So, as I mentioned in my post this morning I went and cleaned my exs place and cooked the chicken he requested. Lets call him Riker. Cos Riker rhymes with, well, you know.

Its Like The 80's In A Pill! (Inane As Hell.)S

Riker dumped his old lady recently- and since I went and got him in the habit of being cooked for and cleaned up after while I was with him; he doesn't care to go back to doing that shit himself.

Truthishly, I can't fucking blame him. If I could afford to have someone cook for me and clean up after me, I totes would! Sure, MrGhostBoobs offers to cook and clean; but he does the lion's share of the earning in our household and his job is quite physical... I just don't feel like it would be fair for me to sit around here all day and not do anything to contribute; then ask him to cook and clean after a 10 hour shift.

)Real talk: I sit around almost all day. Then I do a frenzied 40 minute dish washing/sweep/carpet sweep/Wet Jet/rushed dinner freak out rightbefore MrGhostBoobs comes home. Lol.(

So, Rikers a big, scary, old biker (or at least thats how everyone perceives him.) He's 6'4", not scary to me at all and closing in on 5o. Aside from the horrible training I subjected him to; hes a wicked cool cat.

He misses my cooking, so when I used to clean for him before I was banished by his now ex old lady; he would leave out a slab of beef/pork/moose/venison, or a bird of some kind for me to cook while I was cleaning (I was allowed to wear shoes. Hes not a monster.)

Riker was all giddy because I was gonna cook a chicken for him today. But when I arrived this morning- he was draggin his ass, hungover as fuck. Naturally, I made sure to beat on a saucepan with a wooden spoon and sing a bit of BOC (Don't Fear The Reaper Riker! MOAR COW BELL!) while I skipped around him in front of the woodstove. I know: I'm a Horrible Person.

I made him and his equally beleaguered bestie coffee, eggs and toast while I set the kitchen in order and started spraying cleaners in the bathrooms to soak. Riker and Bestie were going to go snowmobiling and then to the clubhouse for a bit, but they wanted to wait for the chicken before they left. Smart move on their part- that was the bestest Engagement Chicken I've made to date. I also made butter and honey roasted carrots in a side pan and rosemary roasted mini potatoes in another side pan. So good!

Bestie was rejuvenated, he said he was going to hop in the shower and told Riker to get the sleds ready. Riker wasn't recovering quite as quickly. He went out and got the trailer hitched up and threw his gear into the back and came back in and flopped back into the chair in front of the woodstove and said "I don't think I can do it. I'm too old and tired for this shit GhostOfCourtneyStoddensBoobs. I can have a few drinks one night on the weekend, but two is pushing it now." I called him an Old Fart and a Big Baby and gave him a bottle of water which I instructed him to drink in its entirety within 5 minutes and stop pissing and moaning like a bitch with a skinned knee.

He begrudgingly complied while I stood over him with my hands on my hips, tapping my toe. Bestie came down from his shower and said "Fuuuuuuuck. Is he trying to bail on today?" I answered "Fuck no" for Riker before he could say anything. (Seriously, both of you get out so I can clean this fucker!) Bestie said he had to make a few calls and for Riker to be ready to go in half an hour.

Riker did that thing where you pinch the bridge of your nose, wince and sigh. I handed him another bottle of water and said "Bitch. Skinned knee." He called me a meany.

Now, since Riker is a seasoned, travelled, mature man who has seen his fair share of parties and debauchery over the course of his adult life- I decided to do something bad. (I know his medical history and I know he has no physical issues that would make this sort of thing extremely dangerous. I wouldn't have considered it if I thought he couldn't tolerate it.)

I went to my purse and pulled out my medication. I popped open the bottle, fished out a caplet and handed it to him and said "Here, take this. It'll wake you up." Riker squinted his eyes to read the writing on the pill and said "Adderall? Isn't this for kids?" I said "Pretty much. Those are the people Shire wants on this medication nice and young. You'll be fine. But if you don't think you can handle something a 10 year old takes- I'll take it, your baseboards are filthy and I could use my full dose today."

He took it and asked me what it was going to do. Yup, I am a pusher. I pushed a biker into taking a pill... Likely the first time that sort of thing has ever happened in the history of bikers.

I told him it would likely wake him up; and that if he had any tests to study for- that today would be the day to do it. I added that with all the nutty things that happened when he had long hair and it hadn't turned salt 'n' pepper- that he might not notice anything at all.

A few hours later I get a text from him as they were leaving the track (Bestie was driving the whole day, thats another reason I used to justify my Nefarious Pill Pushing.)

"THIS THING IS AWESOME! I'M JUST FLYIN ON THE SLED GHOSTOFCOURTNEYSTODDENSBOOBS! I WON A HUNDRED BUCKS IN A RACE AGAINST BESTIE AND I CAN SEE EVERYTHING BEFORE IT HAPPENS! HOLY SHIT! ITS LIKE THE 80's IN A PILL!"

I responded "Lol. See? I told you it would wake you up and I was right."

He hit me back with "You're ALWAYS right. It sucks. And seriously, how the fuck can they prescribe these things to kids?! I'm pretty sure this is the same shit us geezers used to call Black Beauties back in the day and its just been stuffed into an orange pill."

I told him "Dude, you're going fucking senile talking about horses and making color blind references to the Matrix. FFS, stahp buggin me while I'm workin already! My boss is a total goof."

He sent me a picture of him making a sour face whilst sticking his tongue out and flipping me the bird.

I texted Bestie to make sure Riker was okay. He said Riker got wet snowmobiling and was walking around the clubhouse with his tee shirt tucked into a pair of track pants... And the track pants weren't exactly low on his hips.

So no. Not really okay fashion wise.

There is no way in hell I would have let him walk around looking like that. I don't care if its just a house full of gnarly old biker dudes. Just no. No tucking anything into track pants.

I am going to add a couple photos in a comment on my morning post. Nothing salacious or anything.