Hang out at the lobby bar in your fabulous new office building on Thursday night after work. Drink your first Tom Collins, which just may eclipse the vodka tonic as your drink of choice on the rare occasions when you order an adult beverage. Meet the domestic partner and his brother for the downtown fireworks later that evening. Ooze through the million-strong sea of staggeringly immature and rude Chicagoans on your way back to the train afterward. Collapse in bed almost two hours later when you finally make it home.
Cheer over the demise of the unrepentantly racist, homophobic, warm wet butthole of a bigot Jesse Helms. Feel bad that he didn't suffer more before he died.
Start your next home-improvement project: upgrading your poorly insulated, ill-fitting front door. To get started, buy new deadbolts and door handles that match what you think you'll find when you finally get decades of paint off the the existing escutcheon plates. Also buy gaskets to attach to all four edges of the door to make it more soundproof and able to keep your expensive air conditioning and heating where you want it to stay. Still to do: Strip the hardware you're going to keep. Sand and paint the door. Replace the hardware. Fix the broken quarter-round on the door frame. Find a new door knocker that fits the 5" holes in your door. Figure out a way to maybe upholster the back of the door to add even more insulation so you don't hear every freaking conversation in the hallway. Pick a date you're going to do all this so you're able to guard the homestead against invading miscreants while you have the door off its hinges through all this stripping and painting and drying.
Run five one-mile sprints on Saturday morning and rock at them. Run one 10-mile run on Sunday morning and choke and die in the heat. Also do chest and arms at the gym for the first time in three weeks.
Finally decide what you're going to do for your mid-life crisis: Hire a personal trainer. Which is cheaper than a Ferrari and less pathetic than a combover. Start researching the best place to work with said trainer: your neighborhood gym or one close to your office.
Cuddle up with the domestic partner to watch all the DVD extras on Sweeney Todd.
Have an impromptu barbecue with all your loser friends who haven't already been invited to better barbecues. Ply your hunky straight neighbor with food and liquor so he'll do all your barbecuing for you since it's his grill anyway. Then watch in awe as your friends' very gay conversations don't even faze him.
Spend the last few hours of the weekend singing showtunes and bonding with said friends over even more adult beverages at Sidetrack.
Crawl home. Write a blog post. Expire.
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