Dutchess Jackassery and The Ball of Carnage

Sometimes I do things without really thinking about it.
Shut-UP fuckers!

Later, when The Duke asks, and it’s always The Duke who asks (very sternly I might add, like he’s my fucking dad or something) “What the hell did you think was going to happen?” All I can do is shrug and say “I don’t fucking know!”.

There was the time I tried to fling old coffee out of my cup while speeding down the freeway at 70 MPH. Yep, it all just sprayed right back in my goddamn face and all over the side of the SUV.

Or the time I grabbed a piping hot mozzarella stick and because it was burning my motherfucking fingers, I shoved the whole thing into my mouth. You know, to save my damn fingers.

Are you asshats wondering why I didn’t just drop the mozzarella stick? I’m telling you the same thing I told The Duke. I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHY!

That brings us to today. While I will NEVER be a skinny bitch drooling in the ice cream isle, the New Year deal I made with myself was to be a healthy fat chick. (again...shut-UP!) To help me with this task, I hired a trainer 2 days a week.

I love, love, loved, my trainer. He was a hot piece of eye candy (shhhhyea!) but he only put up with my fat ass lasted 3 months. He packed his shit and family, and hightailed it to the other side of the motherfucking country. (Whatever!)

Since then, I've been in trainer limbo. After spending time in Las-everyone is beautiful and could hide behind a goddamn fence post skinny- Vegas last week, I decided I needed to jump back on the exercise wagon.

In a moment of drunken stupidity sheer brilliance, I decided to try my hand at Yogalates. curse those goddamn infomercials at 3AM, It looked easy enough, and who doesn't want to be able to be all bendy and shit too? I mean, come on! Just the word alone is fun to say.. YOGALAAATES... see? That is a motherfucking fun ass word to say.

So today, I went and bought the key piece of equipment for the YOGALAAATES Experiment. An exercise ball.

I decided to start tomorrow, because, obviously, so I set it down in the corner and went about my day of doing laundry and shit.

Then it fucking happened.

I don’t know why in the hell I thought it would be a good idea to plop my big fat middle aged ass down on this new exercise ball.

I walked by and saw it sitting there and it looked kind of fun. I sat down and bounced a couple times. Holy fuck! It WAS fun!

So I bounced a couple more times with wild abandon and somehow, the goddamn ball shot out from under my ass.

That fucker went flying into the kitchen, bounced up onto the damn table where it took out my salt and pepper shakers and a glass of damn orange juice left behind this morning.

Juice, salt and glass went everyfuckingwhere!

What the hell?

What did I think was going to happen? I don’t fucking know!

When I sat on that fucking ball, the idea that it would fly through the air and destroy everything in it’s goddamn path never really entered my mind.

That is NOT a fucking exercise ball, it's a goddamn wrecking ball.

Needless to say, I shit canned the exercising on my own idea, returned the fucking ball and decided my money would be better spent in the goddamn drive thru lane.

One super size fry and a chocolate shake please.