Well, there’s always ice cream in the fridge.
And I don’t know if we’ve been introduced but that’s kind of a big deal.
That’s about it. Oh, did I say side(s)? Unintentional mislead, sorry.
So, with lightening speed we’re encroaching upon the worst time of the year: my birthday. For those who’ve been around awhile, you know that there are a few things in this life that’ll piss me off more than my birthday. Except this one is going to be extra special annoying since it’s my final birthday before turning THIRTY.
Can you even believe that crap?
And just as is the routine, I’m starting to have all these introspective and quasi-deep thoughts about life and where I’m at, or more importantly, not at. Oh, you couldn’t tell by the title that this was going to be one of those posts?
Good, cus it’s not. I wouldn’t do that to you on a Thursday.
But the next one will be. So get ready. I’ll also be giving out some props to select bloggers.
Like clockwork, every year, right around my birthday I lock myself out of my house. I never know when this phenomenon will happen, I am just at the mercy of the universe. But, there is always certain criteria, if you will:
1. It is hotter than a landscaper in Hates.
2. Humidity is at 600%
3. I am wearing either pjs or a swim suit.
4. I haven’t showered yet.
5. It always somehow involves working out/trying to get out of working out.
So, last week, at 11:00 am, the universe gave me my early birthday present. I was locked out, in pjs, looking disgusting, hundred degree weather, super humid, with no where to go except my cement patio which has full sun all day long.
Don’t ask how these things happen. Embrace the mystique.
My friend Jo, who is becoming a regular on Blunt Delivery yet is not at all okay with that, fortunately had the day off. The unfortunate twist is that she picked me up on her white horse posing as a Honda then hijacked me into “working out” via paddle boating. We get repeatedly disgusted at the rapid rate our metabolisms are malfunctioning and thus, we’re always searching for ways to exercise that aren’t really exercise.
Jo: Hey last year when we did this we saw a paddle boat of nuns, remember?
Me: Um. We gotta take these life jackets off so we can get a tan. Then this won’t be totally useless.
[after and hour of floating and talking]
Me: Where are we? Everything looks the same? Crap. I can’t feel my legs. I’m sweating everywhere. I need food.
Jo: When we get back, I know this mexican place where we won’t see anyone. I always go there looking like crap. And $2.49 margaritas.
[Two hours later after circling, fighting against extreme winds and what I'm convinced was a defective paddle boat, we got off torture island and effectively canceled our "work out."]
And then double canceled it.
Then, as if the world’s most annoying day couldn’t get any longer, she decides to stop at the thrift store on the way home. Our eyes beheld many splendid treasures.
This is a choice no one should have to make. I’ll take them all!
Jo, thank you for rescuing me. I guess.
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