I Want My Cake and My Ice Cream Too

Forgive me for the random bitching, but why should today be different from any other? Also? I promised to be either charming or quiet today in real life, so I have to use my blog as an outlet or I will very likely explode because blognuts are not meant to contain their complaints.

Grab a chair and hang onto your hooters! Complaints? I haz a big one.

I’ve been taking a lot of long walks because I’m doing the Susan G. Komen 3-Day event in August. Just for shits and giggles, I decided to hop onto the Weight Watcher’s website and see how many activity points I would get for these long walks if I were the point-counting sort of person… which I’m not… because DAMN, those things depress me.

Here I was thinking that I was working my fuzzy, blue behind off on these long walks only to find out that I burn off, like, nothing. You’d think that a six or eight-mile walk would at least earn you enough points to negate a nice piece of cake, wouldn’t you? Or a Pop-Tart? Or even a handful of Peanut Butter M&Ms?

You know what I get to eat after an eight-mile walk if I’m not already vomiting from dehydration? An apple. Who in the hell wants to eat an apple?

So… who do I see to get that whole points calculating thing tweaked a bit? ‘Cause if you ask me, we need to adjust the math so more people are encouraged to participate in all this healthy exercise crap with the promise of a reward worth having at the end of the day.

Why? Because I want a mint-chocolate chip hot fudge sundae with whipped cream and a cherry on top. (The cherry is just for pretty. I don’t eat those things because they taste like cough syrup.)

And if I can’t have my way, I have another plan. I am going to eat as much as I can humanly hold, gain 100 lbs, and then go have my stomach stapled or something.

Choices

I found myself on a very long walk with The Boy last night. Trust me, it wasn’t so much the distance that made the walk very long, as it was only about a three-mile jaunt; it was The Boy and his incessant chatter about choices. Here is an excerpt from our conversation:

Mama, what if you had to choose between being dripped on by a hot glue gun, or running through 69 feet of fire?

The hot glue gun.

What if it was a whole bucket of hot glue?

Still choosing the hot glue.

What if you ran really fast and you weren’t wearing flammable pants?

Where can I get those pants?

What if you had to poop outside and you had to pick between wiping your butt with a fuzzy leaf that made you itch or a thorny leaf. What would you choose?

Am I out of toilet paper? Why am I making this choice?

You’re outside and you have to go right now.

I’d probably scoot along on the grass because I’m not using either of those leaves.

You have to choose one.

Am I still wearing those magic pants that are not flammable? ‘Cause if they’re like astronaut pants, this question might not matter.

You have to use a leaf.

I’ll just hold it until we get home.

You can’t - you have to choose.

What would you pick?

I would pick the thorny leaf because I really don’t like having an itchy butt.

And there we have it, son. No one does.

Where The Hell Am I?

I recently found myself in a Facebook conversation about a place called Jertih, Terrennganu. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but I won’t bore you to death with the details because I don’t remember any. Just suffice it to say that World Geography was never my best class.

Don’t get me wrong, blognuts are teachable beings, but we didn’t get geography. I think I missed that day in school. It was just one day, right? I didn’t even find out the earth is round until a few months ago when I finally learned I was being robbed of a day off from work for Columbus Day, (which I’m still outraged about), and I had to ask who he was and what I was supposed to do to honor his day, and someone explained the whole thing to me and I kinda remember something about him setting sail in 1492 with three boats that didn’t fall off the earth because it turned out to be round. Frankly, I still have my doubts about that whole round theory, but I’m choosing to believe it because it relieves me of having to worry about tripping off the edge of the planet and falling into outer space.

Outer space is kinda scary to me. Did we learn about that in science? I think I was sick that day too, but I did see something on TV with a fat guy that always wanted to be beamed by some unseen man named Scotty. I dunno. I think they were a couple.

Before you go getting all worried, just know that I can read and write and I’m pretty math-y, too. I’ve always been all about the numbers in a Rainman sort of way. I mean, I can’t count toothpicks flying through the air or keep track of cards in Vegas, but I can solve a math problem eventually, and I may or may not memorize your social security number if you tell it to me. I don’t do that on purpose, it just happens to me. In fact, I wish it didn’t happen to me because I have to forget something important-y in order to make room for your social security number which I have no use for unless some nefarious sort offers to buy it from me.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on so long that I no longer recall my point so I’ll just go now, but I won’t know where I’m going until I get there because… hello, that’s geography.