Tag Archives: funny

Pucker up

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I like kissing. 

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Light, chaste kisses, wet, sloppy ones, French kisses, soul kisses, hungry kisses (I don’t like *ss kissing).

Today, I kissed the pavement. 

I didn’t like it. 

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After a particularly vigorous swim (I was late & time was short) I was a little wobbly and upon exiting the gym I took a header from the parking lot. 

I tripped over the curb and into the grassy median separating the parking spaces. 

I shouldn’t have been dragging my feet since I was already dragging my knuckles.

It was one of those falls where you don’t even get your hands out in time & you wind up with your face buried in the turf, your mouth open and your arms still at your sides. 

As I spat the grass & dirt from my pie hole, I glanced around to see if anyone saw my wonderful humiliation. 

All of the Aqua-ettes were standing at the poolside window. 

I could hear the laughter through the glass from thirty yards away. 

As I rolled over to collect any stray pieces of my dignity, I tried to wipe away the grass stains and chunks of earth clinging to me but after the rain I only succeeded in smearing them together to create some sort of homemade camouflage paste. 

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So, grass sticking in my hair and covered in earth toned war paint, I made my way back to the truck. 

The laughter didn’t fade until I shut the door and started the engine. 

I think I’m missing a tooth…

Cheerios. Mmmmmmmm…

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Cheerios are delicious. Especially The honey nut variety. 

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The first time. 

Later, when you’re in the middle of a swim, head underwater, breath held and mid-stroke, a little bubble makes its way from the murky (and 2% milky) depths and enters the world through your olfactory passage. 

It burns the nostrils. 

The hair that inadvertently grows there curls up in heat seared death (note to self: when nose hair gets too long, have some Cheerios).

I find it difficult to see when my goggles are filled with the salty tears that my eyes have literally projectile squirted into them, filling the little void almost instantly. 

Keeping my eyes open was zero problem but for some reason my mind was screaming “Don’t look!” just in case something escaped my pursed lips. 

I had to re-swallow a hunk of something I swear I never ate in the first place. 

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I could only assume that the mild mannered O’s that I had so lovingly gazed upon in my cereal bowl were tearing me apart from the inside out. 

From now on, it’s back to the smoothies…

Friday Funday

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It’s Friday. 

A day to finish up the work week and possibly relax your way into the weekend. 

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But noooooooo…..

I was in such a foul mood yesterday. Itching for a fight all day long. I was ready to argue against the color of the sky, Eskimos needing ice and the fact that Chuck Norris could in no way beat the living crap out of me. 

I decided that the best course of action was to pour twenty pounds of ice over the beers that were left in the cooler, peruse the selection of cigars and relax in the garage. 

I relaxed. Relaxed some more. After that I relaxed a bit. Then, after all of that relaxing, I decided I need to relax for a while. 

The next thing I knew, the beers were gone and I was two cigars in and it was time to go to the house. 

Of course we all know that after a bit of boozing, fast food is tantamount to the well being of your soul and although I didn’t have Taco Bell, I had visited Mexican Restaurant Row over in KCK earlier in the day and had a twelve pack of tamales
and some carnitas in tow. 

Four tamales and a fist full of carnitas later, my food lust was sated & I immediately fell asleep in front of the tv. 

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On this lovely Friday morning I’m paying the piper. Only this one has a pipe ORGAN. 

For the last forty minutes I’ve been in the pool trying not to hurl my morning juice and doing my best imitation of a dying fur seal trying to escape a killer whale. 

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If you could hear me under water it would sound kind of like
“Huuuuunnnnggghhhh (shallow breath) huuuuuunnngghhhh…”

It’s. Un. Pretty. 

I need to go home and relax…

It’s A Little Chilly

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It was tough getting out of bed today. 

The alarm went off and I desperately wished (in one hand) for a ball peen hammer to silence the dastardly machine forever. 

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One point in the manufacturers favor is that the longer you procrastinate (great way to start the day btw…put it off for a little while) the louder the noise gets. 

I finally dragged my sorry (donkey) across the bed & shut the damned thing off, gave it an especially scathing look (it did NOT melt) and got up. 

Facebook is an excellent way to procrastinate in the morning as well. 

I sat for fifteen minutes just perusing the posts from the night before. Laughing at some, waving away the funk when I laughed too hard at others and some of my turbo slipped out. 

I finally grabbed my keys and walked out of the door into 55 degrees in a skimpy t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. 

My pee pee immediately disappeared. 

WTF happened?!?! 

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It was so nice yesterday! I find it strangely odd that I was craving the relative warmth of the swimming pool to get away from the natural warming (or freaking cooling) of the earth. 

So here I am. Not regretting that I got up and glad that I got to swim another day. 

I drank minimal pool water and am thirsty for something less floatie flavored. 

Mr. Coffee, get ready…

Less Jiggly

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I’m not as jiggly as I was a couple of months ago.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thin by any stretch of the imagination but when I run (usually away from something) I don’t feel like my body has jiggled twice as far as my legs took me.

I’ve pretty much avoided the scale (BECAUSE THE M*&#$@F!*%ER LIES!!!) for two reasons:
1. I’m exercising more to keep my heart healty than anything else.
2. It’s digital and the batteries are dead.

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I have however, been avoiding the weight room since I threw my back out. We had a really bad argument over who really ran the show and parted ways in a huff.

