I suppose you wanted to save me the embarrassment of pointing out that I had confused “CONSCIOUS” with “CONSCIENCE” in that previous entry, and so let the entry fester for four days. FOUR DAYS. And today I had the error pointed out by my cousin, who has a BACHELOR OF SCIENCES DEGREE.
And yes, I just blamed my incompetence on my readers.
And yes, this just adds insult to injury after the fitness assessment. At the launch of my writing “career”.
It’s ok, I forgive you.
Anyway, I’ve been taking Chef to the gym with me, and he’s been kicking my ass really hard. I’m pretty sure this qualifies as domestic violence, because holy shit I have a hernia and my ass is so sore it hurts to sit down.
I went to bed at 12 a.m. on Friday night, slept soundly for a million hours, and woke up feeling good for the first time since MEXICO. No kidding. And as Chef and I walked back from the gym, muscles taut and aching, we mused about the mysteries of alcohol.
Me: I wish I could feel this fit and wonderful every day.
Chef: Instead of waking up with a headache, vomiting and hating life?
Me: And questioning my morality, goals in life, self respect, etc.
Chef: Yeah.
Me: Let’s go get hammered.
Just another typical night at Lottie’s, home of the White Russian. Why does that place always smell like poo?
This is actually just how he looks all the time
Who let these annoying kids do a photoshoot in the middle of a pub?
Just think of the booze as a reward for working out! That’s what I do.
Ps. The dinner dame stopped returning my messages after two days of pleasant chatting so I dropped it, seemed like a waste of time. Didn’t know if playing the rockstar card would make me look like an ego maniac.
I heart you.
I got drunk and swore like a sailor in front of a lot of little girls singing and dancing at the Carrie Underwood concert. Then I busted out some of my Carmen Electra striptease aerobics moves for all the dads in the crowd.
And no, I’m not a Carrie Underwood fan, but I do like picnics and venues that let you bring in your own food and wine. My head is throbbing today though – I walked into the office and declared that I am officially old. My body doesn’t take the wine beating as well as it used to.
Um summer 2005, best shape of my life. My day: wake up around noon, work out until I thought I’d die, lay by the pool, eat dinner, go out dancing until I was sweating rum from every pore. Rinse, repeat.
Yesss.
And hecks yeah we’re going to the beach! It’s an oven down here. Today it’ll get up to 95, crazy! I need to soak it up before I never see a tank top again (as in, October going back east…sigh…)
I’m also giving away a free session on my blogeroo, here’s the link: http://dancingthetightrope.blogspot.com/2009/09/luminous-life-freebie.html
CONSCIOUS vs CONSCIENCE.
I thought you were doing a play on the words and when I do that and nobody gets it then I think people just aren’t trying.
I’m heading to a place called the Fox & Hound tonight, which either means that I’m going to some British pub to play croquet or I’m going to a strip club. Oddly enough, either way is fine with me.
But I bet you I will be completely unintelligible in the morning. My problem isn’t the whole getting older thing it’s the fact that I no longer have the option of skipping things (ie class) when I want more sleep. Work gets in the way of life. Stupid work.
Conscious. Conscience. Who cares, I had the nagging suspicion that you were not fully sober (no matter what you say) so I let it pass.
LMAO!
So… muscles taunt..? Or muscles taut? ;D
HAAAAHAHAAHAHAHA. Amazing.
That was just to test YOUR skill.
Yes. Good job.
Oh absolutely, I like to think I maintain a good balance of “fitness” and “drunk.”
And what a stupid skank.
Damn, totally worth seeing Carrie Underwood for that! You’re a trooper, concert plus work the next morning… I’m definitely too old for that crap.
SO JEALOUS I can’t even think straight. YOU HAVE SUNSHINE UNTIL OCTOBER? It is SNOWING in some parts of my province.
Checking out the dealio, woo!
Oh yeah! That’s what I was doing…I … forgot.
Ugh I know, I miss the days when I could go out three or four nights a week, crawl into bed at 4 a.m., and wake up in time for a 9 a.m. class. We are old and LAME. And drunken croquet sounds AMAZING.