I’d like to take a moment to talk about bowel movements. Mine, specifically.
Fine, I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say, since our arrival I’ve become the poster boy for The Clean Getaway.
The stupid and disgusting can be worth talking about. Why, just today I caught my little dog Stella eating a turd as big as her head. This is no big secret or surprise concerning dogs, but the difference here is you could tell she was seriously enjoying it. Why the hell do I even buy dog treats? All I could do was sigh as I also thought of her penchant towards going for the French kiss whenever she decides Rachel or I need canine affection.
Delicious. (Dinner ended up being sans meat and may be for the next few days as I struggle to forget.
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I realized something today. It came to me that, right now and for the next couple of weeks, I’m going to be that guy. But which guy? There are a lot of those guys, ranging from “I’ve done whatever you’ve done, except that I’ve done it before you, it was cooler and I got it cheaper, oh, did I mention it was also bigger” Guy, to “I’m a slimy, creepy, up-and-coming sex offender but I can still have any woman I want, I’m THAT awesome” Guy. (It may seem too amazing, but these two guys can actually be the same guy on occasion.)
Which guy did I realize I am (albeit temporarily)?
I am now “I haven’t had a decent relationship or a relationship at all for a very long time but I just got this really great chick who I’m enamored with and given the dry spell I’m in I’m not sure how to handle it so I’m gonna talk about her constantly to all of my friends and, while they may still like me, are becoming very annoyed with me” Guy.
But with cities instead of chicks.
I just wanted to let everyone know that I know who I’m being as I force readers to listen to me be this guy for the next couple of weeks. You have my apologies for what will become, over time, a little more annoying each day it happens. Still, knowing this, I’m unable to stop myself.
Being out of the Midwest is fucking awesome.
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