Isn’t it always all about me?  And for those of you out there who think the world revolves around you…you’re wrong.  So wrong. 

I’m kidding.  I’m not stuck up and I don’t think the world revolves around me.  I wish it did, but it doesn’t.  But here at PLSF, I think it really is all about me.  Sure I mention others from time to time, but let’s face it.  This is my blog so I like to keep the focus on me.  And how amazing I am. 

I usually write my post the night before I actually publish it and tonite is no different.  Right now it’s Thursday night approximately 10:38 p.m.  OK-so that wasn’t approximate, that was exact.  I want to give you an idea of what’s going on in my tiny apartment at the time of writing this post.  My hunny came home today.  He had been travelling for like 96 hours.  OK, not 96-but a long time.  He spent Wednesday night in a hotel in Georgia due to some delays and he claims that he didn’t sleep.  Earlier in the day he told me that he was really tired.  Jet-lag I guess.  I’m not a world traveller so I don’t know what that’s all about.  When I got home from work at about 5:30 p.m. we chatted for a little bit.  Even though we’ve been away from each other for so long, we didn’t really have anything interesting to say.  Since my ‘No T’ routine has been to exercise almost daily, I thought that maybe he’d want to go for a walk with me.  Nope-and that’s OK because he walks really slowly.  And complains about his knees and the fact that I walk too fast.  So off I went for my power walk and he said that he was going to take a quick nap.  He was conked out before I even had my shoes tied.  45 minutes later I returned.  Exhausted and sweaty.  T was still in a comatose state on the couch.  He had told me not to let him sleep for very long because he’s trying to get his sleep schedule in order.  But I thought a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.  Needless to say…it’s now 10:46 p.m. and he’s still sleeping.  I even made dinner.  I haven’t made dinner in two months!  OK, so it was one of those meal in a bags and a can of veggies, but that still counts.  I said something sweet like, ”Honey-dinners ready!”  I filled my plate and enjoyed my dinner.  His is in the fridge.   After dinner, I cleaned up the kitchen.  I’m wondering if he will sleep all night long.  I have a feeling that he will wake up in a little bit and be mad that I didn’t wake him up earlier.  And it will be my fault that he has jet lag.  I will then have to explain to him that I attempted to wake him up when I got home from my walk.  He did open his eyes.  I assumed this meant he could converse.  Obviously I was wrong. 

“How was your nap honey?”

“I’ll show you the design later.”

“What design?”

“The design I’m working on.”

“HONEY!  What design?  I just asked you how your nap was.”  I emphasized the word nap in case he had it confused with the word design.  They sound similar.  Not.  I think his eyes were closed again by this time.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time I went to sleep?”  I’m not really sure what this meant.  I wasn’t in the same room last time he went to sleep.  So-no.  I don’t remember.

This banter went on for a few more minutes.  I was getting mad and yelling at him trying to explain that I had just asked him how his nap was.  I didn’t care what sort of engineering he was doing in his sleep. 

I gave up and ate dinner.  By myself.  Hmm..that felt strangely as if he wasn’t even there.  I have a feeling that he’s been working a lot lately.  Designing things.  It’s infiltrated his sleep.  He just can’t get away.  Maybe it’s the jet lag.  Or the prescription pills that I found in his backpack. 

So I’m sitting at the computer desk.  The computer has Windows Media Center on it so I can watch and record TV on the computer.  It’s freakin sweet.  I’m watching a show on HGTV.  And I’m typing this post on the laptop.  I’m good at multi-tasking.  Hurley is stalking the cat.  I thought the cat was going nutso a few minutes ago because she was being all weird and chasing what I thought was nothing across the kitchen floor.  I thought she was chasing her shadow.  Until I saw a nasty cochroach (how the hell do you spell that?) cockroach crawl across the floor.  I got up and smacked it with my shoe.  Three times.  T didn’t budge.  I thought I was a hard sleeper.  

I really thought tonite would go a little differently.  I thought maybe we cuddle on the couch and he’d tell me how wonderful I am and how much me missed me and how good I smell.  Maybe would would have enjoyed a dinner out.  Or watched a movie together.  Or talked to each other.  Nope.  Instead I feel like I should check his pulse every hour to be sure he’s still alive. 

