Hi there! I'm Mrs. Mustard from Cheeze Whiz and Mustard, blogsitting for Velveteen Mind. You may remember me from such posts as this. Or you may not know me at all. That's ok, you're about to get to know a LOT about me :)
I am at the tail end of a month long visit with my family, as we live 2 flights away from them. A typical meal at my mom's house usually involves conversations that most families would not have. Ever. So while sharing a meal with my parents, step-brother Ryan and his girlfriend Charlotte, and Tony, Ryan suddenly makes reference to his bed (which we are using while we're here) and the action going on IN the Bed.
Me: What? TONY! What did you talk about?
Tony: What? Like it's a secret that we have sex. We were talking while we golfed.
Me: Oh. God. Why would you talk about that?? On the GOLF COURSE!
Ryan: Well, that would be the second Mustard* girl to have sex in my bed.
Tony: Who else? Oh, Talia?
Ryan: Yeah, and that guy she was with...whatshisname...Joe?
Me: Oh yeah. I think for a little bit. Wait, is that MY old bed from when I lived at home?
Ryan: Yes it is.
Me: Oh, then there have been LOTS of... and I catch myself before making me into a teenage slut, which I most certainly was NOT. But seeing how the bed has been through 11 years and teen owners, it has had its share of funky times.
But now, for your entertainment, and to scare all parents of teens, I present to you:
A Brief History of the Bed
- Purchased in 1996 and placed in my brand newly finished bedroom. A double bed all to myself! Although I am kicked out every time we have company from out of town. I assume there may have been some funky times going on then.
- 1998 - a bee-u-ti-ful boy, let's call him Brayden, made a debut appearance for the entire male species on the Bed. Nothing kinky or confessional-worthy. Just good old random adolescent fooling around.
- 1999 - the Bed is once again relegated to an instrument of sleep and possible late night reading. Sometimes there were late night phone conversations. Or sleepovers of the female persuasion. No action whatsoever. Not a good year for me OR the Bed.
- 2000 - a few nights with a certain "friend", let's call him Trent, although nothing so far as to insight worry of getting fat, if you know what I mean. Then there was my boyfriend, let's call him Bob, which lasted about a month or so. He liked the bed, but he wanted to give it WAY more action than I thought appropriate. The Bed needed to be EASED into such things. So he skidaddled, and my bed was left alone. AGAIN. Did I mention that teenaged boys are stupid?
- Fall of 2000 - I moved away to go to University, and my bed stayed behind. It was always waiting for some real action, but whenever I came home to visit, I was always alone. Until...
- New Year's Day, 2001 - Tony and I were awake at 3 am or so, lying in the Bed, and we whispered THE WORDS to each other. But still, no funkiness. We were holding out for a wedding. I know, we're such good Catholic kids :P
- 2002 - My sister Talia takes over the Bed, and it sees many a romp-around with a couple of boyfriends. I honestly cannot believe that she could even FIND the Bed under the mounds of laundry and papers, but maybe they just did it on top. Her poor teachers who had to mark those tainted assignments. Whatever. Minor details.
- 2003 - Ryan takes over the bed. I assume he's had some fun in it with Charlotte in the past 4 years, but I really don't have any details to share. I just assume that the Bed is a bit of a playground.
- August, 2007 - I am in the Bed once again, but hardly sleeping, as the baby in the next room keeps waking me up all night and the man sleeping with me has a tendency to talk and snore in his sleep. That, and there may have been a tussle or two. We ARE trying for another baby, remember. Purely functional. No fun whatsoever.
Surprisingly, the Bed is still in pretty good shape. Fairly comfortable, and full of secrets that whisper to you in the night: what was that, Bed? Change the sheets?! I'll get right on that...
If you are STILL reading and want to know more about Mrs. Mustard, come and visit my house.
Writer. Mother.
