TC is at a small brown wedding with his parents. Only about 400 or so. Small? Brownies tend to move in big convoys I’ve learned. He’s calling. He’s calling telling me he wants to go home. At 2.30 a.m., he calls to tell me he’s home. At 7.30 a.m., he calls to tell me he can’t sleep. At 9:00 a.m., he calls to tell me he still can’t sleep. Here at the zoo, maintaining tigers is full time job.
The weekend has given me some time to hunt for new bloggers. I realize regular readers just ride along with me, but the new visitor is likely in some sort of pain, looking for an answer or two. I mostly just have questions though. What I am amazed about is guys who either write blogs or comment on blogs about how they decided to remain happily married (out or not), perhaps have a little something on the down low or simply plunking about the Internet keeping up with ‘current’ events.
My question to this lot, if everything is so peachy keen, why in the hell are you writing and snooping about. Life with the Misses must not be keeping your jar full. Perhaps you’re fooling others, likely you’re in the front of that line yourself, but you ain’t fooling Uncle Chris.
TC jets off with his horny friend to Europe tomorrow. It’s crazy, but I’m not the least bit concerned about his behaviour, other than his ability to get smashed like only the British can do. I’m gonna head back to Texas to start this new venture.
With the passing of Labor Day, Washington DC will revive itself and I will endeavor to find new venues to procure a buddy to hang with. I’m a great wingman after all.