I have to apologize to someone.
I realize this is not the purpose of this blog but I am in a hurry.... so deal with it.
I failed to call my goomar yesterday to wish her a happy birthday.
She and I knew that we weren't going to see each other yesterday, but I suppose I still should have called... or at least given her a shout out from the blog. It was very insensitive of me. So here is my public apology.
Danica,
Hey, Baby, I know I should have called yesterday. Ya know what.... the truth is that I got so carried away with my highly competitive badminton league that I forgot about calling you. I was wrong, and I am sorry.
In my defense, we weren't supposed to see each other anyway. Remember? I wasn't able to be with you yesterday, but we are supposed to go out this Saturday night to celebrate your birthday.
However, I just realized that this Saturday night I have to take a nap so I can get up at 1:30 am Sunday morning to watch the live broadcast of the Australian Grand Prix.
Honey, it doesn't look like I am going to get to do anything for your big day this year, but you're young. As long as you can continue to keep it out of the wall, you still have a whole bunch of birthdays in your future.
One other thing, Babygirl. Now that Gail and I are living in Indianapolis, she wants to actually go to the race with me. So I will be needing an extra ticket to the Motorola Luxury Suite. Don't get me wrong, if you can score me a golf cart and a fire suit I will still try to make it down to Gasoline Alley and pit road to see you while you're doing your thing, but I really need to stay with Gail.
Besides, this is just the price you pay for having me as your "trophy boyfriend." (And we know I'm worth it....)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
You can have Danica, I'll keep Ms. Lane. By the way, "Goomar?" Is that a hoosier thing?
Actually, Jason, it's more of an Italian thing.
There are a couple of accepted spellings. "Comare" is probably the most correct, but I went with the one that was strongly phonetic.
"The Sopranos" probably did the most to inject this lovely word (and concept) into mainline American culture.
My Goumoda was Zia Eleanora, or my (literal) Godmother was my Aunt Eleanor. In the northeast, we used those terms interchangeably.
My wife still seems amazed when I remind her that we did indeed eat some form of arrabbiata, carbonara, or other sauce each and every Wednesday and Sunday. Madonna!
Fate il vostro gioco! Danica nella corsa automobilistica!
Post a Comment