I was buying the papers at my quaint little newsstand when all of a sudden the Boy Builder jumped off the rack from the cover of Gentlemen's Quarterly, tapped me on the shoulder, grinned his sappy grin and said, "Gotcha." The headline in GQ read: "Donald Trump Gets What He Wants." I thought about running. I gave up. I bought the magazine.
The Boy Builder and I went back to my apartment for coffee. He gets what he wants.
If it isn't GQ, then it's Sports Illustrated, which a couple of months ago did a major fawn over Trump that included everything except baby pictures. If it isn't SI, it's the New York Times Magazine (I like to look at the pictures). Trump was waiting for me there not long ago; I reached down for the Sunday papers on my doorstep and before I knew it, Trump was scrambling eggs for us. I read an NFL draft story in the New York News. The first quote was from Trump. He was in Monday's paper, too.
I feel that it is only a matter of time before Don and I are double dating. I just hope that Don and his wife Ivana like Mexican food. And, of course, bowling.
You want to know what the worst part is? I'll tell you what the worst part is: I'm sort of starting to like the Boy Builder.