sit and spin

Momma went and did that bike thing I always see white women hoisted up on- the upright bike. The call it spinning if you're in a class. I don't like group activities, I just rode it today for 6 miles- 20 minutes. I am pretty sure I have fractured my vajayjay. Something is not right down there. I think maybe I was violated by the bike seat. Maybe it is just a bruise? I don't want to go to the Dr and telling him I think I have blown out my badussy area. This is just too delicate to examine.

It could be that I am just that out of shape. Yes, I know, I know, I need padded bike shorts. Well the good Lord gave me lots of padding down there. I just think it fell out and around the area some how leaving me exposed to a delicate situation. I probably cannot have children due to this unfortunate turn of events in gymnation. I fear had I gone for a full hour class (which was momma's goal) that it would have required two large men YMCA employees, a fireman, medic and a licensed badussy technician to remove the bike from my personal space area. This is no good.

I am off to cool in a tub of water and pray for daylight.

god bless your weekends, honey, you deserve it after reading this horror

food for thought

hello chuldren.

I know you've been neglected and mother is sorry about that. I have to focus myself- I need to take my life in for a realignment. If only it were that easy to get back on track with life like they straighten the tires on my Buick.

Mother is loving the 60 degree weather, and the first glimpse of spring. I drove home tonight with the top down and the wind in my weave (One hand holding it in place the whole ride home). I think it's the warm air and the way it makes the night more friendly. Don't you notice the world in a more friendly light when it is warm out? When it's cold it seems more quiet and when it is warm it just seems like life is more alive? Is this my Chardonnay talkin?

I feel inspired. I feel the need for some change. Now, don't go and worry yourself sick. I'm not going to do anything crazy. I won't go and get bangs, or highlights or anything hair related that I have to wait to grow out. I do have a hankering to travel, or to move for that matter. I think it needs to be a big change. What should I do?

I tell you what I am not doing... dieting. I do so good for a day or two and then I go to the grocery store hungry and it all falls in my cart. This time I got some sweets and potato chips- after I told myself I would diet. So, here is the confession: it was meant with best intentions. I bought a half a pie. Have you seen those in the deli? They cut the pie in half. So, I wanted some damn pie, and it was Oscar night. I needed to celebrate my inner PRECIOUS and I ate the damn pie. Not the whole thing - but 2 slices in a 24 hour period. that is 2/3 of a half - and I don't want to do anymore math than that because it will make me sick. So, what happened to the last 1/3 you ask? I poured Dawn's dishwashing soap on it and tossed it in the kitchen trash. I was afraid if I did not ruin it with soap I might be tempted to dig through the trash like a homeless person. It's shameful, truly shameful. Imagine if someone walked by my window and saw me digging through the trash looking like Nick Nolte with a piece of fudge pie? Well, they'd have some explaining to do if they were walking through my back yard and looking in my window. Of course, if the pie face didn't scare them my bedroom attire might.

Then I moved onto Kettle Chips. In a 48 hour period I ate almost the whole bag. I didn't douse this one in soap, however because it was meant as part of my lunch this week. Only, it became lunch, brunch, dinner and everytime the phone rang in between. It's just one bag- don't over exaggerate an already sad situation. I know you're picturing me looking just like Kirstie Alley, and I have to tell you off topic: I am a big fan of her's. Anyone with that much nerve deserves some respect - or medication?

So, children, don't judge your mama. It's a hard fact to accept when you realize your idols, your parents are not perfect. I have my crutch, salt and chocolate. But, I am a respectable old broad: I've been going to bed with the same man every night for more than 20 years: Johnny Walker-Black.

So, if you're still following this rant, leave mother a message - some food for thought? What should I change? What have you changed? Can I borrow some change?

And remember honeys: there is a reason the word DIET starts with DIE and GODIVA starts with GOD.

this posting was brought to you by the (:) tonight we are a big fan of a colon and the good people at Kendall Jackson.

The butt of the joke

So, I am trying to lose this damn winter weight. And, yes, these damn girlscout cookies don't help a bit. I'm an emotional eater- that means food makes me happy. What can I say? We all have our crutch? Look, I'm not looking for sympathy but Susan Boyle gets more action than me- ok. I need the damn cookies.

To counteract the Somoas, I am trying to run again. This shit is for the birds. Literally... I caught my own reflection in the window and it looked like a baby bird trying to run from the nest. I know I am struggling but my arms were all over the place. I need them for balance because I am bottom-heavy. They call it pear shaped. It looks like I have two bowling balls shoved down my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, ok. I am aware of my greater assets. Sadly, they need to shape up.

