Bow chicka wow ow!
Two to three times a year my job gets so overwhelming that I have no choice but to work on the weekend – A top ten Anna no no.
Here is what proSEXtination used to look like:
By Friday, I would stock up red wine and drink half of it. Before my husband got home I would hide the leftovers cleverly in Tupperware. Saturday morning I would wake at the crack of dawn to have a side of eggs with my leftover wine. My husband would be none the wiser snoring loudly in bed. I researched online about the best way to cover up red wined breath. I found that garlic worked best. I would be spared the long drawn out discussion about drinking in the morning. My defense about what they do in France was super thin. Instead, he would ask me if I was trying to keep vampires away with the amount of garlic I put in last night’s dinner. In retrospect, I wonder how my husband dealt with my hot breath stench as I reentered the bedroom for the main event.
After he left for work I would probably make the run to the liquor. I didn’t buy the big bottle on Friday because I planned to consume “social drinker” amounts. That plan, of course, circled the drain every proSEXtination day. I would spend the rest of my Saturday red wine clouded in and out of sitcom and reality television plots.
As for the work I was avoiding. In a day or so I would perform some Matrix maneuvering to get it done. (The Matrix provides glamor for staying up all night working like some 21-year-old coed.)
Here is what proSEXtination looks like today:
Sleeping in until 10 or 11 on Saturday morning resisting the work I have ahead of me. Telling my husband (who is barely listening over the dings and chimes of his nerdy, internet word game) not to have sex with me under any circumstances because I have work to do. He agrees. Ten minutes later he folds like a pretzel. Men are so easy! I am 5 foot 3. He is the size of Kris Humphries with 30-something chub handles. Despite our Lily and Marshall proportions, when we are horizontal his resistance is no match for me.
He is on his way to work. I am alternating key stokes and heaping spoon fulls of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I have no guilt. Inebriated, proSEXtination was onion layered with guilt. This sober form of proSEXtination is a part of career operation: mediocre. What about the upcoming due dates? I’ll figure it out later. Let me know if you want an update.
Uh oh. My ice cream bowl is empty. I’ve got to go. I need to make another trip to the kitchen. Happy Sunday!
P.S. I tried to get away from the corny title but I just couldn’t help it! My husband says the title stamps the GEEK label clear across my forehead.