The chicken, the spit, the fire pit, the love

The chicken, the spit, the fire pit, the love

Please don’t hate me for neglecting this abstract relationship we have formed via interweb forum I like to call Blogland. I know we both need to work on this thing to make it work, but I have been busy.

I’ve been working hard. Not working hard like I did in my early twenties, but more like working hard like a guy who has just hit 39 (the total dedication to the job and zero dedication to the family I didn’t have has wavered a little, I must confess). I guess that’s what age and having a family will do to a man. But rest assured my friends, I am still rocking the “funny as a smart assed kid” (I think that means I’m only funny to myself and not to anyone else at all), and I chucked a couple of “boozed up like the drunken teenager” in there as well.

So Jennee has taken over my role as house chef and all round entertainer for the last week and I have slipped into my new role as working-and-celebrating-a-little-too-much-and-am-now-pretty-worn-bitch… and slipped on a sexy new house wives dress to boot! Believe me, those house wives, frumpy looking old dresses may not have semblance to the classiest vogue outfit on the red carpet at some stupid award ceremony that I know nothing about (thus cannot even insert a name), and sure I’m not going to be caught dead wearing one to the shops to pick up the latest Woman’s Weekly magazine, but they are pretty damn comfortable.

I realise that you carability factor probably lies somewhere between a piece of dirt and a pimple on the ass… which I believe is fair enough.

A keen fan of drawing out a celebration, I have still been coasting on the coat tails of a cracking Father’s Day and, also slotted my birthday in there which, of course meant more food and festivities.

This was one tasty assed bird… maybe I should've worded that a little differently...

This was one tasty assed bird… maybe I should’ve worded that a little differently…

We ate chicken cooked on the new electronic spit I was gifted for my birthday (to go on the new fire pit I gifted myself for Father’s Day) and a whole heap of other good shit.

By the end of that evening I was faced with a slew of first world problems ranging from being to full to eat the salted caramel and cookies and cream ice cream sundae Jennee had made for dessert, to wondering when I would be sober enough construct my new R2-D2 smoke house and when I may be able to write another letter to my friends in blogland… it’s a tough life.