Friday, August 9, 2013

Kryate Mom (including unicorn washer.)

First of all, let's talk about my baby.  My baby keeps a diary.  Not a journal.  He gets mad if you say "journal."  It's a goddamn diary.  Get it straight.

In said dairy, he records random musings, lists of Nintendo games and the Skylanders characters he has, stuff like that.

Occasionally, he records the lyrics of a song he loves:
"I got a filling.  I got a filling that tonight is gongea be a good that tonight is goning a good good night."
That's a funny, funny boy, is that one.  Same little boy started second grade today, only he started it with a sour face, a bad attitude, a "sore froat," and frowns.  Poor little wookie:
Second grade is going to suck.  And you made me carry my crap in a WalMart bag.
Oh, the joys of elementary school.

Same kid decided he does not want to do soccer this year, and that's fine, since his mother is not GIANTLY in love with sitting at the soccer field, being eaten alive by bugs, while wearing work clothes, and either freezing her tiny little bohonkus clean off, or boiling alive.  Because, in Louisiana, we play soccer in the winter (that's approximately 6 weeks), and in the summer (the rest of the year.)

So, instead of soccer, I asked what he WOULD like to do.

"Kry-ah-te."  He said.  "Karate?" I asked.  "Yes.  They wear cool unicorns."

Awesome.  So, my future ninja jedi has now been enrolled in Tae Kwon Do, which he will continue to call "Kryahte," and where he will get to wear a unicorn.  When it comes in.  In the meantime, he did have a private lesson.  All he remembers is that he is supposed to say "Yes, ma'am," and "No, sir," to the instructors, and he will not remember to actually say either of those things, but he WILL BE UNICORNED, DAMMIT.
I can already kick like that.

He looks like that scene in Karate Kid II (should that be Kryahte Kid II?)

Watch your nuts!

Very much on the way to falling down.  
Oh, the fun times I shall have, sitting in that Dance Moms Room in the back, behind the glass, with lady-on-her-cell-phone and various toddlers.  Oh, the fun times indeed. 

In other news, I'm a running machine, a freaking boss.  I run like the wind.  On a still day.  Well, but anyway, you get my point.  I'm running at least five days/week, sometimes six.  I'm running at least 2-4 miles per run.  The time I tried for 5, well, that was a big suck, but whatever.  It's 100 degrees here.  Seriously.  Not like, "it feels like 100 degrees," it IS 100 degrees.  And so, running ONE mile is muthafuckingrockstar material.  Right?  Right.

Here's a "before" picture from the Worst Race Ever:
Heyyyyy, cutie skinny pink girl in the middle!  Holllaaaaaa for a dolllllaaaaa!
What made it the Worst Race Ever, you ask?

Let's just say...  it was NOT the alligator:
Swear to God, there is an alligator in this picture.
Although the alligator was noted to be "aggressive," and apparently came up on the bank at one point, but not too many people were around.

Nope, not the alligator.  Also, not that I was beaten by two friends who Hardly Run Ever (fuckers) (but really, good for them) (but still, fuckers.)


The problem was that, about a mile into the race, which was a trail race, of course, through a swamp, the rain started.  Hard.

And my shoes weren't awesome on slippery grass, anyway, so I was sliding everywhere.  And then, oh, about a 1/2 mile from the end of the race, I FELL ON MY ASS HARD. 

Yep.  That's it.

A nice guy that I was ahead of (GUY.  AHEAD OF.) stopped to make sure I was okay (I was.)  I finished the race (vs. staying in the swamp and crying.), and there were pork barbecue sandwiches (boom), but then one of my friends kind of made fun of me for being both: a) filthy, and b) a fucking crybaby (NOTE:  I DID NOT CRY), and so I was miserable.  And I couldn't leave because this was the time when they were giving out beer steins to people who had completed the series, which I had, and I NEED BEER STEINS.

So.  Worst race.  Ever.

But I got a beer stein!

And, despite being accused of being older than 40 yesterday, it's clear from the "before" picture above that I'm a fucking hottie.

So there, people.

And I still think the alligator was a cutie.


  1. I totally can(not) see the alligator!

    But I can imagine it...

    And you do look good!

    1. Aw, Shah. I miss you. It would be great if you came to visit.