If you’re reading this it means I’m dead.
Kidding! Just always wanted to write that. Hehheh. No such luck. But I’ve been good-as, what with no internet connection. Fucking Sprint. Yeah, you heard me Sprint Broadband. You SUCK. Whatcha gonna do about it?
KIDDING!!! KIDDING! You know I love you, S.B. You’re the fucking man. But fact remains I haven’t had an internet connection for well over two weeks, and it’s been fuzzy since summer. The husband calls me with a daily email report (Thank God none of the boyfriends dropped me a line. THAT would have been embarrassing!) and I can’t even look at blogs because who knew Blogspot was blocked by my gym. Fucking gym.
To business. Miss me?
It’s ok. You can lie and say you did. I’ll beLIEve it.
I met a marine at the Pub last night. Creech. That’s his name. Dunno if it’s Sergeant Creech or something, though I know he’s in officer training. I also know his real name, and when I asked him if I could use it in a book sometime, he said please just don’t make the character wimpy. Give him a good death, he said, an honorable death. Heh. Sound like any marines you know?
He was good-natured and easy-going, for a marine. I greeted him with “In the military, are we?” Fresh from training, he had the “haircut.” You know the one. I really wonder why they leave that longer bit on top. Maybe they should just go really short all over. Maybe that longer bit pads the helmet. I don’t know. I also teased him about his accent (he’s from Sou-wowth Caroliiiina) and he thought I was from the South, too. I told him, no, I was just imitating him.
Why do I insist on teasing the hungry bear when I’m between her and her offspring? I dunno. Maybe cuz he was only 25, embarrassed to repeat the word “hard-on” in female company (yeah, I'll wait for you to stop laughing--he has no idea how bad I am), is a registered Democrat, and weighs 160 pounds wet. Got to say though, I’da liked to’ve seen Creech without a shirt. Bet he’s ripped after training.
He also gave me the old once-over when he found out I was 40. “You look pretty good for 40,” he said. Pretty good. Yup. That’s what he said. Pretty good. He stammered and stuttered, trying to salvage, but there was no take-backs on that. Fucking Marines.
And then when I said the husband runs a start-up he thought I said strip club and then he tried to salvage that by saying I should work at a strip club. Yah. Like I never heard that one before.
Hmm. What else? I’ve been listening to One Republic. They’re growing on me. Of course I like Apologize, who doesn’t ?(though I could get sick of it quick) and there are a couple of other good songs on there. Generally they’re pretty slow for me.