Friday, August 20, 2010

When the Dog Bites…When the Bee Stings

OH my has this been a long week. I am completely ready for the weekend and could not be more excited about the following things:

  1. Eating a late European Style dinner with my dear friend at an incredible restaurant
  2. Watching nothing but re-runs of Rachel Zoe and Frasier all weekend and lounging
  3. A big workout with my trainer
  4. A Massage

Thank goodness this week is over…I mean, it's been a killer. Really. And I'm talking about the behind the curtain scary movie kind of killer. So in honor of the fact that I cannot think about the rest of this week without wanting to hide under my desk and suck my thumb, I will tell you a story that shook me to my very core and caused me to question the universe and my place in it. Without further ado, I give you "Bike Shorts"

Well ladies and gentlemen, an event occurred this week that I was certain I would never have to deal with. You say for better or worse in your vows but you really don't know the true meaning of that until WORSE comes along and slaps you across the face like the mean spiteful bitch that she is. I was making dinner the other night in my teeny-tiny kitchen ( a source of serious contempt), seething about how I swore it smelled like cigarette smoke from our new neighbors above, the Clompy McClompersons (seriously LOUDEST PEOPLE EVER), when out of the corner of my eye, I see my sweet husband walking towards me. Not really paying attention, I thought my beloved was simply passing through in his boxers to get some clothes out of the dryer. Then I noticed he stopped in the doorway. I glanced over at him and then quickly my head snapped back!


He stared back at me with a mixture of pride and delight. "My new bike shorts"

I gasped in disbelief. Here he stood in MY kitchen wearing THOSE things. Shiny, black, spandex bike shorts: the stuff Nightmares are made of. "You are going to be arrested. Those are indecent"

"No, No!" His excitement was palpable. Poor thing was unaware that he looked like Child Predator #1. "You see, these are going to help me during my bike race!"

"Excuse me you're what??!"

"My bike race."

"Oh okay. So Lance, when is this bike race taking place?"

"This weekend. 50 Miles. It's gonna be awesome"

Needless to say, I dropped the conversation after that and kindly asked him to remove himself and his pervy shorts from my kitchen. I'm certain it was some sort of health violation.


Post a Comment



My Life as a Jackass | Creative Commons Attribution- Noncommercial License | Dandy Dandilion Designed by Simply Fabulous Blogger Templates