Saturday night. Home, as usual. There’s a bag of Barnum’s Animals crackers in front of me. I have finally convinced my daughter she should go to bed and now I sit, alone, sipping on the remnants of Yellow Tail Cab/Merlot ($5 at Lee’s Liquor), testing the quality of said “crackers”, flipping channels, and wondering why I suddenly find Bradley Cooper highly appealing. I want to rub my palms against the stubble on his face as I come within a centimeter of grazing his lips with mine. I want my fingertips to slip across the lines that crinkle from his eyes when he smiles. I want, I want, I want… I’m beginning to think my turkey dogs have more than just preservatives shoved into those cylindrical shapes.
I’m also beginning to think that I desperately need to get naked in the presence of a man. A naked man would be ideal. Or at least one who would voluntarily become naked after I remove my clothes. I would truly hate to pull out my shotgun and force the issue. Again. Those men never return my calls.
I check on my girl and discover that she has yet again decided to disrobe and make herself comfortable in my bed. Fortunately, she’s a heavy sleeper and I have no problems duck-taping her back onto the ceiling where she belongs, after which I decide that the animal crackers would taste much better if dipped in Nutella, and indeed they are. I only eat a handful because, thanks to my hefty exercise schedule and healthy eating habits, I’ve dropped nearly ten pounds since the beginning of the month. Without giving up wine, (obviously). Because if I have to give up everything, then forget it. I will keep a few extra pounds. I will learn to be perfectly happy with a bubble ass and I will keep a shotgun hidden near my front door.
This is my Saturday night.
This is my life.