I've now been banned from writing about Ben's semi-mentalities here.
He would much prefer the world fear him for the monster that he thinks he is. Feel free to roll your eyes with me, okay, here we go, one....two....and roll. He doesn't care if you like him. He would prefer if I didn't talk about him much at all, and frankly the artist formerly known as Tucker Max is as anti-social as one can get these days, with his head down, grinding away at his obligations both professionally and personally, hoping no one notices the effort and just continues to appreciate the man without making things so complicated.
That's my Ben, the big romantic wall of total mush.
In other news, it appears that today is our annual stay-home-because-it's-too-fucking-cold-to-go-outside day, the day in which we let the cabin fever warm our brows and broil our brains, the day where we catch up on lots of housework and odd, long-ignored chores and watch the temperature sit at the bottom of the glass, mercury long drained away, muttering about godforsaken lands and tropical holidays. I talked to Nolan and he said even the horses didn't want to stay outside today, that's how cold it is, I think minus forty-five with the wind and the sun has already come up.
When is spring again?
I'm not complaining though. A surprise day home, some chores I can tick off the list, a nice dinner to cook for tonight (Tandoori chicken and basmati) before heading to the pool for swimming, the entire day riding on the sweet, sweet memories of the early hours of this morning, woken up by the (not) romantic so he could (not) do sweet things to me that I'm (not) supposed to share with the world.
So shhhhhh already.