The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth
So now that we've ascertained there's no McDreamy in the purest of forms...but there are Mr-Right-For-Me's (or You's, that's native speak)....we have to sit back and wait?
I've often heard the saying that you shouldn't sit around waiting for things to come to you....if you want something you must go out there and make it happen. We can't expect to sit back and wait for everything to be served up on silver platters now can we? We need to rise up, take charge and shout at the world as a united front to "BRING.IT.ON.BAY.BBY!"
After it's told us to sod off....we'll sit back on our haunches for a time and plot how to injure it in as many ways possible.
Now, after all my harping on about losing weight and not losing weight and disappearing necks and tits not fitting into bras properly etc....I've given up on the idea of McDreamy just turning up...I'm going with the gonna-make-things-happen-stance instead.
Not on the man front you understand, they'll just have to play on their own for a while (as will I)...but on the Yay-I-Do-Have-A-Neck-Afterall! front.
Yesterday as I was poking fun at my mate Dan on voice chat, a truck pulled up outside my house..."It's here, it's here!"...I cried, clapping my hands together gleefully. "Go mow your lawn slacker, I gotta go"...click...voice chat over. By the way, my friend Dan? he's gotta be the most Maori sounding white boy I ever did hear...just sayin'. What's more, he's worth a listen/read...he's a good value kinda guy (pimp pimp).
I've hired an elliptical/cross trainer....there's a reason I've hired it instead of buying it...we run in 'fits and starts' around here. There seemed no point in me paying out over a thousand buckeroos for something that could end up gathering dust...or at the most become airing apparatus for damp clothing. (I realise this sounds like I've failed before I've even started, but I'm trying to be as practical and realistic as possible lol)
As it made it's way up my outside steps, it came with the added bonus of two burly men....I gave them no opportunity to knock at my door because I had already flung the slider open, excitedly beckoning them in. Take that Mr Fate....I got me a couple of adult men in my house, so there.
Unfortunately they went back out the door....with me yelling "Call me!" at their arses as they sprinted down the steps again. Sheesh, could I have made it any more obvious?? What's wrong with some menfolk these days?? (Ok, I didn't yell that, and I know YOU know I didn't...but I did tell them to expect me to ring them in the morning and ask them to pick it up because I'd be so sore I'll be unable to move.)
Anyway, last night Cameron gets on it...he's pushing buttons, and sorting out which programme he wants...sets the timer and away he went. I come back into the lounge...I hear the harsh ragged breathing....see the sweat beaded on his forehead..."How much longer you got to go hun?"...."6 minutes"...."Cool, how many you done already?"....*glaring at me cos he can't talk*....."puff-4-pant-minutes-cough".
4.minutes. My kid, who easily does 30 plus minutes straight of that Dance Dance Revolution get-ya-heart-pumping-cardiovascular-game, and is at present placed 4th in our capital city for doing so...had trouble coping with this new machine after 4.minutes.
"Water?"
*shakes head*
"Um...want me to stand here and spray misty water on your face?"
*shakes head*
"Ok...oh...how about if I fan you?"
*GLARE*
I had a go myself this morning...warmed up my muscles pretending I was all flexible and shit, and stretched in as many directions as possible. I climbed on it...and just about had an aneurysm making it to 5 minutes.
Hey, they might only be 5 stinky minutes, but I'm still upright and I'll have a go at another 5 minutes tomorrow...baby steps an' all that. Course, there's no guarantee with anything is there? No guarantee Mr-Right-For-Me is going to rock up to my door, and no guarantee I'm going to accomplish the mission of hunting down the hidden neck treasure. But..err...well..
...Aw fuck it....if I want a guarantee, I'll just go and buy a bloody toaster.
I've often heard the saying that you shouldn't sit around waiting for things to come to you....if you want something you must go out there and make it happen. We can't expect to sit back and wait for everything to be served up on silver platters now can we? We need to rise up, take charge and shout at the world as a united front to "BRING.IT.ON.BAY.BBY!"
After it's told us to sod off....we'll sit back on our haunches for a time and plot how to injure it in as many ways possible.
Now, after all my harping on about losing weight and not losing weight and disappearing necks and tits not fitting into bras properly etc....I've given up on the idea of McDreamy just turning up...I'm going with the gonna-make-things-happen-stance instead.
Not on the man front you understand, they'll just have to play on their own for a while (as will I)...but on the Yay-I-Do-Have-A-Neck-Afterall! front.
Yesterday as I was poking fun at my mate Dan on voice chat, a truck pulled up outside my house..."It's here, it's here!"...I cried, clapping my hands together gleefully. "Go mow your lawn slacker, I gotta go"...click...voice chat over. By the way, my friend Dan? he's gotta be the most Maori sounding white boy I ever did hear...just sayin'. What's more, he's worth a listen/read...he's a good value kinda guy (pimp pimp).
I've hired an elliptical/cross trainer....there's a reason I've hired it instead of buying it...we run in 'fits and starts' around here. There seemed no point in me paying out over a thousand buckeroos for something that could end up gathering dust...or at the most become airing apparatus for damp clothing. (I realise this sounds like I've failed before I've even started, but I'm trying to be as practical and realistic as possible lol)
As it made it's way up my outside steps, it came with the added bonus of two burly men....I gave them no opportunity to knock at my door because I had already flung the slider open, excitedly beckoning them in. Take that Mr Fate....I got me a couple of adult men in my house, so there.
Unfortunately they went back out the door....with me yelling "Call me!" at their arses as they sprinted down the steps again. Sheesh, could I have made it any more obvious?? What's wrong with some menfolk these days?? (Ok, I didn't yell that, and I know YOU know I didn't...but I did tell them to expect me to ring them in the morning and ask them to pick it up because I'd be so sore I'll be unable to move.)
Anyway, last night Cameron gets on it...he's pushing buttons, and sorting out which programme he wants...sets the timer and away he went. I come back into the lounge...I hear the harsh ragged breathing....see the sweat beaded on his forehead..."How much longer you got to go hun?"...."6 minutes"...."Cool, how many you done already?"....*glaring at me cos he can't talk*....."puff-4-pant-minutes-cough".
4.minutes. My kid, who easily does 30 plus minutes straight of that Dance Dance Revolution get-ya-heart-pumping-cardiovascular-game, and is at present placed 4th in our capital city for doing so...had trouble coping with this new machine after 4.minutes.
"Water?"
*shakes head*
"Um...want me to stand here and spray misty water on your face?"
*shakes head*
"Ok...oh...how about if I fan you?"
*GLARE*
I had a go myself this morning...warmed up my muscles pretending I was all flexible and shit, and stretched in as many directions as possible. I climbed on it...and just about had an aneurysm making it to 5 minutes.
Hey, they might only be 5 stinky minutes, but I'm still upright and I'll have a go at another 5 minutes tomorrow...baby steps an' all that. Course, there's no guarantee with anything is there? No guarantee Mr-Right-For-Me is going to rock up to my door, and no guarantee I'm going to accomplish the mission of hunting down the hidden neck treasure. But..err...well..
...Aw fuck it....if I want a guarantee, I'll just go and buy a bloody toaster.
Comments
Post a Comment