Sigh … Laying across my queen size bed wrapped in my dad’s seasoned army blanket (“dookie” green and 85% wool, scratch that, 110% wool with a few sprinkles of itching powder) watching syndicated episodes of “The Game” on Netflix. You know, I could be out at a bar watching college basketball or at a jazz club listening to smooth sounds from a cluster of instruments. I mean, the saxophone is one sensual piece of brass. Mmmm … Kenny G. comes to mind.
Sigh … Netflix is my second best choice for self dating ideas. My first choice would be gathering up my girlfriends and having a karaoke onesie party. Cookie Monster onesie on deck!
Hell, Netflix brings the laughter, the tears of joy or concern for humanity, and the abrupt thoughts of naughtiness once a half naked stud muffin walks across the screen (wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist accentuating those pelvic indentions … Damn).
Sigh … Well folks, I’m being quite rude on this Saturday night date with Netflix.
Live your life like you’ve just been discovered on the streets of Hollywood.