spent wrapped under a blanket watching my Better Half play Call of Duty 4 is, like, totally awesome. I don’t even care that my delicious muffin top is hanging over my comfy yoga pants and my hair looks as though it suffered through a four alarm fire earlier. None of that matters because only two of us are awake. 8:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. is when we allow ourselves swearword time. Stub your toe? Go ahead baby, yell “Fuck!” because the kids are sleeping and it’s just You and Me time. Wheeee! So it’s Friday night and I’m slummin’ it on the couch. And I’m okay with that.
Although it would be a nice evening for dinner out and wish-list stroll through Lowe’s, and I’m sure the local pub is just crawling with witty people willing to engage in jovial banter and light political discussion. Yes I said light; it is after-all, only January. And as much as I enjoy gnawing at the soft underbelly of the moral majority, I know loads of dubious goings-on and smear campaigns are likely in the coming months. So there’s no need to overdo it early. Save it. I like to think of these next few months as the “argument perfecting phase.” It’s the time I spend tidying up those sensible one-liners that even the most hardnosed social conservative has trouble refuting. And often times, just when I don’t think it’s humanly possible to get any thicker, another County Guy will crack an Obama/Osama association joke and slap somebody on the back. And I’m all “omg!!!!! Did you JUST think that up??? Because I’ve NEVER heard that one before and it’s so FUNNYY!!!!” Then I want to slap him in the head. Or in Ann Coulter’s case, I want to reach through my television and grab her Adam’s apple until she turns a rich shade of purple.
Apparently peaceful Friday nights really get my pants in a bunch.
I’m getting the Star Trek hand signal from the bedroom so I guess it’s Crazy Time.