Monday, April 05, 2004
memoir from a simpler time
Back in the days before The Boy came into our lives or was even born we did not have cable television.
Back before The Wife became The Wife and was only The Girlfriend, we lived together not in single, but actually in DOUBLE sin.
At the time, she worked at Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Students with Significant Medical Needs. In one of life's ultimate ironic moments, in some way I must be eternally grateful to the evil Ms. von Munchausen because at her so-called Home I met The Former Girlfriend Now Wife.
Her unofficial but very real job was to protect the children to the best of her abilities from Ms. von Munchausen.
In part because Ms. von Munchausen was most likely to manifest her evil under the cover of darkness, in part because of her nocturnal nature, but mainly because the pay was one dollar an hour more, The Former Girlfriend Now Wife frequently worked the overnight shift.
On Friday or Saturday night.
It doesn't matter to me what time you get off work. I happen to be an honest, decent hard-working American who believes it is your God given right as an American to enjoy an adult beverage at the end of your day. After all, it was ol' Ben Franklin who said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and want's us to be happy." You just can't get much more American than ol' Ben.
So stop trying to do so you tea-totaling abstinence-loving self-righteous commie pinko bastards.
And I don't give a rat's ass if your workday ends at 6 pm or 6 am. Either way, I'm sure you worked hard damnit, and you've earned yourself a drink or two. Or ten. Who's really counting and what business is it of their's anyway?
[The Good Doctor took great pride in the fact that he was the quintessential ultimate good boyfriend. He always made sure that The Former Girlfriend Now Wife always had an adequate supply of Convenience Store Champagne, her then adult beverage of choice, when she returned home from a hard day's night as the sun was rising.]
She would come in, I would get up (or almost as frequently, still would be up from the previous night's debauchery), and together we drank cheap champagne from empty BAMA Jelly Scooby Doo jars until we collapsed into one another, either in passion or exhaustion.
Have you ever watched regular broadcast television while chugging cheap champagne at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning? Let me assure you, there ain't squat on.
Church. . . CLICK. . . informercial with twin dwarves selling real estate. . . funny for a few minutes. . . the first time you see it. . . CLICK. . . something weird on the Spanish channel. . . great if your still up on hallucinogens, not so great on booze. . . CLICK. . . wait, what's this? Martha Stewart.
Martha Stewart? Hmm. . . what's she making? Hey, she says "beautiful" more than she says "that's a good thing." Let's make it a drinking game. So in the spirit of the classic "Hi Bob!" or the State of the Union Address that's just what we did.
Yes, that's right. A Martha Stewart drinking game. She says, "beautiful", you drink. Elegant. Simple.
Well, let me tell you, if you ever decide to get up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, turn on the television and gulp down cheap convenience store champagne every time Martha Stewart says "beautiful", by about 7:30 you got a buzz that would make Ozzy in his prime proud.
And that's a good thing.
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Back before The Wife became The Wife and was only The Girlfriend, we lived together not in single, but actually in DOUBLE sin.
At the time, she worked at Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Students with Significant Medical Needs. In one of life's ultimate ironic moments, in some way I must be eternally grateful to the evil Ms. von Munchausen because at her so-called Home I met The Former Girlfriend Now Wife.
Her unofficial but very real job was to protect the children to the best of her abilities from Ms. von Munchausen.
In part because Ms. von Munchausen was most likely to manifest her evil under the cover of darkness, in part because of her nocturnal nature, but mainly because the pay was one dollar an hour more, The Former Girlfriend Now Wife frequently worked the overnight shift.
On Friday or Saturday night.
It doesn't matter to me what time you get off work. I happen to be an honest, decent hard-working American who believes it is your God given right as an American to enjoy an adult beverage at the end of your day. After all, it was ol' Ben Franklin who said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and want's us to be happy." You just can't get much more American than ol' Ben.
So stop trying to do so you tea-totaling abstinence-loving self-righteous commie pinko bastards.
And I don't give a rat's ass if your workday ends at 6 pm or 6 am. Either way, I'm sure you worked hard damnit, and you've earned yourself a drink or two. Or ten. Who's really counting and what business is it of their's anyway?
[The Good Doctor took great pride in the fact that he was the quintessential ultimate good boyfriend. He always made sure that The Former Girlfriend Now Wife always had an adequate supply of Convenience Store Champagne, her then adult beverage of choice, when she returned home from a hard day's night as the sun was rising.]
She would come in, I would get up (or almost as frequently, still would be up from the previous night's debauchery), and together we drank cheap champagne from empty BAMA Jelly Scooby Doo jars until we collapsed into one another, either in passion or exhaustion.
Have you ever watched regular broadcast television while chugging cheap champagne at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning? Let me assure you, there ain't squat on.
Church. . . CLICK. . . informercial with twin dwarves selling real estate. . . funny for a few minutes. . . the first time you see it. . . CLICK. . . something weird on the Spanish channel. . . great if your still up on hallucinogens, not so great on booze. . . CLICK. . . wait, what's this? Martha Stewart.
Martha Stewart? Hmm. . . what's she making? Hey, she says "beautiful" more than she says "that's a good thing." Let's make it a drinking game. So in the spirit of the classic "Hi Bob!" or the State of the Union Address that's just what we did.
Yes, that's right. A Martha Stewart drinking game. She says, "beautiful", you drink. Elegant. Simple.
Well, let me tell you, if you ever decide to get up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, turn on the television and gulp down cheap convenience store champagne every time Martha Stewart says "beautiful", by about 7:30 you got a buzz that would make Ozzy in his prime proud.
And that's a good thing.
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