This week's trip to Tucson is coming at a crucial time. This Diva needs some major rest and relaxation. How bad has it been? As of Thursday night, I will have played tennis 13 out of the last 16 days. While every square inch of my body is rock hard, I ain't a spring chicken. I am slap ass worn out.
Enough about me... let's talk about the poor bastard that has agreed to invite me over for the weekend. Homer has never had the... umm... "honor?" of hosting me. Perhaps honor is the wrong word choice. Sucker? Masochist? Enabler? Glutton for punishment? Many words come to mind. I am sure you can add a few of your own.
Whatever the reason, this might be Homer's golden ticket to heaven and last chance to get right with J.C. Can you imagine a worse penance? Neither can I!
I have met Homer in person on two separate occasions. The first time was in April 2006 in SF for my first ever Blogger Meat-n-Greet. I was a well fed blue ribbon hog back then. The second encounter was in DC last Summer during my trailer trash meth phase (Adderall). Wait a minute... I am still on that legally prescribed medication.
Drama and sordid things will surely ensue. I am hoping the guffaws will be limited to 16 and 1/2 minutes when I display my awesome dog paddling skills around the pool. Is there a kiddie pool? I get scared tip toeing past the 5' mark.
Questions to ponder: Will Tucson's water supply dwindle precipitously as I take shower after shower? Will the size of my steamer trunk cause the Earth to tilt slightly on it's axis near Tucson? Will Puff and I bond as mischievious shit stirring blood brothers? Stay tuned... and say a prayer for Homer.