I don’t care for the term “spot on.” Here, I’ll demonstrate it in a sentence: “Ricky, your rapid assessment of the shortcomings of today’s lunch was spot on.” See? Don’t you want to make fun of me as soon as I step out of the conference room to take this important call?
I haven’t blogged much lately because the Battle Ax and I are on a horrid diet. Recent lunches have been mind-numbing, repetitive, flatulence-inducing ordeals that make me want to climb out the bathroom window and run away from home each night after she tucks me in.
Today, however, I got some relief from this wretched status quo. I found a frozen Tupperware container in the ice box that held a serving of 15-bean soup I’d made some months ago. Technically it’S on our diet, especially if you don’t count the bacon and the ham hocks, so I was able to convince her to let me take it for lunch. I enjoyed it. I can only speculate how much better it would have been had there been 16 or 17 beans in it.
The younger, more clever version of Ricky would have attempted to close this entry with a sentence that included the words ‘spot on’, thereby completing the circle of irony, but I got nothing. Hell, our bathroom doesn’t even have a window in it. And we live on the third floor for christsake, so it’s stupid for me to think of that as a viable escape strategy.
