I'm, like, a comedian.

See?  Look how cute I look!
But guess what?  CAN'T hit
a golf ball. . . . 

A new gym is opening near our house, so I went to the pre-registration office yesterday to see what kind of deal I could get on a membership.  My sister-in-law, BooBoo, called as I was driving, (but worry not, Oprah; it was hands-free,) so I had to endure her don’t-do-it taunts and the jabs about me not being able to find a workout cardigan, which was followed by a conversation about how she should take up tennis because she looks really cute in those little tennis skirts, and I should take up golf because I can totally rock a little golf skort and a cardigan.  Because I own 18 cardigans.  Yes, I counted.  Don’t judge me. 

As you know, I don’t like to sweat, so even getting to the sales office was an accomplishment.  (It was 60 degrees yesterday and I was wearing the sexiest of  mommy uniforms - a sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, so I was SWEATING already.  That constitutes a workout, yes?)  I walked in and was greeted by Sean, your run-of-the mill beefcake sales representative.  I noticed a red leather tote next to his desk, so naturally I asked him, “is that your bag?  I like it!  It’s SASSY!”  Turns out he shares a desk with a female employee.  Or so he says. 

I sat down and rifled through my own bag for something with which to entertain Medium.  What I found:

• Diapers/wipes/butt cream
• three pacifiers
• coupons for Starbucks/Kohls/Wegmans/Lands’ End/Children’s Place/the Jesus Bookstore
• my wallet
• the Hooter Hider
• a quarter
• crayons (seven of which are yellow) 
• sunglasses
• a BOB book
• Mommy’s Medicine Pack (Epi-Pen, inhaler, Benadryl, Burts Bees, Dramamine, Neosporin, Band-Aids, two barrettes, and a ponytail holder)
• two watches
• three plastic blocks
• a teether
• a wool hat
• gas medicine (for the BABY, not me) 
• wet naps
• two smooshed chocolate chip cookies
• a mini-version of the Guinness Book of World Records 
• 16 silly bands (the magnum opus of the devil, I swear.)
• last week’s list
• last month’s Costco coupons
• a lipstick case with no lipstick (in fact, it's NEVER held lipstick.  I just carry it around.)
• and a plastic dinosaur 

[Private message: Pipe down, O’Neal, I know what you’re thinking.]

Medium settled on my iphone.  I had to steer him away from the Chris Farley app.  The boys like to listen to Chris Farley say, a la Tommy Boy, “Brothers don’t shake hands!  Brothers gotta hug!”  

While hilarious, it’s not entirely appropriate for Jack to be repeatedly pressing the link that says, “No offense, but if I sent a picture of your mom to some of my buddies at school, she’d definitely be Boner of the Month.”  So instead I let him play Angry Birds so he can catapult our feathered friends at body-less pigs.  And here.  Hold this plastic dinosaur.

Sean-the-Beefcake says, “so tell me what your experience is.  What do you like to do?  What do you not like to do?”

“Well,” I reply, “I don't like to work out.  I like to eat.”  Hehe.

“You’re funny!  Are you, like, a comedian?”  Oh, Sean.  You flatter me.

“No, but I DO have my own blog!”  Wink, click-click, and shooting pistol finger.

Aaaaaannnnnd . . . . scene!

Thank you.  Thank you very much!  I'll be here all week!  Don't forget to tip your waitresses.