I don't know anyone who builds skyscrapers. Nor do I have a clue as to the identity of those who design them, how or why they do what they do.
But to all of those unknown masters of their construction craft, I say, "thank you."
Because of you, and the sealed windows with which you complete your concrete, glass and steel masterpieces, I am still here.
Today, for the better part of eight hours, I cursed every engineer, architect, designer and foreman of my office building. I detested their damned permanently closed panes and secretly fantasized about sliding open a window or two on the 24th floor.
To jump out of.
It was that kind of day.
And then there's today's episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show. An episode where O interviews Christina Applegate and openly talks to her about her battle with breast cancer, her decision to remove both of her breasts and what women everywhere should be doing to protect themselves.
Suddenly, my trivial bitches and qualms don't seem so serious. But nonetheless, I couldn't handle another downer. Like many of my testosterone-laden brethren do when faced with this sort of dilemma, we run away.
I needed to lobotomize myself for a few hours.
Not literally, of course. Because that would be weird.
Impressive, but weird.
And because I am fairly certain that my continued efforts to watch this show and review it, every evening, have slowly turned me into a suburban sadomasochist, it came as very little surprise to me when I decided to inflict even more torture and punishment on myself tonight.
I grabbed my golf clubs.
And with my closest friends laughing at my every swing and openly berating me with each whiff of that white little bastard the masses refer to as "the golf ball," my frustrations from today were replaced with images of hurling 6-irons at high rates of speed towards my so-called buddies.
Tonight was a success.
I had forgotten all about my obsession with open windows hours earlier. Maybe it was the time with friends. Maybe it was the golf.
Or maybe it was just this.
All twelve of them.
Kidding.
There were only eleven. I think.
Next Episode: An Overwhelmed Mom's Deadly Mistake
She calls herself the most hated mom in America. And we're going to find out why. Sounds like another real boost of joy and happiness.
Until tomorrow.
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2 comments:
Sounds like you need to start watching it in Spanish or on a double screen so you can dance with Ellen at the same time.
Better yet, hire someone out to watch Oprah.
I've tried to hire people. No one is stupid enough to do what I do here.
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