Monday, July 13, 2015

The Summer Cycle

Every year, it's the same old routine.  Summer comes, pool is opened up, the deck furniture is put out, and pretty planters brimming with gorgeous flowers are put on the hanging plant hooks that surround the deck.  Poor things, will die long before summer is over, but that's a story for a different post. 
After all the prep work is finished, there is the reward of sweet summer days and warm, sultry evenings spent hanging out on the deck and in the pool.  It's riiight about then that I remember, HOLY FUCK I'M GOING TO HAVE TO WEAR A BATHING SUIT!
Cue the anxiety, the panic, the cursing and sobbing.  Then comes the self lecture about skipping breakfast and lunch for most of my teenage and young adult life.  Sounds like a good idea, but that shit catches up with you, and not in the way your think, trust me.

Next comes the reminder that a Corona drinking, Xanax popping, stay at home Mom that sits on the couch with my laptop, remote control and a stash of peeps close by has my ass spreading faster than the goddamn swine flu. I have to do something.

Okay, I got this!  I will join all the other crazy assholes who jog. Then I remembered that when I tried this last year, I made it through a quarter of a mile before my goddamn tits jumped off my chest and went home. I found them in the kitchen, eating frosting from the container and drinking my fucking boxed wine.

Scratch that, maybe Tae Bo!  I love that, and I know I have some dvds around here!  I just have to remember where I put them. wait!  I remember what happened!  Two years ago I made it 3 damn days before I cursed Billy fucking Blanks and his shiny, bald head to hell and back. I limped outside and set that fucking DVD on fire. I sat drinking a cold Corona and watching it delicately melt the edges off. I may have been maniacally giggling my ass off too.

Well, I probably won't do anything about the size my ass if I'm not held accountable, so I opened a phonebook.

"ACME Fitness Club, how can I help you?"

"I have an ass spread the size on fucking Montana. Help me."

She explained the process to me as I sat there dumbfounded. Basically, for the low, low price of HOLY SHIT YOU PEOPLE ARE FUCKING CRAZY??? I could pick a body out of a book and they would get me there. The fourth time I asked her to repeat the membership fee, I demanded it come with "a bodybuilder to ride around in my goddamn trunk and keep me pepped up. The Bitch hung up on me.

My next call was to a fitness boot camp. When the dickwad screamed at me with so much enthusiasm that I smelled his fucking breath over the phone, I quietly disconnected the call and then ripped the goddamn phone out of the wall for good measure.

I have decided to say, fuck it and just buy a mu mu.  I'm old and fucking tired. Give me my goddamn peeps, a cold Corona and a container of  Ben & Jerry's, then go fuck yourselves.
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  1. WTF, your fucking shit ass blog ate my damn comment.. and it was good too.. don't be taking your blog in for a swim suit fitting.. fucker eats everything in sight.

    I said,, well I snort laughed over your tits going home without you. I started laughing before I got that far.. cause you and your boobies jogging.. well.. that's just a damn death wish right there..

    I say we grab the box wine, a couple lounge chairs, and watch the sun ripple off the pool.. swimming is over rated anyway..

  2. LOL. I HATE bathing suit season for that same reason. Then I try to avoid any purpose, time, event, or incident which would require a bathing suit. If it is sorta bathing suit attire, I wear sloppy shorts and t and say "OOPS". I think Queenie is o wine. Lawn chairs are close enough to wearing a bathing suit, right?