I received a disturbing text message from my friend’s wife Carla. She is super sweet and not one to play jokes.
Her text message said, “I’m really worried about Rob. Last night I found a stack of obesity porn DVD’s hidden in his closet. I seriously think he has a problem. What should I do? Please help!”
My heart dropped.
To even ponder the idea of Rob watching these made me feel sad and sick.
Just the thought of this counts as an all-time low on par with my face accidentally touching the carpet at a Bikram studio on 2/12/98, bad tripping at a Dead show on 12/27/91, and asking Vanessa Nussbaum to go steady at Jonny Rosser’s 6th grade birthday party and her responding, “um, well, ah, um…”
I picked up the phone and called Carla.
Ring, ring.
I said, “Hi it’s David. I got your email.”
“Hi.”
I continued, “Porn addiction, is there rehab for that?”
“What? Is this David Romanelli?!” Carla screamed into the phone.
Carla was hanging out with 18 girlfriends who were over for their Book Club night.
I heard one of them in the background say with a thick accent, “Oh I took David Romanelli’s class in Rahchesta a few yee-ahs ago.”
“Is that the fat guy?” another lady chimed in.
“He’s not fat, what are you saying Judy!” a third lady shouted back.
Clearly the “Book Club” was a front. The ladies weren’t reading, they were drinking.
Anyhoo…I hoped and prayed Carla didn’t hear what I said. But my hopes were dashed when she said, “David Romanelli what the hell are you saying about porn addiction? What’s the matta with you?! Are you serious?”
guwoly 