Three Months, But Who's Counting?

It’s been awhile, and a lot’s gone on. Like watching your favorite porno, let’s fast forward to the good parts, shall we?

Have I mentioned that the fiancé and I are now living together? Honey, I love you dearly, but next time you leave me home alone to run some errands, can you PLEASE do me a favor? There’s nothing more uncomfortable than having a gigantic Mexican man stop by to install our cable and internet with scented candles burning and light jazz playing throughout our place. If this wasn’t awkward enough, the thought hit me as he was staring at one of the walls thinking of where he wanted to poke a hole with his drill...at least I hope that’s what he was thinking.

I usually stand my ground and comeback with something for anyone who talks shmack my way, but when a guy on a bicycle dressed in hee-haw overalls and a straw hat at 6:30 in the morning in a non-rural neighborhood is raging at you because you’re in his way, what else can you do but stand there dumbfounded in shock and awe. Did I see that? Someone please tell me I just didn’t see that.

After your woman has been drinking non-stop the whole night and spilling a little bit of wine on your suit jacket here and there, never, never, never make a comment about having to take said suit jacket to the dry cleaners. Because if you do, she’ll claim that the room is spinning and begin to regurgitate and spew all over said suit jacket along with matching suit pants, suit shirt and suit shoes, and thus re-inforcing the need to go to the dry cleaners. Somehow I feel that after a few years, I’ll have enough stories to write a book on the uncomfortable and unfortunate injustices men have had to go through because of women.

To the person that said that fear is the greatest motivator, I think I may have found something even greater – embarking on a late night trip back to Chicago from Milwaukee, and underestimating the time it takes for the White Castle burgers you had at the beginning of the trip to slide through your system. The thought of taking a shit in your own car is pretty terrifying, but the need to get to the friendly confines of your toilet at home is all the motivation anyone really needs to overcome that fear. As if you needed another reason to jet out of Wisconsin anyways.

Even I have my limits. Downing part of a bottle of hot sauce was easy. Downing a beer in a glass of chicken wing bones took a little effort. But downing a cup of bleu cheese? Since someone out there has photographical proof that I spit and definitely don’t swallow, my chances of running for a government office are pretty nil. If it's any consolation, while Drew is trying to sell a few insurance policies to the girls at Hooters, I'm offering them something more useful - a hotel room. I love the hospitality industry!

Last but definitely not least, have you ever laughed so hard you started to cry? Going to dinner with my buddies Carl and Eric is an experience like no other. Especially when we’re going to a decent restaurant and Eric’s stuck having to wear a t-shirt that says “I did it all for the Wookiee”. And if that wasn’t enough:

Eric: Do you have chips and salsa?

Waitress: Yes.

Eric: What does that entail?

Waitress: Ummm, chips and salsa?

Carl and Erwin: OoooooooH