Who's Got The Funk?

I do.

But not in a George Clinton kind of way (that song is him, right? I know he sang it in my all time favorite bad movie, PCU).

I have it in that - oh-my-god-stop-the-rain-and-the-cold-it's-MayforGod'ssake-and-my-allergies-are-killing-me-and-I'm'-on-the-rag kind of way.

I forgot to post here on Sunday. Although I'm thinking that since Soap Opera Sunday wasn't originally my idea, I should change it to "True Confession Tuesday" or something. Of course, it's Wednesday, which means I still dropped the ball this week.

Also, I seem to have a mental block against writing for the NJ Moms blog. I hate every post I've written there (notice how I'm not linking to them?) and the other day I actually deleted something I'd worked on for 45 minutes (uh, in case you didn't notice, I am not the most thoughtful or reflective blogger. I post fast or I don't post at all.) I can't seem to find a way to link what I want to write about with New Jersey.

So, I suck. I've hardly read any blogs, or written any blogs lately. I owe the wonderful Not Just Another Jen a response to her thoughtful email, which I have started 3 times.

And I am having a hard time figuring out my fancy new cell phone.

Calgon, take me . . . .wait a sec. Fuck bubble baths. Hugh Jackman, take me away. To Hawaii. For the weekend.

Don't Worry Hugh, I've Got Permission

Recently I've heard people say things like, "Don't tell my husband that I just want to see that movie because Hugh Jackman's in it," and "My wife thinks I just agree to see chick flicks because of her, she doesn't know about my crush on Rachel McAdams."

And I shake my head.

Hot Guy and I don't have secret crushes, we have permission lists.

Like, if I ever get a chance to be naked with Hugh Jackman, I have permission to go for it. Likewise Jon Stewart (okay, mostly I just want him to talk to me, but I'll be naked if that's what it'll take for him to talk to me.). And if I get to do Ben Affleck or Matt Damon, Hot Guy will be really happy for me, as long as I tell him the details. Really.

He has my permission for Drew Barrymore and Sandra Bullock, plus some others I can't remember. But not Christina Ricci. He thinks she's on his list, but she's not. I think she's weird. She seems like she'd go all stalker or something.

Anyway, I suppose my point is that Hot Guy and I discuss our crushes openly. Possibly even eagerly. And even though I'm the chubbiest I've ever been and am pushing 40, I am never threatened by his crushes. Why would I be? The vows talk about forsaking all others, not forsaking all sexual fantasies.

When I was in high school, there was this boy I really, really liked. Surprisingly, we actually started dating. All was fine until he was in a play with this girl that he had a crush on. No, he didn't dump me. In fact, he was a perfectly attentive boyfriend. It was just that I could tell that he had a crush on this girl, not that she was interested. But it bothered me so much that I dumped him.

I spent the next year and a half regretting it. 18 months of wasting being a cute little thing because I was hung up on a guy who was never going to trust me again. Genius, I tell you. Though  it sure got me over being jealous about somebody's crushes.

But I'm starting to wonder if Hot Guy and I are in the minority. Do you hide your crushes from your spouse? Or do you have a list?