See? See what I did there?

I opted for Option Two last night. It went down about how I had predicted. I have a weird bird in my mouth. I have shaky heat stroke. I do not, as it turns out, have a belt buckle lodged in my spleen. I borrowed a pair of pajamas that I swear to God had to be from the North Face “Bury Yourself To The Neck In Snow” line. I think they were made out of rhinoceros hair.

Saturday Night Option One is in effect for tonight. I didn’t know if I could handle all those cheese slices so I did call Kim first. She and The Captain had met this “fantastic” guy in Vegas last weekend, went back with him to Santa Barbara long enough to put his house on the market, then promptly marched him back here. Two days ago they made an offer on a three bedroom/two bath split-level in Peoria. They met last Saturday. So… she’s busy. The Captain opted out in Cali like a scared little girl.

I called my mom and made her swear that we wouldn’t have eggs, that she wouldn’t drag out the bamboo steamer, that if we had anything barbequed I wouldn’t have to play that “guess what’s in the sauce” game with Dad, that we wouldn’t watch anything on a Ted Turner network and that she would give me all of her catalogues. She swore, but she was totally lying. I could hear her oiling that damn steamer, and she wouldn’t tell me what Dad was whisking.

I drove past an old apartment of mine this afternoon and I saw the same hooker that used to go knocking door-to-door to drum up work in the complex. I recognized her by her glasses. I’m surprised she’s still out turning tricks, what with that head for business and all.