Thinking with the wrong head

I read a lot, like 2hrs a day when I’m in a routine. When I’m out of routine that could mean I don’t read at all, or it could mean I read 8hrs a day.  I have a Kindle and although I was sceptical about it, I love it and I’ve loaned it to friends, in exchange of a paperback and they’ve all bought their own Kindles.

Right now I’m reading Rushdie’s “Joseph Anton”.  I love the recent history of the auto-biography, I love how open Rushdie is (I thought it cheap that he mentioned his boys girfriend who cheated on him), I support the anti-Fatwa thing 100% but he seems like a pig of a man the more I read about him.  Kinda like Lance Armstrong, I really liked that guy until I saw how he treated his women in his book.  Tiger Woods is another of the people I grew up admiring but who is a person I would be embarrassed for my sister to date – yes I’m speaking to you Miss Vonn, you could do better.

Anyway, I’m reading about Rushdie and his 3rd wife and tonight I didn’t quite get my way with the Texan Brunette.  We had our first tiff, it was nothing, we found compromise.  Because I’ve spent so much time lately reading of Rushdie and his selfishness towards his 2nd wife (Elizabeth) I had much more selfish attitudes towards how I’d deal with the Texan Brunette over the next week.

Thankfully, I have some close friends, that are not in America, that are happily married and that could offer insight on where I was at. These two very close friends told me to chill out, don’t over read things, be yourself and wait until after next weekend before doing thing rash.  “Life is long Mr. Evans” one of these friends told me.

I do not want to be a Salman Rushdie, a Lance Armstrong or a Tiger.  These guys were rich virgins – I lost every virginity I could when I was poor.

I just wish I was as rich as them and could demonstrate how adults behave.

I’ll read the end of your book Mr. Rushdie. Lance, I would like a refund for the lie that I bought in paperback.  Tiger, I’m just disappointed mate.  Not one of your hookers looked half a good as one of Rushdie’s wives.  The pen is mightier than the sword.

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