Where There's A Party, There's a Way

As I think I mentioned here before, just mere days after the scheduled pool opening was the scheduled first ever poolside neighborhood ladies night. And it is well documented here that Hot Lips suddenly has a renewed sense of urgency when there is a party looming overhead. So with Harry busy being a cocksucker, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. So I jumped on the internet and quickly began studying up. I now fancy myself a pool repair expert. So first thing Saturday morning Big Daddy and I drained that motherfucker and set out to do our own repairs. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but god damn, we rocked it out. I fixed my own pool! (And by I fixed my own pool, what I really mean is that Big Daddy spent his entire weekend getting burnt to a crisp sweating his ass off and twisting his ankle fixing the pool that he vigorously warned me against getting. But every couple of hours I would stick my head out the door and check on his progress, so let's not split hairs, okay?)

So with little out of pocket expense to myself I was able to get that sweet mama back in action in merely a week. I'm resourceful like that. It took two full days and nights to fill 'er back up, but I'm happy to report that she's wet and clean, just like I like 'em.

I even pitched in on Sunday when it was time to pull all of the pool and patio furniture out and give it a vigorous scrubbing. So now she's all ready for this week's soiree. Keep your fingers crossed that the weather holds out and then maybe Hot Lips will have one less thing to worry about.

The newest addition...



I think this is where I complain about what an expensive pain in my ass this ladies night is turning out to be, but you've heard it all before so I'll instead tell you how I've got a little crush on my florist.

Big Daddy sent me flowers a few weeks ago and in the bouquet were several lilies. And when those things bloomed, they filled my house so aggressively with their lovely fragrance I instantly became smitten. So when that arrangement died, I headed out to the local floral shop and purchased a dozen lilies (stargazers, natch). And for the past six or so weeks this has become a routine of mine. Usually on Thursday or Friday, I've learned that the lily shelf life is approximately one week, I run on over and grab a handful of lilies and let them perfume my house for the next six to eight days. And somehow throughout this process I decided I am truly, madly, deeply in love with the girl that sells me my lilies every week. She's so fucking cute and tan and blonde and her boobies are always in plain view and she brings her dog to work and she has a tongue ring and she makes me laugh. The thing is, I don't want to have sex with her per se, maybe just stare at her all day. And that makes me a creepy old man, doesn't it?

I thought so.