I don’t envy single people. I really don’t. Sure, they may be able to get drunk and have sloppy sex with complete strangers, but what happens on the nights they’re not drinking? I can’t even remember that far back in my life.
I’m posing this question because it’s 9pm on a Tuesday night, the Female Smoot has been out of town for all of 24 hours and I’m already bored out of my fucking mind. I never realized how much of my time was taken up by one person until she was gone. Who am I supposed to talk shit about my co-workers to, while I’m driving home? What the hell am I going to do on the weekend; actually hang out with my roommate? What do I do on Christmas? New Years? The fuck?
Now I understand why lonely, single people get fat. The only thing I’ve wanted to do since leaving work at 7, is go to Dairy Queen, sit on the couch and watch the ESPNews scroll to see if I’ve been signed by the Yankees yet. On Christmas, I see myself grabbing Chinese food and watching movies all day by myself. New Year’s Eve? Just me, Dick Clark and a large, 2-topping pizza courtesy of the fine folks at the local Papa John’s. New Year’s Day is brunch at the parent’s house.
Noticing a trend?
By the time Her Smootness gets back next year–that phrase always sounds so dramatic, even in late December–I’ll be 240lbs of jelly-like substance and completely confused as to where my toes have disappeared to. Imagine her surprise when she comes back from vacation, having spent two weeks hiking across Israel, looking even hotter than she did when she left, and finds her boyfriend passed out, face first, in a bucket of greasy KFC chicken wings.
I’m sure she’ll learn to love my new, unintentional Fat Bastard impression. Or, you know, she’ll leave my lard ass. Come to think of it, maybe I should learn to deal with boredom without my legs uncontrollably guiding me toward the kitchen…
…after this donut.
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