Notes from the Front Line

So my cousin Julie is tired of checking my blog and seeing my post about my super-awesome porn name. So I’m going to give a quick update.

This hasn’t been the greatest start to a new year, but I’m still confident that good things are right around the corner. Right around the corner and down the street, past the crack house and that liquor store that sells individual cigarettes and chilled Boones Farm wine.

A couple of updates:

My mom broke her hip AND her arm. Right hip, left arm, so she can still dance. Not at the same time. The hip when she attempted to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom in the middle of the night, and the hip when she attempted to walk to the bathroom from the bedroom. I told her she either needs to stop sleeping or peeing.

The doctors said they had never seen that kind of hip break in a woman my mom’s age. You go mom! I don’t think brittle bones is a family trait, ‘cause I fall down daily and haven’t broken anything. (knock on wood).

The rains continue to wreak havoc on my condo. The patch on the roof seems to have fixed the leak, but the carpet is still wet. The association president promised me her wet-dry vac, but I have yet to see it. That’s fine, if deadly mold begins to grow I have a lawsuit that will leave me and my one good lung living happily ever after.

My trainer dumped me. No big loss. He was a butthead anyway. He missed more of our training sessions than he actually made it to, he was usually hung over when we met AND his name was Jazz. What the hell kind of name is that? My new Trainer, Kenny, is way cool and he won’t put up with my lame ass excuses for not doing cardio and he has a normal name.

That’s all I can think of right now. I hope Julie is appeased for a moment.