I'm worried about you dear reader. It's true! I care. This isn't Myspace, this blogspace is our space. I write, you read. We're a team and offer your support by signing me up for spam. My mailbox would be empty without you. Thank you dear friends.
That's why I worry. My birthday is just over a week away and you haven't gotten me anything yet. How will you live with yourself if you miss it? I know, I know, don't thank me, it's all part of what I do. I look out for you.
See? Despite what MyUnwife might say, my primary concern isn't always me. I'm a carrying guy. If I were on TV I'd be on Marcus Welby Reruns. I'd be him, only younger and cooler. Ok, younger.
I had the same worry for Cosmo (my dog, for you new readers--my concern is for you too). He looked sad. He couldn't get out of the yard and buy me something. That was a bummer. I'm a caring parent, I took care of him.
Last night around 3am I took him to Best Buy. He's a little shy around people, so I made sure he had the run of the place alone.
"The security system, Cosmo. Disenable!"
He trotted out with a new spring in his step. A bag full of goodies held firmly in his jaws. I don't know what I'll do with a used safe, but he knows I like puzzles; discovering the combination should be fun. Then there's the secret toy surprise inside. It really is the thought that counts.
"Good boy!"
MyUnwife is planning a surprise party. Yeah, I think she's even surprised by that. So surprised I'm not sure she'll attend. That's ok I've had an invitation mailed to her. She should get it at the first of next month. Too late? Hmmm. I'm sure she'll let me know when she gets it.
"Rob you bastard!"
"Hi honey!"
"You did this didn't you?"
"Did what my UnLove?"
"You know #&$ #*#@ good and well what!"
"I have no idea."
Yeah, I'm good at feigning ignorance. Nobody really believes me, but I believe me. That's what counts. You can't fool everybody, but if you slip one past the right fool, there'll be no moral quandary. Nobody wants a moral quandary for their birthday. They suck, and you can't return them once their given.
So what do I "have no idea" about? I think she'll be referring to another phone call.
"Hello?"
"Hi! This is Candy, how are you today?
"I'm fine." I'm also a little cautious. "What can I do for you Candy?"
I’m with Capitol One. Is this MyUnwife?"
Capitol One? We've both told them 100 times that she's moved, why are they calling me now? Is she behind on payments? It would serve her right. She's a destitute urchin matchstick girl living on the street. Fighting rabid opossums for food; freezing in the Southern California carbon monoxide frost simply because she left the best thing in her rear. Or her past, however you want to say that. The point is, she's suffering. What a great birthday treat!
"Are you there?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry, what can I do for you?"
"Congratulations! Because of your good spending habits, we've increased your limit."
I guess MyUnwife sounds like a unisex name, sort of like Pat. I'm beginning to like this game, I'll play along. "Thanks. I do my best."
"We've also lowered your interest rate. This would be a good time to transfer your higher interest loans. Would you like to handle that now?"
Why not? "Do they have to be in my name? Can I pay loans for friends and family?"
"Sure!" Candy's nearly as excited as I am.
After we discuss my "friend" Rob's mortgage, his credit card debt, and a cruise Candy's booked him on to Acapulco, Candy's concerned about my sexuality. I'm not. I don't care. I'll heal. I'll also have to disappear--probably shouldn't return from the cruise.
"There was a conga line dancing into the sunset. That's the last anybody saw of him."
I think that may be why MyUnwife will call me a bastard. I think it's also why this will be the best birthday ever. Oh sure it never really happened. I care too much, even about MyUnwife. That doesn't mean that I can't have a dark fantasy. Capitol One and MyUnwife gave me the best dark fantasy ever. Thank you.
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