I forgot my chocolate in the car. Is it wrong to get my daughter to drive it over to me?
Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I plan on taking more of them because I’m getting too lazy to write shit down
After forty-eight years of struggle and fear, I finally accomplished a real push-up. Not the wussy modified knee-pushup…the real ‘military’ style one. AND, not just one. I can do up to FIVE! IN A ROW. I was ecstatic about it until I started bragging to everybody I knew and they all gave me that look. You know the one…the ‘oh-that’s-cute-and-sad-at-the-same-time-cause-she-thinks-she’s-conquered-an-acutal-life-skill’ look and go ‘yeah. EVERYBODY can do those’. Fuck. I thought I was being awesome. Turns out I was just being average. So, now I’m asking everybody I see if they can do an actual pushup and not the wussy modified knee-pushup but an actual pushup, and they go ‘yeah’ and then I go ‘show me’ which they do, which makes me feel only slightly adequate and not at all as awesome as I did when I finally completed my FIVE IN A ROW. Ugh. I’ll have to up my game and brag about my expert crafting skills at building a tower out of Popsicle sticks and white glue. That’ll show’em…
I must have driven to work like I was in the Indy 500 this morning, because by the time I arrived in the parking lot, my lunch had spilled all over the back seat of the car…I think half of it landed somewhere on the floor under a seat, but I was too lazy to look for it. It’s buried under there somewhere. Maybe D2 will find it…eventually. Then it will be like “Gawd. Something died in here. What’s that smell?” I’ll blame the dog…It’s good to have a plan.
I just tried to call D2 to bring me my chocolate. She’s not answering. She probably found it in the secret hiding space in the car where everybody looks first, and is not answering my calls because she knows that I’m going to ask her to deliver it. Dammit. I hate it when my kids know me too well. I’ll have to text her with the word ‘emergency’ and then she’ll call me and be all like ‘chocolate isn’t an emergency’, but I beg to differ. CHOCOLATE IS ALWAYS AN EMERGENCY. THAT’S LIKE SAYING BAMBI’S MOTHER’S DEATH WASN’T A TRAGEDY!! Have you no heart? Ugh.
We are planning the next all-ladies all-inclusive boozer vacay that hubby has decided he needs to be apprised of just in case he wants to go off somewhere warm alone and without his awesome lovely wife…whilst we ladies are contemplating sand, sun and visions of drinks and shirtless waiters, I may have to give a false not-so-sunny-and-hot location just to make him feel better. Like, instead of Jamaica or Cancun, guess what dear? We have decided to go to Bell Island or Greenland instead. Or, we’re foregoing any awesome vacay altogether, just so we can spend all of our saved cash on you guys…
Hahaha…I know, right? Good, one Kayjai.