Monday, April 19, 2010

I swear this is not a weight-watchers blog. A back fat blog maybe, but not a weight-watchers blog.

I was going to do a whole post on back fat, otherwise known as breadback, but I think we write an awful lot about body issues for this not being a Weight-Watchers blog. So, that being the case, instead I will just give you a summary of my weekend:

Friday: Our oldest and dearest couple friends invite N and me, as well as two other couples, to the lake for the weekend. I am thinking "what a perfect setting for an impending proposal". N is thinking "woohoo, finally some man time, and by the way I wonder if Gina would mind just meeting me there so I can go up early and bond with my buddies?" I am not sure he realizes that him buying a ring and me not immediately wearing it is cruel and unusual punishment. So in preparation for the weekend, I perform all kinds of soon-to-be wifely duties, such as washing both of our clothes, making sure to pack his swimming trunks since he will without a doubt forget, and going swimsuit shopping for myself to make sure he remembers how hot I am and what a catch I will be. Well, we all know how all swimsuit shopping ends (me being in denial and trying on several suits that are too small and then eventually trying on and buying one the right size and then going home to eat a whole box of Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches because only food will make me feel better but it also makes me fat so at least this food has the word “skinny” in the title) so we won’t elaborate on that shopping experience. We drive up to the lake where it is raining monsooning and end up drinking in the condo with the other couples until all the ladies retreat to their rooms and its just the guys. Since we decided to go at the last minute, we end up having to sleep on the pullout couch, which means I can go to bed as long as I don’t mind listening to four drunk guys talking about steaks or boobs or whatever men talk about. It is around this time that I decide this would not be the perfect setting for a proposal and abandon the idea at once.
Saturday: Still raining. N and I decide to cut our losses and head back home. We end up sleeping all day to recover from the night before and make plans to go out and have a nice dinner but somehow ended up at a comedy club. Same diff. N finds out I have been telling people he bought a ring and that I have been showing everyone from my recruiter to Lucy’s vet the picture of a picture of the ring I took with my phone. He says I am ridiculous, which we all know means I am amazing.
Sunday: N has to work so we part ways (he lives an hour away from me, hence the recruiter). I try to convince him to mow my lawn (this isn’t a euphemism, I am talking about my real actual grass and weeds yard) but he says it can wait. I am all about being an independent woman, but I HATE being outside. I mean, why would I go outside where there is AC and DVR’d episodes of Top Model and Modern Family inside? Plus, I have gone 28 years without having to mow a lawn and I am not about to start now. So even though I have a mini-rainforest going on right now and the HOA is p-i-s-s-e-d and Lucy has to dodge alligators and red-butt monkeys every time she has to pee, I am determined to wait it out. I ended up going to a jazz festival where apparently I was all the rage because people kept telling me I had beautiful eyes and giving me free beer. Oh yeah, and I had a pork chop sandwich. So all in all it was a good weekend.

Wishing you pork chop sandwiches and mini-rainforest eco-systems,



twononblondes said...

My husband claims to LOVE mowing yards. Something about the exercise. Nevermind that I have only seen him mow 1 yard in 6 years, but I will let you borrow him at a rate of $39.99 per day... I am expecting big things from the dualing shoe clubs this month.

Becky Mochaface said...

Mowing the yard is the one chore I can get DF to do without him getting huffy. Thankfully. As I can do it but I would prefer not to cut the grass thankyouverymuch.

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