|Where the hell is the remote?|
This past weekend I had a very rare thing happen - Mrs. Sausage and the boys went to visit family in another state, leaving me behind to catch up with gold old me. Ah the peace and quiet of an empty house, no soap operas spewing shite and no Spongebob annoying the normal out of me just me, the dog and the sofa.
The first few hours were brilliant, football was on so I decided to soak up the manliness from the tube.(Wait, that sounds weird) lets rephrase that as - I watched enough football to make my face melt like those crazy Germans from Indiana Jones and the something or other. End day 1.
The next day after walking the dog (Not a sausage) I decided to cook a nice meal, I turned on the television to see if there was a possibility of a secret football game I might have missed. That turned into me sitting on the sofa eating curry out of a pot with a wooden spoon, my shirt as the napkin and last nights stale pint to wash it down.
Next on the agenda - nap.
The rest of the weekend consisted of - more naps, making sandwiches, finish another six pack, scratch stuff, order Chinese, watch more t.v., frantically search for batteries for the remote, check e-mail, walk the not sausage dog again, contemplate showering, changing clothes and combing hair, decide not to shower, change clothes or comb hair.
By Sunday afternoon I was bored out of my skull, I missed the hell out of the noise makers and the Mrs. I could not wait to talk to someone in person rather than scream at my fantasy players while stuffing my gob with some mystery meat from the back of the fridge. I was lonely.
I received the call that they were on their way and would be home in a couple of hours.
I showered, changed clothes and brushed my hair. I scraped the contents of the living room table into the trash and discarded the evidence. Later that night when asked by the Mrs. "So what did you do this weekend?"
I answered - "Not much, I read a book or two, took the dog for a long run and cleaned the house"
The moral of the story - without women men are and will always be - CAVEMEN.
A huge thanks to all the mothers, wives and girlfriends out there that keep us men out of the cave
another weekend like that I would have to be cut from the sofa and forklifted to the hospital.
|I am home alone therefore I wear no pants.|