Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Damn You, Eddie Izzard!

It seems that I shall never again receive a back rub from my wife…and it’s all Eddie Izzard’s fault.

You see, we were watching Ocean’s 13, my wife and I, about two or three weeks ago.

“Is that Eddie Izzard?” I asked, having difficulty imagining Mr. Izzard without his typical stage getup. He’s one of my favorite stand-up comics, but I’d probably walk right past him on the street if he weren’t dressed as an “executive transvestite.” I know he’s supposedly in a TV series now sans dress, but I’ve not seen it, so I was left to squint at the gentleman talking to George Clooney and mentally apply make-up.

“I don’t think so,” replied my wife.

We watched for a few minutes more before I once again interrupted the on-screen action. “I’m pretty sure its him.”

“Ok,” she hissed, more interested in the unfolding plot than in the presence or non-presence of Mr. Izzard.

Despite her affirmative response, I could tell she still didn’t agree. “I’ll bet you a back rub that it’s Eddie Izzard,” I smiled. I didn’t even have to look away from the TV to know that she was rolling her eyes.

“I’m not betting.”

My wife is not a gambler. Neither am I really. In the five years we’ve been together, we’ve never stepped foot in the casino a mere mile or so from our house. But, I’m up for throwing the occasional, non-monetary ante into the pot and a backrub seems pretty unthreatening. I mean…I’d be willing to give her one if she asked anyway, so we’re basically just fighting for the bragging rights. Besides, a nice, friendly wager seemed appropriate to the Vegas action we were watching.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not even arguing with you. I’m not betting. And I’m trying to watch the movie”

“Sure you’re arguing, you said you didn’t think it was him. The bet is on.” She ignored me. “And you’re goin’ down.” Her silence continued. “Cuz that’s totally Eddie Izzard right there.”

“Shut up!”

Ninety minutes or so later, as the credits rolled, she rose from the couch and left the living room. She claimed it was out of need of a bathroom trip, but I suggested to her retreating back that she was merely trying to avoid the inevitable confirmation of Eddie Izzard’s presence in the film. My theory was supported when she failed to respond to either my suggestion or my shouts of victory as Mr. Izzard’s name crawled up the screen.

Huzzah!!

Now, a more gracious winner than I would probably have had a much better chance of getting that backrub. My wife, being the fine woman she is, is not a fan of the egotistical strutting I was about to engage in. I knew this. I understood fully that creating a situation whereby the only way I could get a backrub was for Moonshot to admit defeat in a contest to which she had not agreed was a guaranteed way to miss out on my prize. But, I had to weigh this fact against the infinite joy brought on by the absurdity of such apparent pride in recognizing a comic. You can argue that this indicates something warped in my mind, but absurdity wins out in this battle every time for me.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in mock anticipation as we crawled into bed that night. “My back is sooo ready for my reward.” She rolled over and went to sleep without another word.

Every night since then has played out in a similar way, although I have now taken to calling it my “Izzard rub” for the sake of efficiency. “That Izzard rub is just racking up interest, my dear,” I offer.

She shows no sign of cracking and I seem totally unable to stop myself from continually throwing one more log on the fire. I know the answer. I just need to shut up for about a week or so and let her offer me a backrub on her own with no strings attached. Then we’ll be back on track. Even that, however, is risky since we both know how likely I am to bring up Eddie Izzard in the middle of any backrub, even one offered in the spirit of kindness. Luckily, it’s not probable that we’ll even get to such a point any time soon considering that upon completing this post, I’ll probably walk downstairs and remind Moonshot of her continuing debt to my back.

Damn you, Eddie Izzard!

12 comments:

Anonymous said...

Glad to see you're posting again :) Now isn't it about time for some more recent pics of the little one???

Simon said...

I'd feel sorry for you, but I'm pretty sure I'd follow with very similar tactics. I probably wouldn't have used a back rub as the stakes, though. Starts with a B, but goes downhill from there. I'm crass that way and my wife puts up with it; what can I say?

Interestingly, I wouldn't have known the culpable Mr. Izzard IN his standard stand-up dress. Not being the comic aficionado you appear to be, the good Eddie didn't look at all out of place in that scene.

The only bets I generally make never involve money either. And I'm always the one to make a safe bet. Or sometimes I'll take the losing side on purpose with ulterior motives. Fun!

Moksha Gren said...

Hokey - Yeah yeah, I know. I put a few new ones up on the Google gadget...but I know, I know.

Simon - I figured you'd be able to relate to this one. And I'm not surprised by the changes you would have made to my approach

I don't actually know a lot of the newer comics. My brother got me back up to speed a little when he was doing his stand-up, but I actually just stumbled across Izzard's Dressed to Kill on HBO a few years back and fell in love with it.

Amy said...

O.K. so the reason Moonshot is not giving in to your back rub request is because she knows that back rubs are foreplay. she gives in to the back rub and then you will be asking for more. you sir have ulterior motives and she knows it. Just tell her what you really want.
I would like to know how about your gadget... How do I go about seeing it??? no giggling...
AND what is with all the recent postings???

Anonymous said...

Okay, I just want it to be known that I never said I didn't think it was Eddie Izzard. All I said was that I didn't KNOW if it was him, and I refused to bet. And then my doofus of a husband went off on this two week Eddie Izzard back rub bet baloney! I'm pretty sure at this point that I will die before he gets another back rub from me. Amy, I actually wouldn't mind if he was using the back rub as foreplay rather than to annoy me. I wouldn't even mind so much if he just honestly wanted a back rub. But he wants to win, and so I can never surrender:)

Josh & Emily said...

I know a place where you can get a back rub for $50, and much much more. No strings attached. I bet they will even let you call an "Izzard Rub!"

Simon said...

Jet, I'm going to have to buy you a drink in a week and a half and I will distill from you your philosophy on life, the universe and everything. I think that should be a fair bit of fun.

You ARE going to be around the general vicinity of [redacted] on or around the 10th of May, yes?

Mark said...

I think Moonshot is waiting for the day Simon and I roll into town. Then she'll say, "Okay, boys, off with the shirts: backrubs for company!" And Moksha will have to watch like the dirty braggart he is.

I'm glad to hear that we will not be dragged to any damn casino while we're in your fair city.

Josh & Emily said...

Simon,
I will let you buy me a drink and I challenge you to buy me 3...eh?

John Haney said...

I propose a solution to this dilemma...

"Transfer" your victory backrub to her. Give her the backrub and then announce the deal made... Everyone wins, the backrub issue is resolved in and of yourself, and she gets a backrub prize.

Anna said...

Just for the record...

YOU CAN KISS THAT BACK RUB GOODBYE!

I mean, I know you were wondering! I am glad you are posting...I miss hearing from ya!

Have a great week!

Anna

Oh, should I send you a back scratcher? You could do it yourself!

Anna said...

OK, now I get it JET is your brother! Took me a sec to figure that one out! Are you performing the wedding? Maybe Mark and Shannon can sing! :)