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We’ve since made up after a few tense phone calls and LOTS of muscle relaxers (and episodes of WTF happened over the last few hours…and why am I sticky?). I’ve been informed that it’ll be performing at the standard pace, holding me upright in just a short while.

The pool (although still huge bikini and mumuit flavored) has really done the trick and my stamina (IN THE POOL…!!!) has increased to the point that the crying has pretty much stopped but the occasional whimper makes it through.

At least the Aqua-ettes find it amusing…

Sabertoothtown

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I’ve heard many stories of couples saving their marriages. 

Today was the first time my marriage saved me. 

My special friend approached me after just one length of the pool and asked the fateful question…

“Are you married? Some of the girls wanted me to ask.”

My first reaction was shock (she’s 87) then relief (she was asking for others) then shock again as I realized the “the girls” were also in their late 70’s. 

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My imagination immediately kicked into high gear & I envisioned a blind date where I watched a beautiful woman walking across a crowded restaurant dining room wearing a slinky dress & an amazing hairdo (moving incredibly slowly due to the four legged walker and trailing the huge oxygen bottle, iv cart & team of nurses)

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I wondered why a blind date required a table for five. 

It was like an episode of Cougartown, or in this case Sabertoothtown. 

I smiled at my friend & replied “Yes” with an almost palpable & heavy sigh of relief. 

I had dodged the bullet…

The Crack Machine

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5 am comes far too quickly after laying my head on that delicate pile of bunched up puffy clouds I call my pillow where I dream of unicorns farting rainbows and the Partridge Family bus (having serious bus/tree problems).

Food is an ever present part of my dreams too as well as part of my every waking moment. 

It’s what I do. 

This is why I get up (again, try to crawl over the wife unflatulently) and flog myself for a mile in lane three while trying not to swallow mumu swimsuit flavors. 

I’m trying to stop following my belly around. I’d like it to be a part of the walk with the rest of my being instead of trying to always lead the way. 

When I get out, I generally make it to the shower without weaving or falling over, clean up, shave and write this post. 

This morning, after sitting in the same chair every weekday morning for the last two months, I finally noticed…

“The Crack Machine”

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I’m doomed…

Milestones & Kicking Chuck Norris’ *ss

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As the exercise regimen continues I do hit the occasional milestone. 

My milestones however, are not typical. 

Recently… I was able to tie my shoes without holding my breath. 

My large compatriots know what I’m talking about. 

You sit in a chair or step, spread your legs in order to access your feet, maybe use one hand to lasso your foot with a shoe or strike some odd cheerleader/yoga pose to get at that elusive foot from the side, hold your breath & tie as fast as humanly possible before you pass out aaaaaaaaaaaaand…

Repeat. 

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I think today I may occasionally flaunt my newfound skill by retying my shoes is all sorts of scenarios such as:
1. Lying on my back with my foot on the air.
2. Bicycling. 
3. Riding a horse. 
4. Running with the bulls in Spain. 
5. Skipping rope. 
6. Kicking Chuck Norris’ *ss (“Hold on Chuck, I gotta tie my shoe without holding my breath”) Chuck will wait in awed silence for the continuation of his beating…
Just kidding. Chuck would calmly hold me down while ripping my feet from my legs, handing them to me & saying “Here, tie those shoes without holding your breath now b*tch!”

Or, maybe I’ll just keep my new super power to myself…

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Six Pack

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Six Pack. 

That’s what I heard when I walked into the pool room this morning. 

One of the Aqua-ettes called out “Is that Six Pack?!” and one of the Glamour Boys piped up with “Yeah baby!” through his fog of cologne. 

Apparently that’s what they call me when I’m not there (or at least when my head is under water). Six Pack…

I’m not sure what six packs look like where they spend their time but they must be HUGE. 

I’m wearing what I like to politely refer to as a “pony keg”

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The ladies heard that I spend a few days a week in the gym lifting weights (or at least staring at them with fierce determination) and amongst themselves have determined that I will, from this day forward, have the moniker of Six Pack. 

I suppose that if I have nicknames for my pool friends it stands to reason that they would have one (or many) for me and I guess Six Pack isn’t so bad. 

I’m gonna own it…

Muscle’s (Why I Don’t Have Them)

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Let us take a moment to discuss muscles. 

Not just our regular every day muscles but the huge muscles of the perpetual protein shake swilling, horse hormone shooting, can’t do the hibbity dibbity, tosser of the free weights. 

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During my weight training, which consists of me projectile sweating until a small rain forest sprouts around me, I’ll typically lift as much as an 8oz barbell while trying desperately not to crap my pants. 

Next to me (every day I’m in the gym instead of the pool it seems) is a man working out who looks as though his muscles have grown their own muscles because they’ve each grown lonely and need a friend. 

He’s huge. 

As I’m struggling with the bench press I see him chuckling to himself & then outright laughing at me while he ties one of the weight bars into a perfect sailors knot and then breaks another one over his knee and proceeds to throw it into the sun. 

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I see him waddle over to the squat machine, pick the entire thing up and start curling it. 

Now, I know the workout life can be addicting but I’m not sure that I need to associate with the eternal muscle head since obviously the injections have done a number on his brain. 

As I left the gym he had finished his curls, set the squat machine down & had begun chewing on the corner of it while making strange contented noises. 

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I think I’ll stick with a smoothie…