celebrated suffered through a so-called milestone birthday. There was, of course, the obligatory birthday card with all the standard jokes about walkers, eyesight, driving, Geritol and Viagra, as required by law in all states (except Florida). As I desperately scrabbled at the card searching for currency a poem fell to the floor. (See below.) I threw out my back bending over to pick it up.
On the plus side, my wife took me to a strip club. Whoa! She cleverly got me wasted on tequila shots and pints of beer before revealing the destination so I wouldn’t enjoy and/or remember the experience. Still, it was quite a surprise and she treated me to the first “lap dance” of my entire life (I don’t get out much) which consisted of three-minutes of quasi-hugging a naked woman in a semi-private room for $40. (Which, by the way, came out of my wallet.)
Although drunk, I still possessed my math wits. I pulled my iPad out of my pants and used it to calculate the hourly rate of “lap dance” at $800 per hour. That is so not worth it.
To add insult to injury the
stripper adult entertainment professional was way more into my wife than she was with me. Downright handsy if you know what I mean. That hurt. There’s nothing quite like a birthday to reinforce your position on the food chain.
She says I can have my next lap dance in another 50 years.
Happy birthday to me!
Ode to My Husband
by Mrs. Abyss
Turning the big Five-Oh
Belly’s as plump as new risen dough
Face set in the grumpy man’s scowl
Every word comes out like a growl
Thinning hair is peppered with salt
Aging body is starting to default
Wild nose hairs are long and unruly
Random eyebrows are growing unduly
Toenails are thick, crusty and yellow
He thinks nothing of going commando
Let’s not start on his bodily functions
Most of his parts are facing serious malfunctions
Ass-holiness he surely has mastered
He has become The Angry Old Bastard
Just be glad that the iPad was the only thing you whipped out of your pants. That was probably just a teacher grinding away to supplement her paycheck. I’ve got a friend who says that “60 is the new black.” He says it but doesn’t believe it. So you’ve still got nine years left. But after reading your wife’s “poetry,” you could be decomposing at a faster rate, so I’d definitely eat dessert first. Ain’t life grand?
Dessert first is so good I’m making it my motto. My wife tends to go a little “artistic” in her poetry. Don’t you believe it. I’m as hunky as a bowl of Jello. Poor teachers forced to entertain the likes of me.
A very happy birthday! What a thoughtful gift from Mrs. Abyss! I haven’t been in a strip club in 20+ years — i think i’d just be embarrassed the entire time.
It was a thoughtful gift, wasn’t it? Except for the part where she got me shitfaced first. Clever. Of course that did mitigate ALL of my potential embarrassment. As always there are the pros and cons that have to be balanced.