Is Normal Great?

"You are not a dish."

-Sara (her explanation on why I should stop putting dishwashing liquid prior to my daily baths)

I guess we can chalk up today as the first day in my road to normal. No coming home from work all in the need to entertain someone laying on my bed due to a badly sprained ankle. No more arguing with a small dog that said person is allowed there as well. And no more being worn out discussing the Wimbledon Final, where I don't even care which guy won. Nadal did. I was happy because he reminded me of Agassi's making tennis fun again.

So, you want to know my week? Long one. Sara, as I've said before, has a badly sprained ankle. Spent a lot of time opening the car doors, pulling out crutches, helping carry things into the bathroom (girls have a lot of stuff!), holding crutches out for her when she has to get up, and whatever else that I did just cause it's what I'm supposed to fucking do. I'm not complaining at all because I remember what it was like to have a broken foot and had to hop around for at least 8 weeks. It sucked. It sucked big time to be forced to use crutches. My roommates, Bald-O and Co., had to carry my things around for me.

However, I do enjoy remembering the good old surprise of the many girls that insisted I take their chairs when I first walked/hopped into the Human Sexuality Class. Ah, to be able to start an argument over blowjobs again............

The reason for the quote is from my own good luck. Sara has to now take baths due to her ankle issues. When I helped draw one for her, I put in what I've used since I was a child, dishwashing liquid for the bubbles and its cleaning effect. Sara thought I was nuts and insisted I go out to get real bubble bath stuff. She's right and my skin has never been better! Yeah, it was me in the girly store choosing which scent works best. I choose orange!

Once, at work, I told the deaf guy that Sara was at my house talking to my mom. He laughed and asked me if they were talking and talking and talking. It was the first time I ever wanted to be at work. Really.

The one thing I never truly understood about women is their need to talk. My mom's totally in this so putting Sara together with her means trouble. There was a lot of talking that I'm sure I would be happy to be away from. Women, especially the 20-year-old type, talk like a group of chattering squirrels. It's insane to try to figure out this secret language where many men, even the most manly of all, don't dare try to disrupt. For me, personally, I just like to get to the point by adding a few sentences. For Sara, it means over and hour of chattering with her roommate that she hasn't seen in 4 or 5 days. I haven't seen Bald-O for almost a year and our conversation was nowhere near this!

The whole week wore me the fuck out! There was barely any chance for me to work out in order to rid myself of frustrations. Hardly any sex took place due to this and Sara's ankle. That thing was black and blue so I want it healed as soon as possible.

Obviously, this lack of being able to let things out led to a few arguments. One had the gas station attendant laugh at Sara and I as we went at it over gas prices. I put in the usual but didn't see that the other was cheaper by 13 cents. Listen, I drove both ways, to Bald-O's and back while she read a book or discussed things with me. The other argument was over trying to find parking to a very nice deli. Sometimes, I think Sara just loses her fucking mind and I want to find an ejection seat for her. Oh, and if you need to know, both times had her apologizing.

It's weird how things are only slowly back to normal. The Playboy Channel is still amusing. Various people in the gym wave at me. The brown girl still continues to look for me. I come home drenched in sweat. Life is great. Now, if I can get rid of that image from a different porn channel of a girl using a baby wipe on her ass prior to getting fucked, things would be perfect. Then again, it is nice to let the guy know that everything's honky-dory down there prior to a good rug munching. Happy twats all around.