The time Evan taped me to the couch

Don't lie. You're wondering if this post is kinky, aren't you? Against everything in me, everything I stand for, I'm reading the "Fifty Shades of Grey" series. I know, I know. First Twilight, then Fifty Shades? I'm disappointed in myself too. With each page turn, I grow angrier and angrier with this story. Christien Grey possesses every quality that I loathe in a man. He's possessive, whiny, and controlling (much like my asshole crutches). I cringe each and every time a sex scene begins (always with Ana "moaning" as he tears open the "foil packet"), and I cannot stand the redundant "erotic scenes" -  i.e "I moaned loudly as he touched my sex." First, does he really have to touch her "sex" 4 times in each chapter? Second, what the h is her "sex"? Are those her lady parts? Seriously? Perhaps I will contact my physician and see if I can make an appointment for an examination of my "sex." Ugh! Yet, here I am a third of the way through book 3 and discussing it on my blog. E L James is obviously doing something right (and likely is a hornball).

My rehab is going well - the knee seems to be progressing, and my Physio is impressed with my "moves" (I can do 1/16 of a squat!). I anticipate the crutches will be dust within the next few weeks. On the other hand, I've also gained a whole new appreciation for those peops addicted to painkillers. With a dull constant pain shooting down my shin and into my foot, I've been popping extra strength Tylenol every 4 hours for the past two weeks. It doesn't seem to be working so I'm thinking of switching to Oxycontin. Just jokes. I watch Intervention. I know what will happen. Next think you know I'll be prostituting myself out of a 7-11 restroom and living under the bridge. When they interview me, I'll say, "It all started with a bad knee." Shit. I'll stick with the Tylenol...and perhaps mix it with some wine :)

Once a "summer partier" (one who gains stamina and endurance to party early into the wee hours particularly during the summer season), the pain has forced me to succumb to "winter Kirstie," falling asleep on my couch at the lake whilst watching "Say Yes to the Dress" on Friday night. Falling asleep on the couch is something I've done my whole life. I come by it honestly. My sister falls asleep on the couch. My dad falls asleep on the couch. My Gido (Ukrainian Grandpa) falls asleep on the couch. It's in the Tycholiz gene. It's who we are. Although annoying to others around us, we've all discussed the quality of sleep we receive while snoring away as the TV blasts loudly in the background. We all agree. Despite what the experts say, some of the best sleeps of our lives have been on that couch, TV blaring in the background.

Exhibit A: My dad

Screw the couch!

Nope, the couch doesn't actually have to be in a house

Exhibit B: Me & Biloxi, the cat (who promotes my bad habit)

shhhhh....can't you see we're busy!

just checkin' my eyelids for cracks. Don't worry about it. 

I didn't realize how much this habit annoyed Evan until our first year living together. One afternoon, Ev sat down with me and explained how aggravating this was. Not wanting to leave me on the couch, he would attempt to wake me and waking a Tycholi (I enjoy pluralizing my maiden name) is dangerous business, my friends. You see, like my sister, dad, and Gido, I awake from the couch in a belligerent, confrontational state.

Finding me asleep, neck creaked to the left, leg falling off of couch, night after night, Ev would gently nudge me awake.

"Kirst, it's midnight. Come to bed."

"What? I'm watching TV. Gawd!!!! I'm watching something really important!"

"...ya, an infomercial for phone escorts" (OMG, do you remember that commercial from the '90's? The one with the skanky chicks whining, "Pick up the phone" I'm attaching it here because it's way too funny!)

Although I'm usually fully aware that I have fallen asleep on the couch, and I completely understand that it is in my best interest to go to bed, upon being awakened, I become embarrassed and then feel the need to vehemently deny this act has occurred. I've done this my whole life. Sometimes I even convince myself...until I have no recollection of watching skanky escorts on TV for 3 hours. Oops.

Whoa. This bad habit did not fly with Ev. It drove him nuts that I couldn't just go to bed with him like a normal person, yet he adamantly refused to tolerate my agitation upon awakening. So one day, he created a plan...

One night, as I slept soundly on the couch, Victoria Principle's infomercial blaring from the TV, Ev crept downstairs and carried out his plan. He hockey taped me to the couch. For real. The tape wasn't actually touching my skin. He simply wound it over me, across the couch - like a spider's web - to create a barrier. Two hours later I woke up and attempted to climb off the couch in the dark. Horrified, I realized that I was trapped to the couch. I wasn't able to even sit up. Confused and unable to comprehend why this was happening, I began to cry. Yep, I cried. Ev heard the commotion and came downstairs to remove the hockey tape trap. Upon seeing how upset I was, Ev stopped chuckling and realized that his little prank didn't quite have the desired effect.

"I can't believe you taped me to the couch!" I yelled angrily and stomped up to bed.

The next day, I began calling my friends to tell them what a jerk my boyfriend was. As I relayed the tale to each and every friend, I was met with the same response. Uncontrollable laughter. My friends thought this was hilarious. Really? Hmmm....come to think of it, frick it must have looked pretty funny - Ev winding that hockey tape around and around like spiderman and my overreaction of tears and anger. Once the anger dissipated, I had to agree that it was quite clever. Thank goodness Ev eventually became a shift-worker. I now fully take advantage of those night shifts and sleep peacefully without the fear of being taped to the couch.