Claire Danes & Kelly Ripa

Tuesday morning was really rough.

I woke early, of course, but I knew that if I got up and out of bed I was going to really pay for it, so I laid there, watching the morning news show, eating the aspirin that they gave me so I don't have a blood clot, and just hoping my beautiful wife was up soon.

She'd be heading down the stairs to get the ice.

I was to, under all circumstances, wait!

Thankfully, she got the ice to me by 7 a.m. and I placed the bags on my hip and back and waited for relief.

I was still waiting as Sam left, Jake left, and Melky and Paris went outside and then returned.

The pain wouldn't subside.

I thought of that rehab dork who made me move. I thought of that bastard surgeon who cut me, and the dork who ran into my car at a stop sign. I thought of God a little, and read the Twitter feed.

Nothing was really helping.

"You want me to help you get downstairs before I leave?" My lovely wife asked.

"Nah. I may just stay here," I said.

I watched the morning show and then Kelly and Michael headed out.

Kelly was dancing and smiling and talking about her hair. She's so bubbly and cute that I thought about something other than ice for a couple of minutes.

My wife was ready to leave.

She delivered the paper and a couple of fresh waters to my bedside.

Kelly announced that her first guest was:

Get this:

Claire Danes.

"There you go," my beautiful wife said. "Kelly Ripa and Claire Danes. Just lie there, close your eyes and fantasize about whatever you need to fantasize about."

"But you'd have to be there," I said.

(I'm one smooth bastard, aren't I?)

"Of course," she said. "Just the three of us and one big stud taking care of our every need."

I was up and out of bed an hour later.

I'm a flat-out stud.

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