Well, our fine president announced yesterday that “Gulf War II: Revenge for Daddy” is pretty much over.
And he was so cuuute in his little flight suit!
I’m sure we’ll be subject to the pictures of flight suit G-Dub bonding with the sailors for decades to come — or at least until the next election is over.
Despite the infernal PR materials from today’s announcement, I slept better last night knowing that Starbucks, McDonald’s and the Gap will be setting up shop in Iraq and Afghanistan very soon.
But, I was a little pissed that the speech preempted “Will and Grace.”
OK, OK. I’ll stop, before all the compassionate conservatives compassionately send me more of their very compassionate hate mail.
There are bigger issues to tackle today.
Namely, the Cuffist will be attending her first bachelor party tonight.
And, contrary to popular belief, she will not be taking off her clothes or entertaining with her erotic dance moves.
What does one do at a bachelor party?
I’m not quite sure, but I hope at least it will involve consumption of cold adult beverages, red meat and dirty jokes.
The soiree will occur in the middle of the woods, and though yours truly is not much of an outdoorswoman, I cannot think of a better place to consume cold adult beverages, red meat and dirty jokes.
I am slightly worried about the lavatory facilities there, however.
Although I am a country girl, I try to avoid relieving myself outside due to a rather frightening nightmare I had about a snake biting my bare bum mid-relief.
I have planned ahead though.
I will bring ETP (emergency toilet paper) and a flashlight and hope for the best.
My other worry is that it will rain in biblical proportions, and I will have to sleep in mud.
While I hear mud works wonders for the complexion, I would prefer not to sleep in it.
Otherwise, I am fully prepared to celebrate Brian’s ever-shortening bachelorhood — and bachelor(ette)hood in general.
We will celebrate letting dirty dishes pile up in the sink.
We will celebrate reading bad novels (and a few good ones) until the wee morning hours without worrying about waking someone else.
We will celebrate waiting to do laundry until the only thing left to wear is a sequined prom dress and a bikini bought in 1994.
We will celebrate never having to relinquish the remote control.
We will celebrate strip clubs, random hookups, cheap beer and deep-frying.
We will celebrate card games, nasty cigars and dirty magazines in the bathroom.
We will celebrate “holy” t-shirts, our favorite shoes “that stink to high hell” and those perfectly “air-conditioned” jeans.
We will celebrate all these things, and we will know that in losing them, Brian will gain more happiness than the sacred trappings of bachelorhood could ever provide.