What do you get when you cross a table of 3 blonds with a little alcohol? A lot of blog material! I really enjoy my Thursday night round tables with my pasture pals. We all work very hard between our jobs, our families and, well, life; so we take a little time out for ourselves. Last night, we had even more ammunition - spouses at the table.
As soon as the beer started flowing, so did the jokes (mostly about people NOT in our midst). But there were a few local shots fired, too. One that I thought was absolutely hysterical was during the conversation about working out. You see, my pals are doing a fantastic workout several days a week and I applaud them for that. My line of work means this is my busy time of year so I haven't partaken in that ritual yet. (Actually even though I handle horses, hay bales and horse feed for a living, I'm still afraid I'd embarrass myself and they'd end up using me as a exercise mat when I pass out!) Anyway, as they chatted away about their work out using terms like 'px90' and 'zumba abs', the spouse of one of them boasted he didn't need to work out, he already had a six-pack... It had simply turned into a party ball! See what I mean about material?!
With this being a holiday weekend, lots of people are hosting parties, going to area lakes, camping out; the usual end of summer festivities. One area lake however is off limits to swimming due to bacteria but they're encouraging people to 'come on out' anyway. Now, could someone explain to me why you would WANT to go to the lake if you can't jump in? That makes about as much sense as sending Paris Hilton to the mall without her credit cards.
As for me, if I'm going to end my weekend horrifically ill, I prefer it be the result of alcohol-induced activities... You know - the kind that bring on that selective memory - where you selectively forget those things you did that you really wish you COULD forget but Facebook won't let you!
Happy Holiday Weekend to All!
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