the first and last time i’ll ever mention demi moore as if she has something interesting to contribute to the universe
sooo, Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore. First off, “Ashton Kutcher?” Really? It’s Kelso. His name is Kelso and no number of twitter followers is ever going to convince me that he’s earned the right to be called anything else. He’s apparently getting his sad, Idaho pickle sucked in every state (and he’s Kelso), and yet I’m now supposed to believe this Kabbalah-approved marriage didn’t last because Demi Moore is an OMFG SEKRET BISEXUAL who just isn’t satisfied enough by one man, and needs to fulfill her BIG, LESSSSBIAN CRUSHES (thank you, Tina Fey) through unapproved dalliances with other mammary-having individuals. Because this is completely, fully, entirely, 100 per-fucking-cent how bisexuality works. I like men, I like ladies, and because I, what, can’t choose between the two therefore can’t commit to one person because my greedy fingers need to be in as many sexy pies as possible, all the time? Where did this bullshit come from? I’m genuinely curious. I don’t remember this being covered when the government gives out their Official Bisexuality Confirmation papers. You take a number, stand in a little line with the little retractable barricades and everything, get your little photo taken for your ID card, then listen to the presentation - which always taught by this lovely, balding gentleman, who also gives speeches about Unions and occasionally translates Urdu and Swahili for the drivers exam. Hi, Gary - where he’ll tell you all the important stuff. how to wear a vest, how to apply lipgloss, lusty staring 101, fence similies and metaphors. It’s all very adorable, and I don’t remember anything about fingers or pies. Oh, wait. It’s probably in the second part of the seminar, where they tell you what to expect in the future, now that you’re Official and whatnot. I think I missed this part because I got lost on the way back from lunch. Sigh. From what I hear - and I suppose this is where poor Demi comes in - Gary reminds you that you’re there because you’re part of that teeny, tiiiiny portion of the population that just can’t make decisions for yourself, and because you’re a huge fucking greedy slut, life will be hard. You won’t know whether to watch Xena or Two and a Half Men. You won’t ever be able to have a relationship with just one person, because you’ll always be lusting for someone of the sex you aren’t with, just because you’re occasionally attracted to a few of its members. Worst of all, you’ll no longer be able to choose between chicken or fish at weddings. It’s a real life adjustment, Gary says. Especially if you prefer beef. I can’t be sure, though. By the time I get back, they’d already moved on to Monochromatic Modern Loft Decorating, followed by the graduation ceremony. Fedoras with tassels, of course, included in the cost of registration. I can’t even count how many times I’ve been asked if bisexual people inevitably cheat (actually, I’m *told* about the inevitable cheating, with no experience of this, ever), if they can get married, how they choose which sex to settle down with, if bisexuality just goes away if you commit to something monogamous and gets traded in for a new orientation status title, etc. etc. How do these questions even exist? How is it so difficult to understand that sexuality is about attraction? If you’re a man dating a woman, you aren’t necessarily straight. This isn’t a novel concept. We all have cable. Your label describes the range you’re attracted to - pan/bi/a/straight/gay/whatever - and the relationship you’re in doesn’t entirely define your orientation. By this logic, all single people are all pan/polysexual or all asexual. C’mon now. In the most simplistic of terms, you are what you generally leer at, and I’ll be damned if monogamous people ever stop leering. Some people cheat. Some people don’t. I don’t know if it’s circumstantial, or if it’s a personality type, or if it’s some biological human-is-wandering-beast thing, or what. I don’t know if “Once a cheater, always a cheater” is a true theory (though I know it’s one of my worst fears to find out. I’m afraid of prison. And, if you cheat on me, that’s where I’m going. You’re going on the No-Fly watch list and to the hospital, and I’m going to prison. These small hands can’t whittle. I’ll never survive in there). I don’t know if cheating is a ridiculous, constructed concept and the open relationship is the way to nirvana. I just don’t. Not yet. What I do know is that a bisexual person is not inherently non-monogamous because they’re attracted to more than one sex. Bisexual Demi Moore (if she’s bisexual at all) does not equal Selfish, Greedy, Horny, Insert other terms people who want sexual satisfaction outside their marriage are often called, Marriage-Destroying Demi Moore. It’s 2011. People expected us to be wearing computer glasses and jetpacks and matching latex bodysuits by now. Sadly, technology has just proved it can turn us from babies into needier babies, and that nothing we’ve invented can help us understand the basics of sexytimes any better than we did in 1955. See also, Katy Perry. Prophesied rapture, I welcome you.
Also, what the fuck is Don’t Forget the Lyrics? Maybe “why the fuck” is a more appropriate question, since I technically know what it is, and have vivid recollection that it was cancelled at least once, or at least in a dream. I remember this garbage with Wayne “James Brown Tribute” Brady where it was slow, boring, awful, and everyone chose to sing Bon Jovi all the time. Now, there’s Mark McGrath, who I’d literally forgotten about until about a week ago, dancing around with his disquieting, shit-eating Jim Carey facial expressions waving his mimed lighter in the air while people in uniform sing Billy Ocean songs and scream. This is so much more awful than I remember, and it makes me miss Sugar Ray so something could harness this creature and provide him with significantly less time in front of a microphone. This audience looks so irritated and dejected and wonders if they should try lining up for the Price Is Right earlier tomorrow morning. Inexcusable.
