This is why I need coffee in the morning.
I just went in for my morning “business” and then immediately sprayed athletes foot spray all over the bathroom instead of the air freshener.
I thought “well, that smells strange. I won’t buy that flavor again.”
Brewing now…
The pool was dark this morning.
Like cheesy 80’s horror movie dark only this time the serial killer is a sweet old lady on a motorized cart.
When I drove up and saw that the lights were off I thought “CLAUDE HAVE MERCY, ITS CLOSED! YAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!”(Thankyouthankyouthankyou)
Upon closer inspection it wasn’t closed, the lights just weren’t working and the room had a shadowy cast.
Deflated and with a heavy heart I knuckle dragged into the locker room and put on my suit for my next near drowning.
As each lap slowly passed I was waiting to encounter a pair of overall covered legs and work boots standing waist deep in the water with an idling chainsaw hovering over the surface.
Strangely disappointed that I didn’t get to witness a demented water psycho, I listened to the chatter of the Aqua-ettes and smiled to myself.
Maybe I was the psycho…
Nah, just an over active imagination.
After a couple of months in the pool/gym my *ss is slowly getting smaller.
According to my pants, this is untrue.
Over the last week I’ve found three pairs of pants and one pair of shorts that have a rip in the back that I never noticed before.
The new unwanted vents are all in the same place.
Questions that arise are:
1. Are my newly rippled glutes just too much for the delicate fabric that has clothed man for at least a century and a half and said fabric withers at the mere thought of trying to cover up such amazing sculpture?
Or
2. Is my *ss is still just enormous and even tough denim can’t hold on tight enough and has to release the pressure through a new exit rendered out if desperation?
As I write this, I’m contemplating if my decisions are right, if the swimming is going to eventually pay off (I think it will) or if I should just give in and eat the donuts (hmmmm, it DOES sound interesting).
I think I’ll put the blinders on and try to believe that although my pants are giving up the ghost, it’s due to the fact that I haven’t bought any new ones for a while & they’re just threadbare.
I’m headed out for some new ones today.
Maybe a donut along the way though…
I skipped the pool again today.
It was AWESOME!!!!!
After tossing and turning all night I’m sure I visited every square inch of my bed at least forty seven times.
When the alarm went off at 5am I hauled my sorry carcass out of bed, turned off the alarm and went straight back to my room falling flat on my face into my pillow.
Screw the nine minutes the snooze button hands out like a pinch of m&m’s in front of the worlds largest candy store. You know there’s more than nine minutes of beautiful sleep behind that door, you just have to open yourself to a little procrastination.
I did.
I opened the door, crossed the threshold and dreamed the dreams of the innocent. (Or maybe just the slightly less guilty)
I feel great and the Aqua-ettes are just gonna have to do without me today 🙂
With yesterday’s sangria & mexican beat down behind me (figuratively), I had a fresh start (also figuratively) in the pool today.
Soon, the fresh start got a little tainted (in a great way).
Samantha L. Jackson was back.
Laying with her arms across the lane rope and her back leaning against it like some extra comfy divan, she was lazily kicking her legs at about .047 rpm but in contrast had a grimace that was contemplating murder.
Mumbling under her breath I could hear the words “I can’t believe I have to do this m&$+*^f&$*^n’ sh*t”.
I offered a tentative good morning and she replied with “G&$D*^%M#€£+*^F%#&$@?!DOCTOR’s£€#%^*+sh*t•@&$'”@&#%^*!!!”
I almost turned away as the rant continued but it’s kind of like a train wreck. You don’t want to see the bodies but you can’t shut your eyes as you drive by the carnage.
I mentioned our mutual love for ice cream and the fact that my son and I had shared some cherry chocolate chunk and her eyes lit up like she’d just seen the savior himself.
Her softer side showed.
It was more like gravel but still a bit softer.
“I LOVE THAT SH*T!!!”
You could see the wheels spinning and the idea forming in her mind when she blurted out “F**k this, I’m out!”
She launched herself out of the pool and as she left, she peeked her head out of the locker room and asked
“Do you know a good Mexican place that has sangria?”
Um…no…
Sangria was the beverage of choice yesterday.
My blushing bride turned…um…29…
(no, really)…and we were celebrating.
After a couple of hours relaxing in the yard & a couple of cigars it was time for a meal and some good local Mexican fare was decided on.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever followed white sangria with Mexican food but it’s a volatile mix and I, my family, the new singed hole in my skivvies and now the entire aquatic center are paying the price.
It’s like a war zone in there.
The foul mist hanging over the pool has a distinct odor that stings the nostrils and makes the eyes projectile tear in order to wash away the burning sensation. (I can only guess that this is the scent of Sex Panther from Anchorman, a bit like a turd with burning hair on it)
I do have to say though that my swim took a lot less time due to the extra psi pressure buildup and subsequent expulsion.
I left a wake (in more ways than one).
