I’m not the kind of gal that wallows in Debby Downer sweatpants with unwashed hair, while searching on cable for the secret pleasure of a Golden Girls rerun…
… only rolling her ass off the couch long enough to add more ice to her drink and hi-5 the cat, while moving past his empty bowl, brushing the refrigerator, giving a middle-finger-salute to any plans for supper, tripping on last week’s mail, which missed the garbage can, and landing on the pile of laundry that still needs folding ’cause I left it there for JUST THAT REASON- JEEZ, kinda gal.
I’m all Nike Just Do It on that shit.
And, I never loose my motivation for securing Girl Scout badges because of:
- No available parking within a mile of the door needed to enter while being run over by people that should have lost their driver’s licenses when Lyndon Johnson was still President, or
- Signing on the dotted-line for a storage locker, who’s recent flooding would make Noah jealous, and requiring me to ‘quick-like-a-conejo’ ( as per the Puerto Rican day manager who mostly keeps the office door locked- even when I CAN SEE HIM THROUGH THE WINDOWS gringo man!) have all contents removed and stored in a locker of greater value by men who work in my husband’s warehouse that already feel like their being screwed, or
- Having a home refinanced, and the accompanying paperwork, with First Born promissory note, that is required for a successful closing- not to mention the physical appraisal that is now needed which means I will have to actually c-l-e-a-n, between the housekeeper’s visits, or
- The woman hours needed to stage a successful, and HGTV-worthy, yard sale, because I’m NOTHING if not a stager of the $200-don’t-spend-it-all-in-one-place after advertising, renting tables, going to the bank to get small change, blow-up those balloons and tie them on the fence, look the other way when the woman with the Labrador lets him piss on the carpet I’m trying to sell, person, or
- Navigating the streets, that The City Of New Orleans has brilliantly decided to improve ALL AT THE SAME TIME, because, the last of the Katrina $ is now in a ‘use-it or loose-it’ position, and waiting to blow-up the Garden District and Uptown roads just seems like justice for not being the Ninth Ward, or
- Dealing with the heat. Showering is a fool’s game, or
- A boy child, traveling like a gypsy, with a woman from France, that was in school in Montreal, that came for a USA visit, and stayed with him on the recommendation of friends, that turned into LOVE and now he’s in NYC with a broken down car, waving her off for home, to France for the summer, hoping to meet up with her again, and stomp grapes on her uncles Winery, making enough swag to keep him, and her, flush on their return trip to the States, where they will live on LUV alone (remember those days?), or
- Spending the few hours one has with their significant other- together- in the evenings, watching Naked and Afraid, or Fat Guys in the Woods (I’ll send him to the woods…), or
- Baiting the cockroaches that have decided to to ‘Party Like It’s 1999‘ in my kitchen, or,
- A Reduction Diet, which is failing miserably. Or is it the wine? Or maybe the food? Both?
So ‘No’. None of the above.
I’m a troop leader.