New Year, same shit…

This is why I don’t make frickin resolutions…

I am in the doghouse again… No, allow me to re-phrase that… I am under a pile of funky dirty-clothes, at the very bottom of the laundry hamper, next to the washing-machine, in the basement of the doghouse, waiting for Rover to get home and dig me out…

I trust & hope that everyone celebrated the eve of New Year in style & elegance… And by “style & elegance” I mean drunkenly making out with the nearest stranger of questionable gender, and exposing yourself to several horrified onlookers while dancing on a large speaker, before passing out in the bathroom, only to be found by the cleaning staff next morning… No? Oh, it was just me then…

Wait… You want to know why I’m in the doggy-house again?

Nah, I wouldn’t want to bore ya with the niggling details…

Ok, ok… It all started last year, after a really nice X-mas & Boxing-day [the 26th to you Yanks], it was the evening of the 27th if you want me to be exact about it.

I decided to meet up with a few good friends at a local bar for a few drinks [I hadn't seen them over the past few days.] There was Wayne, and his lady friend… who will remain nameless for the purposes of this jeremiad, and also Mikey [not his real name] and Mikey’s lovely girlfriend, Roccio [also not her real name...]

I arrived last, and whilst greeting them, received a friendly hug from Roccio.

Now, I’m not sure whether it was HER terrible aim, that she was seated on a barstool & I was standing, that she planned to kiss me on the cheek, I was unaware of that fact, Her petite yet tall stature, the generously massive width of my muscular chest, or a vicious combination of all those factors… But I pulled away with an absofuckinlutely PERFECT print of her lips on the front of my [white] shirt-sleeve…

Well… Roccio’s look of horror, and everyone else’s “Uh ohs” prompted me to look down and observe said lips print on my sleeve… As the conversation rapidly turned to revolve around how much trouble I was going to get into when Chiquita found it… I have to say, the two guys were [as men do] taking the opportunity to dig at me and make a bunch of jokes about attempted stabbings and grievous bodily harm charges… But the ladies were genuinely concerned…

Here were their suggestions:

1) Change the shirt… No can do, didn’t have a spare, and Chiquita would NOTICE I came home in a different shirt than I left with… Even worse result…

2) Attempt to clean the shirt… No can do either, I didn’t have a Tide-to-go stick in my pocket, I was just happy to see them… And we have no 24-hour laundry-mats here…

3) Start a bar fight, get beaten to a bloody pulp, get arrested and whilst in lockup, attempt to smear my blood around to strategically cover up the lipstick… [Okay, that last one was Wayne's idea... and quite frankly, wasn't a bad alternative...]

There really was no practicable solution we could conceive at the time, I would just have to hope… And get religious right quick… I laughed it off…

Next morning, I was startled awake by vigorous smacking to the back of my throbbing head… Chiquita stood above me grasping the shirt [which I had nonchalantly added to the growing pile next to my side of the bed... I have hamper issues...] and demanding an truthful and/or credible explanation of “exactly which *female dog* I had been *copulating with* last night?”

I concisely gave my TRUTHFUL explanation as was outlined in the back-story above..

Well… She believed me completely… Now please direct your attention to lot#237, a gorgeous 100 acre parcel of unspoilt beach-front property, with 800 feet of pristine white sandy shoreline overlooking the stunning Caribbean horizon… I’m selling for the remarkable price of US$ 999.99 … Act now… These prices won’t last… Mail checks to Trouble C/o Trouble’s Island, Completelyfucktindaass, Somewhere in da Caribbean, BWI.

Next day [I managed to make my way from the house alive... barely] Roccio felt so bad, that she and Mikey even went to where Chiquita was working to explain in detail that it was the accidental doppelganger of her commensurable lips that were innocently immortalized on my shirt, and not some barfly-bimbo that I knocked the proverbial boots with…

So she totally believed her… Now ladies & gentlemen, I offer up lot #256 … … …

The verdict stands at this; I coerced Roccio to go there and blatantly LIE in a vain attempt to protect my ‘lying cheating cold dead beating two timing Double dealing mean mistreating loving heart‘ …er… without the ‘loving’ part…

Gaze in wonder and amazement at the unfathomable power I possess over the females of the world, such is the magnitude of my manipulative dynamism, that I can convince an [seemingly] intelligent Latina girl I barely know, to confront my Latina girlfriend, and betray her very sex, by lying to protect me, for no other reward than the pleasure she derives from obeying my every command… Don’t blink folks, this is not witnessed often…

So, to cut a long story even longer… I do what I usually do when I am wrongfully accused & convicted of infidelities by an overly zealous, overtly jealous ‘girlfriend’… I said ‘F$#@ it’ and have been going out with my friends and having a good time, every night since…

I have received a few of the obligatory haranguing text-messages, but as she should know by now, I don’t respond to threats and profanities… It’s her same m.o. [that's modus operandi] and I am aweary of it… But this time I think it’s different, she does have herself [...and everyone else she comes into contact with] absolutely convinced that I have cheated on her… Whatever shall I do? I fear she might succeed in ruining my reputation…

LOL…

She’s threatened to take our little-one back to the DR where I can never see him again [wow! never saw that coming...] and I’ll miss him despite what she thinks… and I suppose I might even miss her a bit… A least until I can find a pretty 20-year old Latina to replace her… No folks, I never learn…