Tuesday, November 2, 2010

I'm a Dirty Lying Liar who Lies

Okay, that was really for my own benefit, because in my head I totally said that blog title in a very haughty upper-crust British accent. Of course you couldn't hear it, so it *might* sound a tad harsh. But it's really not. I'm still snickering, in my head (where I so often do).

Basically, yesterday I was all "tomorrow is going to be an AWESOME post and I'll have pictures and write good stuff and entertain you" and now I'm all "uh, sorry? I got distracted by Diet Dr. Pepper because they were OUT OF COKE ZERO (did you read that?! OUT OF COKE ZERO!!!) and then I had to VOTE and stuff, and I had to look up the candidates, even though I ended up doing what I ALWAYS do, which is vote sort of like I know what I'm doing, and occasionally pick a Libertarian, just because dammit, they should win SOMEthing, and so here I am with NO THRILLING POST and no pictures. Sorry? Can we try again tomorrow?"

Of course, the subtext of all that is that tomorrow is Workout Day and I'll painfully drag myself down the stairs and subject various as-yet-unchosen muscle groups to unpleasant weight-bearing exercises while I rant at the sky that I want satellite radio in my life and not just my car (even though it's not there yet either) because WHO FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY can work out to R.E.M.?! You know what, don't even answer that question.

Honestly, if I receive one comment that "I work out to that song about the Orange Crush and it really gets me going!" I'll have no choice but to drown my ire in something raspberry flavored, and really, I try to refrain from THAT sort of coping unless it's the weekend. Or I feel like having an excuse for whipped cream. Or I'm low on vitamin C, or just suspect I am. No matter what, I certainly can't be expected to work out while listening to my local aging alleged "rock" station's main staples, which seem to be an unfortunate blend of crap-I-hated-when-it-was-current (yes, dirty dirty Pearl Jam I mean YOU) or stuff-that-isn't-even-second-cousins-with-rock like, uh, Kings of Leon. Don't get me wrong. I like to sing along badly to that one song. Whatever. But can I do my bicep work out to it? No. No I cannot, sir.

Anywhichwhatever, I will be doing THAT tomorrow. And then once I'm done with Workout Day, then it's Grocery Day, which is right up there with IRS audits and/or seasonal budgeting in terms of what I'd rather do with my time. So the odds aren't really in our favor friends, although I certainly have people (read that as my mom, and possibly K. Jo) clamoring for pictures from this past weekend, so there is a slight chance I'll cave to peer pressure and get that done. If I do, then expect a delightful post about your Very Favorite-est Writer and her Very Merry Black Widow of a costume.

(Preview: People kept asking when I was going to kill him. I kept saying, "Not tonight, it's a little TOO suspicious.")

So hang in there and remember: R.E.M. is *not* workout music AND I'm still planning to share my Halloween joy with you. Before I get sucked into the Dread Month of Birthdays (mine, Princess's and Casanova's are all within 2.5 weeks' time) and the Happy Holiday Season of Lost Sanity.

Comments, questions, what are you too busy to finish?

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