Bachin’ it


My wife is over in England visiting family- which means I’m left here in Belfast all by my lonesome for a couple of days.

The last thing she said to me was, “Do you promise to at least eat something and not fuck mess up the apartment too much?”

To which I replied:

“Duh. I managed to take care of myself for 28 years before I met you. I think I can manage four days. Besides, it takes at least a week to cause any real psychological damage and another couple of days before the authorities get involved. I’ll be fine. I’m not stupid, you know. You gonna eat that bit of Kit Kat that fell on the car seat or what?”

She regaled me with a blank stare, kissed me and headed into the airport. (Yes! Free Kit Kat pieces!)

I totally understand her concern.

She’s afraid that her “can-do” type o’ macho man (me) might remember that he doesn’t need her and that he’ll dump her (I’m still talking about me, by the way) and go back to his hedonistic ways of yore (the July 4 weekend of 1994. Man, that was wild..!).

And tonight the craziness began!


I made a steak (seemed a bit redder/colder than maybe it should), washed a dish with a paper towel (why run hot and soapy water for a plastic plate? What a waste of our precious natural resources!) and drank a semi-cold beer all by my lonesome.

And I’m feeling pretty good about it.

I mean, I’ve left the toilet seat up, turned off the stupid hall light that always bugs me (but my wife insists needs to be left on), tossed my shoes in front of the sofa (instead of their designated place behind), thrown my jeans on the floor instead of the hamper, left the keys in the door and I am now sitting around in my boxer shorts and typing on the computer with NO GUILT WHATSOEVER.

Life just doesn’t get any better than this.

(And that’s more than you needed to know.)

See how crazy I am?


*Did you notice the disgusting mange on that dog? Yeah, me neither. My wife pointed it out to me after I spent about 10 minutes petting the damn thing (I’m a dog whore. I just can’t let a pooch pass me by without trying to stroke the damn thing. I’ll probably die of leprosy or ring worm or something. I suppose I should have suspected something was wrong when the dog kept dragging its’ tits across the grass in what looked like a desperate attempt to either pull its nipples off or just gross out everyone around her. I didn’t even notice that the bitch’s hair was falling out. Why doesn’t anybody look out for me???).



  1. Wayne, I am such a Dog Whore also!!!!
    I am SO looking forward to moving into MY house this coming weekend that I may have to take the dive into the blogosphere and start writing one of these thAngs.
    When I close on my house I’m gonna’ eat pizza in the living room AND I’m gonna’ NOT put the seat down and then I’m gonna’ go downstairs withOUT telling anyone where I’m going. Yea’ then I’m gonna’ piss in the back yard and after that………..:)

  2. Speaking as someone who lives like this day-in-day-out (long distance relationship) – I can confirm that – in a week, you will be going mad.

    Im a sucker for dogs too, despite never owning one.
    Oh and thanks to you and Jett for LTA, after moving to London in January this year, its been great hearing about the funtimes in Belfast – right from episode 1

  3. I saw it but thought it might be your dog and didn’t want to offend.

    We truly are like children, aren’t we (married men)? My wife’s primary concern is I don’t eat myself into a heart attack or something. She knows good and well the minute she leaves, I’m eating a dozen doughnuts for dinner….because I can.

  4. I like to think of this experience as a reminder of what it was truly like to be single…and if I remember right, I was pretty bored.

    We shall see…

  5. You probably had a lot less sex, too.

  6. Phil- maybe….

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