Two reason’s for that.

1. I have those photos of Jason. Those photos are very… special. Thus it is mandatory I publish them and let them go viral ASAP.

2. According to MY calendar, tomorrow is the National Lamb Roasting Day. Hence, I know I’ll be rending lots of fat in the kitchen (that of the meat in the oven along with my own) all day Sunday with mediocre chances of surfacing before sunset.

Let me set this up.

It’s Saturday late morning. Jason is doing some manly works around the house. He had patched up some holes in our living-room ceiling a while back, after having a chandelier hung. All there was left to do was to sand them down and paint over. Today is the day.

I’m off to run errands.

Cosmo? Well, he doesn’t give two green grasshoppers about what’s going on around since no one shows any interest in chasing him around the dining table. Off he goes to his room to play video games and watch some free porn online.

Some time later, exhausted, he snoozes off.

I am done with the bank, the grocery store, and a few other irrelevant nuances off my agenda, and I head back home. The sun is frying my brain over-easy. The traffic is irrational. All these people, instead of crowding the streets, should be out on the beach! The key word is OUT.

It’s really hot. Can you tell I’m feeling fragile?

I walk into our house through the back door, and as I approach the living room I am suddenly blinded. Lightning shoots through the air, sinister wind blows through the bathroom window, swirls around the house and swipes me off my feet. And right then, as I bang my delicate seat on the floor and unfold my body into a supine position I have a premonition. A clear vision of what’s coming. The image is so clear I get to learn what my Jason will look like in 50 years…

The experience is bewildering!

And the dust from sanding the ceiling covers every inch of the house. It is E V E R Y W H E R E. The vacuum cleaner can’t stand still in the corner already excited about its upcoming task. I am speechless. Jason looks at me with that innocent expression of a 5-year old who claims: “I haven’t seen any cookies!” with chocolate smeared all over his face. Then ma’ man slowly inches away from the table thus revealing THIS:

An artist I fell in love with, I tell you.