things have been pretty crazy lately. and it’s not in a “good” or “bad” way. just in a “holy bananas, i’ve got a million things to do” way. i’ve been very productive and have avoided the procrastination pitfall that i normally find myself in. it’s just left me with very few funny stories or time to think of funny stories. in fact, i’ve been a bit of a zombie. minus the whole eating brains thing. and as a result, the poor lil blog has been neglected. so for my break, i am taking a “zack morris” time out to show the blog some love.
while my weekdays lately have been work work work then go home and crash, my weekends have been anything but mild. last weekend it was the copa with Lil M and TJ, this weekend it was a party at the craziest house i’ve ever been to with KK and Gordy.
Gordy has this friend, Red, who was throwing a house party. and his house is absolutely bananas. you walk in, and it looks normal enough. until you get to the living room. which has full wall murals of family guy and the simpsons. not to mention color lights that pulse to the music, fog machine, disco ball, black & white graphic floor. and in the middle, the piece de resistance…a stripper pole. then you move to his kitchen, which has a huge mural of him & 3 of his best friends. next up is the garage, with a huge wall mural of a police line-up wall and various sofas. finally is the bathroom, which has graffiti all over the place. all in all, his house is set up to party. all the time. all day long.
so, what’s up with encountering so many stripper poles? first it was sutures, then Red’s house, and next weekend it’ll be at sutures again (for lil Ms bday bash). at first glance, i was like “wow, that’s crazy, i would never dance on that”. after a few glasses of ye ole bota boxed wine i thought “hmmm, that looks interesting”. after 1/2 the boxed wine i thought “i can freakin do that!!” so i did.
now, don’t think i was all sexy-like. oh no, my friends. it was more like i would run as fast as i could and spin around in circles…which resulted in either 1) me falling on my ass or 2) running *splat* right into it. it is definitely harder than it looks, and now my arms are killing me and i have several random bruises from plummeting to the ground. i don’t think i’ll be repeating this next weekend at sutures.
we all had a blast, met 4 new peeps that are freakin fantastic, and took tons of pics (most of them hug-related). i felt a little bad, because KK, Gordy, the 4 new peeps and I dominated the party, even outshining the chick whose party it was and her attendees. ah hell, who am i kidding…i didn’t feel bad at all. stone-cold party crashing beotch, that’s me. all in all, victory.
now let me perform a flash-back to before the house party. i went to the mall in search of some new jeans and perhaps a new shirt. i had my 1st bonus check in the bank and thought i deserved something shiny and new. i found a pair that fit nicely (which is a freakin miracle because NOBODY makes jeans for people like me: skinny legs, no ass, and a fatbank), but alas they had the stupid “whiskering” effect. like so…
here’s the deal. this does not look good on anyone. who wants radiating lines from your crotch? especially on the thighs? i don’t want my thighs to look any bigger than they are. does anyone want that? if so, i will kick you in the shins.
so that brings me up to today. and my operation “bring sexy back” (no, the dancing on friday was not sexy…at all).
earlier this month, i thought i hated all of my clothes. friday evening, i realized that i really just hated me in all my clothes. over the past year (let’s be honest, 2) i have become more “fluffy” than i would like. and it’s about darn time that i did something about it. besides bitching about it, lord knows i’ve done plenty of that. i wish i could afford to go to my personal trainer friend, but she is way to expensive for my meager pocketbook. instead, i have enlisted the help of my cousin (not Lil M, my other cousin). i shall now refer to him as the Drill Sgt. here is why he’ll be a good work out friend:
1) he goes to the gym like every day
2) i can’t con him into going out for a beer instead of working out
3) he has zero tolerance for me whining that i don’t want to go and will mock me if i even try
so i am going to be a more svelte version of me from now on (last night’s dinner of peppered steak, mashed potatoes, and artichoke dipped in garlic butter was my last caloric hurrah). i don’t want to be a size 0…let’s face it, mama likes to eat and that will never happen. my goal is to take the fat bank from the foreign exchange market down to the bank of america. that’s when i look my best.
watch out world, i’m bringing sexy back (yeh).