the excercising debacle and explosive decompression

Exercise? Whaaaat?

Why do I choose not to exercise on a regular basis? Is it because I’m lazy? Well, yes, but it’s also because something “terrible” happens every time I try. This is the diary of mad black woman. You think you know, but you have no idea.

Let’s begin with my explosive decompression. Again I remind you that if you are assuming this is going to be a fart joke, this is hardly the time, and you shouldn’t assume with me (But if it were to be a fart joke, I thought of a funny one for when you’ve been in the bathroom a while and people ask you where you’ve been. You say, “Hunny, I had to drop a few kids off at the pool, and after what I ate, I can assure you that NO CHILD was left behind.” Of course this works best if a teacher is using the joke)!<<<punctuation from wayyyy up earlier when I told you not to assume. I meant it with emphysis. Anyway, the event that transpired in the garage this weekend was one that is difficult to relive…[insert harp sounds and activate recollection sequence]…I decided I would try to ride a bike since everyone owns at least one bike here except for me. My sister and brother-in-law (that is so annoying to type by the way) happen to have roughly a score of bicycles from which to choose–or so I thought. Upon closer examination, many of these bicycles were nocycles–missing wheels, pedals and seats alike. Only the expensive bikes (did you wonder how long I was going to say bicycle?) (bicycle) remained, and they ALL HAD FLAT TIRES! Surely this must be a joke, I thought. I wasn’t sure what to do. So, I took what I thought was my sister’s expensive bike (and by expensive, I mean thousands of dollars) and went to pump up her tires. Ooooo I’m a fancy schmancy air thingy that David doesn’t know how to work. Annoying. When I finally did figure it out, things seemed to be going well, but how much air to put in? Well, not as much as I put in apparently because I blew out the tire. Not so good. But it turns out that the tires were already busted or something and that wasn’t really her bike. TRICKERY!


After a panicked walk in the field with two stupid dogs who ran away from me, I found another bike on the porch and rode that around. It was okay, but I want my own bike–one with wheels (FILLED WITH AIR), pedals, and a reallllly comfortable seat, too. I checked some out at the local sports bonanza, but they seem rather pricey. Plus Melanie won’t let me buy one I’m sure. I also wanted to buy a paintball gun to use all those paintballs I find, but someone told me you can’t reuse paintballs because they get deformed and jam :(. Oh well, I try. I’ll probably end up riding that granny bike around the neighborhood, but at the very least I am getting a seat cushion for my tushion. And I need a new briefcase for work, too. I realized this recently when I carry everything in my hands but still carry my bag on my shoulder like a purse. I need a multi-pocketed, hand-held bag. I will procure one of these this weekend if I find the right one, but I will spend no more than about $50 on it because I have no money!

What I would consider reasonable purchases, but apparently they are not so that’s why I am not allowed to buy them (but I’m getting the bag)


6 Responses to the excercising debacle and explosive decompression

  1. Xtina says:

    And have you considered creating a new word for referencing Vance? Perhaps B-law, or Blaw, or Braw.

    Or Vance.

  2. Allison says:

    hahahaahahaha i can see you putsin around town on that bike!

  3. if you’re feeling especially wild, you can travel up to oregon with your found paintballs and play Jesus Paintball!
    [ ]

    i can hear you now, screaming ‘SLOW YOUR ROLE!!!”

  4. Christinoire says:

    soooo what exactly did you do to mel’s bike?

  5. Allison says:

    if you say braw you will sound like Dog The Bounty Hunter…which would be kind of fun i think

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