Oct. 17, 2003 - 6:31 a.m.

You know, I really really meant to make an entry yesterday.

Get used to reading that last sentence. I'll be using it a lot in months to come.

Been a hectic couple of days, most of which I'll skip over here, as I want to recount my Friday night adventures before this seive of a mind I posess loses it forever.

But first; last night we hosted a Hen Party.

NewWifey(tm) is kind of an odd bird. She's a pretty, feminine redhead. Belying appearances, she races motorcycles and loves power tools (I just got her a compound miter saw for a suprise present last week. She practically creamed her jeans). But she also took up some kind of sewing hobby recently. I think it's called "cross stitching". It could be needlepoint, or weaving, but what do I know. I'm a guy. I do know she likes it though, which again seems odd because she's usually not into those stereotypic girly things. And she joined a "Sewing Guild" with a bunch of old bats who get together once a week to compare colored rags.

Last night it was our night to host. Or more specifically, it was HER night to host. Men aren't allowed, she told me, putting a catch in her voice that implied I might be disappointed (I wasn't.) I did contribute by making a killer White Chocolate Cheesecake, on a gingered shortbread crust and with a raspberry and toasted pignoli glaze. But otherwise I was free to play "Grand Theft Auto" down in The Lair, which was fine by me. I can only take so many hours of looking at reproductions of 18th century primers on linen before starting to envy James Byrd Jr.'s fate.

So ok, here goes. This is what happened last Friday after leaving my marathon waterless shift. It's long - think "Ulysses" (Joyce) stream of consciousness drudgery - so I'm breaking it down into two parts. AND, I'm going to pretend it's Saturday, since that's when I wrote the original piece (which was cast into the Great Void when our computers at work all crashed SECONDS before I hit "Post Entry"). So if YOU pretend it's Saturday when you read this, it will help. C'mon, you suspend disbelief at movies, right? Gimme a hand here.

I'm calling it:

DangerSpouse Saves the Day!...but doesn't. (Pt.1)

After my arid trek across Radioland yesterday, I figured Charon was gonna ferry me back across the River Styxx to home. How naive of me to think Hell would relinquish Her quarry so easily. Here's what happened since last we left our Hero on Friday:

4 o'clock whistle blows and I slide down the brontosaurus' tail into my (open) car window. Twist the key, fire 'er up, drop the clutch and shoot out of the parking lot.

And immediately hit the brakes.

I don't think I left 1st gear the entire 50 mile crawl home. What a mess! Does everyone take off early for the Columbus Day weekend? I thought it was only for us Wops. I guess it's like all my Jewish buddies who suddenly become Observant every Sucketh Rosh Kipper so they can cry "discrimination!" if they don't get a paid day off. (Then they call me while I'm at work to tell me how much fun they're having down at The Navel Base strip club). On Columbus Day I guess everyone claims their original name ended in a vowel, and they have to leave early for the parade.

The upshot was I didn't pull into my mountaintop driveway til 5:45. And was I thirsty!! After the previous umpteen hour's ordeal I ended up stooped over like Pope John Paul from sheer dehydration. My skin was shrinking. Even though I stopped for a kegger on the way home, I felt like god was was turning me into a pillar of salt again by the time I hit the front door. It was too far to the kitchen; I bolted straight to the bathroom and yanked the dog from the toilet.

That's not true. The dog won't drink from the toilet. I had it all to myself.

Speaking of the Tailess Wonder, he was dancing on his hind legs when I saw him. NewWifey(tm) had taken off early that morning on a shopping errand and still not returned. So the Corgi's needle was on "FULL". What drives me nuts is that that we've built a Xanadu of a Corgi pen in our backyard that he can access via a doggie door. There must be a quarter acre of prime pooping pasture fenced in there, his for the taking. But will he use it for such? Nope. He'll bask, frolic, dig, herd leaves...but not squat. I can only guess he sees the pen as an extension of the house, with the same injunction against releasing waste matter. But more likely he just knows he has me trained.

Anyway, after getting my face out of the bowl I grabbed his leash and took us for a romp in the woods. That ate up a solid hour, and every weary step was agony along the way. All I wanted to do was get back to my recliner, wrap myself in my Menudo blankie and crank up Grand Theft Auto til NewWifey(tm) came home and tucked me into bed.

But once back home there was a message on the machine saying she was at Home Depot buying lumber for her latest project, and not to wait up. As if she needed to add that. NewWifey(tm) in a Home Depot is like me at a kindergarten playground. It takes forever to decide what to pick up and tie to the roof rack. I knew she wouldn't be be back til well after pumpkin hour for Yours Truly.

I kept my eyes - and several beers - open til just about 8:30, then surrendered. Up at 1:30, yammering on-air for 13 straight hours without a drink, 2 hour drive home, stubborn dog, toilet water...I'd had enough. Come, sweet Morpheus, sail me away.

At 9:00 on the dot the phone rang. I don't even remember picking up the reciever. But I do remember hearing:

NewWifey(tm): *sob*

My initial reaction to this would normally be to hang up the phone and pretend later that I thought it was a telemarketer trying to guilt me into a sale. But my defenses were down. My male Emotion Alert-Evasion System was still in the bed I just stumbled out of. And so instead of employing a well practiced defense mechanism, I said, "Honey? Is that you? What's wrong?" And my fate was sealed.

Don't miss the exciting conclusion when Pt.2 of DangerSpouse Saves the Day!...but doesn't comes your way! Um...tomorrow or the next day. I hope.