Again, my own reflection betrayed me when I exited the shower feeling so fresh and clean to start the day I saw two slabs of unrolled biscuit dough staring back at me. Again, no sympathy please. However, I think I can parlay my fate into fortune. I am going to invent the ass-bra. Think about it? It would improve your form in your pants and help give you support to skip down the treadmill golden brick road.

So let it be said, I have pattened'id the Butt-Bra. Or the Bra-ass-eere? That part might be in development. I can see it now, me on the late night tv with Suzanne Somers. If that bitch made millions on here thigh master my butt bra has got to buy me a beach house in Cabo and a new Corolla. It's a sports bra for your butt- and my calling in life. You will applaud when your thighs stop slapping together... I gots to go and see if I can register the # for 1-800-ass-lift.

Girl Scout Nazi

You are not going to believe this shit, darlin.

So I answer the door today and this little, tiny, cute thing is staring up at me. She had dark hair and pig tails and glasses. "What kind of girl scout cookies would you like?" Being one to appreciate a good pitch like that, I laughed and said, " Oh sweetheart, I am sorry I bought some already from my neighbor." She didn't like this answer and she belted back, "But I am your neighbor" and readily spilled out her address. Immediately her arms crossed and I got nervous like I was about to be mugged and taken down by a 10-year old. In my defense, she had a lot of badges I had no idea what she was capable of.

"Well, I am sorry. But I have four boxes and I don't need anymore do I?" I pointed to my belly thinking humor might soften the blow, but I did not judge my audience at all. "Who did you buy them from?" Well now the little bitch was putting me on the spot. Did she not believe me? Was she testing me? Who is she to stand on my porch... these thoughts are going through my mind just as quickly as these thoughts- Is this shirt clean? Do I have on shoes? Did I zip up my fly?

"I don't know her name. She lives on the corner. She has a sister. They're blonde..." The girl scout Nazi was giving me a blank stare and no relief. "Her mommy is pretty and she drives a white Mercedes." Then she shoves the order form at me and continues the questioning, " When did she bring them to you?" I was getting nervous. I think I had armpit sweat off this little heifer. "Uhm, well, let me see. I think it was, I think had to be Tuesday? No, maybe Monday. Does it matter?"

"This was supposed to be my house. She isn't even in my troop." I am imagining some girl scout teamster meeting- 'Ok, Sally you get the west quadrant of Green Hills up to Belle Meade. Suzy, you're on the east side of Hillsboro. Jennifer, damn it stay out of the southwest end- don't you cross Estes Road, you got that?"

My day dream was interrupted. "Well, I'm going to talk to her." She grimaced and walked away but as soon as she hit the yard she began to skip. This little girl is going to grow up to run the world I thought- or at least have a successful empire of arts and crafts television shows, books and magazines. She won't stand for anything less.

truths about Valentine's day

I think there's a lot of truth to Valentine's day. I think there's a lot of commercialization in the and it is in fact, a Hallmark Holiday. So, childrun, I thought I'd share my thoughts with you on the eve of the big Heart-On holiday. Here's what I believe:

i dont know if i believe in love

i believe in cold sores, and coincidentally i believe in herpes as a by-product of passion

i believe you can pay too much for a steak dinner (steak doesn't make me feel particularly romantic or horny as much as it does full and bloated)

i believe that there's no way a dozen roses costs $100 (and roses make me sneeze)

i believe that the greeting card industry makes millions of dollars on couples but the spirits and wine industries make double in the single market

i believe chocolate is the way to my heart- but only if you are a chubby chaser will this work out in the long haul

I believe that we all want to be in love and probably need to be in love for chemical reasons in the brain (some people need this more than others)

I believe love changes as you get older

I really believe that I just need some one to believe in me and as much as I believe in them... I believe that is the definition of love

Sidecar: you might wonder how a little number like mamma got away? well, children, I ran like hell from love, and now nobody is chasing me.

Tell someone you love them. If you really do, good for you. If not, you both deserve a little nookie on valentine's day.

in repair

so sorry, childrun, that I've been away. I'm like that mother that leaves her kids locked up in the Walmart parking lot with the windows up in July... I was traveling for work. Pushing my goods to the streets. And, I fell ill. I am in repair now, so I will be with you shortly.

inspiration

Last night I went to a superbowl party. I ate my way through it. Then when I got home and took my clothes off I was marked (again). It was like the equator around my waist. It was the sign of demarkation- carbs vs liquor- hemispheres... there's a reason it's called fat and happy.

Tonight I ran on the treadmill... I got to 3 miles- only because I pretended there was a bucket of fried chicken on the other side of the room.