all by myself

One of these days I'm gonna have to figure out how to do all this fancy Internets stuff so I can pimp my blog.

Today, for instance, I'd hunt down an audio clip of that godawful song in the title.

You see, my house is empty today. The ex called while I was working my weekend gig Friday night to see if he could have Big Head Dog and the Monster for a few days. It took every ounce of self-restraint I have (which is about 4 ounces anyway) to not say, would it have killed you to ask me that a couple of weeks ago when the Greek refused to come to my house because my "vee-cious 10-headed beast" (that would be Big Head Dog) would've tried to attack him when he got within 10 feet of my bedroom?

And he's not even the guy who Big Head Dog bit in the ass.

Anyhoo, I kept my mouth shut, packed the boys' suitcase (actually an empty Trader Joe's bag) and took them to their dad's for a long weekend yesterday. And the roommate's gone for the weekend, too.

I'm shocked to find I'm completely discombobulated by all this. I don't know what to do with myself. There are no furry creatures interrupting me every 5 minutes for their favorite game, Inside Vs. Outside, and there's no one sitting on my sofa watching television and distracting me with valuable insights into the latest episode of America's Next Top Model. It's going to drive me to do something completely wacky, like clean.

I planned to get an early start on the day, but of course I didn't come straight home after work last night, like I'd planned to. I stopped by the friendly neighborhood tavern (it is, after all, on the way home), and it's a good thing I did. Otherwise, I would have missed the first meeting of the Crabby Club.

I also would have missed important discourse on topics such as programming home thermostats and whether or not the theme song to Baywatch had words, and if so, did David Hasselhoff sing them?

I also would have missed the Marines birthday party, where a bunch of ex-Marines, average age 68.2, drank a lot and periodically broke into increasingly distressed versions of "Halls of Montezuma." You couldn't miss 'em--they were the big group with the big red USMC flag duct-taped to the wall (Crabby Club--do we need a flag?). I actually got saluted on my way to pee.