So my girlfriend’s been home all day lounging around with our two boxer pups & our 6 year-old roommate who’s got strep throat. Probably having a blast watching Hannah Montana reruns on my Netflix account, teaching the dogs all sorts of new tricks and getting their faces licked into bolivian. Meanwhile, being the man I am, I dragged myself to work at my firm around 10:40am to slave in my office, ensuring all my fantasy teams’ lineups are set & preparing for my baseball draft next week. Hey that’s potential income right there, so I don’t wanna hear shit. I even had to heat up the lunch she packed for me MYSELF after a stressful reprimanding of Scrody for his amateur blog scheduling. So I’m pretty frayed right about now & the day’s not even done. Didn’t even have time for my 11:30 coffee – yeah, it’s free but it’s down the hall. Don’t have time for that hike today. Anyway, if a chick is home all day while you’re at work, the house should be clean from top to bottom, right? It’s not something I had to tell her before I left? I’m legally entitled to unleash the backhand fury if I can’t eat off the floor? I mean yeah, there’s a sick 6 year-old but come on – you got strep throat honey, not cancer. You were prancing around singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for some unknown reason before I left this morning. Get a dust rag and help your mother out before I come home and break out the baby powder.
