Here is a typical conversation I had with my sister last night.
Me: “So I’m paying for my new blog this month, maybe a bike but let’s be honest, probably not. I thought about getting some hiking boots but I suppose my sneakers are just fine and then for book club I was going to buy a…”
Her: “You should buy..” She was going to suggest something but I interrupted, like I always do.
Me: “Do NOT say Kindle. Because that’s what I was going to say I can’t buy.”
Her: “No, a book. Fifty Shades of Grey. You should buy it.”
Me: “Never heard of it.”
Her: “Nurse C says its soccer mom porn. You should buy it.”
Me: (awkward pause) “What the hell did you just say? Soccer Mom Porn?”
Her: “Yeah, she says it’s great.”
Me: “You want me to buy a book that is filled with naked pictures of soccer moms? Just naked soccer moms everywhere. You thought I’d like that?”
Insert fits of laughter. It wouldn’t really shock me if she thought I would like something so goddamned weird but really, soccer moms?
Her: “No, like it’s a good read. You know, soccer mom porn. Guilty pleasure.”
Me: “Soccer mom porn DOES NOT mean guilty pleasure. Since when did the phrase guilty pleasure transform into soccer mom porn?” I was beginning to feel old.
Her: “Just read it. Buy it.” We were both laughing so hard we couldn’t talk.
Me: “No, absolutely not. And on this note, I’m ending our conversation. We’ll resume more of this bizarre nonsense when I talk to you on your next day off.”
Soccer mom porn. What’s next?
**For the record, I wanted to see if she was right and so I, like a goddamned moron googled “soccer mom porn” and quickly realized that was not a smart idea. Don’t do that. Also, men are sick. Really.