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10:29:10 - 2000-08-20

MY DATE WITH PRINCESS HORMONE

Here I am, as the Scorpions would say...rocking you like a hurricane.

I'm in a slightly better mood here than I was yesterday. There's no thunderstorm going on, so the dog is resting peacefully.

My friend getting the divorce sent me an email scared to death that I'm going to "preach" at her, which is the furthest thing from my mind.

BUT!!!

And as Pee Wee would say..."There's always a big But" ...

The old lady is pissed at me about something.

Currently, I'm chalking it up to the weird shit that happens to pregnant women.

But dayyyum...she did NOT want to spend the day with me in the house yesterday. That much was obvious.

Let's face it...I'm a God.

WHO in their right mind would NOT want to spend 24 hours cooped up in a house with MOI????

WHO, I ASK?!?!?

WHOOOOOOOOOOO????

Well....for starters...the woman that's spent umpteen zillion days alone in a house with this "God" over the years.

The day started off okay. I let her sleep in ... she got up and fixed breakfast which has always been her gig.

So she fixes eggs and hashbrowns.

Apparently...her taste buds are all outta whack because the eggs tasted "funny" to her.

I wolfed mine down like a starving dog and offered no complaints.

Then we decided that we were going to clean house.

Now then...

The yard needed mowing. I UNDERSTAND that the yard needing mowing is not TECHNICALLY "cleaning the house".

This is crystal clear in my mind.

But it NEEDED it. Simple as that.

So I announce I'm going to mow the yard.

I not only mow it...I edge it. I weed whack it. I get out the blower and blow all the debris away.

I spend two hours outside getting the yard in shape.

I come inside and...and...and...there's a new woman inside that has taken the place of my wife.

Sure looks like my wife.

But it's not her. Noooo...this is some HORMONE-HOPPIN' BITCH FROM HELL that has taken my wife's place.

"I hope you had fun out there," she snips at me.

Ahhhhh....snipping, eh?? We're going to be snippy, are we??

"Yeah, hon'," I says. "Walking back and forth across the yard in 98 degree weather is better than sex."

Okay...not the right thing to say to Princess Hormone. I realize that now. I didn't then.

She puts down a laundry basket full of clothes.

Wait...lemme clarify...she DROPS a laundry basket full of clothes on the floor and stares at me.

"Are you saying sex with me sucks?" she asks.

Oh shit.

Now then...I'm standing in the kitchen COMPLETELY NAKED after just throwing my sweaty clothes outside on the back patio. I'm hot, sweaty and exhausted. The LAST thing I want to do at this point is be grilled on my wife's sexual prowess.

I WANT A FUCKING SHOWER.

"No dear, it was a joke," I said, trying to move my sweaty self past her. "It's hot as hell outside and mowing the yard is no walk in the park in late August in Alabama. I would have much rather been in here doing piddly things."

Oh shit.

Let me clarify right here...whatever my wife decides to do...is NOT piddly.

I learned that yesterday. You know how you learn something new every day? I learned that my wife does NOT piddle yesterday.

After reeling off a 30-second long list of EVERYTHING she had done while I strolled around the yard, having the time of my fucking life, she allowed me to go shower.

I jumped in the shower and began praying that this would all pass by the time I got out.

No such luck. She was stomping around the kitchen like Godzilla looking for a trolley car full of people to eat.

Soooooo...I did the only thing I knew to do. I went to the living room on the opposite end of the house and began cleaning it up.

...Oh...and uhhhh...downloading some songs off Napster while I cleaned.

Once I had the living room straightened up...I got kinda sidetracked with Napster.

It can happen to anyone, right??

Right???

C'mon....RIGHT?!?!?!

....riiiiight....

Well...she catches me sitting here on the computer. Had I heard her walking down the hallway, I woulda jumped up and been dusting the TV or something.

But I didn't hear her.

"I see you're on the computer when you told me you were going to clean," she says casually.

Oh shit.

"I DID clean," I protested very casually. "The whole room is clean."

Here came the tone I was dreading.

"You know...we have a whole HOUSE that needs cleaned," she said in that...that ... that tone.

"I'll get right on it," I said. "Gimme just one minute."

....And it was that one minute that turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

We said roughly ten sentences to each other for the rest of the day.

I went to the grocery store to get a few things. While standing in line, I saw a King Size Twix Bar. My wife loves King Size Twix Bars. So, I reasoned that a King Size Twix Bar might just be the key to smoothing things over in Uncle Bob Manor.

It was the key alright.

The key to opening Pandora's Box of Venom.

She fucking YELLED at me for buying her a candy bar.

FUCKING YELLED.

"I can't eat that shit!!," she said, about to burst into tears.

"Honey, it won't kill you or the baby if you eat a candy bar," I tried to reason.

At this point, I swear to God she looked like a cartoon character after the character had just guzzled a bottle of tabasco sauce. Her face was red, her eyes were bulging, veins that I didn't even know she had were starting to show, and she looked like she could roar.

She let me know in extremely colorful language that she didn't want any goddamned motherfucking Twix bar.

....Alright, Linda Blair...I get the picture...Twix...one for me, none for you.

So last night...after a delicious dinner that I prepared consisting of hamburgers and fries ... I got on the computer for a few hours and let her watch HGTV, Satan's channel.

I found a cool website ... at night anyway...Karaoke Cam which is a 24 hour camera inside a karaoke bar in New Orleans. A buncha drunks singing karaoke and partying like mofos. It's pretty coo'.

So I spent my Saturday evening watching strangers sing Karaoke from the privacy of my living room.

Went to bed about 10:30. Susie was already in bed reading. As SOON as I walked in, she put down her book, turned off the light and rolled over and pretended to go to sleep.

....Looking back...I guess I should have said the eggs tasted funny after all.

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