Night Swimming

Me: "What, do I stink?"

Sara: "Mm-hmm."

-You have to enjoy the loveliness of honesty in relationships. Or, at least, understand that I tend to get night sweats, one of life's greatest pleasures of burning off just about every calorie so a girl can wake up next to a six-pack. In my case, it's a 4-pack of rippled stomach.

So, how's life? We're heading for storm central as many destructive ones are headed this way tomorrow. Rain is the last thing this town needs, trust me on that one. The only good thing is that I can rest my sore hamstring and skinned big toe on my left foot instead of having to go for another damn walk with 5-Pound Phooey where she shoots her mouth off or gets smacked in the face by a cat.

I spent some of Monday afternoon looking at information on 'night sweats.' Well, Sara keeps pointing out how hot I get at night and leave my side of the bed's sheets all crinkly. It's weird.....really when it comes to finding out just how hot my body gets. Fun in the winter but awfully nasty in the summer. In my defense, that statement above came after a long day of work, etc. Sara says I smell good normally, as long as I'm not under too many covers.

Sara equals cold. Mike equals H-O-T.

Apparently, these 'night sweats' are normal. While it can be a pain to find sheets slowly drying out, I'm definitely all for the burning off of calories. Really. I've had moments where I ate a big meal, feel bloated, and wake up like I did 1,000 sit-ups. Be jealous all you want but these moments don't happen here. In fact, it's quite rare for me to get 'night sweats' at home. I'm pretty much fine so it might be some sort of reaction to the cat in the apartment or the large amount of layers that Sara insists on sleeping under. Me? Summer's are better spent buck naked while winters need only a sheet while being on top of a comforter. You read that right. Love sleeping on top of a very soft comforter.

I'm skinny, spoiled, in a relationship that continues to tickle my brain and dick, and full of life. Don't be jealous. See me for how I thrill myself and take life in for your own needs. Sara says I can entertain the fuck out of her.

To answer the biggest question on your minds, no, I have not seen the new Indiana Jones flick. Oh, do I! While I'm not completely thrilled with seeing an aging Indy facing new dangers, it does bring back a time where I was thrilled to be in the theater. The sad thing I find about age is that I am the only one within the group in Indiana that has seen all 3 movies in the theater. It's all about Raiders Of the Lost Ark. Hands down. It is THE best one. Nothing beats seeing Indiana Jones getting diarrhea so it's inevitable that he shoot that big nasty swordsman.

Raiders Of the Lost Ark? Can slightly remember being in the theater, had coloring books where I was obsessed with Indy's gun holster (I was.......like weird, no?), fell in love with Marion (who knew drinking boys under the table would turn me on), got mystical about the Ark, and couldn't get enough of the evil Nazi in the black trenchcoat. What's not to like? I remember recording the theme song for my mother and insisted that be hers as she drove off to teach 3rd Grade. Sometimes, you have to give Mum a little pat out the door.

Oh, this brings up something. Sara and I did a poll because we got into a small argument about which Indiana Jones flick is best. I said Raiders while she said The Last Crusade. Yeah, the third one was good but nowhere near as my Raiders. Funny thing happened. Every girl that we asked said the The Last Crusade while all the males said Raiders at the wedding's reception. I just cannot fathom why because that first one had so much, especially the mysteriousness of Indiana Jones. C'mon, there's a reason that girl in his classroom wrote those words on her eyelids. I'd have a crush on him, too, if I knew what he was up to on the weekends where it's not watching football but trying to not get run over by a giant boulder while half-naked natives give chase.

You can imagine what happened next. We tried to get Indiana Jones on DVD or hope that a showing was on cable. No luck. All checked out at Blockbuster while the stations weren't playing anything. Weird. This was the weekend for such a thing but whoever decides viewing choices is an idiot. Why didn't I buy a copy? Already have one but it got left here in Illinois. Who else remembers Mr. Jones being on TBS so often that you wonder why its not on now?

Lucky for me, I was merrily drunk on Saturday night, relaxed by various tweeks taken out, and had 2 kittens to play with. Yeah, forgot to tell about that part. The owners of the house we went crazy at after the wedding took in 2 kittens a bit too early. They're 3 weeks old and boy are they tiny. All drunken debauchery comes to a halt when you find 2 tiny little orange bodies pouncing around with socks stuffed with cotton balls on their butts. Potty training for cats 101 has begun. 3 weeks is too soon for kittens to be taken from their mother.

So, sit back and relax as I get back into the swing of things here on Blogger. Tiredness, aching muscles, and distractions will flutter away like yesterday's fart. More to come as Sara brings up another thought on a threesome when I met a friend of hers she likes at the party. Why does she wait til afterwards to tell me that this girl is a dominatrix? Possibly because it's not good to interrupt a drunken male that continues to think 80's music is best when being driven home after a good time. Happy twats all around.