I apologize for the tardiness of this post, but it’s not my fault.
I blame the election.
More specifically, I blame the Missus.
The Missus because of her habit of strapping me to a chair on election nights. Often strapping me far more securely than is strictly necessary.
To be sure, she has good cause, if past behavior is any indicator.
If the results aren’t going my way, I’ve been known to threaten suicide, or worse, pulling up roots and moving the whole family to Canada.
Yes, the Horrible Great Northern. I get that caught up in the election outcomes.
And don’t even ask about my reaction to the state and federal results.
So the last few election cycles, she’s taken to tying me to a chair before the news coverage starts. It reduces both drama and damage to furniture and fixtures.
A real win-win. If the two teams are Furniture United and Fixturepool. Turns out I’m the hooligan.
But even the most ardent hooligan, after spending hours chewing through leather straps, finds his passion for mayhem (and/or emigration) significantly cooled. Trust me, you don’t feel like doing much of anything. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.
Most years, I spend the next twelve hours after my escape perched on the toilet, head tilted back while I gargle a 50/50 blend of water and Orajel.
Especially if that year’s selection of leather was tanned improperly.
Not so, this year.
This year took a little longer than usual to chew through the straps because the Missus decided to ‘spice things up’ and instead of leather straps, used Bungee cords.
No, I’m not a human/chipmunk hybrid. It’s the extremely tight Bungee cord making my cheeks look puffy. Or maybe those donuts I get at work every Thursday.
Let me tell you, if you think leather is hard to chew through, you haven’t tasted anything yet. Not only are the Bungee cords more fibrous and fuzzy (ick, what a disgusting sensation), but they are surprisingly difficult on the old choppers.
To make matters worse, when they break, they snap! Comet-smacking-into-the-Earth-and-wiping-out-the-dinosaurs magnitude snap.
Especially with how tight the Missus has taken to wrapping them! I almost suspect she doesn’t support the same mayoral candidate as I do, and takes out my ‘incorrect’ allegiance with her binding technique.
So it took me three days to recuperate. Three days that included an emergency trip to the dentist, four crown replacements, a referral to a periodontist, two emergency implants (dental, people, my man-breasts are plenty large enough already!), and enough pain killers to stun a giraffe.
And when I say giraffe, I’m talking about one of those hard-core, strung-out junkie giraffes that has a taste for the black tar and looks scary enough that people cross to the other side of the zoo when walking past them.
It’s not speciesism! It’s common sense. You’d drop your judgmental attitude if you could see that damn giraffe, all gaunt with eyes rimmed black with mascara and a sneer that says, “Come over ‘ere an’ I’ll show you who’s boss.”
And that is why my blog post is late. Because I can’t be trusted to handle the damn city council election results.
But Ian, I can hear you muttering derisively, that only accounts for lost time up to Saturday. Why didn’t a blog post appear Saturday night?
Well, OK, I was hoping to skip mentioning this, out of respect for the fallen, but once I was well enough to move about, I had to go to several funerals and help some other surviving friends pack.
Turns out the state and federal election results didn’t go so well as far as some of my friends and acquaintances were concerned.
If only their spouses / significant others had some leather straps.
And now, a word from our sponsor: me!
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Marlowe and the Spacewoman: