Wednesday, May 03, 2006

My last day of freedom

Tomorrow is my last day of total irresponsiblity and reckless behavior. It is the last day I will be able to stay out all night on a whim, lay on my couch and eat doritos out of a bag sitting on my chest, and throw my underwear on the floor when I know I'm not expecting company. It is the last day I will do these things because Friday is the day that Gatsby is coming to stay.

You've seen the pictures and read the reports, and finally the day has come for my little darling to arrive. I'm leaving at 1:30 on Friday afternoon to go get him, and then it's all Gatsby and Me. I plan to be completely obnixous and post tons of pictures and continually tell stories that are only cute to me in copious detail. I plan on giving the marrieds-with-children a run for their money.

So prepare, dear ones, prepare, the day draws nigh!!


Myfanwy Collins said...


kim said...

Bring it on sister! Smoochies for Gatsby!!!

wignifty said...

While I wish you the best of luck, I have to tell you that it's not always easy living with a male.

First off, we don't care if we miss the toilet. I mean, that pond of water is easy to miss when you're grappling the firehose and trying to tame it.

Secondly, doing the dishes is not a nightly event. It takes place sporadically during the month, usually when fruit flies begin to gather or when your family is coming over.

Expect morning-lovin'. I mean we're there, you're there, why the hell not? In Gatsby's case I suggest you make sure your calf is well concealed under the covers when dawn breaks.

Men are filthy creatures. Do not expect to dig through our laundry and come away with renewed feelings of love. This is doubly true for the small percentage of women currently living with men who don whitey-tighties. We also scratch, belch, and fart (and lick in Gatsby's case) without regard for your company. Your looks of disgust will baffle us as we cannot understand why women don't have these same urges.

I wish you two the best of luck, but I hope you go into this relationship with your eyes open.

Kelly said...

Firehose?? Dude, he's 10 weeks old. And you're dreaming. And as for morning lovin', the only thing that goes in me first thing in the morning is my bagel.

But I do appreciate your willingness to show me the darker side of humanity, that of the red-blooded sloppy, horny, flithy manbeast.