Anniversary report

Because there are some younger readers, I’ll spare the intimate details of our sordid weekend affair, except to say that I’m blind in one eye and my anal rim is sore. And even though I’m withholding the more explicit activities, which involved industrial grade lubricant I pilfered from the fire department and duct tape to muffle the squeals, I will say that the weekend should serve as a good example to any youngsters out there afraid of marriage because of the gradual loss of intimacy.

True, after 6 years, you do stop having intercourse, I won’t deny that. This is why the modern 7^th anniversary gift is a desk set. It’s also why people call it the ‘7 Year Itch,’ which basically refers to the annoying sensation you feel on the patch of genitalia from where your cock falls off from lack of use. Ask anyone who’s lost a limb.

But I have to give myself credit for rekindling that old fire. And like any good fire, you need a good source of fuel, diesel or whiskey.

I pulled out some of my old moves from 10 years ago. Namely, I got sh1tfaced, tried to do a handstand and wound up breaking a hotel coffee table, then repeatedly said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ until she removed her top from pity.

In other words, I still got it.

Best line of the night? ‘My moves are so smooth they should be criminal.’

Unfortunately, she didn’t get the Michael Jackson reference. Damn her Romanian upbringing!

Speaking of criminal, who here knew that anniversary rings cost more than your average Yugoslavian automobile?

So on Sunday, I spent the whole day gardening, a favorite hobby of mine which now takes on added significance as our primary food source for ’05.

Pray for rain.

Till she comes back to me
I'll have to pray for rain
Wrap yourself around me
Only you can pull me through
Through this desert that I call my heart
I'll pray for rain to you