Tuesday Randomness

 

2.  We are not your typical Harley riders. I imagine you are picturing us as a couple of tattooed, leather-skinned, doo-rag sporting baddies in leather vests and chaps. Not so much. I lost my biker chick card carrying privileges the day I fell off the thing and cracked my ankle bone. Pretty tough, huh? Well, actually the kick stand was still down at the time, but we don’t like to talk about that…

 

3.  And you just might find a bag of knitting in the saddlebag. What? You know you can take the crafty chick out of the craft room for the day, but you certainly can’t expect me to leave everything behind. What if boredom sets in on a long red light? Problem with knitting on the back of a bike is that if you drop the ball of yarn, you would probably have a heck of a time getting it back without dropping a ton of stitches. Just saying.

4.  Actually, that part is all in my head because the husband won’t let me get near his bike with my knitting. I would totally cramp his style. We may not be big bad Harley riders, but we pretend we are on the weekends. Ha!

5.  On the exercise front, I just want to say: Treadmills are scary. Ever notice those blank digital eyes staring at you? I am convinced that it’s waiting patiently for me to trip and fall and make a huge fool of myself as it flings me across the room like a used kleenex. I know it is laughing at me as I try to adjust the speed and not lose my balance. I am not comfortable on a treadmill. Thoughts of imminent death are always going through my mind. What if a shoelace gets caught? Would I get stuck there and dragged face-first along the track? My main goal when getting on a treadmill is to be able to get off of it alive, with no road rash, no injuries and no flinging myself across the room. No conveyer belt marks across my face.

6.  The treadmill and me.  We are not friends.  We don’t even have much in common.  It has been a long and tedious relationship over this past winter, and I have put much thought into it and have come to the conclusion that we just need to break up.  I’m sorry, Mr. Treadmill, but it just wasn’t meant to be.  It’s not you- it’s me.  Really.

7.  We have at work, a Lean Cuisine thief. Yep. You read that right. Hey, don’t look at me!  Seriously.  Do I look like someone that enjoys Lean Cuisines?  Some oddly insane person is stealing them out of the company refrigerator.

8.  The company is taking a major stand on this. They will not tolerate stealing on any level and that includes the thievery of any salt-laden frozen food-like substances. They are currently installing cameras. Yes! Aimed at the refrigerator! The security team in the building is ready, hands hovering over their walkee-talkies, ready to take action when the culprit is sighted. All trash cans have been searched. All of us have been interrogated short of patting us down. They will find the thief, they assure us.

9.  My over-zealous imagination takes over immediately and I come up with all kinds of scenarios. First of all, who would want to steal a Lean Cuisine? You have to understand what the choices are in that refrigerator and I can tell you that of all the items in there, the Lean Cuisine would have to be the least tempting. Why not take the home-made spaghetti? Or maybe the chocolate bars that someone stashes in there? And last I looked, someone had stored a peach pie in there.

10.  I’m thinking that the thief must be on a diet. Hmmmm… wouldn’t that narrow it down to just us chunky-like individuals? Was that security guard just eyeballing me? I eat a spoonful of yogurt and eyeball him back.

11.  I think they should march us all down to the clinic and do mandatory blood work. Check for high levels of salt and preservatives. The culprit would be discovered in no time! Or maybe we should all just wait around and see who gets thinner first? Of course, then I have to imagine the culprit getting sent to jail. “What are you in for?” asks the tattooed, overgrown bunkmate with one eyebrow. “I stole a Lean Cuisine”, mutters the skinny thief.

12.  Ha!