Does This Phone Make Me Look Fat?
While sitting in the physical therapy office’s waiting room this afternoon…
Brrrrring.
Me: Yello.
Universe: Hi Greta? Um, yeah. Hi. I’ve just kind of been wondering why you’ve been avoiding my calls.
Me: Um…er…kashhhhcagggghhh…what’s that? I think…kagggghhh…yeah…uh the reception is really bad here. What service do you have?
Universe: Uh, Sprint. That’s not what I’m calling about though…
Me: Yeah. For some reason we have trouble with that out here.
Universe: Greta!
Me: Right.
Universe: I’ll get to the point. How many more signs do you need? I’m throwing them all over the place.
Me: Signs?
Universe: Yeah. S-I-G-N-S. Your cholesterol levels? Your PMS-induced trip to the emergency room last month? Uh…the fact that your fat jeans are tight on you? I don’t know…your bathroom scale!
Me: Hey!
Universe: Look, I’m trying to be polite here.
Me: What are you trying to say?
Universe: {deep sigh} Are you or are you not currently sitting in a chair waiting for a physical therapist to basically tell you your back is screwed up because of the flabitude of your posture?
Me: Well…uh…
Universe: Greta, your ass isn’t going to look good in a bathing suit this summer all by itself. You’re in denial.
Me: No I’m not.
Universe: {rolls eyes} {BTW, you TOTALLY can hear the universe when it rolls its eyes. Can so.}
Universe: Look, whatever. I’m done ok? I’ve got other things to do. Watch the news much? I was just trying to be nice.
Me: Don’t get pissy.
Universe: Hanging up now.
Me: I’m just saying–click.
So anyway, that’s about it. Due to the above-referenced postural flabitude issues, I’m now basically legally required to start working out tomorrow. With a trainer. His name is Chad. I’m pretty sure the universe hired him. The universe is totally annoyed with me.
(waves at Chad)
Hi universe! Id love a hottie trainer who will kick my ass in the gym and then come home with me and do laundry.
love,
M., who can not wait to hear about your experiences/leave me a comment if I can lend a hand!
I think the universe tried to call me yesterday. But I was too busy eating potato chips to hear the ring over the crunching.
New message: Universe asks you to move slightly to the left to put the planets back into alignment. KTHX
Did Mr. Universe look something like this?
http://www.geocities.com/thebeverleysisters/bevs_mr_universe.jpg
(not forgetting this was a PHONE call – if you can hear the eye rolling…maybe you can bounce sonic radar thru the phone, off his abs and be able to picture the bod!)
I have an announcement that I hope the Universe will hear….as of this morning, I am at my lowest weight in over 3 years. Don’t even ask what that weight might be….let’s pretend it’s something impressive.
Chad, huh? And, what is this PMS-induced trip to the ER all about? That sounds like something I could do…
Does Chad have a manly jaw? Does Chad have strong feelings about couch based exercises? Does Chad have a brother in CT?
Does Chad cook?
I’m done now.
I will totally blog about Chad tomorrow. I haven’t met him yet and my expectations are kind of high. If I bring a camera and ask him if I can put him on my blog would that make it awkward do you think?
The Universe hung up on you!!! Sounds like that crabby bitch!
Ummm.. Dude. The Universe is a total BITCH! Yesterday she was my bestest bud… today… pain… in… my… arse! /cry Mebbe your trip to the ER was based on the UNIVERSE’s PMS and not yours??? Heh
Interesting thought about the universe’s PMS. However, I’m REALLY scared about when she’s actually HAVING her…you know…
I’m REALLY scared about when she’s actually HAVING her…you know…
Wouldn’t that be like a biblical plague or something?
The Universe seems to want me to ALWAY be behind people who can’t drive and have the seatbelt dragging and sparking on the road.
If Chad is hot I want pictures. Of Chad, Greta, not flabiture. Just saying.
Flabitude, too. Damn that text off the block thing..
All I’m saying…little teaser…Chad is going to school to be a firefighter.
I absolutely hate when the universe has an opinion about this kind of stuff.
You can do eeeet!! (This sounds better if you imagine a quasi-Cajun accent)
Meanwhile, if Chad is a cutie, give with the dish…please???
Our Y doesn’t have trainers, so I’m on my own…which would explain the one trip to the gym in a month, and scant eight pounds I’ve yo-yoed out of. Sigh. What I need is an angry Doberman to chase me around the neighborhood a few times a week. Or to win the lottery, build a home-gym, and hire a trainer named Lars who digs cranky, troll-like women.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K
Just wait until Chad gets you into that awesome, yet compromising hamstring stretch where he straddles your straight leg and then stretches your other leg toward your nose as he leans over and ooooohhhhhhh…….
(that was nice).