Tuesday, August 28, 2012
What a tangled web we wee.
Went to see Michelle Williams's new film the other day, Take This Waltz.
Take this schmaltz, more like. By the end of it, I wanted to climb into the film and throttle the lead character, while yelling 'strap on a pair!' She says 'I wuv you' to her long suffering husband, for god's sake. I mean, what a dick. It's pronounced love, you're not six years old, you don't have a speech impediment and it's not cute.
The film wanted to be Blue Valentine, Michelle Williams's other off beat, quirky independent film made of late. But that one had Ryan Gosling in it and this one didn't - the least of the differences that made this one fall flat.
So Michelle Williams's character is having an internal moan in her twee little head because she's been with her husband five years and they get on really well and their careers are going well and they have a beautiful home. Boo hoo, Michelle Williams.
Her big problem is, they wee in front of each other. She has a wee, he brushes his teeth, and you're supposed to be thinking, oh, poor Michelle Williams, her marriage is reduced to having a wee in front of her husband while he brushes his teeth, when what she really deserves is the hot crumpet who lives across the street and undresses her with his eyes all the time.
Only - spoiler alert - time ticks on and eventually hot, mysterious lover from across the road becomes long term boyfriend and the rampant sex is replaced by having a wee in front of him while he picks food out of his teeth with dental floss.
Ah, you got your comeuppance, Michelle Williams! You thought the grass was greener, but it wasn't, it was just a bit less trampled on, and now the new grass is the old grass and you are weeing on it.
I remember the first time I had a wee in front of G. It took a lot of courage. He'd already started weeing in front of me and we lived together, if I could just get over it then it would make sharing the bathroom a lot easier. So I did it and it wasn't that bad and he still fancied me and our relationship continued. Not exactly the making of a Hollywood rom-com.
Last weekend, we went out with some friends. We drank a lot of booze and a lot of water, in an attempt to negate the booze. We slept in our camper-van outside their house and the last thing my friend said to me as we went out to sleep was: 'Do you want a key to the house in case you want to come in for a wee?'
I waved her away with nonchalance, told her we'd probably just scoot off in the morning, I didn't need to come in for any ablutions or pit-stops. My brain forgot I'd drunk 17 pints of water and my bladder was too busy drowning to send out a message to said brain requesting a key to said loo.
At 5am, I awoke with a dangerously full bladder. In my mad panic for a receptacle, I woke up my sleeping future husband, who then realised he too needed a wee.
So I grabbed the only thing I could find to wee in. A saucepan.
And I realised, while one of us was weeing in a saucepan and the other was weeing in an Evian bottle, that we've both seen too much. It's probably best to just stay together. No use going with some hot guy across the road who doesn't know I pee in a saucepan. Because eventually, he will. So I'll just stick with the one I've got and try not to pee in front of him too often. Just to keep the magic alive.