Coffee and Home (alone)

Home at last, home at last. Thank God almighty I’m home at last. Yes indeedy I am safely ensconced back in Chateau Coffee.

Well that was a horrid touchy feely weekend of getting to grips with our inner beings. I am not sure if it achieved anything but there were one or two amusing moments. Brad or Brett or whatever his name was (and I never really took part in any of this, courtesy of my travel bong) apparently suggested that we should all look deep within ourselves. Well some silly bint from up north, probably a lawyer from Fairfax County if I’m any judge, took him way too literally. The daft slapper tied a mirror to a stick, looked deep within herself and found two rings and a Rolex. I haven’t laughed so much since my mother (may she rest in her quicklime) caught her left breast in the mangle.
Still as a bonus to you dear reader I am going to share the wealth and the only thing that I picked up this weekend.

Apparently in order for me to get in touch with the Boss’s inner woman I have to;
Wine her,
dine her,
call her,
hug her,
hold her,
surprise her,
compliment her,
smile at her,
laugh with her,
cry with her,
cuddle with her,
shop with her,
give her jewelry,
buy her flowers,
hold her hand,
write love letters to her,
and go the end of the earth and back again for her.

Just for the record for any woman to get in touch with my inner man she has to;
Show up naked.
Bring beer.

Well I shall not be working or blogging tomorrow so you are on your own. President’s Day has me moving my beer fridge and bong into the tool shed. I think that if I move the lawn tractor out and an airbed, duvet, personal DVD thingy and my vast collection of smut in, I shall be in good order. What is more, oh joy of joys, it turns out that Ms Whiplash makes house calls. I wonder if the sound of music can be heard from the “guest cottage” out by the road. If not I shall invite Ms Whiplash to bring her trombone. Apparently it is a bit rusty but I don’t see why that should bother me any. As long as the POA Nazis do not discover that I have turned my “illegal” tool shed into an “illegal” guest cottage I shall be in fine fettle for the rest of the winter.

Testosterone rules baby
TCB