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)
And have you considered creating a new word for referencing Vance? Perhaps B-law, or Blaw, or Braw.
Or Vance.
http://www.abikestore.com/comfort-bikes.htm
hahahaahahaha i can see you putsin around town on that bike!
if you’re feeling especially wild, you can travel up to oregon with your found paintballs and play Jesus Paintball!
[ http://www.crossfirepb.net/faq.html ]
i can hear you now, screaming ‘SLOW YOUR ROLE!!!”
soooo what exactly did you do to mel’s bike?
if you say braw you will sound like Dog The Bounty Hunter…which would be kind of fun i think