...except that I have a muffin impediment. Oh yes: MUFFIN IMPEDIMENT. I'll let your mind wander for a few seconds about just what that might be.......
Nope, you're wrong. After Jenna got her staples out of her head on Tuesday morning (a worthy blog in itself), I took her to Panera to comfort her shredded heart with the healing powers of the "Panera Pumpkin Muffin" (herein to be known as "PPM"). And, I cannot lie, to administer caffeine to my tortured soul in the form of Panera Hazelnut coffee. So, we're just sitting there in our usual spot, Jen with her PPM and me with my PLFTBM (for those of you that have not yet mastered "Acronymology," that would be a "Panera Low-Fat-Triple-Berry Muffin) and PHC. All of a sudden, something very wrong occured. A piece of my PLFTBM somehow escaped from my mouth and went into my breathing tube. I breathed-in a PLFTBM morsel. I sat there hacking, tears rolling down my face, for about 3 solid minutes. People were starting to look. Jenna just watched because, really, it must be neat-o to see your mom choking on a muffin. Finally, I was able to breathe, but it's only because (and I'm sure of this) that the muffin moved into my lung. For the past few days, I've had raspy breath, and I'll-be-damned if it's not because of that crafty PLFTBM.
My driver's license is expired. WAY expired. Like, September of '06 expired. I haven't gotten it renewed for several reasons:
1) The house is on the market and I'm going to eventually move, so my address is going to change.
2) I recently got married, so why would i pay to update it before then?
3) I can't do it online, so i have to go to the DMV.
4) Have you SEEN the lines and jolly people that work at the DMV?
However, I finally have a real reason to update the damn thing: I can't buy alcoholic beverages. They won't sell to me if my id is expired. I don't understand HOW that makes a difference in the whole age-factor, but apparently, it does. I've found that one grocery store around here won't id me, so i've been shopping there more frequently.
I went to a cardio class yesterday. Yep, that pretty much cardio'd me out. The lady was all jumping around and singing along to the music, and I could think of nothing else but how if I had better aim, I'd throw my step at her cute little head, hoping that she'd fall into a coma, so I could stop and breathe. At the beginning of the class, we did 15 minutes of Abs. So we're doing "side-planks" aka ab-work of the devil, and she says, "Oh, hahahaha! Look at how my arms are shaking...guess I shouldn't have done a toning class before this! Tee hee!" Meanwhile, I'm looking at her with hate in my eyes, thinking, "My arms are shaking because they've never had to hold my fat ass up." There were old women that were keeping up better than me. I swear, Bea Arthur was in front of me, wearing short-shorts and a tight, black tank-top that said, "HOT." I was wearing yoga pants and a navy t-shirt that might as well have said, "I'm so out of shape, your grandma can kick my ass." But we're all in there for the same reason...right?
Geesh, I really could use a glass of SuperCock.