Who says no?

I try not to partake in reckless endangerment at my own freewill.  Be that as it may, persuading me is one of the simplest tasks out there. I am unsure of where this easily convinced gene stemmed from. I choose to blame it on my older brother and his friends.  Take years of them telling you what to do without an option of saying no and you’ll understand.

Granted I try not to be completely irrational.  I often momentary contemplate the consequences.  Yet the intrinsic pressure to participate typically outweighs the logical option of spectator.  After all sitting on the bleachers probably causes hemorrhoids; so that isn’t a safe bet either.

My asinine decision making skills have injured just that.  Not once, but twice.

Enter the road bike incident of summer 2012.

If you aren’t aware bicycles can have different pedals.  Particular pedals require certain shoes.

I have the pedals and the shoes – I lack the required skill.  This was discovered the hard way, after countless failed attempts and a significant amount of creative cursing from my dad.  F-bomb was flying.  I will not fail to mention the countless bruises in places I didn’t even know existed.

Who know a road bike that weights 12 pounds could dominate me from one side of the road to the other?  Rough day, trust me on this one.  Or as someone put it, un-f’n-believable. Tears and laughter – both happened.

Solution to the road bike dilemma: Summer 2012 – ride the mountain bike with sneakers instead.  My dad determined this option is insufficient and that I will be attempting the road bike again this year.  Enter again – life without an option of saying no.

I’ll let you process this stupidity and soon fill you in on the other asinine injury of mine.  I know the suspense is killing you.

Some thoughts in the mean time:

Warm weather is approaching.
A trip home to visit my parents is in the near future.
My rational reasoning strategies have yet to turn up.  I am sure they are out there with my ability to successful clip-in and out of bike.  I doubt they will be found anytime soon.
Saying, “No.” is yet to be considered acceptable in my childhood home.

Wish me luck.

Out there.


Fifty, the New Twenty-Five

You ever think 50 could be the new 25?  Some days I wonder.

No, I am not wishing my life away.  Just hear me out.

Apartment hunt – No longer necessary. I seriously better have my life together, or at least a secure place to live by 50.

Exercise – Running a 5k at 50 means you are hardcore.  Running a 5k at 25 means you haven’t even come close to burning off the after work binge.

Girls – At 50 you watch in a state of utter shock and disbelief.  At 25, you wonder just how they have captured your life story so accurately.

Glasses – You no longer have to pretend to need them to make yourself look smarter.  Or hotter… whatever you so choose.

Facebook – you can like anything you desire on the book and make completely asinine comments. Everyone will just laugh at you; instead of thinking you are a complete moron.

Spring Break – A trip to Mexico, with no parent asking for a detailed itinerary before you leave. Oh and when you return… you ask your child to apply aloe on your sun burnt back.  #lecturefreeliving

DD – Sunday afternoons require a designated driver because you are retired.  Therefore you no longer need to worry about which day you decide to take full advantage of happy hour.  Then again, you probably don’t even need to worry when about happy hour is, because you have a solid income.

Shaving your legs – They say your leg hairs quit growing.  I am not sure if that is a legit trade, considering 50 year olds probably spend that extra time bleaching their upper lip and plucking chin hairs.

Date auction – You are now the organizer, not the attendee.  Prime people watching and eavesdropping experience.

No, I don’t want to be 50 anytime soon.  Life is legit as it is, but 50 deals too.  Yes, the birthday cake might be a fire hazard, but at least at 50 you can eat a piece of cake and not have to worry if people will wonder whether or not you are pregnant.

Share with the fifty-somethings in your life.  I am certain they will say this twenty-something, “doesn’t know a thing.”  I am also sure they will ask, “Why is she posting this for all the world to read?”

Happy Sunday with a no work Monday.