S@HMMY.COM
Mother Wit
n. Natural Wit.Innate intelligence. Common sense.
Translation: A page that celebrates a mother's ability to maintain her sense of humor.
Susan Cross
Susan Cross is a commercial actor, writer, and
stay-at-home mom to three children (four if you
count the husband). She grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania determined to go to college as far
away as possible and preferably by the ocean.
She wound up at UCSD where she majored in
writing and minored in sociology. It was there
that she met her husband of 17 years, Kevin.
Susan likes to say that she got her
“BA,” her “M-R-S,” and her “M-O-M” all at once.
Well, practically anyway. She currently makes
her home in La La Land--where else?
Susan’s blogs include
“Secrets of a Suburban Soccer Mom”
(secretsofasuburbansoccermom.blogspot.com), and “Real Funny Stuff”
(open.salon.com/blog/susan-cross).
Her humorous articles on parenting most recently
landed her in the soon to be launched
“Knowledge Nest” of Wendy Bellissimo’s site Nesting.com.
Romance with a Remote: Better Sex through Modern Technology
~Susan Cross
My husband’s birthday falls between Christmas and Valentine’s Day, poor guy. Seems he gets short changed every year in the gift department.
So this year, I thought I’d surprise him. I planned a romantic getaway to Las Vegas. Now I personally don’t consider Las Vegas to be very romantic. But, it definitely is one of my husband’s favorite places so my planning a trip there for him, that’s the romantic part. Not the destination, but my willingness to go there. Keep that phrase in mind for this next part of the story.
I decided that in addition to his trip, he should have something to unwrap. I already have a lot of lingerie, I see where your mind was going with that one. But, no, I was thinking about ambience. So I went to a cute little shop near my house that sells soaps, candles, lotions and such. I breezed around in there quickly because I needed to collect my kids at the bus. I was the only customer in the store at the time so the over zealous (and by over zealous I mean pushy beyond belief) sales woman decided to help me with my selections. I thought I was doing just fine on my own actually, had picked out cute little “His and Hers” candles (two different fragrances that when mixed create a whole new scent), and some massage oil. This woman saw my massage oil and raised me a lubricant.
“Try this one, you’ll love it,” she said in a thick Israeli accent. “You’ll love it, he’s gonna love it. All the guys love this one. You put it on their, you know...their genitals? Yes? And it heats up. And it tastes good for you. You know? Because you want it to taste good, right?” And with that she proceeded to glob some of this magic lube onto my arm.
“Taste it,” she implored.
“Ahhhh...no thanks,” I said, “I get it. It’s lubricant. Gotcha.”
“But, you didn’t taste it!” The woman said forcing her lips into a pout.
“I know, but I just ate lunch and I am pretty full and, well...just no thank you.”
“Oh come on,” Was she ever going to quit?
“I get it,” I said impatiently. “It’s lube.” She looked so dejected that I went ahead and dropped the little bottle into my basket. Fine. Lube. I’ll buy it. Whatever.
“Well, you know what? I like you,” she said leaning in, “And I don’t show this to just anybody, but...well, let me go and get something. I have it in the back.”
With that she retreated to the stock room. I started to wonder what it was that she had back there that was so naughty that it had to be hidden from sight. This after all was the woman who felt perfectly comfortable squirting lube onto a complete stranger and discussing said lube’s amazing qualities and how they improved upon oral sex. I mean if she thought nothing of all that, then whatever this thing was must be pretty perverse, right?
She reappeared with a black box which she was carrying very gently as if it were something very precious indeed. And what was it? Remote control panties, that’s what. Yes, inside of that shiny black box were a pair of panties that was quite ingeniously outfitted with a built in vibrator. “You insert it!” the woman proclaimed gleefully. “And wait...the best part!” She was nearly bursting with pride over this thing. Out from the box came a little silver bullet shaped remote control. “I gift wrap the remote for the man!” Clearly she had found a way to improve upon perfection here and she didn’t want that to escape me. “See, that’s his present! He gets to play with you while your at dinner.”
I don’t know whether it was her incredible sales skills or the fact that all the blood had rushed into my face causing me feel simultaneously embarrassed and exhilarated. “I’ll take it. Fine. I’ll take it. Just please, can you ring me up quickly, I have to get my kids.”
“Of course,” she said victoriously. And as she began to do so I thought I was free. Finally, it’s over. Only it had just begun. I heard the clang of the little bell on the front door of the shop and much to my dismay, in walked another customer. This woman looked familiar. Was I imagining it, or did I know her from somewhere? Could she live on my block? Could she be another mom from my kids’ school?I wasn’t sure if I knew her or not, but the sales lady sure as hell did.
“Well helloooooo there honey!” She said trotting away from the register my transaction half rung, my “items” still sitting out in plain view. “How’ve you been? Wait, hold on...did I ever show you this? I don’t show it to everybody...” And here’s where things took a turn for the worse.
She practically leaped back behind the counter and grabbed up that shiny black box, the very one she had been gushing over to me, the one that I was purchasing, almost entirely out of my desire to put an end to the embarrassment of having been slimed with lube and been given the uncut version of how to improve my sex life through modern technology. I say almost entirely, because, embarrassment aside, who wouldn’t want to improve their sex life? I mean, c’mon...the thing has a remote!
“What is it?” the new customer asked.
“Let me show you,” she opened the box and out came all the contents onto the counter.
“Um, I really need to...” I stammered.
“What is it? What is it you ask? Honey, let me show you. You’re gonna love it! This lady here loves it,” she pointed at me.
“Well, I really don’t, I mean I just was trying to, it’s my husband’s birthday you see,” my fight or flight instinct was beginning to kick in. I could feel it. And had my credit card not been in that sales woman’s hot little hand I would have made a break for it.
“It’s got a remote! She’s gonna wear the panties and he’s gonna have the remote. He can play with her--” At this point I really just couldn’t take any more.
“I’M SO SORRY TO INTERRUPT,” I lied, “BUT I REALLY, REALLY, HAVE TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW. THE KIDS. I HAVE TO PICK UP THE KIDS. REMEMBER? I CAN’T STAY ONE MORE SECOND OR I’LL BE LATE. SO PLEASE. PLEASE. JUST FINISH RINGING ME UP SO I CAN GO!”
The sales woman looked at me like I’d just peed in her lemonade.
“OK. Why didn’t you say so?” She snapped. She put the panties back into the box and started ringing me up again. While I was waiting for my credit card to be approved there was just dead silence. But I’ll just bet that new customer (and I hope to God it was not someone who knew me) was laughing on the inside. I hope that when I finally got my bag o’ tricks and high tailed it out of there that she got the hard sell, too. Glob of lube and all.
