Push Pins

I love big butts and I cannot lie…

Just kidding. In fact, I abhor big ghetto butts like J.Lo and Kim Kardashian, only because I don’t understand them. Other than for men to look at and ogle and people to trash talk – what’s it good for? Hell, maybe you can trademark it and make some bank. If so, good for you, girl.

This morning, I actually received a comment – YOU LOOK SO TIRED. ARE YOU OK?

Well, let me see… Besides the panic I have over gasoline and food shortages, I’ve actually been out BIKING! MOUNTAIN biking, that is. I’m not one for road biking, as you may have guessed, seeing as I hate anything road-city-related. And it was awesome. I was so not ready to ride, but I did it regardless and had an awesome outing with my two BFs – well, three if you include Murph. “Come and knock on my doooorrr… we’re been waiting for yoooouuu.” Anyways, inside jokes aside, the only prob is that I’m still sore, 2 days later, in the crotch area, due to my boney ass and the fact that I have not become accustomed to the hard little seat cushion on my Giant yet this season. But we’ll get there. Me and my butt. Why don’t they make bikes with a little more cushion for the pushin?

Also, even though I was sore from that, I decided to go out canoeing! What better way to work the upper body, right? At approx 6:30pm at night. With all the mosquitoes within a 20 miles radius and M’s famous temper at all things not important: i.e., I spent the entire time, sitting by myself in a tied up canoe, whilst hearing M complain about the fishing line getting caught on every damn tree in sight, the Power Bait not staying on, and the dog barking profusely across the river. Joyous, really, that’s the adjective that comes to mind when I think about that experience. P.S. – Are martinis on for tonite? Carrie and crew (ie, myself, dressed up in my new clothes since I have nowhere else to wear them – I’m in a jeans/work rut) are in, if others are interested in drowning their fears, anxieties, and canoe sorrows in the bottom of a sizzler or two. Holla.