|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
May. 24, 2004 - 12:43 a.m.
It's 12:30am Monday morning and I've already been up for 45 minutes. My alarm clock is due to blast its merry tune at 1:30, but I've clicked it off, had a cup of Twining's Lady Grey Tea (shut up), shampooed my back hair and am now typing raggity sentences in between checking other diaries.
Diaries of people who have not woken up early because their Blood Alcohol Level was approximately 30% of their Total Blood Volume a few hours ago, and now they're shaking so hard that their usually sympathetic spouse has banished them to the Hinterlands (computer room).
I do have a legitimate excuse this time though! (Um, other than that whole "Alcoholics will be Alcoholics" excuse I usually use. Which is just as valid.)
NewWifey(tm) got a raise!
And we're not talking some 4% cost-of-living insult here.
Check this out:
You read right. Fifty freakin' percent!
And she didn't even have to give a blow job to get it!!
Through a combination of her own superior skills, and an attrition rate at her company that rivals American losses in Iraq, NewWifey(tm) was cut from the lowing herd of cubicle cattle and elevated to Fiery Brand Wielding Supervisor! Go BossWifey(tm)!
Of course at home the glass ceiling is still in effect. Supervisor or no supervisor, I still get my nightly foot massage. And other ablutions. Don't worry, she's still NewWifey(tm). (At least until she reads this entry).
By way of celebration I purchased two bottles of Stop-n-Shop's finest Cooking Sherry (vintage Thursday) and spent a half hour blowing through a straw into the bottles.
(Ok, actually it was Pol Roger Brut NV. But I wanted to identify with my audience.)
Also, an impressive pyramid of chocolate covered strawberries that Casey the Corgi was determined to poison himself with. I almost let him.
We munched and got the fronts of our shirts stained and sticky and drank and drank and drank and screwed and drank and drank...and then the bottles were empty. The chocolates were gone. The dog was sad.
And now, 4 hours later, I'm sitting in front of a computer while the Newark Timpani and Cymbal Ensemble practices for the upcoming SousaFest in my cranium. In another hour I'll have a pair of headphones clamped around my matted hair, blasting news and traffic reports directly into my new blood clots. For 6 hours.
Wish me luck!
Whew. Ok, gotta get a move on here. Sorry this was brief and dull. I actually have a funny tale to relate about a duck exploding in my dryer on Friday. But that's for later.
Ciao! (Or rather, "Ow!")
By the way, my overall Battle Monkey Record stands at something like 4 - 37. That was pretty much my college dating record. Except for the 4 victories part. Dammit, I need a Depleted Uranium Eating Terminator-3 Monkey! Oh well, at least my Porridge Eating simian has really low cholesterol levels. So there!
Ooops - better run.