…it’s been a rough weekend. It started with a forced march through a bi-weekly Farmer’s Market in the downtown district where I was force-fed a quarter pound Nathan’s hot dog, warm six-inch, smothered in melty cream cheese frosting cinnamon roll and hydrated with an icy Mountain Dew…all before 9:30 in the morning. My captors, headed up by a sassy middle-aged woman, will hear none of my protests of how this kind of diet will affect how I look in a swim suit later on. The forced march continues as she searches for cucumbers and an elusive potato called “Yukon Gold.” God in Heaven above….has this woman no mercy?!
3 PM….Our search for vegetables ended mercilessly before high noon, just in time for a trip to this city’s “water torture center” also known as a “family aquatic center.” I’ve been issued a pair of “swimming trunks” even though I’m not fit to fill them out properly. I’ve been told to “lay down” and “keep quiet” while I braise in the midday sun of early summer. I beg the lifeguards to apply some sunscreen to my chest and abdomen while the she-devil cools herself off in the water. I receive only blank stares from the lifeguards and insult to injury as two younger female lifeguards act like they’re putting their fingers down their throats in mock regurgitation as they point at my chest hair. (note to self…write disparging blog about female lifeguards).
8 PM…I’m fried to a bright red crisp since this afternoons “solar flares” at the “aquatic center” burned off several centimeters of my “love-handles” now putting me several years behind my contemporaries. Long hard hours of eating were put into those attributes of my body only to be melted away in a few short hours. (sounds of quiet crying & sobbing) My she-devil thinks that she can worm her way back into my good graces with homemade popcorn that’s been lightly salted and drizzled with melted butter. I’ll choke it down, if only to lull her into a false sense of security. The ice-cold wheat beer that she’s trying to rehydrate me with is “okay” if only for the fact that it’s being served in a frosted beer mug. My captor is seducing me well….I play along just to keep her motivated…(HA-HA).
Sunday June 17th Father’s Day 7 AM
I awake feeling like a piece of uneaten fried bacon feels…stiff, crispy and oh so greasy. The melted butter from the popcorn, mixed in with several handfuls of Junior Mints frothed up with wheat beer has given me an upset stomach…my vixen feels little, if any, pity on me. She attends to church, while I explore possible escape routes which will take me from this “hell-hole” of an existence. Where’s the Prilosec?! I’d give anything for some acid blocker!!!! Curses! My requests fall on deaf ears.
3 PM…In a atypical display of mercy (and oddly…affection) my woman captor has directed me to a BBQ place of which I am quite fond of…though she’s enlisted the help of three “mini-captors” and one older “captor” who do nothing but ignore my plight as I drive them an hour to this favorite spot of mine. As luck would have it…I get my meal and a chance to escape. I opt for the meal, and a slice of pie…this she-devil of mine cannot be all that bad…and I have hopes for rehabilitating her someday….but not today….I have BBQ leftovers to enjoy after my nap.
Happy Father’s Day!