“Landing In The Rough”

It all begins early as all hell in my house. The wife wakes up to her cell phone alarm, which blares the exact replica of the alarm clock that I eventually threw across my room one morning in tenth grade—my last day of school before dropping out and saying ‘fuck you’ to all of the bullshit. War was going on the Middle East, as usual—what the fuck, anyway? Why are these motherfuckers always fighting, when all they have to do is respect each other’s right to their own fucking God? Who the fuck would believe in God, and believe that this is the shit he’d intended to happen?
Back to my present day, though—my wife; getting dressed in her spandex and running shoes. Putting her beautiful feet into her sneakers, smoothing her hair down and perfecting her ponytail before her usual morning routine: dropping off the children at school, heading down the George Washington Parkway on a 5 mile jaunt. I always tease her about not going further, but at least she’s out there.
Me? After the dust settles—me making the crew a hearty breakfast; heading into the basement for my self-designed 30 minute workout circuit, and jumping into the shower—I pull out my black book and check my calendar while drinking my second cup of coffee. I slide my finger on my phone and start contacting my representatives and salespeople. Selling sex isn’t just a fun hobby; it’s a profitable business, and if you know how to do it right, nothing is more fulfilling—or filling—I laugh.
Two…