Here’s the deal: time is running out to enter this contest for which I have nothing funny to share. I’m very excited to have Diana and Tom judge these entries with me, but afraid to truly confess what happens when I am over-caffeinated or under-caffeinated. Either option is no bueno, but I will confess anyway so that you will submit your own confessions. Deal? Noah Ainslie really needs to have Appa home.
Shawna won’t tell you this so I will go ahead and tell you that her hair is curlier due to my refusal to take any prompts or write for the last few weeks. You see, what happened is I cracked a few ribs. I can tell you that broken ribs are no laughing matter. Actually, I suggest no laughing or joy of any kind with broken ribs. How did I break these ribs you ask?
I know you are all assuming I ran a marathon or climbed Mount Rainer or something super awesome. I didn’t. What actually happened is I was drinking coffee when I decided to add a little bit (or a lot) of Bailey’s cream. After a few cups of this deliciously dangerous cocktail, made by my personal barista (A.K.A my hubby) I thought to myself “That hover board looks easy!” Apparently, after a few drinks I am super confident that I have somehow developed hand-eye coordination as well as balance. The hover board won that round while I haven’t been able to sleep a solid four hours for over a month.
I would love to say that is the only stupid thing I did while trying to heal, but it is me so no one will believe that. The confession continues.
About a week after I broke my ribs I heard a voice in my head say, “Hey, it’s all good. You have to try to roller blading again.” This time I used my critical thinking skills and decided to wear a helmet and knee pads as well as elbow pads. What I should tell you is that I was wearing my seven year old son’s gear while trying to follow the advice of Cesar Milan letting my dog, Boomer, work off some beans by pulling me along.
To my credit, I did stay upright long enough to see Boomer’s pace on my Garmin. I can tell you that crashing at what I estimate is about a 5 minute mile is even worse in terms of buenoness. See? Making up words now because why the hell not.
By the way, I’m glad you’re here. Isn’t this smoothie delicious thanks to that coconut rum I added? Wait. . . I just read the recipe and she added 200 ml of coconut water not coconut rum. That explains a lot.
Back to the crash landing–if anyone sees a video of me crashing at a park, then being dragged up a hill while wearing a skirt (because we all know that a mini skirt is the proper attire to wear when roller blading), I apologize for the colorful monologue. I feel bad for the kids at the park that day. I may have given them a bit of shock. It is highly likely at least 10 of those children will need therapy to deal with what they saw and heard.
After it all went down (see what I did there?), I did have a lot of fun explaining to my doctor why I had two black eyes. Let me just say now, I blame my D-bag friend who thought buying a hover board would be a great investment. It’s not. I would be happy to go back to the future in order to not wince while sitting, sleeping or doing anything at all in general. I also blame it on the alcohol. More smoothie?
So, back to Appa and Noah. Noah is going to have a blast with his service dog. I have already advised Shawna not let him roller blade with Appa pulling him along. I sensed her disappointment when I told her it was a no-go on the roller blading . I know she has dreams of being dragged by Appa while wearing biker shorts and neon with some leg warmers. I am wiser now due to field experience, so she will definitely trust me on this topic. I know she probably already ordered the entire outfit because I am fairly certain she has knitted herself some neon hairbands or something crafty. Say it with me: No poodle blading for Shawna.
Oops. Off track again and I seem to have spilled my drink. Hmm. Maybe it’s time to wrap this up.
Noah is a wonderful boy who needs his service dog. Appa is being trained to help with things we take for granted. Not to mention Appa may have a higher IQ than I do. I have a feeling Appa will make better decisions than I do with all that cognitive reasoning going on. You’d think Boomer would have used his cognitive reasoning and training to help me not scar a playground of children with my assets on display (only a little cheek), but you’d be wrong. Boomer likes to run, so the selfish little nub was likely laughing the entire time he was dragging me. He has one ear up now listening to me type so I think he knows I am writing about him…or it’s the rum talking. Who knows?
Anyway, make better choices than I do and submit to this competition. Let’s get Noah his dog!
The #WeekendCoffeeShare is hosted by (De)Caffeinated Confessions judge and all-around super human, Diana of Part-Time Monster.