OK-back to me.  Since I’ve found myself a few new blog readers in the past couple months I thought this would be a good time to notify you of my writing prowess.  I would like to link to a few (or ten) of my personal fave posts.  Ones that I think my new readers (aka: everyone besides my Mom) may not have read.  Posts that I feel deserve a little more attention than they got when they were initially published.  It’s sort of a round about way to force my readers to well…read.  And hopefully comment.  Because without comments I think about doing bad things.  Like cutting and eating brownies and putting ice cubes down the back of T’s shorts. 

Please take a moment to read these posts.  I think you might like them.  Of course, I’m a little bias.

An oldie but a goody: Defacation Distractions

Another dog post. I’m sorry for not having a life: Ugly Ass Dog

I’m not really super human. I have fears too: Coulrophobia

He thought he was helping, but I just wanted chocolate: Fat Chicks

Just because they’re freakin old doesn’t mean they can be trusted: Bingo Betty

We’re so City: Crack Needles!

Why do I hate that place so much!?: It’s All About Ambiance

You still reading? One more…

Don’t worry- he has a new one!: FAIL!

If you’ve read all of those posts before….thank you! I love you! Let’s make babies. If not….please check them out. You might laugh. No…you will laugh. If you don’t, you have a sucky sense of humor and you should probably go watch Nancy Grace or a documentary on how to kill kittens.

Shoutout to NGIP! Actually it’s more of a shoutback as she is giving me a shoutout (is that 2 words?) on her blog. She’s nice enough to publically mention everyone who puts her blog on their blog roll. I’m banking on her immensly popular blog and the nice little link to PLSF to bring me some more traffic. NGIP: Send them over!!!!!!!! Now!

Happy freakin’ Friday yall!

Sleeping Boy Update: It’s now…11:41 and his skin has officially melded with the faux leather couch. There’s no wake up in site.

Rate Me on Humor Blogs and tell them how freakin awesome this site is.

 i was going to call this blog relapse, but i wanted to pull in some viewers. you sick bastards.  its a kind word. relapse. and though the dogma dictates that “resentment is the number one offender”, i dont believe that it was resentment.
  it was emotional pain. one more disappointment.
  now i know that “one more knife in the back” sounds like resentment, but it sure feels like pain.
  i’ll skip the details of the origin of the pain, but i’d like interested parties to know what its like to start drinking again after 5.5 years.
 i had fantasized about cognac for years. it was cognac that i purchased on the night before memorial day. my wife was up when i got home and talked me out of drinking it.
  the following morning a phone call prompted me to complete the mission. i told my wife that i was heading for the riverbottom, a place i once frequented during a homeless episode eighteen years earlier. she asked me to drink at home. 
  the cognac was awful. i remember it being an aquired taste and no doubt i had lost the aquisition.
  i chugged what i could. i got drunk. i shit in the backyard i really did. pulled my panties down an grunted out a couple of turds that a skunk or possum finally ate. i’m using an educated guess here.
  let me assure you at this point that staying sober for any amount of time is a labor of love. an aquired taste, if you will. if you be alcoholic or addiction oriented. i’m a man. my wife calls all underwear panties, so if you’re beating your meat with visions of some lovely young lady pooping with beautiful grace, put your pecker away. i’m fat. i’m short. i’m a dude. yeah, i guess thats why i have a wife, but you cant be too sure. 
  let me also make the point here that i believe aa meetings are group therapy. leaving the group has had an impact of monumental proportions. its not just that i’m drinking, it is the lack of the group that i feel a need to express.
  i drink while i write. i’m writing this in short bursts at night while drinking. i’ve just finished one “fat tire”. its a beer. i’m not sure it was around when i used to drink. sometimes, when i’m at work, i can taste a fat tire. i’m gonna have some jim beam now..hang on.
  ok, five days after the cognac incident i bought a pint of jim beam. it was much better to drink and i drank it straight, on the rocks.
  i figured a pint was about right. it seems i drank and dialed that night. a version of “gin and juice” on a friends voice mail. i found out days later. 
  i know my stated intent was to illuminate relapse. i know that i’ve been distracted and wandered down corridors and tangents, but this is how my mind operates. i’m getting to it.
  a pint of whiskey proved to be way too much. a half pint was the next experiment and it too, was too much. it lies somewhere between 4 and eight ounces. the magic. and then throw in a fat tire or two and……….well tonight its been 4 ounces of jim beam and i’m working on my second fat tire. this should do just fine. i have a cramp in my forearm from typing.  
  lets get this posted and continue……………