Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Living is easy with eyes closed.

Today marks 120 days until I climb into The Gray Ghost with The Shoe Lanes, Johnny Switchblade and Rocko-n-Roll. In 120 days, I'll be Heavy Rebel bound. I think I'm more psyched about it this year than any previous year and I have the distinct pleasure of truckin' down to Winston-Salem with my favorite people on this filthy planet. I think Carol needs to bring TWO Wacky Packages notebooks to fill with all the genius that will no doubt spew from our mouths this year. Poets, all of us.

And this year...I'll be single-n-mingling at Heavy Rebel. I've always been dating or married or waiting for someone to come aorund or dating again. This year, I'm just going to go and enjoy myself full throttle without worrying about...anything! I'm going to dance these pants straight off these legs! And if my pants come off due to dance, no one can get mad at me! I owe explainations to NO ONE. Unless the folks at the Millenium Center have a problem with my pants-less-ness. In which case, their priorities are all wacky.

So this countdown also tallies the amount of days I'm going to be on the Tommy Bones Workout Program (of course I will continue busting my balls to stay fit, healthy and happy when I get back...but I need to have a goal and HRW is it, yo). Today he came over for my first assessment. I'm flexible, have the proper amount of body fat, have good lunge technique and decent core strength. I can't do ANY push-ups and the amount of time I can do that wall thing...embarrassing. But it will all come with time. I'll let you know the progress I've made on April 5th. I'll be one month closer to wearing my blue shorts with the whales-n-skulls! AS Olivia Newton-John said...let's get physical, mutha-fuckahs.

There's something I want to talk about and I just CAN NOT and probably never will be able to. I'm blushing just thinking about it. It's the Irish curse. The degree of pink of these cheeks sells me out every time. Regardless, holy pancakes. Life is funny and it just keeps getting funnier every time I decide to take the plunge and live it! Spending lots of time with my pallys...absolutely NO transition there, this has NOTHING to do with why I blush for hours-n-hours daily...has been amazing. My BFFs could kick your BFFs ASSES all the way to Hoboken and back! It's total steak sauce to be surrounded by people that support you and think you're tits.

But don't get me wrong. I DO feel those pinchy break-up twinges. Especially at night. It seems like around 4:00am is when I start thinking about things. I'm sure I did the right thing. And I actually KNOW I did. I'm not trying to convince myself. If I'm going to suction cup myself to one dude for the rest of my life, I want him to think I'm tops. My friend Kenny married his wife because he looked at her and knew she was just too cool to let go. How fucking bad ass is that?

So...120 days to Heavy Rebel. 120 days of livin. Take it sleazy, y'all.

1 comment:

Jack Straussmeyer said...

Steak sauce.... hahahahaha.