So after I came home from my hair appointment and enjoying my perfect day, I am startled to unlock the door to hear strange noises coming from my bedroom. A bit bizarre when, you know, I'm standing in the livingroom.
More specifically, I hear:
"Larry! Would you move that fucking wire!?
Larry!!?? Are you even there??!!!
Larry! You're an idiot!!".
Yes. This was what I heard coming from my bedroom. And for the record, in my longer-than-some-but-not-infinite list of those that I have slept with, there have been no Larry's on the list. Nope. None. Needless to say, I find myself down right curious as to who it is that is so annoyed in my bedroom.
It was Bob. Our handyman. It brought fresh new meaning to what it was to have a "handy man" in the bedroom.
Had I known that I would have my maintenance guru lying on my bedroom floor this afternoon, I would have made a point to pick up my dirty panties. My dirty "Hot Mama", "Pokey the Turtle" and "Dogs Rule" panties in particular. Atleast I'm pretty sure that I would have. I opened up the bedroom door and Bob's head popped up from behind the bed. "Hi" he says. "Hi" I say back. "Having Larry troubles?" I ask. Seemed like a reasonable question. He talks greek for about a minute and a half, trying to state his reasoning for lying on my dirty panty-ridden floor. Poor bastard. First for thinking that I might have understood what it was that he was talking about, the second for lying on my dirty-panty ridden floor. (In hindsight I am wondering what it really means when I wasn't particularly freaked out by a strange man popping his head up from behind my bed.) Anyways, the long and the short of it was that Larry was having problems. And if there was anything that Bob and I, in the strange relationship that you have with your building's maintenance man, was that we both understood that Larry was and is, a fuckhead.
And as of right now, there are four holes drilled from my bedroom wall into somewhere over in fuckhead's joint. My life's weird like that. Bob will be back tomorrow morning. I may or may not pick up my dirty panties.
I had dinner tonight with some girls that I used to chum around with. I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I forgot how dirty we all were when we got together. Sometimes you just need some good raunchy humour and say everything that you would like to say but rarely can because of polite company. Rather, we were who we are instead.
Oh yeah, and I turn 30 on Monday.
I am just too much.