Thursday, February 5, 2015

Boregasms & Momgasms

Did I just make up the word "boregasm?" Wait, don’t tell me. I’m afraid to Google it for fear of feeling like the guy who invented calculus at the same time as Isaac Newton. That would be at least the second time this week I've felt like that guy. So I won’t look. I’ll pretend I’m the only one who has ever thought of this totally ingenious word. 

Wait, I just looked. I couldn't help it. It’s on Urban Dictionary. Apparently it means, “reaching the apex or climax of boredom.” Oh well. Another good idea that someone else thought of first. Welcome to creativity.


I'm using the portmonteau "boregasm" here to describe ten seemingly mundane, boring, and banal things that are now suddenly orgasmically exciting to me as I squint across the vast, barren, parched, desperate, scorched, arid wasteland of a hellscape known as my late thirties. 

I also refer to these loosely as "momgasms," which shockingly does NOT seem to be a word yet.

1. Scrambling eggs directly in a pan without mixing them first. A good friend expressed trepidation at this unorthodox culinary tactic. She compared it to being pressured into having anal sex. But I told her listen babe, I'll be real gentle and it won't hurt a bit. And guess what? It didn’t!

2. Cooking bacon in an oven. The best life hack for swine prep ever! Suddenly my house and clothes don't smell like a hog-rendering plant for a week. Meat is a vice, no doubt about it. Especially pork. And piglets are the cutest animals ever. But as I’ve said before, I stand ready to die at the hands of my vices, and I wouldn't blink before taking a bullet while lying down on train tracks for bacon.

3. Unearthing via AppleTV remote a hidden season of whatever-the-Netflix-obsession-of-the-moment is, just as you think you are running out of episodes. (And NOT “Thirtysomething,” which USED to sound like a boring show about old people. Peter Horton was hot though).

4. When your kids choose Wild Kratts for their Saturday morning cartoons. The Kratt brothers (both in their cartoon and in their animate forms) are sexy, funny, naturalist mom-porn eye candy, which Scooby Doo and Sabrina the Teenage Witch most certainly are not. (Actually, Fred from Scooby Doo is sort of OK and Shaggy is kind of an adorable stoner). 

5. Discovering a fresh, hot pot of coffee (albeit shitty coffee) in the fifth floor break-room of your office just as you're getting desperate enough to venture out in 60-90 mph wind gusts so you can stand in line for fifteen minutes to buy a $6.00 latte.

6. Two for Tuesday top 40 radio lineup starting with Taylor Swift (Shake It Off/Blank Space), followed by Nicki Minaj (Starships/Stupid Hoe), followed by One Republic (Counting Stars/Love Runs Out), all back-to-back on a seven-minute commute.

7. Taking five minutes of my life for a shit, piss, shower, or change of tampon without one of my kids barging in to show me a painting, tell me they made a bracelet, ask if they can build a fort out of everything in our living room, or demand to play with dental floss.

8. Tying on an epic buzz and then tying myself into a hooded sleeping bag with iPhone ear buds jammed into my ears playing Velvet Underground in the soft pitch blackness of PrimaLoft (tm) while I drift into a mental montage of all the ones-that-got-away.

9. Junk mail jackpot. When I open my mailbox and not a single thing in it is relevant to my life. Not even a bill or a holiday card, and certainly not the college alumni magazine. And everything can go immediately into the recycling instead of sitting on the kitchen counter for two weeks collecting dust and tomato sauce and then going right into the recycling.

10. Watching the non-stop Internet train-wreck of women self-destructively gouging each others' eyeballs out in futility over everything from measles to mercury to motherhood to muffins while the dominant corporate patriarchy continues to dance on the graves of our cannibalized bodies, and knowing that it means I will never, ever run out of material for this blog.

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