So I started the week lathered in cranky sauce. Not sure if I’m PMS’ing or just upset that 19 Kids and Counting is over for the season. Speaking of which, there should be a point in time when one’s vagina gets fed up and just closes for business. I mean, if I were Michelle’s vagina, I’d pack my bags and head for the barren hills without leaving little Jim Bob a forwarding address. But anyway, the week just keeps getting more discouraging. Despite having cankles the size of softballs, I decided to start exercising again. I started by lying on my back while trying to stretch out on my exercise ball. This is a difficult task when you have two very large breasteses that like to move in opposite directions when you're on your back. (The only time the parting of the white boobies comes in handy is when I am trying to watch tv in bed. If they didn't part, I wouldn't be able to see the tv. They are just that big.) Inevitably, lying on my back on the exercise ball resulted in me rolling off and on to the floor more than once. Mind you, this was only the warm up. Then I tried front-side down on the ball, thinking a different position would help. Nope. I rolled off and hit my head on the table. So me and my never give up attitude gave up. Later the same day I dropped a pork chop on my foot and burnt my toe while cooking dinner. I really don’t need to say anymore about that; it stands on its own.
Today alone has caused me more aggravation than I care to acknowledge. It started when I was at the doctor’s office this morning, where I helped a little old lady on to the elevator with me. The elevator doors closed and little old lady decided it would be the PERFECT time to pass some gas. She just looked at me and smiled. I should be used to this considering every old person in Walgreens and Publix walks around passing gas. It must be some kind of gas safe zone to them. I also almost ran over a kid and a snake today within a 2 minute period. Skip ahead to right now. I am sitting here with freshly spilled ice tea all over my pants. I can’t decide whether I am too annoyed to clean it up or just so used to spilling on myself that I don’t care. Whatever the reason, this should clearly be more of an urgent matter to me. I guess I take my cues from BP.
Today alone has caused me more aggravation than I care to acknowledge. It started when I was at the doctor’s office this morning, where I helped a little old lady on to the elevator with me. The elevator doors closed and little old lady decided it would be the PERFECT time to pass some gas. She just looked at me and smiled. I should be used to this considering every old person in Walgreens and Publix walks around passing gas. It must be some kind of gas safe zone to them. I also almost ran over a kid and a snake today within a 2 minute period. Skip ahead to right now. I am sitting here with freshly spilled ice tea all over my pants. I can’t decide whether I am too annoyed to clean it up or just so used to spilling on myself that I don’t care. Whatever the reason, this should clearly be more of an urgent matter to me. I guess I take my cues from BP.
So anyway, I just want this week to be over. After reading today that the spirit of Farah Fawcett contacted Tori Spelling and gave her a message to pass along to her family, I’ve decided this week should be officially erased from history. There’s only so much I can take.
Nothing quite so charming as flatulence in a confined space. I don't think I have ever been on a skydive where someone didn't rip one on the ride to altitude. Small tiny aluminum tube full of hot sweaty people and you're gonna pass gas? Really? Wait for the door to open!
ReplyDeleteSorry you had a crappy week. I feel guilty since you spent some of it with me. Cheer up, sistah! You are the proud new owner of free cucumbers!