I have Jazz hands
I shat myself. I’m not proud and quite frankly, am quite
embarrassed, so why share with the women I am trying to court you
ask? No clue, but if you can get by this…we may be
[History] I have two little girls who have continually asked for a
hamster, but I was always able to deflect the request because we
had two cats. And, cats hunt rodents. But, after my divorce, my new
house, and lack of feline crawlers, my kids (smartly) reminded me
that I had no reason to deprive them of their childhood rodent
rearing responsibilities. Out of divorce guilt, I succumbed and
bought an amazing hamster maze, more extravagant than my own living
accommodations. Unluckily for me, I was the proud new parent of a
very judgmental, large cheeked, Golden Hamster named Stripey.
[Little do my kids know but that fuckin' hamster died two weeks
after i bought it...and I replaced it without them knowing. Another
Flash forward 6 months, I’m feeling a little guilty one Sunday
morning because that nighttime wheel running mutha fucka had been
holed up in the kids room for a couple weeks and therefore, I
placed Stripey into her clear plastic ball and allowed her to roam
around the house while I lay (fuck you grammatical people for
judging my use of lay,lie, lying, layed, i have no idea the
appropriate way) on the couch, watching football, and tending to my
throbbing head. Stripey gets caught up here and there, and I
helpfully kick the cantaloupe sized exercise ball to a more rolling
friendly avenue every time I stagger to the fridge for a hair of
the dog beer, vitamin water, or just to stare blankly inside
wondering why I went to the fridge in the first place.
In my hungover defense, remember, I was recently divorced and
Saturday nights without kids was a completely new phenomenon and I
lived this new freedom to the fullest living la vida loca and yes,
I understand this is an outdated term, but i was simply reverting
to my early 2000 suave.
So, while lying on the couch watching/listening to Americas
bloodsport and wishing the hangover fairy would make her way over
and cook me a greasy breakfast, I launched a few harmless toots
toward the back of my couch. The previous nights cocktails, Cuban
food and 2am Taco Bell began to kick in and I felt rumblings every
14 minutes or so.
Not thinking too much about this harmless bodily function as my
head pounded with dehydration, I let another release go thinking it
would be much similar to the previous dozen. Oh, what a shock I
received when more than the sweet smell of roses escaped my
buttocks. I instantly froze for a few seconds and tried to
understand what I had just done…”Nooooo, did I…wait, no….Im F’n 40!
Maybe it just sounded odd, oh god!”
Sunday, Seattle Winter, and I am wearing my cotton PJs…no underwear
and I immediately freeze while evaluating the severity of the
situation. I slowly rotate my ass off the couch, while my giant
surround sound flat screen blared two testosterone filled
commentators describing the sweaty, bloody, ongoing battle between
men half my age. Shame creeps upon me as I feel so much less of a
I begin to wrap my rational thoughts around the unfortunate
situation and about to make my way to the bathroom, but then before
my foot hits the ground, that fuckin’ hamster rolls up right next
to me. Even though the little shit had never noticed my existence
for two hours (if not 6 months) while roaming around the house, she
pauses next to me, stands upright in her little clear ball, and
twitches her little nose and paws. Our eyes meet, and without
blinks, she shakes her head in disgust and continues along her
merry unobstructed way.
This six month old hamster, who poops herself in the little wheel
and allows the little black nuggets to drop on her head, will pee
in the tube corridor that leads to her food dish, and eats more
plastic than bottom dwelling fish in the Hudson, delivered more
dignity than I did on this God's day of rest.
There you go, most private moment that nobody knew and now many do.
Still want to send me a note???