|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)
- 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.