If you’re new to the Nuggets then you’re likely new to Fit Pitchin’ Friday. FPF is when I scale my soap box, ramble on and on about things that rile me (that’s a long list!) and encourage you to add your two cents to the bonfire so we can get it all off our chests and head into the weekend with one less chip on our shoulders. ENJOY!
I’ve come to realize that there are forces among us bend on testing my sanity to it’s limits. Granted, as the years pile on like so much ranch dip on a five year old’s chicken nugget, those limits are far easier to reach. It used to be I could pick up the same sock from the same spot on the family room floor a few dozen times without channeling the dead. Now the mere glimpse of a shock carelessly abandoned in front of the TV summons the spirit of one Sam Kinison.
What’s that on the FLOOR? Ahhh Ahhhh! IS IT A SOCKKKK? AHHHH AHHHHH! Someone pick the dam thing up before my head explodes! Do you hear MEEEEE?! DO YAH?! AHHH AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Vacation time used to be something to look forward to. I’d toss my teenie weenie bikini into my chic carry-on alongside my basting butter suntan oil and strappy sandals. Then off I’d go to some wonderfully exotic locale were I’d sip on fruity drinks and shake my groove thing until the sun came up.
These days it’s a different tale. One of woe and unspeakable horrors. It generally begins with a visit to a circle of hell even Dante couldn’t bring himself to describe known as… Swim Suit Shopping (insert anguished screams of terror here) . When one manages to extract the them self from there, they find that they have been deposited on a ride through the caverns of chaos. Our first stop… The Packing Room. Truly a terrifying stop on the ride. Here my body is over come with the specter of Joan Crawford.
NO! YOU! CAN! NOT! pack those jeans!! They have more holes in them than your HEAD! You may act like a heathen and dress like a bum at home but when we are out amongst strangers who have no clue who we are and will NEVER see us again you WILL look presentable! DO! YOU! UNDERSTAND! ME!?!
Once properly packed we proceed to the next vignette of villainy, our destination of choice. These days it’s usually a theme park or some other venue that touts itself as “Family Friendly” which in my head translates to “Filled with freaks just waiting to abscond with my precious babies”. Almost without fail I spend half of the trip possessed by the wraith of Howard Hughes.
Don’t touch THAT it has to be infested with germs. Do you want to catch the Bird Flu, get put in quarantine and never be able to go on vacation again? (because of course vacations are fun right?)
Eventually I get over that, usually with the aid of either sheer exhaustion or by the grace of being at one of the few said “Family Friendly” places that has gotten a clue and realizes that to be TRULY family friendly they must serve cocktails! If you think the ride through the tunnel of horrific spirit encounters is over though, you’d be Dead wrong.
Next in the line up of the not so dearly departed, is a channeling of the infamously cheap Leona Helmsley.
What do you need with ANOTHER stuffed animal?!! If you wanted a souvenir of this costly little venture then you should have gotten a J. O. B.! When I was growing up nobody bought me little trinkets deary. OH NO if I wanted something I had to work for it and you little ingrates do NOTHING! Work hard and one day you might deserve a souvenir!
Generally by this point my gallant husband has had enough and offers me a nice quite place to sit down while he takes the kids to the ice cream shop. He knows this is just what I need to banish the banshees in my brain. A wave of guilt washes over me like a tsunami and I rush to the nearest kiosk to buy up every sugary treat and useless trinket within reach to shower upon my poor children. Thus begins their own super natural experience… they channel living spirits of spoiled brats and reap their vengeance upon me.
You get your Friday Fit early this week my Nuggetiers… because I’m off on…