A time once travelled

I laugh out loud rewatching Sydney Bristow slumped helplessly crying over the dead body of her murdered fiancée. No, I’m not apathetic nor I have PMS. I’m just laughing at the fact that while my girlfriends were lustfully hooting over the greasy-toned butts of the Chippendale dancers (well that’s how I imagine it), here I was rushing out from the bath my very own little Chippendale who has pooped inside his bathtub.

Previously on the day, a girlfriend called inviting me to go with them.  A twin-birthday celebration for the wives. I had no second thoughts. I turned down the invitation. Right these nights I prefer the smell of my pillow. On the other hand, if it was Chippendale GIRLS (does this exist?), I could have been convinced to come. My friend was rather surprised to learn that I prefer watching women than men. It is true. Honest to goodness, I have no idea why. Perhaps, I just find a woman’s body beautiful, soft and sensual compared to a man’s. Or perhaps because my alter ego is just that. Physically perfect Eve. Gracious. Beautiful. Butt-kicking chick. However, if my alter ego is indeed me, I won’t be dancing for a show. But then again who knows?

Now where was I with Sydney?