You’ve heard of people contesting paternity? Well, I’m thinking about contesting Melissa’s maternity, because how could someone who came out of my body want to go to a dude ranch? Yes, it’s time for Melissa and Cooper’s annual week at a ranch in Wyoming. Or as I call it, “Why, why, why, oming?” Couldn’t she have picked someplace glamorous and cosmopolitan, like, say, Texarkana? I haven’t been to Wyoming since I stopped giving Dick Cheney pigeon hunting lessons. Now I get to spend a week there trout fishing, skeet shooting, and horseback riding. Oh, and did I mention we’ll be staying in a log cabin? Or was it a buckskin lean-to? I forget.
I’m so not into camping. My idea of roughing it is when it takes three rings to get room service on the phone. Melissa claims I’ll never make it through the week. But she forgets that I’ve dealt with wild animals under primitive conditions before—I worked The Catskills for years! In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I just hope there’s a good nail place there. Wrangling steers can be murder on a new manicure.