Saturday Is For ...

I'm starting the day (at 2pm) out right today with Clean Underwears.  This is really exciting for me.  I hate having to fashion loinclothes out of my bed sheets to avoid doing laundry.  Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and crank up the washing board.  Just kidding.  I wish we still used one of those wash boards and buckets like on The Little Mermaid (remember, her little crab friend gets wrung through it).  That would be so funny.  Well, I guess it would be so funny the first time I did five kids' worth of laundry with it.  But probably by the second time I'd be over it and it would just make me hate my life. 

I'm starting my day at 2pm because I went out with The Skydiver last night, which means I come home at 7am and then go to sleep in my own bed that doesn't include anyone snoring besides Independence Hall, our cat.  Here's her cutie picture:

Unfortunately, les bebes were already up and raring to go by the time I dragged my stinky self through the door (I did not have on clean underwears at this point in the night/morning).  So even though all the chirrens were with Coco and Bobby Habibi and I barricaded myself down in my lair, I couldn't get to sleep for the thundering and hollering going on above me.  I kept stuffing inappropriate shit into my ears, putting pillows over my head - nothing worked.  Seriously, I wasn't just listening to this stuff; it shook me to my very soul (or the hollow place inside where one would typically be).  So I trudged back upstairs to find Justin and Dash hard at work at karate kicks and Chinese fighty shiz  I don't really remember what I said, but the combination of my words, my bloodshot eyes, and my dragon breath must have made some sort of impression because no more indoor thunder.  Hence waking up at 2pm. 

I'm about to head to the gym (gross) with my clean underwears on.  I worked with my trainer Thursday and she recommended I do ab exercises every time I go to the gym.  I just looked at her with glazed (like the donut) eyes and nodded.  "Yeah fucking right."  Just walking into the gym is really work out enough for me, thank you very much.  

My other tasks for the day include cleaning my room, losing 60 pounds, picking up the pieces of my broken life, and sending a southern-fried gift basket down South to Bobbie Jean's mother.  Miss Shirlene is one of the County Supervisors of our world-famous Hog Wild barbecue festival (resplendent with all the toothless grins and muletted children you could ever want) and while sampling a particularly spicy pork sandwich, Miss Shirlene was overcome and down she went, breaking both elbows in the process.  She's fine; she's mostly upset that she can't roll her hair so she's had her two sisters coming over to take turns fixing her bouffant for her.  

This is what Saturday is for.