Wednesday, February 15, 2012
• Did I tell you guys that I am officially a gang member? Oh wait – I might have used the wrong word there. It might be called a “club” member. But it produces a lot more shock-filled gasps when I tell people I’m in a gang. A biker gang no less.
Yup – I joined Rambo’s biker club. Translation: Rambo signed me up and paid my dues without my permission. Fine. Whatever.
If you know anything about biker gangs (why would you want to?) – they wear leather vests or coats that showcase their “colors”. The “colors” are their patches and insignias telling the world the name of their “gang”. And beyond the name patch – they cover the rest of their vest in other patches. Rambo has memorial patches on his vest of friends he lost and skull patches and his nickname as a patch and so on.
My point? Well – I have to find a vest to wear my “colors” on. Every woman in the club wears a black leather vest – covered in patches and their “colors”.
My problem? I refuse to wear a plain black vest like all the others. I just cannot do it. I have found pink and purple and red vests but I don’t want a solid color. I want a black vest with pink on the sides or pink embellishments and is adjustable.
I have searched the entire internet and so far – nothing. Anyone got any suggestions? If not – I may have to get out my bedazzler and go to town.
• Monday night Rambo and I worked out for ½ hour. I did the treadmill and he did the eliptical and lifted weights. Last night Rambo did the eliptical and I did the treadmill for 65 minutes. I ran the first half hour and in the second half I did 8 sets of Tabata with my fastest sprint being at 7.2mph. Now yes – I know that isn’t rock star fast but it’s my first treadmill Tabata so I’m okay with it.
• I want to be a life coach so that I can tell people they are stupid and that they are screwing up their lives and if they would do exactly as I say everything would be rainbows and lollipops. And the bonus would be that they’d pay me for such sage advice.
• I was invited to go to “midget wrestling” last weekend. I’m not kidding. I refused to go because I was afraid they’d think I was part of the show. I’m only 5ft 3in and Ima kinda chubby.
• Watermelon now gets an allowance. I’m trying to teach her about money because my parents never taught me. She has to take her allowance and split it up evenly in thirds. She can spend 1/3. She has to save 1/3. And she has to give 1/3 to a charity. She can pick any charity she wants. She will physically put her money in her savings account at the bank when I take her. She can spend the spendable 1/3 on anything she wants.
It’s going great. She’s learning the value of a dollar. She picked US Troops as her charity so she’s feeling good about that.
The part that makes me happiest though? She keeps a running tracking journal of each category. Down to the penny. OMG – is she my kid or what?
Maybe soon she’ll start a budget. For the next five years. And stare at it and tweak it for hours – like her mama does.
• Lastly – guess where I get to go in March? Don’t pee your pants or anything – it’s not good. It’s a turkey banquet. I can’t even make this crap up. People of all ages and sizes gather in on place – because of turkeys. It’s madness. And get this? People PAY to go.
I’m so screwed when it comes to Rambo and his hobbies that I must partake in. Biker gangs, semis, turkeys, guns, and hunting. I mean why didn’t I marry a person who loves pink ponies, crystals, diamonds, high heels and anything cheetah patterned?
I suppose it’s because I wanted to marry someone who was straight. Ha!
Posted by the gumdrop farting Skittle bathing ♥ Drazil ♥ at 8:25 AM