Mr W and I were watching "Las Vegas" on tv last night.
Although I tease him about watching it for the female eye candy, Mr W insists that really isn't what he likes about the show.
The official line on why we watch it is because James Caan is one of the stars, and he kicks ass.
Sure. Okay. Like he's not gonna notice the adorable Vanessa Marcil. (Have I told you how many times he's seen "The Rock?") Like I don't appreciate Josh's faux-hawk.
Anyway, there was this scene on last night, and really, it should have had a disclaimer on it, something for the rest of us mere mortals; for the rest of us who are, for the most part, less than graceful.
In the scene, there was a couple tossing around under the sheets, oh-so-artfully covering up anything not suitable for network tv or the weaker hearts of the AARP set. Roll over here, <flash of muscled back> roll over there...with the last roll ending with perfectly poised woman on top, of course, vixen leaning over and reaching into the ice bucket (?) and pulling out a bottle of whipped cream. She shook it up, and..cut.
All executed perfectly, not a tousled hair out of place.
Now, if this were the real world:
Roll over here....ow, that's my arm....roll over there...watch out, you're crushing me....<flash of oh, god, cover that up>....an arm is nearly broken trying to get the entire sheet unwrapped from around your left calf...and voila, miraculously, the woman is on top...whoa, nelly, watch it, flexibility has its limits...encouraged, she leans over for the can of whipped cream...which has rolled under the bed..wait, I can reach it, wiggle, lean, fingers feel the edge of the can only to push it further away, she leans a little bit further and WHOMP! lands on the floor, knocking off alarm clock and phone off the nightstand...<possible concussion>...but it's funny, let's giggle....
<knock knock> "Mommy, I heard a strange noise."
"It's fine, go back to bed."
"I'll come check on you in a minute."
"Are you alright?"
"GO to BED. I'm fine."
The mood, killed, momentarily. It's quiet now.
For about a minute.
Before everyone starts crying, because they need to SEE you. knock knock KNOCK knock knockknockknock!
"Those aren't the pajamas you were wearing when you tucked me in."
Maybe that'd be too-much-reality-tv.
Without a tousled hair out of place.
P.S. Not us. Are you kidding me? I. Am. TOTALLY. Graceless. No way I'd attempt that. I'd for sure have a black eye. Stitches. Something embarassing to explain in the ER. LOL, although,I do recall the crying-need-to-see-you. It's a miracle I ever conceived more than twice.