I have officially speed walked/jogged/run/whatever at least 3 miles a day on the treadmill for three days in a row now, & I Am Kicking Ass With Christmas Boots!!! What a great feeling!!
I’m young, not at all overweight & I don’t *look* like I’m in bad shape – a fact which inspires within me a sense of real gratefulness, as well as a karmic expectation that I’m suspiciously overdue for an episode in which I just stroke the f#ck over next week. “Hmmm, she’s jiggly… *tooooo0* jiggly.” Cue Inception sound effect.
I loathe exercise, but this is a new year & I’m planning to get my shit together a little bit better. My ability to procrastinate could hold up Charon himself for days…
“Cool it, Char- I just need to find my lipstick. …K. I’m also not getting on any boats without snack packs. Where can I find some Nabs in this joint?? Oh, & I’ll be needing to run & go grab a couple magazines…”
so I’m really proud of myself for making some kick ass moves & getting off to a great start! I think most of us usually tend to give ourselves more criticism than praise & most of us could really benefit from a few more pats on the back from ourselves. It’s healthy, and the better & more balanced we feel within ourselves, the better we are for those around us. So, on that note, I just wanted to take a minute to trumpet- and hopefully spread- some positivity & self love.
New year, new start, no reason not to spend it kickin’ ass!
The wind and weather on my skin when it’s continuously below 10 degrees outside.
And actually it’s not my ass at all, I just adore the flowery sense of feminine fragility evoked by that expression. But seriously, my hands look like a couple “wing slices” of dry-ass, roasted, Thanksgiving turkey made by Aunt Bethany- a once smart, attractive, young woman who is now senile as shit & riding the razor edge of blind & deaf- who forgot she had that 6 pound beast in the oven overnight, cooked the holy shit out of it, & brought it to Thanksgiving anyway because she doesn’t know any better anymore.
And do treat yourself to the knowledge that they’re rougher to the touch than they are on the eyes. Sending “shit-outs” to winter …& Aunt Bethany.
Can you make me work in this hotel all by myself on Thanksgiving Day? Yes.
Can you stop me from rooting around where the continental breakfast items are kept, locating the industrial size bag of Lucky Charms, fixing myself a whopping bowl comprised solely of all the marshmallows which I’ve now carefully plucked out by hand, leaving only a dry, flavorless wasteland of an excuse for cereal in the bag? No. No, you cannot.
It occurred to me this afternoon that the members of Westboro Baptist Church are like a bunch of toddlers in their Freudian anal fixation stage. Except they never grow out of it.
They are obsessed with these nutso concepts to the point that not only does this obsession dictate their narrow existences, but their blind servitude often causes the mongering of these concepts to [fairly] come off as completely nonsensical. (They are surely breeding themselves stupider.)
I’ve noticed their constant jam is to construct their pitiful, limp, micro-dick, little signs out of an arbitrary string of hot words that ultimately come out to sad/ “wtf”, at best.
Take these gems for example. Don’t be shy to freakin’ FEAST your eyes on these little slices of egregion; I assure you they are real.
And then some of their handiwork is just plan confusing…
I came across a badly injured rabbit in the road today and it looked like it still had some fight left, so I hopped (pun deliciously and obnoxiously intended) out of my car, scooped it up, wrapped it up in a fuzzy, purple robe, and took it home.
There will be no inquiries regarding why I was rolling around with a spare robe in my car; I like comfort, sue me.
Old girl was riding shotgun so I could keep tabs on the situation, and also because she called it before I could open the door. I love animals, but I am so horrifically aware of the movements of tiny, erratic ones (like BATS, God Forbid!) and I was mildly petrified that she was going to hyper-animate and attack me at any given moment. I sucked it up and drove home as fast as humanly possible.
As of now, she resides in my kitchen with ample water and a Golden Corral’s worth of veggies, waiting for fate to make its decision. …I hope she makes it; either way, she’s too precious not to share.