Thursday, January 20, 2011


I take SO LONG to get out the door.

I've got my gym clothes on, including the extra sweatpants/shirt layer for the dash from car to front door of the gym, but I imagine I won't walk out my own door for about 30 minutes.


  1. I don't have my shoes on.
  2. Dibby's being cute chasing his tail, so I'm gonna need to watch him for a while.
  3. I'll have to give him extra kisses and "I love you"s on my way out the door.
  4. I'm eating part of an apple, to get some calories in me, because I truly have a fear of passing out while exercising, although that has never happened to me. Plus it's 5:32 and the only other things I've eaten today are milk, coffee, string cheese, banana, and HyVee brand Pop-Tarts (so good!, P.S.).
  5. I'll need to get my keys, gym bag, ID, coat, water bottle, blah blah blah together.
Oh yeah, and I'm blogging!, in the midst of my attempt to get out the door!

Seriously, I'm ridiculous (as if you needed extra proof). It's not like I'm primping, thus causing my lateness. I don't look any hotter than the next girl, in fact 95% of the time if you put another woman next to me she's gonna look more fashionable than me.

I just take my sweet time. Which aggravates me (although most of the time I embrace who I am, quirks and all).


I think I've been watching too much of The New Adventures of Old Christine (LOVE it!), and I'm starting to catch myself saying, "That's me!" while laughing at Julia Louis-Dreyfus' antics.

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