Exercise Makes You Stupid.

As the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized how stupid I sounded and IMMEDIATELY burst into that rare form of laughter than instantly makes you red in the face and makes you laugh so hard your ab muscles contract and tears instantly flow down your cheeks. She said one thing, I thought she meant another, although she would NEVER reference another race using street slang. It was as simple as that. But there we sat, the both of us, laughing and crying and stinking of sweat in our post-workout glow. I think all of the blood had rushed from my brain into my muscles. The only thing I can gleam from it all is this: Exercise makes you stupid.

As always, From the Edge of the Map…TRUE STORY.

I feel, in so many ways, that it’s part of my job to keep a positive attitude, no matter what is going on around me. I wasn’t always like this. I rarely allow myself a “bad day,” but when I do, hell hath no fury…I was at the end of my rope to the tune of *$2500-$5000 of yet-to-be-purchased-but-picked-out-bling from Hunt Country Jewelry (*portions of this blog are included to make Big Daddy squirm…cruel, but true…) So when I had a particularly blessed day, I lost it and actually cried to the very nice man at the Inksters store. Yes, I (as V would tell it) “cried to tears.” Since my printer had been screaming at me to change “cyan” for a week or so, I used the unexpected opportunity of shopping with only ONE child to pop into the Ink store for a new cartridge.

“What kind of printer do you have?” He asked.

(Pause. Blank stare.) I don’t know.

“Well, um…what kind of ink do you need?”

(Pause. Uh…Duh…Uh…*TEARS* Blank stare) IIIIII donnnn’t knoooow….WAHHHHHH”

Flood gates open.

I tried to call Tina to see if she could buzz into my house and check my printer out for me, but she was on the other line and CLEARLY not answering call-waiting from Inksters. I was just about to run out to my car to try to call her on my cell phone so the caller ID would identify ME and not some random business. I was totally embarrassed, totally frazzled, unloaded on this Inksters guy my life story (or at least the past 2 months worth) and before I could take another breath to wail some more he said---

“Here’s my card. Go home, look at your printer and pull out the ink. Call me, tell me what kind of ink you need and I’ll bring it to your house. When you see our Inksters van in your driveway, you’ll know it’s me.”

Halleluiah Chorus. As Tina would say, bless his bones!

The next day, Tina came over to work out, as is our daily routine. After we were finished, we sat on the bar stools at my kitchen counter and checked our email, talked, “got into our office,” as we call it. As we were chatting, I told her about my afternoon and how the very nice man offered to bring me my ink.

“Did you call me from Inksters?” She asked.

“Yes, I wanted to see if you could send one of the boys over to check my printer to see what kind it was and to see what kind of ink I needed. But it’s ok, the Inksters guy offered to bring the ink by himself!”

“You don’t say!” Exclaimed Tina, “That’s awesome!”

“Yes, he was really sweet, I was so upset and he totally put me at ease and made me feel better.”

“It’s a Brother, isn’t it?”

“No, he was a white guy…”