"Oh my dear lord! Oh. My. Dear. Lord!"
No, this wasn't me exclaiming in ecstasy from the ground zero of sexual gratification that we call our bed.
This is what I scream out when I realize that I've stepped barefoot on the tail of a lizard. A still squirming tail. A severed, still squirming tail.
So where the hell is the rest of him?
This is what I've been waiting four months and 11 days for. Not the sex. Not the closeness. Not the domestic help. Not the wonderful fathering.
No, I've been waiting for the killer of all things insect, reptile and rodent to return.
I had to drag the poor man out of a hot bath just to dispose of the severed tail and the mangled body. The poor lizard had been split in two by our Three's Company-style kitchen door.
(Jesus. You people must thing I live in a fucking slum with all the animals I have coming in and out.)
The other thing that I have been saying over and over again for the last four months and 11 days is, "I need a break." Sometimes I even say, "I need a fucking break."
Apparently, I got one. You can read all about it here.
What the hell happened to, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Huh?
(It's the boobs, I tell you. These things are fucking powerful.)
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