With eyes downcast and a mumbled apology, I exited the pool although it fell on deaf (and mostly unconscious) ears.
Everyone had a slightly green pallor.
Maybe a salad today…
Just as my head was sinking into the pillow I thought “Ahhhhhhh” with a contented sigh.
Immediately the alarm went off.
(Or so it seemed)
I dragged my sorry *ss out of bed by the short hairs and got ready for my swim.
At the pool I was treated to a surprise when the hairpiece lady showed up and slipped quietly into the pool.
She was clad in a tasteful swimsuit that was completely covered by a full body floatation device.
I don’t think her head ever came within a foot of the water. No way was that hair coming loose again.
Watching her swim was a treat!
If you’ve ever watched a turtle on its back trying to flip itself back over you’ll have a pretty good vision of what was going on atop the water only she was right side up.
The smile on her face was faaaaantastic!!!
I laughed to myself and immediately choked because my face was under water. (Don’t try this at home folks)
I have a weakness for ice cream.
It’s the kryptonite to my Superman.
I’ve never met an ice cream I didn’t like, or one that didn’t like me.
One might say I’m an ice cream whisperer.
Today, working off last nights ice cream binge, I met Samuel L. Jacksons older sister.
The were made from the same cloth, only this woman was taken from the dirty side.
When I said good morning she responded with “Yeah, it’s a good m*&%$@#f*&%$n’ mornin’! The sun is up and I’m at the m*&^%$f*&^%n’ gym again. Breathin’ in & out though, so it’s pretty good!” with a smile on her face.
I guessed that in the early years in the KCMO school district m*&^%$#f*&^%n’ was taught as an adjective.
When I asked what her plans for the day were, she replied “I got a long m*&^%$#f*&^%$n’ day ahead of me. Dr.s appointment at nine where I gotta get some more prescriptions and I don’t like that sh*t. M*&^%$f*&^%rs tell me I have to take this and I have to take that. I’m like, 197 years old and I’ve made it this long without all that m*&^%$f*&^%$n’ sh*t. I’m leaving that office and headed right to the store for some ice cream!”
If I were like, 70 years older, she would be mine.
I’m omnomnomnivorous.
One might say I’m like the Marines of the dinner table. You know “no morsel left behind”.
As the exercise routine deepens, I find myself making the occasional “good decision” and I find it a bit disconcerting.
What happened to the days of “Hey, where are we going tonight?” followed by the 3am carb loading at Denny’s (I miss you Rose, my favorite Denny’s waitress. Thanks for putting up with so much of our bs!) or the Village Inn and then passing out at the house with the music blaring out the latest grunge tunes?
Getting up at 5am is for the birds (No, seriously. You should hear them. It’s like fowlapalooza & the feathered freaks are belting out the top forty.)
But, here I am, eating some fruit (FRUIT!!!!! WTF happened to my Grand Slam breakfast?) and seriously looking forward to some coffee.
That I made.
At 5 am.
Although there may be some donuts next to the coffee maker.
Decisions, decisions…
They say that the early bird gets the worm.
Well, I say that’s disgusting.
This early bird wants the donut.
Or a cheeseburger.
Or some foie gras.
Anything that is the antithesis of healthy eating and/or exercising.
On another note, we had a new (and I think one time) visitor in the semi turbulent and imaginative waters of the pool today.
I’ve noticed over the years the propensity of the brown ladies I’ve known to enjoy wearing wigs or a hair piece.
Some wear it with pride, not trying to disguise it as their own while others do their best to look and act as if they were born with those amazing ringlets and perfectly manicured tresses.
Today, a fairly young lady entered the pool area and of course we all looked and normally we’ll wave at anyone we know or greet a newcomer if they look friendly.
This one was only looking straight forward with blinders on and grim determination painted on her face.
She was there on a mission and would be damned if she was going to be distracted.
She was wearing a shoulder length wig with perfect rings in every strand that looked like cavatappi pasta (curly que tubes) and as she entered the pool, she submerged completely, then began swimming vigorously to the other end, leaving her beautiful ringlets floating atop the pools surface like a one hundred and forty seven legged spider.
At the far end, she made the turn and came inexorably back to her starting point.
As she arrived, her stroke reached its apex and landed squarely on the floating island island of ringlets.
She let out an ear piercing shriek (which is amazing since her face was still in the water), grabbed the hair (don’t wanna forget that) and left such a wake that I was sure that Moses had touched the water with his staff and parted the ways in order to hasten her retreat.
I could see the bottom of the pool. It was bone dry.
As she rounded the corner to the locker room, her wet feet and the slick tile floor failed her and she ran in place for what seemed like an eternity.
I’m pretty sure she ran a hundred yard dash in record time without ever moving an inch.
Finally, rationality took over, she slowed and entered the locker room dragging her pride like a wounded gazelle carried by a lion on the African plains.
Not sure if we’ll see her again but I’m looking forward to episode two!
The Daily Exorcise 