billion ways for the rest of my life. SO, make me up a scintillating batch of that Wasatch Mango, sexy mama.....I have been waiting for this moment for a very long time, we have paid our dues, now it is time for our soulful collision.....

I love you. I need you. And I want you with a burning burning desire.....
Serge

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAnonymous

ummm...ahhh...I was just glad to have somebody listen to me for an hour...even though she took my money to do so.
Now that I think about it, my marriage counselor got ripped off.
Good luck!

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAnonymous

Whatever you do, don't admit that "Songbirdz" is about flyfishing.

May 30, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAnonymous

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