If you’re a guy, you ought to wish you were me.

I’m sitting here, the house to myself all night, just watching TV and chilling. I got home and went for a 3.0-mile run, oh, while it had a 112 heat index, and then I just chilled. Still in that spot now.

I made a lamb steak with asparagus and mushroom, had salsa verde and chips for an appetizer and washed it down with a bottle of wine. All while watching Kung Fu on Fuel TV for the past 3-plus hours.

Oh, and did I mention that today is my wedding anniversary? Yes, it’s me and sugar-mama’s ninth anniversary and I get an awesome night like this to myself.

She’s out with some co-workers/friends from work, having fun and dinner and drinks downtown, while I just relax and drink on my own, again, while watching Kung Fu. I’ve seen the ending of a old movie I’ve never watched before (Executioners of the Shaolin) and re-watched a new movie I’ve seen before (Hero with Jet Li). A new show called “Bruce Lee Lives” is on now, and is pretty sweet.

How, do you ask, did I get this lucky that I can make a lamb steak, drink a bottle of wine and watch hours upon hours of Kung Fu without my wife here, all on my anniversary?

All because she’s the coolest chick on the planet.

And I can even do one up on you for that.

Again, how?

Here’s how: My wife is so cool that this awesome night I have at home is not even my present for our anniversary.

Nope. Not even close.

She totally hit right at my heart, squeezed my soul and punched my lovebox when she came up with the idea for my real present.

One of her friends she’s dining with tonight is a co-worker who is based out of Tennessee. She drove down today, but before she came down, she went to the liquor store and got my present.

See, here in Gaw-ja, shit is pretty backwards. They have good beers, don’t get me wrong. But Pabst is a premium beer here in the area we just moved to. Seriously, Pabst. Seriously?

I can’t fight it. This area (we live in East Atlanta Village), I was told when we moved in, only gays and hippies live here. So I have to make that decision still, and I can deal with the Pabst, which is a big-time hippie beer, only so far.

See, I have my favorite beer. And it’s not Pabst.

Nope, I like the real shit. Old Style is my beer, and I’m proud to say it. I do like Bud too, which is every Cubs fans’ main drink, but Old Style is where it’s at with me. Call me traditional (it may be the only time you can).

The real problem is, they don’t sell Old Style here in Gaw-ja.

Literally, it is not distributed in this state. I’ve looked everywhere and even checked the Old Style web site, which tells you what state and which liquor stores sell it. Nada, none, zero, zip in this part of the Union (said for effect).

But, alas, my cool-ass wife, the awesomest chick on the planet, got her friend, who was coming from Tennessee, where they do sell Old Style, to bring me a case. As my anniversary present.

I dare anyone to say I don’t have the coolest wife in the world.

And happy anniversary to her. Hopefully I’ll be awake when she gets home. All this lamb and wine is getting to me.