My New Boyfriend

Márkus

Well it seems the feces hit the device with the rotating vanes Wednesday morning. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to write one more word about Mark and his comings and goings.
"Alan! What the hell did you write this morning? Why are my friends calling and asking me about me screaming at the computer?"
"Uh, I don't know. I didn't write anything bad about you."
"This is the second goddamned time this week you wrote about me. Stop writing about what I do. I'm goddamned tired of my friends asking me personal things that they shouldn't know anything about."

So I won't be writing about Mark anymore. I beg of you, please don't call him early in the morning and ask him questions about my blog. Don't walk up to him in a bar and start chatting about his latest faux pas that you read about. You only get me into trouble when you do that. From now on I will be using a fantasy boyfriend as my foil. Whatever I write will not be about Mark in the least. It will all be made up, it will be pure fiction. This little dust up between Mark and me created a little gap in my blogging, but I think with my new approach I can now go on.

Tonight for dinner Márkus, my new boyfriend, decided to make me a delicious low calorie meal. I have to admit it was damn good, and I have to give Márkus some credit. He is at least trying to feed me healthier food. The only problem is that although Márkus put a plate of skinless baked chicken breasts with a side of broccoli in front of me, the plate was so piled high with food I could hardly finish it. Of course when I mentioned that, Márkus blew up and started cursing and dancing around like a crazed marionette..