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I gave up hair bands for Lent. And a Fat Tuesday miracle.

February 22, 2012

Hair bands. Like from the 80’s. Not hairbands. How else would I keep my hair out of my face when I work out? And I didn’t really give them up, because I don’t use them enough to give up. I just told my boot camp instructor that while he was murdering my earballs with the Pandora rock channel at 5:30 this morning. I really gave up cookies, cakes and ice cream.

Lordy ya’ll, I have been feeling craptastic since Thursday. It started with an upset tummy, because I ate something I shouldn’t have and progressed into what can only be described as a yucky sinus infection in which my nose was totally stopped up AND running down my face at the same time. My mom and aunt call it glazed doughnut face, I call it one of life’s great mysteries.

After sleeping and medicating and working from home-who knew I could get so much done-and having a conversation with J in which I combined Derby parties with the stomping of the divets from Pretty Woman, I miraculously felt 900% better late yesterday afternoon. (For the record, there is no divet stomping at the Kentucky Derby. Because you’d be like run over by a horse or something.)

And in all honesty the only reason I’ve ever wanted to go to the Kentucky Derby is for the big ass hats and the okayness of day drinking.

I'm not sure if boob jobs are a required Derby accessory. Anyone?

ANYHOO-so yesterday was Fat Tuesday aka Shrove Tuesday aka stuff your face with pancakes day. I have been TRYING super hard to stick to my fat doctor diet and avoid the carbs but yesterday I ate pancakes and fell into a carb coma of which I am still recovering. I’m Episcopal. Eating pancakes is like a law. I didn’t want to make Baby Jesus cry.

Being sick also meant missing Boot Camp, which gave me the sads. Since I missed four days of camp, Joe tried to torture me today with something called dive bombs. I think you’re supposed to pretend you are running from spy planes and diving under fences of barbed wire…or competing on America’s Next Top Model. Either way, this has no real world application for me. Joe told me I was supposed to practically hit the ground with my nose-since I’ve spent years trying NOT to bash my nose open on the ground this was counterintuitive for me. Instead I ended up falling on my right boob. Which? Owww. (It’s larger and therefore closer to the ground.)

As an update, I have been enjoying my Roku 2 despite Joe’s comment that “Your hubby needs to stop getting you things that allow you to lay down more. You are one step from the Willy Wonka Family.” Ummm, doesn’t Joe read this blog and KNOW that being the Willy Wonka family and living in bed is like my dream? (Though not with other crabby old people. Perhaps a sister-wife but only if she’s willing to change the bed sheets, blow dry my hair and put away laundry.)

I'd also prefer a cheerier environment.

And there you have it-I combined Playboy Bunnies, Willy Wonka, day drinking and Pretty Women into one post. That’s a lot. Even for me.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. clownonfire permalink
    February 22, 2012 8:51 AM

    My favorite post of the day…. But it’s only 9:50am where I am.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 22, 2012 9:06 AM

      Well, you’re an hour ahead of me so that’s something!

  2. February 23, 2012 2:08 PM

    AmyBlam, sorry you’re feeling so shiteous. Girl, I miss you when I’m not around. you and your awesome hilarity. I want to go to the Derby, so I can wear the big-ass hat, too. I can bring the boobs. And speaking of, sorry about the boob.

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