CATCHING UP: THE GOOD, BAD & THE ‘HELL YES’ OF A WEEK THAT NEARLY KILLED ME

I know, I know, I’ve been conspicuously absent this week. What caused the lull in communication? Well for starters, not being able to physically communicate. As in, Miss Wingman lost her voice and was down for the count after an especially aggressive weekend burning the candle at both ends. I went from slightly raspy, to Big Ang from “Mob Wives,” to total silence – nary a whisper could be heard – inside of a few days. Still not back to normal, but I’ve got that two-pack-a-day sound going right now. Super hot (or so I keep telling myself).

But what does losing your voice have to do with not being able to type? It was accompanied by debilitating allergies (seriously, F**k you, pollen), some unexpected travel, and a spike in sports and media-related extracurriculars (hey, I can’t write about life if I don’t have one, sorry).

Now that things have calmed down a bit, I’m taking time out to cobble together what stood out this week. On a scale from Amar’e wall-punching to a Weaver no-hitter, I’d say this week has been a little of both. Where does that leave me? Somewhere in the middle, I hope. But here are my weekend lessons, in no particular order:

1) Miss Wingman can only go to swanky clubs with toxic doormen if she gets drunk enough to tolerate the crowd of people who frequent those places. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I’m a barstool girl. This point was hammered home when I ran into someone I used to babysit while at a club and was hit on by her friend…who was eight years younger than I am. Some people would take both of those facts as an indication that I was too old to be there, but I prefer to believe that a love of vodka and cheesy music knows no age limits.

2) Guys who can handle a sleeping child in one arm and a cold beer in the other hand are a hit with the ladies. This was hammered home while spending time with my mommy friends and their spouses, my favorite of whom used his daughter as a non-stop source of baby tossing/fat jiggling/silly face-making amusement. You should all aspire to be such awesomely multitasking dads one day.

3) Major league baseball games should not be used to punctuate a 48-hour hangover on a Sunday afternoon, especially with dwindling vocal cord action. The same can be said for watching triple overtime hockey games until the wee hours of morning when you’re already running on two hours of sleep. After this week, I should just change my middle name to “bad decisions,” but whatever – I’ll rest when I’m dead.

Additional lessons: 1) The Rangers are to hockey as Jack White’s new album is to my ears (read: killer). Conversely, the Knicks are to New York as that lady who let her 5-year-old fake tan is to New Jersey. Nothing good going on there, I’m afraid.

2) While at a swanky gala event (hey, Miss Wingman’s not always low brow), I found myself standing in a room with one of my musical heroes. Since he was without an entourage and standing inches away, I struck up a conversation and we chewed the fat for a bit. Not only did I have no business talking to this man like he was just any old guy working at my corner bodega, but it also occurred to me that if he really was the bodega guy, I wouldn’t find him nearly as attractive as was strumming chords on his guitar. Which just reinforces the point I make repeatedly, if you want to do your son a favor one day, put a guitar in his hand at an early age. We all secretly want to be the muse of a man who pens swoon-worthy lyrics. How else do you explain John Mayer having any sex appeal?

And finally 3) Reading may be fundamental, but math just plain sucks. I stumbled upon, “What Happens When A 35-Year-Old Man Retakes The SAT?” and I haven’t laughed so hard at an article in a long time. I know I’ve talked about the role education plays in either upping your sexiness factor or squelching it altogether, and I’ve hammered home the importance of owning actual books and reading newspapers in impressing females, but the guy who wrote that gem should get a Pulitzer for his use of expletives alone. Also, he’s absolutely right about how asinine that test is – and I didn’t even get a bad score. Eight hundred is good, right?

In case you’re so inclined to read a non-academically centered piece, you might also want to check out this solid op-ed about the danger of social media in sports. It’s a thought-provoking read, and a quick one at that.

Lastly, this is the best news I’ve heard so far this week (the only thing that could possibly top it is the impending fun of a Cinco de Mayo/Kentucky Derby overlap this weekend…with a supermoon, no less. Things are going to get crazy, which is fine by me. The drunker my friends get the more things I have to write about.

So apologies again for the lapsed silence, and I hope you’ve all had a stellar week. I’ll be back tomorrow with more tales of dating-gone-awry and sarcastic musings. Until then be safe and have fun…or just pick one.GEEK WINGMAN

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