bitchypoo.blogspot.com as my own. Snazzy, eh? Just what I need, another site to neglect!
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Thank you to
Sabrina, who sent me
this link and made me shoot Diet Coke out of my nose! El Guapo! Hee!
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Also, my evil EVIL sister-in-law sent me a creepy-ass picture. I’m not kidding, it’s creepy as all hell. You can click
here to see it, but remember – I’ve warned you. CREE. PYYYY.
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Last week’s pet store kitty pics are
here, and this week’s are
here.
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So, Saturday morning, as I was sitting in front of my computer trying to force myself to get off my ass and go exercise, I looked out the window at the bright, sunny day, and said “We could go to the quarry and swim around and I could call that my exercise for the day!”
And voila, it was done! Fred ate his breakfast and got ready, and we were out the door about twenty minutes later. There were a bunch of people there – a lot of divers – so we got away from the pier quickly, and swam (I use the word loosely) around the perimeter of the quarry. Fred did a couple of dives so that I could take his picture, we took turns diving down to touch the creepy algae-covered tree, and I snapped a few pictures of the fish who came to investigate just what the hell we thought we were doing.
At one point, I got a bit of water in my snorkel, and it wouldn’t blow out.
“Self,” I said. “It would probably be a good time to just empty out your snorkel, and you could de-fog your mask as well!”
That suggestion worked it’s way up the chain of command, was debated by the bureaucrats in my brain, and it was decided that it was, in fact, a good idea. So, I pulled the end of the snorkel out of my mouth, and at the same time pulled the mask off my face.
Except that someone was asleep at the wheel because when I did that, I still had my face in the water. I was immediately blinded by the rush of water into my eyes, and simultaneously, although I had no snorkel end in my mouth, I still attempted to breathe in a huge mouthful of water. But the guy in charge of the “lungs or stomach? stomach or lungs?” switch was on his toes, and the huge (I mean HUGE) mouthful of water was diverted to my stomach.
Tasted pretty good, too. Kind of like rainwater.
We ended up swimming around the quarry for almost two hours, which is the longest we’ve ever spent there. Fred ended up with a burn on his face, and I got a burn on the backs of my legs. Luckily the sun was only out about half the time we were there, or no doubt we would have ended up absolutely fried.
(Don’t lecture me, I KNOW. I swear I’ll wear sunscreen from now on okay, MOTHER?)
Once we left the quarry, we came home and put on dry clothes, then laid on the bed and talked. We’d planned to go to Applebee’s for dinner to try out their Weight Watcher’s menu, but Fred was kind of dreading going out for dinner, and
I was dreading having to eat dinner at 4:00 so we could beat the crowd. Finally, I suggested we have Applebee’s for lunch instead of dinner, and he agreed.
We spent half an hour or so deciding the many places in the house that needed touchup painting – especially the spud’s bedroom – and then left for lunch.
I had the Teriyaki Shrimp Skewers, which was pretty good, although the dipping sauce tasted a little funny; I suspect they use fat-free something or other to make it. Fred had the Sizzling Chicken Skillet, which he liked so much that even a day later he was talking about how good it was. I had dessert – Chocolate Raspberry Layer Cake – that was so tiny that when the waiter showed up with it, Fred and I both began laughing. It was good, though, and when we left Applebee’s I was at least satisfied if not quite
full.
When we left Applebee’s we went to Dick’s Sporting Goods to look for a snorkel for Fred, and see what they had for fins (answer: not much). Fred picked up a pretty nice snorkel and some t-shirts, and then we headed home.
After such a busy morning and afternoon (I mean, seriously. We NEVER do that much in a day on the weekend!), we settled in for naps in our respective bedrooms. I woke up about 4… and had to run for the bathroom. Which is what I spent the next four hours doing, dealing with – shall we say – intestinal issues.
It appears that either the mouthful of quarry water or something I ate at Applebee’s hit me the wrong way. Fred helped by crowing “You probably have dysentery!” repeatedly. Bastard.
Sunday morning I woke up and felt just fine, though. Maybe whatever I swallowed at the quarry made it’s way out the other end… or maybe it’s just laying dormant for the moment, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.
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“Hey! Keep it down over there!”
How can this be comfortable?
“If that little bastard doesn’t stop with the damn yawning…”
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