Channeling Jane Fonda

Did someone turn my creativity faucet off when I wasn't looking or am I just too preoccupied with other things this week to write anything worth reading?

Though tonight I suppose that the story I should be telling would be the one where I give you all the gory details of my visit to the gym... And seriously, the next time I say anything resembling a promise to do something should something else happen, someone needs to come right up behind me and give me one swift kick in the keister, because I will deserve it!

But seriously, what we're the odds? It's not like I ever thought it would happen. At least not in a million years, and yet it has... Which I guess is something like karma coming 'round to teach me a lesson about opening my mouth and making promises I didn't necessarily mean to keep.

And what did I say exactly, you ask?

If I recall it correctly, it went a little something like this... "The day someone builds a gym in my backyard, I am so there..."

And while this gym isn't really right smack dab directly in my backyard, it's more than close enough to count. I mean I do have to drive by it to get home...

So back to my resolutions for the New Year list... I think I might just be up to three now, oops make that four.

Which of course means it's time to top ten it like my man Dave Letterman. Sex God extraordinaire...

1. Donate blood. Get free cookie and orange juice.
2. Make it known to Landlord that something needs to be done about the mistress of songs downstairs, and her little dog too...
3. Join secret society with Susan. Meet every Saturday morning.
4. Go to the gym. (On a regular basis and try not to look completely inept.)