This is a Thanksgiving Evening post. Therefore it will be lazy, slow and slightly indigested.
Because Thanksgiving is about as far away from porn as I can possibly get on Thanksgiving, I’d like to talk about porn–and the word facial.
When a woman states that she is going to a spa to get a massage and facial, I immediately think of a money shot, or, for the uninitiated, a Cinnabon right as they are dripping the sticky sweet icing on it (please replace the appropriate body parts etc. for this metaphor, it’s fu*king Thanksgiving, for the love of the Good Lord). This is a mental connection I’ve always wanted to shake, but ever since I unwittingly witnessed a facial in the biblical sense (Ok, maybe that wasn’t the bible), I cannot hear the word without thinking these thoughts.
How do I get this out of my head and eat my turkey? Aunt Gladys keeps talking about the last time she had a facial and how her face just radiates after Gordon, her masseuse, gives it to her.
“My skin just glows for days,” she beams.
Pass the gravy.
“That’s a really nice pearl necklace, Gladys,” Uncle Mort compliments, winking at me. I look at the miniature onions on my plate, and I think I see the face of John Holmes in my mashed potatoes.
“I don’t like facials,” my wife announces, and now I start to feel uncomfortable, as if everyone at the table is judging our sex lives and thinking I traumatized her somehow early in the marriage with irresponsible swordplay.
“Can I go watch football?” I say, excusing myself to eat some pumpkin pie. I don’t really watch football that much, though the Niners are doing okay I guess. They’re playing the Baltimore Ravens today. On their roster the Ravens have a player designated as the “Long Snapper”. His name is Morgan Cox.
“What if our last name was Cox?” my son asks.
“Then I most certainly would not have named you Harden,” I answer.
“Dad,” he asks, looking down on me slightly, because he’s 6’3” and I’m only 6’1”, “why doesn’t Mom like facials?”
She ducks her head into the TV room.
“Do you want me to pick up some Cinnabons for breakfast?”
“Yes,” I say, “but only if we can get them with extra icing.”
Now doesn't that look delish?
Happy Thanksgiving
Les
Note: This blog is dedicated to Jon Savell
bestbathroombooks 
Poor Gladys. I would be that lady at the table thinking we were carrying on an every day conversation when little would I know…not so much. 🙂 never been a fan of cinnabons but there are worse things.
After this post, you may never eat a Cinnaobon again!
Les
Yeah, it’s like when I watch baseball and the announcers shorten “Double Play” into “DP.” Sends my mind to a completely different place…
Hell yes.
Les
Your blogs are delish. Thanksgiving rocks.
Does that mean you want a Cinnabon?
You’ve ruined cinnabon for me!!!!!! Dang it man.
Now you can keep that washboard stomach, thank you very much.
Les
I agree with your wife.
So you want a Cinnabon?
Les
I don’t know how most men even get through their days in one piece.
I like that you referred to Gordon as a “masseuse.” I referred to a man as a masseuse once and he so kindly informed me that I should call him a “massage therapist.” He said they taught him in massage therapy school that “masseuse” is more associated with the “special therapists” people used to see in the turn-of-the-century that helped you with your “special problems” in a very “special” way. So if that’s what Aunt Gladys calls Gordon, good for her.
I’m pretty ignorant in the massage department (unfortunately) but thanks for the info.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Les
Now to complete the circle, I just have to wait for some sports announcer to use the word “anal” during a game…
That’s definitely going to happen.
Les
this puts me in mind of the original name of tea-party members: tea-baggers.
My wife made me explain what tb was.
Les
Laughed in many ways on this one. Then again, we went out of town, and this post reminded me of this. We were back at the hotel late T-Day night. I was cruising the channels to see what was on … and lo and behold, Showtime has this talk show with the 2 hosts reviewing porn films from the 1970s. Definitely not a program idea that I would have thought of … so, hey, I give the creators credit.
Hope you had a good Thanksgiving
That’s clever. It’s all about concept, isnt’ it? Porn and Thanksgiving–I like odd couples.
Happy T-Day to you too!
Les
Oh man, I would have cracked up laughing and had to make something up. But I bet everyone would have known what I was thinking.
Hey Aunt Gladys,, can I film your facial next time?
Les
Hahaha! I thought I was the only one.
I guess we both have doubly penetrating minds.
Les