Good morning my little mushroom caps, how’s every little thing? Well-rested? Delighted that it’s Monday and you’ve got a whole glorious work week full of cheersome colleagues and charming, reasonable bosses to look forward to? Me too! (That is sarcasm. I don’t do it very well.)
So let me just jump straight on my high horse this afternoon because I’ve been irked about it for a week:
Other people’s husbands:They are not for touching.
AND if you happen to BE someone else’s husband, kindly do not try to touch me. I don’t care if your wife doesn’t understand you. Maybe she doesn’t understand you because you’re trying to sleep with women who can only be described as “not her”.
I don’t know WHAT’S been going on lately, but men –men I know and like and until recently respected– have been All About This and while it is understandable because This (you’ve got to imagine me doing some sort of hand motion gesturing to my jelly, milkshake etc, I don’t really know what those things are: I don’t get MTV) is well worth wanting to get all up on, the fact remains that marriage in most cases means you’ve promised God and/or each other not to go chicken necking in someone else’s turtle pond until death you do part.
OH! And if you are GETTING married, you don’t get to expect any old-time’s-sake favors, either. Seriously? I mean SERIOUSLY?! Now THAT takes a pair, and a pair, IF YOU RECALL MISTER YOUKNOWWHOYOUARE, I am fully aware you do not possess and I don’t care if it WAS cold in that cabin. I will buy you a deviled egg plate and wish you well. I will NOT do that thing that almost got us kicked out of King’s Dominion that one time. God.
The same thing goes for girlfriends. If you’ve got one, you don’t get me and I don’t care if you are “in the process” of breaking up. I’m in the process of dying, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to shoot embalming fluid into my veins –although did you know you’re not allowed to buy only a cocktail before noon on Sunday in Texas? You have to buy food too. A bourbon and branch breakfast has become a post-church Sunday tradition for me, but since I had to go to the 9 a.m. instead of the 11:15 yesterday, I wound up with this:
Jeffrey Bernard should’ve punched me in the face.
(also, I am a Basil-Hayden’s girl and all they had was Maker’s. What am I, an animal?)
So anyway, that’s what’s on my mind today. What’s on yours?