Well I just managed to kick my own ass and itís a good thing, too. Because after spending the long holiday weekend pumping myself with toxins, I totally needed a good ass-kicking. So, for awhile now, itís back to the pool for full-hour work outs that include proper warm-ups, full ass-kicking sets, a good old cool down and then itís off to the showers to get soaped-up by the young hot life guard.
Okay, well, at least Iím back to the swimming again.
Because yeah, holiday weekend. Played the part of the Eccentric Aunt Without a Family and spent most of my time listening to others talk about linens and things while I pretended to have an opinion. So that was fun.
Also spent some time at the best friendsí birthday party where I received some soul-crushing news about the crush. So instead of handling things like an adult, I decided to the best plan would be to, you know, drink my feelings.
Which probably wouldnít have been so bad had I just sat in the corner chatting with whomever stopped by, you know, like I usually do as the good and proper drunk I normally am.
But no. No, that night. That would have been like, the respectable thing to do.
Instead? Instead I decided to turn up the music and become the self-appointed Dance Commander.
Thatís right! Achtung! Achtung! Ich bin der Dance Commander! Ihr Dance Commander ist hier! You must dance!
Seriously, nothing worse than a self-appointed drunk-ass Dance Commander ordering party guests to get up and dance! Look! Weíre dancing! Isnít it fun?! save for maybe a self-appointed drunk-ass Dance Commander who thinks sheís being a fantastically SEXY Dance Commander so you! must! dance! Sexy! Dance!
Fuuuuuck. That was two days ago and my head is still spinning from the shame spiral.
So, yeah, Iíll be spending the next few weeks getting my serotonin fix through vigorous swims instead of vigorously chucking my empties at the recycle bin. Okay?
Okay. Tired now. Must stop with the typing. Iím off to eat some nuts and berries. Or something.